The weeks after the final showdown weren’t easy. Without Sam it felt like a perpetual weight on your shoulders.

You sit on the couch, curled under a blanket—drowning the sadness with a mirage of dopamine on the television screen.

A knock on the door makes you practically jump out of your skin.

What is it? Two in the morning right now? Instinctually you’re on guard. Another knock and finally you get the door and—

Sam. Sam is standing right there on the porch.

You want to be happy—but something is…off about him. You think shapeshifter but just standing there he does the run of the mill tests of his own volition. It’s him.

“…Can I come in?”

For someone who just got freed from Hell he’s awful calm. Too happy about the reunion, you look past it. Maybe it’s a trauma response.