The days are long. The first few weeks were the worst. Sam's first impulse is to grab the phone and call Bobby. The action is done in vain. By the time he's dialed the first three numbers, it dawns on him. Bobby isn't gonna be there to pick up. No one's there.
For the first time, Sam is truly alone.
He doesn't have the strength to wake up in the morning. Instinctively, he glances over to the second bed in the cheap motel room to find it empty. He orders a bacon cheeseburger and fries at hole-in-the-wall diners. The Impala is kept in pristine condition, as if Dean were to show up at any moment and get snippy about the wrappers haphazardly thrown in the backseat.
Sam hasn't been on a hunt in over a week. He can't bring himself to look at the paper; can't stand to hear about any more death. Death is his constant companion, following him everywhere, making his way through the entire Winchester family.
Sam wondered when his time would come. He found his Faith wavering. The Winchesters, it seemed, were doomed to short lives. Was God toying with him, destining him to live out a long life alone?
Two days later, the rings under his eyes get darker. He needs sleep. For the past few days, he's been chugging coffee and caffeine pills, forcing himself to stay awake. Allowing himself to doze off will conjure up images from the last time he saw Dean. And Crowley's voice.
"You are truly... on your own."
The knowledge plagues him still.
Later in the day, his phone buzzes on the nightstand. Sam almost lets it go to voicemail, barely able to drum up the strength to reach over a few feet to answer it. However, one small part of him is hoping that it's Dean calling to say he's okay, he's alive. He can almost hear his brother's gravelly voice inquiring about the condition of the Impala.
Sam answers without looking at the caller ID.
It's not Dean.
It's Jodi. Jodi Mills.
Sam's surprised to hear from her. It had been almost a year now that he'd seen her. He was aware of the exhausted tone his voice had taken on as he asked her how she was doing. Jodi was, too, apparently.
The next day, there was a knock on the door of the shady motel room.
It's three months later. Sam's back on the job and the Impala is back up to its usual occupancy of two. Sometimes, Sam looks over expecting to see his brother, taking a quick nap before getting back to the wheel. It always takes him a moment to realize that it's Jodi and not Dean.
It's a different experience, doing all the driving, and reminds him too much of the few months he spent without Dean a few years back. He can't bring himself to let Jodi drive. It's his brother's car, no matter what happened. Hell, he still felt out of place driving it at times.
Things are starting to look up, just a little. Jodi helps. She can empathize with Sam. She's just as alone as Sam is. And yet she manages to get through the day. The thought helped Sam, but just barely. If he can't live for himself, he'll live for the woman who cared enough to check in on him, and kick his ass into doing something with his life.
She's a hunter now. A damn good one, too, all things considered. It's clearly not the life she would have wanted. But she's good at the job. Sam has to give her that. They're a good team.
It doesn't come close to filling the void in Sam's life. No matter how many nights are spent praying to a God that isn't there, how many miles he goes, listening to his brother's tapes... His big brother is long gone.