Author's thoughts: There always seem to be forces against the Winchester Brothers, but what if they had one additional helping hand instead? This series of stories from the beginning of the show is something like a cross between a romance and a sis-fic without actually containing either a romantic interest or a sister. It does, however, contain Sam's best friend from college, and, although she doesn't do much on the cases, it's nice to have someone to come "home" to at the end of the day. If you are interested in a new twist on a non-romantic OFC, along with a lot of angst, some H/C (emphasis on the comfort), lots of emotion, and something to fill in a few odd gaps, perhaps this is the story for you.
Some notes:
Being the introductory chapters, the first three (two Pilot and Wendigo) will have some additional elements to bring my OFC into the story. This includes many more flashbacks than I usually use and more actual Show dialogue than you will find in the future. In future stories, they are almost exclusively missing scenes and tags.
I had been working on this series previously and then removed all the stories in favor of a complete rewrite. If you happen to recall the originals, don't give away any details in reviews, as I made changes that should create interesting twists.
I'm planning to post these about when they happened in the timeline of the show. I'm starting on November 1st.
Thanks for giving me a shot!
[Present: October 2005]
Sam turned to Jess with a smile. "What would I do without you?"
"Crash and burn." Jess replied, grabbing Sam for a kiss.
A voice shattered the moment. "Apparently I got here just in time for the cutesy part."
Sam blushed as Jess turned to the dark-haired girl who had just walked up to them and gave her a hug. "Jen, you made it!" She exclaimed.
"I wouldn't miss Sam's victory celebration for anything." She eyed the table for a moment. "Although it seems I'm a bit behind."
Sam chuckled. "No worries. There may be more shots coming, whether we want them or not." Jen smiled.
"Luis's here?"
Both Sam and Jess laughed and nodded. Jen sighed. "Okay, let me see if I can save all our livers." Jen turned to Sam. "But, really, you did great." She gave him a quick hug. "I knew you would."
Sam replied. "Thanks. For everything."
Jen turned away and headed toward the bar.
"If I didn't know better, I'd be terribly jealous." Jess said with raised eyebrows across the table.
Sam gave Jess a skeptical look. "If you were that worried, Jen wouldn't be living with us."
"Last time I checked, she was living with me first. You just crashed the party."
"Well, then. Maybe I'm the one who should be jealous. My girlfriend and my best friend plotting behind my back?" Sam gave Jess a sly smile, which she returned with a playful laugh.
"Only in your dreams, baby."
As a matter of fact, Sam couldn't imagine college without Jen. Especially since they met the very first day.
[August 2002]
Sam looked around at the classroom, people already occupying about half of the seats. He had only arrived at Stanford yesterday, and had about enough time to unpack his few belongings and get some sleep before waking up early for orientation. He had cut the travel time close, and relying on public transportation had almost made him late. He didn't have another choice. It wasn't as if Dad or Dean were going to just drop him off.
He had briefly met his roommate, but brushed him off without much more than an introduction saying that he was beat from travel. Technically, that was true. Not that he actually got much sleep. They both got up early for orientation and went in different directions. Sam's first possible interaction successfully avoided. That was the part of college Sam was the most worried about. What could he say about his life, his family? He didn't want to lie, but he couldn't exactly tell the truth either.
Sam took a seat in the back row, corner, near the window. No one was in that corner yet. Most of the people in the room were in the front two rows. Sam supposed he should expect a lot of overachievers at Stanford. A moment later, a girl walked over and took the seat in front of him. She didn't look at Sam at all. From behind, all Sam could see was her long, straight, very dark hair. She took out a small notebook and leaned over it writing something. For a moment, Sam thought she seemed familiar. He dismissed the thought. The room continued to fill.
The young man standing near the front of the room finally quieted everybody and began the orientation.
"So, I'm Frank, and I'm your Stanford guide for the next week."
