Toward morning, Sam dreamed again. Another nightmare of frigid, crushing blackness, alive with a sense of intelligent menace. He woke damp and shaking in the gray predawn light. Sitting up, he turned on the lamp beside the couch to banish the darkness. It was too easy to see things in the shadows. He was in the kitchen making coffee when he heard the shuffle of bare feet behind him. Before he could turn, arms slid around his waist and soft lips brushed the back of his neck. He laid his hand over Bos where it pressed to his belly. This was Bos apology posture. Hed seen it countless times, and it was usually followed by them making up from whatever their latest fight had been. But after what had happened the night before, Sam had no clue what to say. Especially in light of Deans suspicions regarding Bos behavior. I was way out of line last night, Bo said after a few moments of awkward silence. His voice was raspy and tremulous. Can you ever forgive me?