I've done it. This is, by far, the shortest thing I've ever written. Also the saddest. This will probably never happen again.
She's been here for eight years. In her own personal Heaven.
It isn't anything like Earth. Nothing like the flesh and blood version still down there.
Castiel, the angel who helped her in the beginning, comes by the most. The angel has been ostracized by his own kind for the love of two brothers and is forces to stay hidden when he visits her. He makes her smile when she's sad, makes her laugh when she cries, and holds her hand when she's angry.
She's visited by Castiel many more times because they share similar interests.
Whenever she can, she watches the Earth. Somewhat new to the ghostly status, she was strictly told not to observe Earth, as it can cause harm to Heaven's balance. Ghosts aren't supposed to see what they're missing.
If she had listened, she wouldn't have this beautifully horrific sight in front of her.
Her Sam.
Her Sam, being so brave and strong.
Her Sam, sacrificing his life to save the world, hellbent on dying, once more.
Her Sam, coughing blood and red evil into white napkins and fruitlessly hiding them from Dean.
Castiel often talks about the brothers, and each time, it sent a pang of sadness and sorrow deep into her heart. She wants to be with him, hold his hand and take his pain away.
Ghosts weren't made to do that.
She asks questions about Sam whenever she sees Castiel, and he's happy to respond, taking her to a secluded spot in her Heaven and holding her hands while he does.
Most of the time, she cries as he talks.
Because her Sam is on Earth, hurt and in pain.
And she's here, floating and watching.
Watching her darling Sammy crash and burn.