Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are the property of Eric Kripke. Sadly, I do not own any of these guys.

A/N: So here it is, finally - the sequel to Sliding Down the Slope that you guys asked for. Hopefully I haven't lost your interest already. This story will be posted in two parts, the second of which will tie this into the pilot episode. Enjoy!

It wasn't supposed to involve her.

Things between the Winchesters never involved Jessica Moore – Sam had made that abundantly clear in the two years they'd known each other. "It isn't anything personal," he always said, "I'm just not comfortable talking about it." So she always stayed out of Sam's family issues, letting him deal with his inner demons alone and at his own pace. That was how he wanted it, and she respected that. After all, who didn't have a few skeletons in the family closet that they hated to talk about? If he had a few more than most, well, that was his business. All she cared about was that she loved him, and he was hers. And if he ever decided he wanted someone to vent to about his family, she would always be there for him.

But ever since his twenty-first birthday, three days ago, something had changed in Sam. To most of the people on campus it would have gone completely unnoticed, but Jessica was not just one of the people on campus. She sometimes knew Sam better than he knew himself, and even the smallest changes affected her almost as much as they did him. She could always sense when he needed space, or someone to be by his side and help ease the burden of being an independent young adult paying his way through one of the most expensive schools in the United States. She knew when the stress of school was getting to be too much for him by the way his hands would slowly make their way to his temples, trying to massage away the forming headache and failing every time, and then she would force him to bed with a cup of hot tea and remind him that law school would still be there when he woke up. She could tell when he was happy or sad or scared, just from the tilt of his eyebrows or the tiny wrinkles that would appear around his eyes when he was focusing too hard on something. Jessica could always tell.

So now, she could tell that Sam wasn't feeling like his usual self. The tan-colored cast that covered his right leg from hip to toe was heavy and cumbersome, significantly limiting his range of movement and making it hard to balance on his one functional, and extremely long, leg. The plaster made him hot and sweaty and itchy, driving him crazy until she would hand him a clothes hanger to at least scratch the bottom of his foot – until the stitches came out, though, he unfortunately wasn't allowed to scratch near the surgery site. The hospital wasn't used to dealing with men of Sam's size, so the largest crutches they had didn't quite fit. She could tell he hated wobbling around on crutches that even at their largest possible size were too short for him, even if he didn't complain. To hate being slow and vulnerable was perfectly understandable for an independent guy like Sam, so it was not what worried her. A vulnerable Sam was usually still a slightly clingy Sam, embarrassed about needing help but grateful for it anyway.

This Sam was not clingy; he was distant, quiet, and a little cold.

Even if he didn't seem as bothered by the inconveniences of a broken leg as she had expected, something was definitely wrong. A slight shadow hung low under his hazel eyes, making him look tired and much older than his mere twenty-one years. He sighed more than usual, too, staring off into space when he thought she wasn't looking, and his temper had shortened to the point of making him constantly snappish and irritable, although never with her. All of this added up to one thing in her mind: whatever Sam's brother had said to him on his birthday, it hadn't been good.

She'd seen the caller-ID at the same time Sam did, and she'd seen how his face fell further with each word he read. She had meant to ask him about it once they got home from the restaurant, but then he had taken that terrible fall and scared all thoughts of Dean out of her head. Only now, as she sat watching Sam staring listlessly at the clock on the far wall, did she remember the text message from his brother; the text message that, given the fact that his phone had been crushed under his weight when he fell, would probably remain hidden from her forever unless Sam decided to tell her what it had said. That, though, was about as likely as finding snow in southern California in the middle of summer.

No. If she wanted answers, she was going to have to find them for herself.

"Sam?" she asked quietly, sitting down beside him on the couch and frowning when he barely moved his eyes away from the clock to glance at her. He looked depressed, plain and simple.

"I'm going out to get some groceries and pick up your prescriptions from the pharmacy. You want anything special?"

Sam smiled softly, leaning over to give her a quick, chaste kiss and wincing when he put a little too much of his weight on the cast. "I already have you, don't I?"

Jess laughed and kissed him back, kneeling down and lifting his cast up so he could pivot around to lay it on a pillow she had set at the other end. "You're such a suck-up. Alright, so if I pick up Chinese will you eat it? The new meds the doctor gave you haven't made you sick again, right?"

Sam grimaced, remembering how hellish his first night home had been when he'd spent it alternating between agonizing throbbing in his leg and relentless nausea caused by the pills meant to stop his pain. By the time he'd managed to stop vomiting long enough to realize his leg didn't hurt anymore, he'd been too tired and weak to haul himself off of the bathroom floor. If Jess hadn't been there to help him the entire time, he had no idea what he would have done.

"Yeah, that sounds fine. Just pick up whatever looks good and I'll eat it too."

"Alright. Behave yourself while I'm gone, 'kay?"

"Aww. I was planning a huge party for the second you left. Guess I gotta call it off now."

"Smartass," she said with a laugh, kissing him one more time before grabbing her purse and keys from the end table. "See you later, Sam."

"Bye, Jess."

Jessica felt a little guilty about keeping her real intentions from Sam. Or maybe more than a little. But she knew if Sam caught on to what she was about to attempt, he would either be angry, find a way to stop her, or retreat farther into himself than he already had. None of those were acceptable options, and if she lost Sam's trust in her she wasn't sure what she would do.

