He sighed. Who the fuck laminated newspaper articles? Weren't there, like, machines and microfilm, in this day and age? Fucking York. Dean bet they had a scrapbook. With stickers. And crime articles. And bows.
Nefarious. Dean smirked.
"I've got a laptop in there," he said, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder. "I've looked at a little, but mostly I've been doing general weird, not specific instances of it. And resurrection."
And how to get Sam out of Hell. Y'know. The usuals.