He spent a little time talking about himself and explaining the week of orientation. Then he got to the part that Sam was fearing, getting to know his other classmates.
"Now, pair off with someone near you."
Crap. Sam was frozen in panic for a moment. He was bound to get someone asking all kinds of crazy questions about where he was from, his family, his hobbies. Before he could figure out a plan to get out of this, the girl in front of him spun around and smiled.
"You don't look too scary, want to be my partner?"
Sam looked at her. She was simply dressed in a solid red shirt and black pants. Her hair fell just below her shoulders and brushed against her upper arms. Her smile was friendly and almost contagious. Although, it was her eyes that caught Sam's attention. They were clear and decisive. They caught his gaze and held it, he almost couldn't look away. Yet, Sam felt completely at ease looking in her eyes. Again, he had the sense that he knew her, but couldn't place why he would.
She seemed as safe as anyone would be, so Sam shrugged, smiled, and said, "Sure."
"Great. It's a plan." Her smile opened up further for a second, and then she turned back forward as the student in charge continued with the instructions.
"You need to talk to your partner and find out three facts about them, other than their name, that you can use to introduce your partner to the class. Some suggestions are hometown, family, major, hobbies, things like that. Now, you have 5 minutes, go!"
Sam sighed at the instructions and his brow furrowed nervously. He looked at the girl in front of him as she turned back around and said, "So ..."
She smiled and easily took control, "Why don't we start with names, I'm Jen."
Sam let out a breath, names he could handle. "Sam. I'm Sam."
Jen looked at Sam, thoughtful for a moment. "You know," she said, "I've played this game before, and I get tired of the usual 'where are you from' and 'how many brothers and sisters do you have' so why don't we do something more interesting."
Sam wasn't sure where she was going with this, but not answering "where are you from" sounded good to him. "So, what do you mean?"
She smiled again, with an almost guilty look, but her eyes were lit up in excitement. "Well, here's your first question: If you were a kitchen utensil, what would you be? Don't think too hard, just let it pop into your head."
Sam was little shocked, but, wow, was that a great question. He thought for a second.
Jen jumped back in quickly. "I'll tell you mine first. I'm a meat thermometer. I like to find out what's going on inside people, understand them deep down."
Sam smiled, "I like that. Well, I am a paring knife, I like to peel things and find out what's underneath the surface."
"See?" Jen said. "Now we know far more interesting things about each other. Here's the next question, what's your favorite geographical feature?"
Sam lit up. He had never expected the get to know you games to be this, well, fun.
"Oh, that's an easy one," he responded quickly. "I love the Great Plains. Huge sweeping open spaces with the sun shining down, preferably with Buffalo roaming around."
Jen crinkled up her nose at that. "Too much land. I love lakes. Glistening blue water, edged with trees, sitting out on a rowboat catching fish." Jen paused, a little nostalgically.
Sam looked at Jen carefully for a moment, then he had an idea. "Ok, I have the last question. If you could sum up your life in one song lyric, what would it be?"
Jen looked right into Sam's eyes with her deeply piercing, but yet soft, stare. "Don't stop believing." She spoke without a moment's pause.
Sam smiled. "Journey, good choice."
"And you?"
"Don't look back, a new day is breaking"
"Oh, Boston, very nice."
Sam kept looking at Jen. He was still wondering why she seemed so familiar.
"Yes?" she said.
"What?" Sam jerked out of his thoughts and back into the classroom.
"You are staring and thinking about asking me something, so you might as well do it. What's the worst that can happen?"
Sam was uncomfortable for a moment, surprised she had figured that out. Her words made sense, though, and Sam couldn't think of a reason not to ask.
"Could we have met before? You seem awfully familiar to me."
She smiled and said, "I don't think so, but I've been on the move a lot over the last few years, anything is possible."
"Yeah," Sam responded, "I've moved around a lot too. Oh well." Sam didn't think too much about it any longer. It was so unlikely that he knew her, and some people just always looked familiar.
