A Slayer dream. Was that supposed to mean something important? Was it just a Slayer dreaming? Wouldn't that be the same as a regular person dreaming? What, exactly, was the difference? Before Sam could get ahead of himself on the thought train, he raised his brows and decided to simply just ask her. "What's that? A Slayer dream?" He had to admit, there was something about Buffy that always left him curious. Between the demonic powers and the fact that she had been able to stun him pretty good with a single punch to the face? Yeah, it was easy to be intrigued. It was the demonic stuff in general that especially brought the curiosity on, considering that Sam himself was the "boy with the demon blood", but there were other elements to the woman that made him interested as well. Ranging from her origin and her capabilities to the simple fact that she was romantically involved with his brother. He wanted to learn more about her - both as a team mate and as someone that he figured was gonna be sticking around a lot more in the future because of her relationship with Dean.
"Me?" Sam shrugged, pushing away from the door frame. "I couldn't sleep." More like wouldn't, but that wasn't exactly important. "No bad dreams of any kind, I promise." At least, not exactly in the way that Buffy would have figured. His bad dreams were more like obsessed fantasies that he buried himself in for hours at a time. Again, nothing that Buffy needed to know about. "Thought I would come out here, grab a drink -" Of alcohol. "- see if that'd help me any." Sam moved past the wall lined with phones; each was labelled differently, ranging from the FBI to the CIA. All part of the job. Sometimes Bobby came in as their back-up guy if they caught themselves in a rough spot with people who questioned the validity of whatever role it was that they were playing for their cases. For the most part, it was pretty effective. Also amusing. Sam couldn't fight off a light smirk at the sight of the phones before he crossed over to the fridge and pulled the door open. Beer, beer, and more beer. Go figure. "Wanna tell me about that Slayer dream of yours?" Sam asked, peering out from the fridge after a moment of rifling through it's contents.