Standing by the window and looking out into the sunset, he stood there, eyes on the birds. His expression was stoic as he listened to the loud chirping of the birds. It looked beautiful outside, and the way the sun was setting over the small lake captivated him in an unusual manner. He would have liked to stay standing there and continue looking, but a voice woke him from his stupor and he turned in his spot, "Come on, let's get you ready for bed." He nodded a bit and walked towards the woman dressed all in white, following her.

Sam looked in the mirror, his eyes on his thinning hair as he fiddled with it, getting it just as he wanted. He was in a good mood, collecting his thoughts peacefully as he stood up right. He wasn't anyone special in his world, no. He was just a common man with common thoughts. There were no monuments in his name, no one to greet him wherever he went. He was just the average person who loved someone with all of his heart. And for him, well, that was always going to be enough.

He finished dressing; the maroon button up he was wearing buttoned all the way up, except for the top. He fixed the way it tucked into his pants and grabbed a book off the counter, leaving the room he was. He was feeling good, the glasses he now wore on his face itching at the bridge of his nose. It didn't bother him though courtesy of his mood. He knew it could be worse than what it was.

Sam made his way down the hall, the walls white and off-white on either side. He passed a desk where there were people dressed in white. One was standing, leaning against the desk and writing on some paper. He smiled to this man as he was noticed, giving him a nod of his head, "Sam! How you doing?" the man said, stretching out his hand for a high five.

Sam chuckled, "Doing fine, thanks!" he gave him the high five and continued walking, notebook in hand. He could feel his heart pumping steadily against his chest as he rounded the corner and approached a small lineup of people. They were dressed like him - casually. He eyed someone he knew and gave them a pat to the shoulder on his way to the back of the line.

"How you doing, Adam?" he asked, his voice still filled with his usual cheer.

"I keep trying to die, but they won't let me."

Sam raised an eyebrow, looking off to the side as he muttered out, "Well, we you can't have everything..." he didn't really know how else to reply to that. He knew that Adam wasn't the only one there who wanted to die - but he wasn't one of them. Just because he was old didn't mean he was going to cave just yet. Besides, there were other things on his mind that had nothing to do with death.

It didn't take him long to get to the front of the line, eying the booth as the woman behind it - Joanna was her name - handed him a small cup with pills in it, "Big day today," he said, smiling a cheeky smile.

"You say that everyday, ya old devil," Jo shot back, giving him a small smile in return. Sam gave her a wink, swallowing the last of the pills in the plastic cup and gave her the empty thing back. He turned on his heels, heading towards his destination. It was the same destination every day for Sam, the same journey he'd take himself on. And in the end, it was always worth it - every bit of him prided itself in what he did. It was just about all he had left.

When he approached the room, hearing the nurse's voice coming from inside, he thought about how the day would go. It was so nice outside; maybe things would go just right? He'd been wanting this for so long - he had wanted things to go back to just the way they were. But he knew it wouldn't be like that, that wasn't how things went for him. Not that he was negative or sore about it, he just knew it didn't work that way. But, he was allowed to dream, wasn't he? Of course, "Hello!" his voice rang through the room as he stood at the doorway.

The nurse turned on her heels to face Sam, giving him an expression that said it wasn't a good day. She approached him, shaking her head, "It's not a good day," she muttered out in a low voice, not wanting to disturb the man by the window. Curiosity had gotten the best of him and he had turned to see where the nurse had gone. Sam watched as the man by the window turned around and he felt the same feeling in his stomach appear just like it had all those years ago, "He's not doing anythi-"

"Hello?" he called, earning Sam's attention and the nurse's.

"Oh, this is Sam. He's come to read to you," the nurse said, smiling from cheek-to-cheek. The man by the window looked to Sam, almost studying him for a moment. Sam brought both hands in front of him, curling his fingertips over the book's edges. He'd been through this already; he knew the drill like the back of his hand. He just prayed that the man before him would let him read to him.

"Read? Oh, I don't know," he looked to the nurse, avoiding eye contact with Sam. He was nervous and felt out of place and it was obvious by how he stood there.

But the nurse was on Sam's side, almost as if she was used to the act of doing so, "Oh, come on! You'll like him," she said, cracking a smirk that only the other man could see, "He's very funny," and as Sam heard this, he cracked a smile of his own, unaware of the one the nurse was giving. He stood there, eyes on Sam and then the nurse for another minute before he nodded in agreement. Sam was glad to hear this, glad he would be able to go on throughout the day with him.

Sam led him to a sunroom that had a couple wicker couches. The room was filled with green plants and a few flowerpots here and there. It was peaceful and quiet; it was the perfect spot to read. Sam had come here before when he would read and he rather enjoyed it. It only made sense to share his love of something with another, especially with him.

He'd been down this road before, having been reading this tale to the man before him for quite some time. He enjoyed reading to him, enjoyed sharing what was written within the pages of the notebook he held in his hands. He pushed his glasses up the brim of his nose, helping the other man take a seat on one of the wicker chairs instead of the couch. Sam mimicked this, taking a seat cross from him. He would continue recounting the tale, just like he had done before.

"Alright, now where did we leave off?" Sam said, his voice still filled with the same cheer as he flashed him a smile. The other man sat there, his blue eyes transfixed on Sam in a curious manner. He didn't know what to make of Sam and it was clear, but there was a sense of familiarity about him and he found comfort in this. He couldn't explain it – but Sam seemed so comfortable to him, "Ah yes, it was the night of the carnival. Dean was there with his friends Gabriel and Michael-"

"Dean?" he asked, blue eyes on Sam again.

"That's where they met. June 6th, 1940. They were seventeen years old," Sam responded, his eyes meeting with the other man's. It was always a pleasure to share this story, something he would always enjoy. Something he had been doing for a long time. Yet, everyday it seemed like a new experience for him, something he enjoyed to heart's content. He prayed for the feeling to never go away, that this feeling would last forever.