At that point, the leader at the front of their room called them to attention and started the introductions. Sam's and Jen's were certainly memorable, if unconventional. Sam was glad to get off to such a great start.
[Present: after Dean's arrival]
Sam finally finished packing and looked Jess in the eyes, trying to reassure her. "Hey. Everything's going to be okay. I will be back in time, I promise."
He kissed her on the cheek and left the room. She shouted after him. "At least tell me where you're going."
As Sam left the room, he noticed Jen standing quietly at the door to her bedroom. Sam paused for a moment and looked at Jen. He knew she had heard everything from before, but had remained silent. Jen didn't ask questions; she never did in the three years they had known each other. Somehow, though, Jen always seemed to understand. Sam's eyes asked the question, Keep an eye on Jess. Jen nodded and gave Sam a small smile. Sam relaxed, somewhat. Jen could make anything better. At least, she always seemed to be able to for him.
[December 2002]
It was Christmas Eve and Sam was wandering the arts building. He had just come back from the dinner hosted by the International Students Association. There were quite a few students at Stanford over Christmas break, but Sam was the only American at the dinner. He enjoyed the food and the people, and would have stayed longer, but it seemed that everyone he spoke with felt the need to grill him over why he was there and where his family was. Sam escaped quickly before dessert, foregoing the apple pie.
He always liked the arts building. Art and music students seemed to work at all hours, so it was typically open. The walls were always interesting, bulletin boards with music theory or art critiques. Usually, there was also a cacophony of sounds of students in practice rooms preparing for concerts and juries. Tonight, however, it was eerily quiet.
Sam wandered for a little while, when he heard piano music across the building and started wandering in that direction. He wasn't sure why exactly, but it seemed appropriate to have music at Christmas. Not that he typically did as a kid. Well, there was a first time for everything.
The strains of a jazzy version of the Christmas Song lured Sam down further towards the piano practice rooms. Sam always heard the Christmas music on the tv when he could get Dean to leave on the Christmas shows, but he didn't learn the words to most of the carols. He did remember the tune well enough to hum along.
At the end of the song, the music stopped, and so did Sam. He stood still for a moment, lost in his own thoughts in the hallway. Suddenly, he heard a voice behind him, "Sam?"
Sam jumped and turned around. How could someone sneak up on him? The voice belonged to Jen. She was the first person he really talked to at Stanford, during orientation, and then they had been together in a study group for the introductory writing skills class they had together. They had talked a number of times about class, campus, the weather, crazy college students, and other trivial topics. He liked that she never got too personal, and, yet, she still seemed to understand him. It actually confused Sam somewhat. He was so used to feeling like he had to be distant from people, but Jen drew him in, made him feel almost too comfortable, and then didn't ask him for information. Still, a friendly face on Christmas was much appreciated, and he smiled at her.
"Hey, Jen. I didn't know you were still on campus?"
"It's nice and quiet over the holidays." Her response was vague, which seemed to be typical for her. Sam didn't ask further, he never drilled for information just in case it got turned around on him. Jen continued. "Did you hear my music?"
Sam was surprised. "That was you? I didn't know you played. I mean, it was great!"
Jen smiled. "You should come listen."
Sam thought for a moment, but then almost felt compelled. What else was he going to do on Christmas Eve?
"Okay." He followed Jen around the corner to a small room with a baby grand piano in it that said Baldwin on the front. She sat at the piano and began playing. Sam recognized the song, What Child is This.
Sam stood behind and listened while she played it through once. She held onto the final chord of the chorus for a moment, then spoke. "You can sit next to me on the bench, it won't bother me." Then she swiftly moved into a second verse with more flourishes. Sam didn't want to respond over the beautiful music, and chose to simply sit next to Jen on the edge of the bench and listen.
She finished that one, and quickly moved into We Three Kings followed by Angels We Have Heard on High. Sam was soon lost in the music.
