To Mary Winchester, Sam was a gift. Born after two miscarriages, Sam was the second child she thought she'd never have.
She loved Dean with all her heart. Some days, she thought she'd never loved anything as much and never would again. But Dean, with all his rambunctiousness, trouble and personality, was all John. A daddy's boy from the get-go, Dean was his father's little man, something Mary never begrudged him, though she yearned for her own special child.
A child that came in the form of her mellow, calm Sammy.
Dean had cried, colicked and fussed from the moment they brought him home. He was never happy unless he was entertained with new surroundings and stimulations and he constantly needed attention.
Sam was quieter, only crying when hungry or wet, and content to rest peacefully in her arms most of the time.
She loved both her boys more than she could express or fathom, but she treasured the moments when she could rock Sammy to sleep, gently soothing him into slumber and hoping that he would never grow up.
To John Winchester, Sam was the living proof of everything he had ever done wrong.
When Sam complained about moving and begged for just a few more weeks, John was reminded of the home he had once hoped to give his family and the life his children would never have.
When Sam pulled away from his touch, he remembered a time when he used to cuddle the tiny bundles of life he and Mary had created, wondering what he had done to deserve them and how to always keep them safe.
When his teenager turned, stony-faced and blank, from the training he had failed, never as good as his brother, John thought of the report cards and projects Sam had succeeded at, never of the same value because of their lives. And when Sam flinched away from his commands, he wondered when he forgot to be a father instead of a drill sergeant and if he could ever go back.
And when Sam walked out the door and out of his life, responding the only way he could to the words John should never have said, John wished he could tell him that though Sam reminded him of all his wrongs, he considered his sons the only things he had ever done right.
To Jessica Moore, Sam was the epitome of every girl's childhood dreams.
Smart, handsome, kind, loving, generous and sweet, the perfect Prince Charming.
And even a few months into the relationship, when they moved in together and she learned about his strange, sometimes gross, and oh-so-boy habits, he was still so much more than she ever thought she'd find.
Sometimes, when the evasions about his family or the melancholy moods drove her mad, she would make herself think about all the good things and be able to work through the bad.
He was the first boy her father approved of and the only one her sister vowed to steal if she wasn't careful. He made her mother beam, her father grin and her grandmother cry tears of happiness.
He was the first boy who made her understand what love really meant, beyond the sappy, hormone-induced feelings of infatuation.
He was more than she could have hoped for and everything she wanted for the rest of her life.
To Azazel, Sam was the one on whom everything depended.
Sure, he had other children, several dozen, in fact, but none boasted the sacred lineage and promise that Sam had.
When the unfortunate removal of Mary Winchester resulted in a hunter more powerful, prepped and promising than anything he could have dreamed, he knew his mission would be completed.
Sam was the culmination of decades of works and millenia of planning. He was the cornerstone on which all of his Father's return depended and Azazel would make sure that he played his part accordingly.
To Bobby Singer, Sam was everything he could have been, in another life, another time, with another childhood.
When the kid lugged over a dusty tome to show him the obscure but life-saving fact he'd dug out of the ancient Greek, Bobby would wonder about family and the difference love makes. He'd watch Dean ruffle his brother's hair at the discovery and think about how one person's belief could make up for the scorn of so many others.
Sam was his brother-in-research, the quiet one, the who could light up a room like nobody he'd ever met.
Sam was hope and the belief that light could be found, even in the greatest darkness.
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To Dean Winchester, Sam was more than anyone or anything could ever quantify or understand. He was Dean's past, present and future. He was his greatest joys and his most grievous pains. His most magnificent accomplishment, shining bright among his many failures. He was Dean's world, his life, his universe. He was Dean's reason for being and the very essence of his existence, for if there was no Sam, there was no Dean.
His Sammy was everything he had to give and so much more that he was unable to provide. He was leaving, but returning. Bickering, but hugging. Tearing down, but shoring up. Alive, deep, bright, beautiful and so totally his.
But more than anything, Sam was his little brother, his partner, companion and friend, the constant in his world of variables. And no matter what happened, be it demons, angels, devils or God himself, Dean was going to fight for his brother. Because he doesn't give up on family and it was written in the laws of the universe that Dean would never give up his Sam.