Sam picked up the shovel and started digging up the wet earth. Every time the grass ripped up from the ground, it felt like his heart broke a little more.
It was pitch black in the woods, the trees blocking out any of the moonlight that was illuminating the night. There was an eerie and mysterious fog covering the ground. This was just like a friggin' movie. This would be the perfect setting for Dean to make a joke about.
Dean. The word pierced him like a knife. Dean was what was missing from this picture. Dean, the one thing Sam had left to live for, and now he's gone, too.
Sam wouldn't let Bobby burn Dean's body, he would need it when Sam got him back from Hell. So as he lowered Dean's second hand casket into the hole he made, he couldn't help but thinking of all the good memories that they had shared.
Riding in the Impala, listening to Dean sing (badly) to the five cassett tapes he actually owned. All the biker bars and the wacko cases they worked on.
He would never have those experiences again. No! He told himself, you will see Dean again.
"Sam?"
Sam turned around. Bobby was walked up behind him and placed his hand on the younger Winchesters shoulder.
"Don't you think it's about time to head inside?" Bobby asked.
"Fine."
There weren't many things that could bring Sam Winchester down, but his brother was one of them.