Author's Note: So, my first time sharing any fan fiction I've written for a general audience. First chapter is pretty cut and dry retelling of the early parts of the first episode...but bear with me, I'll be changing things up big time starting in Chapter 2.

I have only a vague idea where this thing is going. I'm mostly winging it. This whole story is just a way to give my brain something to play with that ISN'T obsessing over a novel I'm working on, so I figure I'll work on it when I feel like it and not worry about it otherwise.

Music is very important to this story. I'll be giving links at the bottom of each chapter with intentional musical references. As planned, all lyrics included will be original.

In case you're curious...the main inspiration for this story was listening to "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" while doing yard work. Then I added in a healthy dose of too many crime shows, a lot of music I love, and a smidgen of the manga/anime Kaikan (Sensual) Phrase.

Chapter 1: Everything is Alright

"What's the matter, babe, can't sleep?" Sam looked up from compulsively fingering the neck of his violin to see Jess standing in the doorway. Her shoulders sagged wearily, her hair was disheveled adorably, and she gave the cutest yawn, failing to muffle it with a knuckle between her teeth. Her yawn triggered one in him, deep and irrepressible. He was so tired, but whenever he closed his eyes all he could see were bars of music in B Minor and all he could hear was the horrible twang of a string snapping. "You'd be practicing right now if I weren't trying to sleep, wouldn't you?" He nodded and yawned again. "In that case, let's practice!" Jess disappeared down the hall, and returned moments later, socketing the pieces of her flute together. She held it to her mouth, gave an experimental blow through the mouthpiece, producing a low, sweet but flat A, and twisted the head around to fix the pitch. Sam slumped back in his arm chair, lifting the violin to his chin. Plopping down on the couch opposite him, Jess lifted her flute and eyed him expectantly. With her lips pursed, she looked delicious, but even that thought couldn't distract him for long.

Jess played a C, and Sam hastily tuned to her, and then they were cascading through C.P.E. Bach's Duet for Flute and Violin. It wasn't one of his audition pieces for Monday, but playing it instantly calmed his nerves. His fingers dancing without him having to think about it, the notes as familiar as the sound of Jess's voice, the feel of her fingers skimming across his skin When he'd gotten to Julliard, he'd been majorly pissed when, right off, they'd insisted that he partner with another player. He'd spent his whole life playing second fiddle – not literally, they were both guitarists, but close enough – to his brother and his father. School was his chance to shine on his own, and he'd resented being assigned to a duet. That resentment had faded when he'd met his partner. He would have had to have been dead to be upset that he would be playing alongside such a gorgeous, buxom blonde. Mr. Mitchell had set the music in front of each of them, and though neither had ever seen it before, they'd exchanged slight smiles, lifted their instruments, and started to play. Sam had never felt anything so right in his life, within the first few bars he knew he'd never get enough of Jess. He never even asked her out, he hadn't needed to. She'd felt the connection too, and they'd been a couple since they'd set down their instruments that first day.

They finished the duet and launched into another, also not part of his audition. He had his 30 minute set down so well that all practicing did was drive him nuts. It was Friday night, the graduate school audition was Monday morning, and he was ready, as ready as he'd ever been for anything in his whole, except maybe losing his virginity. He stared down a weekend of restless frustration and irritation with nothing to occupy himself except drilling the same thirty minutes of music that he'd learned so well he could have played them from beyond the grave. Despite her fatigue, Jess played intensely, eyes closed as her long, strong fingers danced over the flute keys. She was such a talented player, so dedicated to her music, that it consistently amazed him that she was also so dedicated to him.

Midnight came and went. Jess dozed on the couch, flute negligently clutched in her hands. Sam continued to play, turning Liszt's Sonata in B Minor into a lullaby. He felt much calmer than he had earlier, and gradually let his notes grow softer and softer. As he did, he became aware of another sound, an accompanying twang, muffled through the door but distinct. The strummed notes echoed Sam's, harmonizing perfectly, and as Sam went into the melodic section of the song, the guitar picked out a perfect counterpoint effortlessly. Sam let his notes grow more quiet, but guitar continued, beginning again as if playing a chorus, and he heard murmured words.

Been so long without you,

Been so long alone.

Can't believe the road behind us

Looks just like the one we're on.

