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“Spiders,” Dean said. “From Spider Boy?”
“Matt,” Sam clarified. “Maybe.”
Dean shuddered, then slapped Sam’s shoulder. “Let’s get outta here.”
As the brothers drove away from the neighborhood, Sam turned to Dean. “What’s your problem?”
“Spiders are creepy.”
“No. With Matt.”
“He’s a freak.”
Sam bristled but didn’t let it show. “He’s just a kid.”
“He needs a better hobby.”
“Oh, and you’re an expert in appropriate hobbies?”
“Hey, collecting guns is different. That’s practical. And smart.” Dean tapped his temple and grinned.
Sam sighed as the Impala’s exhaust billowed behind them, thin tendrils spiraling into a spiderweb of smoke.