Richfield, Utah. It's a cold, dark town when Sam arrives, pulling the cold, dark car down main street. Field of skeleton cars. Flying J. Church after church after Wal-Mart. Barbara Braeden, in a mock-Victorian two-story, under mountains. It's almost time for snow.
Sam carries nothing. It's heavy. "I'm Sam," he says to Barb. And, "I'm Sam Winchester." They regard each other as ghosts.
She knows before Sam speaks; no invitation past the threshold.
Capillary flush. "Where's Dean?" she says. Why isn't he here?
Why isn't he here? for my sister.
And Sam: "I wish he could be."