Sam doesn't turn to look again. Not yet. He'd seen enough in the first quick glance.

(It'll take months of work to try to even get through the damage, and even if the locking mechanism's intact beneath, he still doesn't have the Colt.

Nor any other way in.)

His gaze drifts aimlessly aside instead, down at the nearest grave.

It's not all that different from Dean's, really. Just another mound of dirt, sealing a body away into the dark.