Footsteps behind Bobby.
Sam was awake.
Barely.
Black eyes half-opened, listing posture, still in his pajamas, standing at the bottom of the stairs.
Turning his head from kitchen to library to kitchen.
"Hey, Sam." Bobby wheeled the few feet from kitchen to hallway. "Got some grub for you, if you're up to it. What d'you say?"
Sam met Bobby's eyes, asking every question that had only one answer.
"Yeah, Dean's there. Sleeping. Went down about an hour ago. He told me to feed you if you woke up….Sam? You hearing me?"
Sam looked to the library and back again, staring at Bobby with his dark, half-closed eyes.
"C'mon and have a seat, Sam. Let me get some food into you."
Bobby wheeled to the fridge and stove and table, serving up a big bowl of soup and a small plate of biscuits in just a few minutes for Sam.
Who still stood in the hallway, turning his head from kitchen to library to kitchen.
"Dean wants you to eat, now, Sam. So, c'mon."
Patting the table brought Sam's attention to the food. He stared at it like he didn't know what it was.
"You should eat. Before it gets cold."
Sam stared at the library. The glow of moonlight from the snow outside dimly lit the room. Dean asleep on the couch was just visible.
After the stare, after a sigh, Sam walked to the table. Slow. Stiff.
Unsure.
"Ain't gonna bite you, you know."
Sam put his hands on the chair. He swallowed, then swallowed again.
"I'm sorry." His voice was like breaking glass.
"Sorry? What the hell for?"
Sam flinched, ducking his head. His fingers whitened on the chair back.
"Hell, I'm sorry." Bobby wheeled closer. "I'm not yelling at you, Sam. I just can't think of anything you need to be sorry for."
"For -" Sam shrugged one shoulder. He kept his head ducked. "I'm sorry."
"All right, then. Just sit and get some food in you. We don't gotta worry about anything else right now. Sam?"
Still stiff, still unsure, Sam pulled the chair out. Sitting down only after another hesitation, studying the chair like it might swallow him whole.
And when he was sitting, he only put his hands on the table, one on either side of the soup bowl. He didn't touch the spoon.
"C'mon, Sam..." Bobby tried. Again. Softly. "What d'you say? You don't gotta eat it all. Just – just give it a try."
Sam lifted his head. Not high enough to look at Bobby. High enough as though listening to something.
Footsteps from the library.
Dean was awake.
Barely.
Stifling a yawn. Rubbing his eyes.
Eyes focused on one thing only.
"Hey, Sam. You getting something to eat? Good. Here."
He lifted the bowl just enough to set it down again in the exact same place, then set the spoon into the soup.
"There you go. Go on and eat. Then we'll get you back to bed."
"Okay." Sam's voice was still breaking glass. He lifted the spoon and ate the soup. "Okay."
"Okay," Dean echoed him.
Bobby huffed a sigh. Muttered, "Okay," but was pretty sure no one else heard him. "I'll leave you boys to it." He said that loud enough to be sure Dean at least heard him.
Sam kept his eyes on his soup.
Dean lifted his head that he heard but kept his eyes on Sam.
Bobby wheeled himself to the library and his bed.
The End.
