Sam stepped forward, around Fred. Considering how both men had looked the last time they had seen each other, they were in good condition. Sam was as tall as Angel, perhaps a little taller, and just as broad of shoulder. He didn't have Angel's aura of seen-it-all-heard-it-all competence, but he had confidence, tangible in his greeting grip. "Hey. I'm Sam." He glanced at Fred for some unknown reason. "Winchester." The name went with the jeans and the plaid and the tennis shoes. So far, so good.
Fred had been right, Sam did recognize Angel. The abrupt flashes of memory he got from his time as a zombie were a little disorienting, but at least they were informative. And so far he hadn't seem himself kill anyone that wasn't already dead (in the memories), which was a very good thing. He did have the distinct memory of seeing Angel collide with a wall, though. He was grateful the guy had come back for a couple more rounds, or he might not be around. "I wanted to say, uh, thanks for helping out with the... zombie thing." This wasn't awkward at all.