Sam clasps his hands, thumb of his right hand pressing into the palm of his left. Or, rather, at the scar left there. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I get that. Take the time to do what you can, right?"

It had been what had changed his mind about the Christmas he and Dean shared several years back. Before Dean went to Hell. Life was too short as it was.

Still, when he hears his name, his head whips around. Even knowing that, logically, there's no way anybody in this memory could see him or would be able to name him at all. Which is why he blinks at the guy Stacia had been harassing, looking between him and the space Stacia had gone, then back before raising an eyebrow. "Well. I wonder how weird this is for her. Though, I guess, Sam's not that unusual a name."