Sam had hardly left Dean's side since they had hauled Dean's corpse back to South Dakota, but this morning, three days after Dean's death, Sam was missing. Bobby peeked inside the room that was serving as Dean's mausoleum, bent on getting Sam to eat something, prepared for a fight, expecting a fight, expecting to see Sam sitting in the chair next to the bed, with his hands clasped tightly underneath his chin, eyes intently starring at his brother as if he expected that by just watching him he would wake up and laugh and say 'just kidding Sammy', and rocking back and forth ever so slightly. However, Bobby didn't find any of that. He found Dean's body covered with a sheet, and the chair in which Sam had been watching over him sitting against the wall. Alarmed and confused, Bobby went searching for the only Winchester left standing.
Searching the junkyard hadn't been difficult but when he didn't see the tall man he became more frightened, Sam was so far from okay right now that he could be doing anything, from running away, to killing himself, to finding a crossroads demon and selling his soul or worse. The only thing that kept Bobby from completely coming apart was the fact that the Impala was still there, one of his trucks, however, was missing. Bobby called Sam's cell phone repeatedly, Sam never picked up. Frustrated, and unable to go back into the house with only Dean's corpse for company, he sat on the porch and waited for the return of the lone Winchester.
Sam returned some time later, and Bobby noted that he had pine boards inside the bed of the truck. He cut the engine, ignored Bobby's hollers, and started unloading his cargo.
"What are you doing?!" Bobby yelled for the fifth time. Sam finally seemed to see and hear him, and his head turned slowly towards Bobby. His eyes were so lifeless and dull that Bobby actually took a step back. He didn't know this boy. This was a body devoid of soul, of personality, devoid of life. He was simply going through the motions, simply breathing in and out, and the only person in the world that could make him a person again, was lying inside the house, with a sheet over him, dead.
"Building a coffin." Sam said delayed and started heading towards the back of the house and into the garage where Bobby kept his non car tools.
"Sam." Bobby started trying to keep up with the younger man's longer stride. "Sam." He tried again. "Sammy." Sam stopped dead in his tracks turned and looked at Bobby.
"Don't call me that. Sammy is dead." Bobby searched his eyes and found that he was right. Dean's little brother Sammy was dead, and in his place was something twisted with grief and desolate.
"You shouldn't be burring Dean. That's not what he would have wanted."
"He never specified. So I'm going to burry him."
"Sam. You shouldn't. What if something tries to possess his corpse?" Sam flinched when the word corpse was used.
"I know some spells. I found them…just in case." He stumbled the last.
"Sam. We need to salt and burn him like we did your daddy."
"He's not my dad." Sam said forcefully, vehemently. "He's not Dad. I can't watch him burn. He'll need a body."
"Sam. He's gone. He won't need his body ever again."
"He will when I find a way to bring him back."
"Sam. We won't ever get Dean back."
"Don't say that."
"Sam. We won't. It's just facts." Sam's breathing was getting faster and faster, his eyes filling up with an emotion that he just didn't understand. Bobby took a step back, he had a feeling that Sam was going to explode, and whereas Dean shoved him once when he had been upset, Sam was likely to kill him.
"I'm going to get Dean back." Sam said through clenched teeth. "I will Bobby. So if you aren't going to help me make his coffin, then get the hell away from me." Sam said and put the boards down on the work bench and selected a saw from the wall.
"Do you even know what you are doing?" Bobby asked resigned.
"Yeah." Sam lied.
"Do you know how big to make it?"
"Dean is 6'1 and ¾ of an inch without his boots. He is 6'2 and ½ with them on." Sam looked up and a tear slid down his face. "He will need his boots." He said in a whimper. "He has to have his boots." Sam said and put a hand to the amulet at his chest.
Bobby's own tattered heart bled for Sam. He relented, knowing that what they were doing wasn't the best, but it was the best for Sam. And Sam was the one they had to worry about right now." Okay Sam. Okay. Let's get this done." Sam took a deep breath, eyes darting from side to side trying to keep his teas at bay, pinched his lips together and nodded. And that is what the two men did silently all day, they built a coffin for a man who meant more to them than either of them realized, more than the dead man ever realized.