Sam knows that any hunter worth his salt would say the same thing; you find the spirit's anchor and you burn it, simple as. You take the bones or the doll or the jewellery and you salt and burn them like they're firewood because there's no other way. Sam studies the Impala and imagines it going up in flames.

The first time he kisses Dean it's almost nine months since Jessica's death and he's breathing out whiskey in clouds. The first time Dean kisses him neither of them are drunk, but both are surprised. [wincest, pre-series til post s8]

In which Remus' clothes mysteriously disappear, McGonagall is surprisingly collected and Sirius is, as usual, insufferable.

In which James is cynical, Sirius lets words leave his mouth unchecked and cheese sandwiches are scattered around Devonshire.

The trust between them is gone, dissolved amidst the confusion and horror of war, but that's not to say it doesn't hurt.

Remus is sure there's not a part of his body that doesn't hurt. But then there's that smell, safe and comforting and warm. It smells like home.

In which Professor McGonagall turns a blind eye, Remus is exasperated and Sirius narrowly avoids a Christmas detention. Or two.

The beginning of their sixth year gets off to a drunken start, and two of the marauders have a little more than causing alcohol-fuelled havoc in mind. At least, not the sort James is likely to think of. :wolfstar oneshot: