"Sam?"
He wanted it to be Dean. He wanted it to be Dean coming out into the chilly night to ask, "What's going on? Why're you sitting out here in the dark?" He was thirty-five years old and he wanted to hear, "Whatever it is, c'mon. It'll look better inside the Bunker. I'll make some cheeseburgers and we can figure it out."
Because if it was Dean, Sam wouldn't be out here missing him so bad it felt like a knife shoved down into his throat.
"Sam, are you okay?"
If it was Mom – well, it had been Mom earlier today when Sam and Jack got back to the Bunker. "We'll get him back, honey. We'll do everything we can. We won't stop trying."
Mom'd been back a couple of years, but really, she'd only spent a few weeks with them, with Sam and Dean. She didn't know that 'won't stop trying, do everything we can' was only the first step out the door; that even hellfire and Armageddon were barely pit stops when one of them was in trouble.
"You didn't eat much at dinner."
Or Dad. If it was Dad, Sam wouldn't be sitting on the car, they'd already be in the car, on the way to getting Dean back. "All right, we need more holy oil. I know a fella in Louisiana who's gonna know where some is. We get that, we get a location spell, we get that sonuvabitch in our sights, we get Dean back."
If it was Dad, it would be when they got Dean back, not if.
"Are you – do you want – I didn't know if –"
It wouldn't be Cas. Not tonight. Not like this. Cas was grieving Dean, too. He wouldn't intrude. He'd known them long enough, known Sam long enough to know when Sam wanted to be alone.
"Sam?"
It was Jack. Come looking for Sam sitting on the car in the dark, outside the Bunker.
"Did you want – maybe – some tea? Maybe? Or – or – or a sandwich? Cas said you like peanut butter and jelly. I – I could bring you one. Of those. If you want."
Sam wasn't ready to talk to Jack right now. Yeah, Jack was missing Dean too. He was worried and confused and needed Sam, wanted Sam, to be there more than he needed or wanted anybody else. But Sam wasn't ready to talk to him. To talk to anybody. Dean was gone, Sam was in charge, and he just needed some time to himself before dealing with anybody else.
"Or – or – would you rather be alone?"
Then Sam looked at Jack and saw himself so many times over so many years with so many questions for Dean.
Dean? Why are you sitting out here? Are you gonna come back in? Are you worried about Dad? You said he'd be OK. He's gonna be okay, isn't he? You said he was. Aren't you cold out here? How long are you gonna stay out here? I made popcorn. I can heat up the pizza. There's chicken left over. How long are you gonna be out here? Did I do something? Is that why you're out here? Are you gonna come back in?
And sure, a lot of times Dean would grump and grumble and send Sam back into the room, or give him some money and drop him at Plucky's. But how many times over how many years did Dean push aside whatever he was dealing with and take care of Sam? Make room for him in whatever he was doing? Find something for both of them to do just to keep Sam distracted from worry, no matter how worried Dean was?
Thousands of times over dozens of years Dean had been there for Sam.
Now Dean was missing and it was Sam's turn to be there for Jack.
"C'mere," he said to Jack and patted the car hood next to himself. "Y'ever look up at the stars?"
The End.
When it is darkest, men see the stars ~~ Ralph Waldo Emerson