In spite of that, though, she continued on to her destination, pulling smoothly into the parking lot of the local Verizon store. Sam had bought his old phone here, a Palm Treo that he loved and carried everywhere, and it wouldn't be too expensive to replace on his current phone plan. When she had talked to the cashier, explained the situation, and given enough of Sam's information to prove that she actually knew him, it was remarkably easy to get him a brand new phone. She thanked the man, paid for the new phone, and then took it out to her car, sitting in the front seat and cradling the tiny device in her palms as if it might explode at any moment.

This was a great opportunity to do a little investigating into what had happened with Sam on the night he turned twenty-one. All she had to do was find his brother's phone number, give him a quick call on Sam's phone, and then delete the record from the call log. Simple, fast, efficient.

So then why was her heart racing so badly right now?

Her hands shook as she scrolled down the list and found "DEAN," hitting the little green phone button and listening to it ring. She could hear her heartbeat getting louder, pounding out the seconds while she waited for the call to go through. It continued to ring for nearly a minute, and her hope began to fade. Maybe he wasn't around his phone? Or it was on silent? Or even worse, he thought it was Sam and wasn't going to answer because of that.

She was about to end the call and try dialing the number from her own cell when she heard a tiny mechanical click, followed by a gruff "Sam?"

For several seconds she didn't know how to answer. If this was Dean, he didn't sound like she had thought he would. His voice was deep, and a little rough, and even in that one word there was a trace of an accent a little more Southern than she was used to hearing in California. Still, he sounded alert, even worried, and she immediately got the sense that whoever this Dean was or what he might have said, he still cared about his little brother. An odd thing to think, really, considering she was calling to ask what he had done to hurt Sam just three days ago.

"Sam? You there?" Dean asked, a little louder this time.

Well, no choice but to answer now. She hoped she hadn't made a mistake in calling this man.

"No, I, um… I'm not Sam. But you're Dean, right?"

"Where's Sam? Why are you using his phone?" Now the voice was harsh, guarded, and all the compassion hidden underneath only seconds ago had vanished.

"My name's Jessica Moore. I'm Sam's girlfriend."

She could almost hear him processing that on the other end, and then:

"So why are you calling on his phone?"

"He… doesn't actually know I'm calling you. I wasn't sure I should, but –"

"So then what are you calling for? Did something happen to Sam? Is he okay?"

One question at a time, Buddy…

"Sam's doing better. He fell down some stairs three days ago, broke his leg badly enough to need surgery, but he's getting around alright now and he's got some pretty good pain meds."

Dean's groan was barely audible but definitely there. "Aw, Sammy… What'd he do? You said three days ago – was he drunk?"

Jessica grimaced. Here was the part she'd been hoping to avoid.

"Well, not exactly. See, he uh… You…"

"Me? What the hell have I got to do with this?"

"Okay, here goes. We were out eating at a diner that was on the second floor of its building. Everything was great, Sam had enough beer to get tipsy but not drunk. And then his phone went off, and I noticed the caller-ID said 'Dean.' He read it, and he just got whiter and whiter while he did. Then all of a sudden he just stood up and walked out of the restaurant, saying we had to go home and he'd tell me what it was about later. Before I could catch up to him he fell backwards down the metal stairs, and… Well, I already told you about his leg."

When Dean was silent on the other end, a spark of fury rose inside her and she got a little bolder.

"Well? Aren't you going to say something? Your brother falls down the stairs because you said something terrible on his birthday and you don't have anything to say for yourself? What kind of asshole are you, huh?"

"Jessica, wait, I –"

"I mean, seriously, I knew Sam didn't like talking about his family, but I had no idea that this was why! Who does things like that? I thought my mom and my aunt were mean to each other, but this must really have been bad to rattle someone like Sam, and –"

"JESSICA!"

"What?!" she snapped.

"Just… hold on a second. What in the hell are you talking about? I tried all damn night to send Sam a birthday message from Florida, and it got bounced back every time. He never got anything from me."

"What time did you send it?" she asked slowly, a few things starting to slide into place in her mind.

"A little after one a.m., why?"

"Sam's phone got broken when he fell on it. That was a little after seven p.m. I just got him a new one, so he hasn't been receiving any calls or texts until now."

"Okay. Well do you know what that mystery text said?"

"I don't know. The store couldn't recover it for me and he didn't show it to me before the phone got smashed."

"Dammit. Okay, well I'm gonna try to call him later tonight. See if I can work this out."

"Good. I can tell him you're calling, so –"

"No," Dean cut in hurriedly. "Don't do that. Sam's got a huge independent streak, and he'll be beyond pissed if he thinks you're meddling in his family life behind his back. You sound like a nice girl, so just trust me when I say you don't want to get involved in this. I'll fix it, okay? But if we ever end up seeing each other in person around Sam, we've never met until that moment. Understand?"

"Got it. I'll get this phone home to Sam. Good luck, Dean."

"Thanks. Bye, Jessica…"

"Jess."

"Right. Bye, Jess."

The call ended abruptly, and Jessica sighed, slipping the phone back into its box after deleting any evidence that Dean had ever been called. She didn't know why, but she had a sinking feeling that this wasn't going to be resolved as easily as Sam's brother made it sound. Either way, she'd done all she could. Now she would just have to take care of him and wait for Dean to do the rest.