Sam trailed off, the guitar continued strong, the voice singing gruffly. In his life he'd only known one guitar player good enough to join such a complex melody as if it were child's play, remember it note perfect after one playing, and top it off by creating lyrics on the fly.

Don't know where we're going to,

Not sure where we've been.

All I know's the road alone

Is a mighty sad place to be.

Is a mighty sad place to be.

Breath catching, Sam crossed the room and hauled the door open. His brother lost his balance and fell to an elbow, guitar making its first sour note. "Dean?" he demanded.

"Heya, Sammy," said his brother with a wry smile, picking himself up off the floor.

"What are you doing here? Why are you serenading me through the damn door? How did you even find me? Why can't you knock like a normal person? Dude, it's after midnight!"

"I've missed you too, Sam," Dean said, swinging the guitar by the strap so that it was hanging down his back. Stepping into the door way, he caught Sam in a strong, one armed hug, patting his back.

"Is everything okay, Sam?" Jess asked sleepily from the couch. Glancing back, he saw her leaning over the back of it, hair even more messy than before. He looked back to Dean, and saw his brother smirking.

"Fine, Jess," Sam gave Dean a warning look. "I'll take care of this."

"Jess, huh?" Dean ignored the warning look completely. "What'd my brother do to get such a sexy roommate?"

"She's not my roommate," said Sam testily. "She's my girlfriend." He almost slipped and said fiancée. He'd been shopping for rings, and he was pretty sure she'd say yes. In his dreams, it was a reality, and with his fatigue, fantasy and truth were difficult to distinguish.

"Your brother?" Jess asked. "Dean?"

"Let's not stand on ceremony, then, I'll just invite myself in," Dean stepped past Sam and into the room. "Nice place you got here."

"Ellen or Jo?"

"What, I can't swing by New York City and visit my baby bro?"

"Jo," Sam growled. "I should never have told her my address." Uncertainly, Jess stood, setting her flute on the coffee table. She was only wearing a loose, thin night shirt and a pair of Sam's boxers hanging loosely over her hips.

"Hi Jess, I'm Dean." Dean offered a hand to Jess, who took it with a bemused expression that grew steadily more annoyed as Dean practically stripped her and screwed her with his eyes.

"What are you doing here, Dean?" exasperation tinged Sam's voice. Possessively, he took a position next to Jess, put an arm over her shoulders.

"Down, tiger," said Dean, laughing brashly. "Winchester's have a big gig, booked as a duo at The Woman in White."

"And…?"

"And I'm a solo act right now," Dean shrugged.

"Then why'd you book a duo?" snapped Sam.

"I didn't. Dad did," said Dean, voice suddenly hard, bantering note gone. " 'Cept now he's missing."

Rubbing his temples, Sam sighed. "I'm not playing gig a with you, Dean." Jess started beside him, looking up at his face with a confused look, but Sam continued to stare down at his younger brother, using every inch of their height difference to his example.

"Come on, it's good money," Dean cajoled.

Damnit, but he did need money. It wasn't that he hadn't found the right ring, it was that on the small stipend that came with his scholarship, he couldn't possibly save enough to buy it without starving for the next six months.

"What kind of gig does he mean?" Jess asked uncertainly.

"Can I speak with my brother alone?" replied Sam.

"But Sam…"

"I promise, I'll explain later," he vowed. Meeting her eyes, she saw the intensity of his look and nodded.

"Why don't I make us some coffee?" she said, walking to the kitchen, adding over her shoulder, "Decaf, so maybe you'll sleep this century."

Alone in his living room with his older brother, Sam stared him down.

"Wait, did I just yank you from the closet?" smirked Dean. "Fancy Julliard girlfriend doesn't know her violinist first chair used to be a Joe Six Pack fiddler?"

"Shut up."

"Seriously, are you that ashamed of coming up as a working weed instead of emerging from some conservatory hot house like some exotic fucking orchid?" the bantering tone was back, but Sam recognized the edge of actual anger all too well. After 17 years watching every move his brother made, Sam knew the man better than he knew himself.

"I said shut up, Dean," he said, frustration giving way to his fatigue. "I can't do this now. Can we not argue, just once? I'm glad you're in town, you can crash on the couch if you want, we can snag breakfast in the morning and catch up, and then you can go your way, and I can go mine. I've got a good thing going here. Please don't fuck it up for me."

