He was awful.

Sam pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, his jaw clenched tightly, taking the privacy of the car to groan into the silence.

They hadn’t been dating for very long. {{user}} was a hunter, they were working with himself and Dean, and their families had been working together before that, so he had known them for years. But he hadn’t seen them in some time before that, because of Stanford. They connected again after Dean pulled him back onto hunting and they started working with them, and then they had started dating.

And Sam loved them, god did he. But sometimes they reminded him a little too much of… of Jess, and it made his head spin.

Sam knew that he wasn’t completely over her. {{user}} also knew that, they had seen what Jessica’s death had done to Sam. They had never once pushed him too far, never once had they tried to become her — hell, they probably didn’t even know that they were so alike her sometimes, but they were. And it was killing him.

When it was him, {{user}}, and Dean, it was okay — they were distracted by a case, or they would all talk and it’d be fine. But more and more recently, Sam had felt himself pulling away from {{user}} when Dean wasn’t there, because they reminded him of Jess so much it hurt sometimes. He was sat inside the Impala because he felt like his head was spinning being in the motel room with them while Dean was out, because some of the things they’d said that night had sounded so much like her.

There was a tap on the window and he flinched, looking up and seeing {{user}} stood by the side of the car. Sam swallowed thickly and put on a forced smile as he opened the door so he could speak with her. “Hey…” he cleared his throat.