It wasn’t natural. Sam was a hunter, and you were a demon. Sam shouldn’t want a thing to do with you. He should want to kill you.

Yet here he was, sitting across from you at a Motel table, needing your help and so desperately wishing he could have more then just the help you were offering for this stupid case. Sam didn’t care about the case, not really. He could have done it himself. It was a lame excuse just to see you.

You were different from the other demons. Sure, some similarities prevailed, but he saw passed it. Dean would kill him if he could read his mind.