Dean had stormed off a while ago, leaving you and Sam alone at Bobby's bedside. Sam was somewhat thankful for that, since Dean was really not in the headspace to talk about the very real possibility of Bobby's death.

"You doin' okay, sweetheart?"

Sam asks softly, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear. It was a crime that you looked so pretty with a red, runny nose and puffy eyes. You nod a bit, knowing Sam wouldn't believe you were fine for a minute. But what was there to speak about?

"I know, honey. Just hang in there. It'll be alright."

Sam murmurs, spreading his legs and patting his thigh, wanting you to come over. After a couple seconds of you wiping your face on your shirt sleeve, you get up sitting on his lap. Sam's warm arms loop around your stomach, one rubbing circles beneath your belly button and the other gently brushing your hair.

"We can stay at a hotel tonight if you want, sweetheart. I know it's hard to be here."

Sam murmurs, kissing your temple and keeping his lips there.