At first, he doesn't touch him. He refuses to accept that Dean is dead.
However, after the body has gone cold, the blood has dried, and the sun has come up, he reaches for him. Gingerly, he runs his fingers over the leather jacket, now torn into shreds. Dean would've been devastated.
He grabs his hand, cold and stiff by now. The hand is terribly calloused. Sam can feel the blood and dirt embedded in Dean's fingernails. They're hands of a hunter.
Sam clings to him and just as he thinks he's ready to let go, he doesn't. Not yet.
