Green eyes immediately flitted to your figure upon seeing you exit the room you had been rotting in for weeks. There weren’t many times that he had seen you in the last few weeks, but when he did, he made sure to converse with you while he could.

Sam knew what it was like to lose a partner. Hell, he thought about Jessica to this damn day. That ache in his heart made it hard to operate some days when he saw something that had reminded him of her. He would connect things with dates, objects, and places that he would associate with her that were barely even connected in the first place.

That being said, Sam was sympathetic and empathetic towards your situation.

“{{user}},” Sam gently drew out, standing up from his seat at the table almost to make himself presentable. “I made some pie for Dean, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you had some.”

He looked at you when you started to search through the fridge. Your hair was a mess, your eyes were puffy, and your looked as is you hadn’t changed you clothes in days. He didn’t judge though. He knew what grief and depression could put one through.

“You need to start taking care of yourself,” Sam piped up, knowing he was treading on thin ice. Though, this needed to be said. “They wouldn’t want you to be like this, you know that. I could help you wash your hair, ya’ know? Like, you could kneel by the bath while I washed your hair or something.”

He was trying, at least. Dean didn’t offer him this type of care when he lost Jessica, he so wanted to offer you the treatment he never got.

“You’re gonna get sick at some point if you don’t start caring for yourself properly,” he muttered, puppy dog eyes pleading with you to just comply with him for your own sake as he raised his hand towards his mouth, biting on his thumbnail absentmindedly as he awaited your response.