Jen paused before the next song. Sam thought he detected a sly smile, though didn't know why. Then she played an introduction to I'll Be Home for Christmas, and, unexpectedly, she began to sing.
I'll be home for Christmas, you can plan on me
Please have snow, and mistletoe, and presents 'round the tree
Christmas Eve will find me, when the lovelight gleams
I'll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams
Her voice was clear and delicate and drew Sam into the words. Soon, he was lost in the feeling of the song. The message hit a little close to home since this was his first Christmas with no family around. Even when his dad was out hunting, Dean was always there, trying, if not succeeding, to make Christmas important. The song must have affected Sam even more than he realized, as he barely noticed the tears in his eyes until Jen faded out the final line, and he blinked, and they fell.
Jen turned toward him just at that moment.
Sam quickly swiped at his face and looked the other way. Tears halted, at least for the moment, Sam turned back, smiled, and tried to laugh it off. "You're, umm, really good."
Jen was silent and stoic, but when she looked into Sam's eyes, he felt that she was smiling at him.
"Sorry," Sam added as he laughed again nervously. This was the most emotion he'd shown anyone at Stanford, anyone in years even, and it scared him just a bit that it seemed to come so easily.
"Don't be sorry. You never have to be sorry about that." He locked into her gaze for another silent moment, and then she turned and her hands were back on the keys. She sang again.
I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know
Where the tree tops glisten, and children listen, to hear sleigh bells in the snow
I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, with every Christmas card I write
May your days be merry and bright, and may all your Christmas's be white
Sam laughed at the thought of a white Christmas in California, and was glad to get off the thoughts of his family. He was still a bit shocked that he had cracked like that in front of this girl who was, in many ways, still a stranger to him.
Jen looked up at him again. "I bet you can help with this one." She smiled and started singing.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way
And Sam joined in
Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh, hey!
For a little longer they sang, played, and laughed. Sam had one of the best Christmases he'd ever had in the place he least expected it. After a while, Sam was beginning to feel how late it was getting, and Jen finally called last song. "Then we should both sleep." She said. She played the haunting introduction and sang in German, her ethereal voice echoing around the small room.
Stille nacht, Helige nacht
Alles schlaft, einsem vacht
Nur das troute hoch helige par
Holden knabe im lockingen har
Schlaft in himmlisher ruh, schlaft in himmlisher ruh
Sam felt his eyes fill with tears for the second time that evening, although this time they remained still. When the song was finished, Jen closed the lid over the piano keys quietly. She then quickly turned toward Sam and put her arms around him in a hug. He was a little surprised by the gesture, but hugged her back anyway. "Thank you for sharing Christmas with me," she said as she let go. Before Sam could respond, she left the room, and was gone, almost as if she vanished in the hallway.
Sam stood staring at the empty piano for a while. Then, he smiled and walked back to his room. It really was a Merry Christmas.
[Present]
The Impala sped down the empty road as Sam shifted back into his seat. It did kind of feel good riding shotgun with his brother again.
"So," Dean started the expected interrogation. "I'm gone for a few years, and you are living with not one, but two girls? How did you ever manage that?"
Sam shrugged. "Jen's just a friend."
Dean looked over at him and made an incredulous face. "No such thing."
Sam let out a chuckle. "Trust me. Jen is … well, she's just something else."
[Winter/Spring 2003]
Sam grabbed his sandwich and salad from the food court area and was headed toward the door when he heard her voice.
"You seem to be in an awful hurry, Sam."
Sam turned to his side to see Jen alone at a small table.
"Oh, uh, well," Sam stuttered.
"Unless you really have a pressing engagement, you should join me for lunch." Jen smiled at Sam.
Sam stopped for a moment, thought about the request, and saw no good excuse to get out of lunch. He shrugged. "I guess. For a little while at least."
Jen's smile broadened. "Good. I like company."