"Oh yeah, it'll definitely be me fucking it up, not the way you've hidden your entire past from the woman you care enough about to live with," Dean said. Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Dean restrained him with a raised hand. "I got it. You don't want me around. You don't have to pretend you do. I've got a place, I don't need your fucking couch." Disappointment was only thinly hid by aggression. Turning away, Dean headed out the door.

"Dean…" Despite all the reasons he had to watch his brother leave, Sam couldn't help but arrest him.

Dean paused in the hallway, glancing back over his shoulder. His clear green eyes flashed in the dimly lit corridor. "Sam, dad's gone. Guess I thought I could always count on my brother when things got bad. Guess I was wrong. If you change your mind, you've got my number. I'd love to have you." There was a pause. "Nothing's been the same since you left, Sammy."

Taking a hold of the neck of the guitar, Dean took the turn onto the staircase of Sam's fifth floor walk-up. "Dean!" Sam started down the hall and stopped as Dean gave a casual wave over his shoulder and disappeared out of sight.

"Fuck," he muttered.

"I guess you don't want any coffee?" said Jess sympathetically from the doorway.

"Sorry, Jess," Sam turned to her. "I…" He met her eyes, her smiling face, her trusting expression, and he swallowed his words. "I don't know what to say."

"What's going on, Sam?" she asked with concern, pressing a steaming cup into his hands. It was chocolate brown: she knew exactly how much milk and sugar to add to get it to his taste. Love brought tears to his eyes.

"I…" he shook his head, taking a sip that scalded his tongue. The pain felt appropriate, he deserved to suffer a little for misleading her for so long. No matter how careful he was to never actually lie, the only difference between the vast omissions he'd made and actual deception was semantics. He'd let her think so many things that weren't true. He couldn't bear to think how she'd react if she knew everything, and he couldn't cope with dealing with emotional fallout when his audition was in…fuck, it was less than 60 hours from now.

"Why would you turn down a paying gig?" She put a hand on his chin and forced him to meet her eyes. They were beautifully brown, catching the light, as she led him back into the apartment and sat him down on the couch. Standing over him, she was only barely taller than he was sitting. Her expression was so earnest and open and trusting.

"I don't...do that," he said, at a loss. God, he could never let her down.

"You mean don't fiddle for money anymore?" she said.

Aghast, Sam stammered, "What? I mean…did you hear? It's not what you think."

Jess laughed at him, throwing her head back, a full bodied sound that set her whole body shaking, her wavy hair flouncing about her shoulders. "Oh, Sam," she managed between gales. "How could you think I didn't know? It's in how you play, in how you finger, I always knew you weren't conservatory trained, and I don't care."

"You…knew?" Dazed, he gulped coffee and hacked as it seared his throat. She blinked at him in alarm. "Milk," he said hoarsely. She bolted to the kitchen and brought it back for him, and gulped some straight from the container to ease the burning sensation, then added a healthy amount to his coffee cup.

"I figured you'd tell me when you were ready," she said with a shrug when Sam was no longer cringing in pain. "It doesn't change anything. No matter what your background is, you're still the best violinist I've ever heard. You're still the sweetest, most caring man. I love you, Sam, and wherever you're from, it can't change that I only want to be with you." Smiling gratefully, Sam set the coffee down, rose and caught her in a rough hug. "Too tight, a little too tight," she gasped. He laughed and nosed her hair away from her neck, kissing her below her ear, along the curve of her shoulder, along her clavicle, trailing his lips up to her lips. "But I guess it's okay," she murmured against his mouth. Sam kissed her passionately.

"I love you, Jess," he murmured. "What would I do without you?"

"Crash and burn," she said playfully. "Now, go call your brother before he finds some crap act to accompany him. He was playing mighty fine guitar, he deserves the best at his side."

Music notes:

Lyrics are original. Meant to be synced with a very modified version of the Liszt Piano Sonata in B Minor, roughly minutes 5 to 6 (massively slowed down, creating a counter point, then making it up...)

Links are to YouTube.

C.P.E. Bach Duet for Flute and Violin H.598: watch?v=JG6MgDpQ0po

Liszt Piano Sonata in B Minor for Solo Violin: watch?v=6d7K6JRHFr8

Chapter title: Everything is Alright – take your pick:

Motion City Soundtrack: watch?v=SY-c-_sZ8LI

OR

Jesus Christ Superstar: watch?v=jkje4FiH9Qc