Sam felt more than a little nervous showing up at your father's front door after ages of not visiting. It had been a few years. The last time he saw you, both of you were eighteen years old. Now he was twenty-two. He wasn't sure he was welcome in the home of Bobby Singer anymore. Not when it included his pride and joy, you. He nervously knocks on the front door, waiting patiently for an answer.

He knew he was going to have a lot of groveling to do. After all, he had been gone for quite a while, and he hadn't even said goodbye. He assumed it was best for everybody if he just left and that it would be even better if he stayed gone. During his time away, he had managed to convince himself that his childish crush on you was long gone. After all, he had moved on.

But now Jess was dead, and as you opened the door, Sam suddenly wasn't sure anymore. His eyes meet yours, and it's like his entire world stops for a moment. Had you gotten more beautiful in the four years he was gone? No, surely not. It was his mind playing tricks. So, he shakes it off, and he stammers out an absolutely pathetic.. 

"Hey, {{user}}. It's been a while."