Sam sat across from Jen. He was a little nervous. Typically, he avoided this type of interaction. He had met a number of interesting people in various study groups, but was still wary of purely social gatherings, and especially meals. That was the hardest time to avoid certain topics of conversation. Sam preferred to have an escape route, and half a sandwich on the plate is not usually conducive to that speedy an escape.
Jen started the conversation. Sam expected as much. She tended to take charge in that way. She eyed his lunch choices. "Pre-wrapped sandwich and packaged salad, good choice, quick and easy. Although, if you take the few extra minutes to make your own salad, you can steal the oyster crackers from the soup bar for some extra crunch."
Sam looked down at his food. "I like the way they make the salads here, though, I can never quite find the right ratio of lettuce to tomatoes, but they get it right every time."
Jen smiled at him. "I've always thought that salad making should be an art form. You have to consider texture, color, and flavor to get just the right mix."
"Maybe they should have a class for it, there seems to be one for everything else around here." Sam smiled at Jen and took a bite of his sandwich.
They spent the next hour talking about art, food, and classes Stanford should offer. Sam barely even noticed the time fly by. He had mostly avoided long conversations with people, worried that they would ask obvious questions about his life, and he wasn't sure how to respond to those. Jen, though, never asked.
At a break in the conversation, Jen glanced up at the clock on the wall.
"Well, I have class. I'll see you around, Sam." Jen got up and was lost in the crowd before Sam could respond. He couldn't help but smile the rest of the day.
Sam tended to be a person of habit, and so he was getting the same lunch at the same time next week, when he spotted Jen at the same table as the week before. Jen smiled and waved at Sam so he nodded at her, hands full and all, and said "Hey".
"Well, aren't you going to sit?" Jen replied, a sparkle in her eyes. Sam didn't even hesitate. Jen motioned toward the door. "So, did you run into the crowd out there protesting the new Starbucks coffee?"
Sam laughed. "Yeah. I never thought there were that many people in the world against Starbucks much less at Stanford." The conversation continued, ranging from coffee to tea to farming and fair trade. Once again, no personal information was mentioned or asked about, and once again, Sam barely realized nearly an hour had passed when Jen left for class.
The third week, Sam got his sandwich on a plate instead of wrapped to go. Jen laughed at him. They discussed why Bon Jovi was better than Mozart.
By the fourth week, lunch was part of Sam's routine, and, he noticed, something he really looked forward to. This time just before Jen left she turned to him said with that same sparkle in her eyes, "Next week, same bat time, same bat channel."
Sam smiled as Jen disappeared into the crowd. He came back every week that semester.
[Present]
Dean pulled Sam out of the house, despite his protests, and got him most of the way to the Impala before Sam turned to stare at the flames out the window of the apartment. Tears filled his eyes, and he whispered, "Jess." Dean looked at Sam eyes full of worry, but Sam barely noticed.
"Sam!" A woman's voice shouted. Both boys turned to see Jen running down the street toward them. She slowed as she got close, "Thank goodness you're okay," She said as she wrapped her arms around Sam.
Sam broke out of his shock at her touch and the tears in his eyes started falling down his cheeks as he hugged his friend tightly. "Jess." He whispered again as a sob broke through. He buried his head into her shoulder.
"I know." Jen said quietly. "I know about everything, remember." Something about her last word reminded Sam of a conversation. He hadn't thought of it before now. He wasn't even sure that he had ever remembered it before now, even though it happened a couple of months ago.
[September, 2005]
Sam, Jess, and Jen had been having a fun evening of drinks, movies, and board games. Jen was doing a large part of the mixing and pouring, and Jess's tolerance was pretty low. Soon, she was passed out on the couch, and Jen was still going nearly drink for drink with Sam. He was surprised that she was still standing, but Jen was often a surprising person. She had just supplied a new drink to Sam, and sat down at the table across from him with hers.
