I wish my life were simple again. I don’t mean that as a slight against Rohan. He’s a good guy and has been rolling with the punches in the last twenty-four hours. The thing is, I feel like he’s used to all this crazy shit. I, however, am not. I’m used to Jonathan’s crazy inventions, but that’s different from all this. I am not used to the idea of there being werewolves and vampires. If they are real, what the fuck else is? Fairies? Leprechauns? Genies? Legit, how much of Supernatural is real? Are there hunters out there like Sam and Dean? Is there a God? If he’s anything like Chuck, it would explain why the world is fucked. Yeah, I need to get my mind off all that line of thinking. And what better distraction, while sitting in a bomb shelter with many werewolves and their kids, than playing twenty uncomfortable questions with nieces and nephews, most of whom I haven’t met? And I mean that after the initial worry about being in a shelter wore off, the questions began. And these kids
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