"Sam, I want to talk to you." Jen's voice was suddenly serious. Sam was drunk enough that he didn't really notice.
"You know, I like talking to you. You always have interesting things to say, and you make me laugh."
"Yes, but right now, I just need you to listen." Sam didn't know why, but suddenly, all he could do was focus on Jen's voice, like it was calling specifically to him.
"I know you don't know much about me, but I know a lot about you. I know that you and your family are hunters. I know what happened to your mother when you were a baby. I know because I'm involved in the same things. It is my job to help stop evil from destroying life. It is not a simple coincidence that we met, and know that I have never lied to you, and never will. I also know you came here to escape the hunter's world. Unfortunately, things are beginning to change, and I think that something may happen to you or your family. I don't know what or when. When it happens though, I want you to know that I am here to help you. Whenever and however you need me. I care about you Sam, and that will not change." Jen sighed. Then she relaxed back into her chair and finished speaking. "You're pretty drunk. You probably won't remember this for a while, but, when you need to remember, I will remind you, and you will remember. Now, you should probably get some sleep."
Sam suddenly felt incredibly tired. His eyes almost refused to stay open, and he couldn't remember what just happened. "Wow," he said. "I am really tired. I think I'm going to get some sleep." Sam got up and wandered off toward his bedroom.
[Present]
As Sam remembered the conversation, he pulled back and looked at Jen. For a moment he wondered why he didn't remember that before. "You know," He said, staring at Jen as if he were really seeing her for the first time. "You know what just happened to Jess." Although the realization is strange to him, he suddenly felt like she's always known about his life before college. He couldn't think about it then, though, Jess was dead by the same thing that killed his mother and he had to find out who was responsible.
Jen nodded and took Sam's hands. "I do." The shock of the memory and the conversation wore off and tears began rolling down Sam's face again.
"I have to find out who did this." Sam said, trying to compose himself. He took a deep breath and looked at Jen, wanting to ask her to stay but afraid to do that, to ask her to join something he knew would be dangerous.
"I'll stay with you. I want to help." Jen said, almost as if she could read his mind, though that was nothing new for Jen and Sam. She seemed able to do that more often than she should. Sam nodded and gave her hands a squeeze before letting them go and going over to the trunk of the Impala
Dean had gone to check out the crowd and the scene, and returned looking at Jen suspiciously, but he realized that this wasn't the time for questions. He walked over to his brother giving him a close stare, still worried. Sam was still crying, but stared intently at the shotgun he was checking out, and tried to be calm.
"We got work to do."
Dean nodded at Sam as he shut the trunk. Then Dean looked over at Jen and asked, "and her?"
Sam looked Dean straight in the eyes and responded, "She understands and she's here to help."
Dean shrugged. "Whatever you say." He got in the Impala followed by the others.
Sam knew Dean didn't like it, but Sam also knew he wanted Jen there. She was the only one from school who had ever seen the dark side of Sam's life, even if it was only tiny glimpse, and she was the only one who had ever been able to help.
[October 2003]
Sam was already sitting at the table he and Jen had dubbed "their spot" when Jen, salad in hand, arrived. It was a few minutes before their usual time, and the dining room was still pretty quiet. Jen was quite surprised to see him.
"Doesn't your class last for another five minutes?" Jen asked as she sat down.
Sam looked up at Jen, and tried to smile, though he was certain that the dark circles under his eyes gave him away in an instant.
"I may have accidentally slept through part of it, so just came here instead."
Jen gave him a very concerned look. "You look like crap. You seemed okay a few days ago. Not sleeping well?"
Sam sighed. "No … not for about three nights or so, at least."
"Is this a too-much-to-do not sleeping thing or a having-trouble-sleeping not sleeping thing?"
"The latter."
"That sucks."
"Tell me about it."
"I have pretty bad insomnia, so I'm somewhat used to not sleeping. But I know for people who like their eight hours, not so easy."
Jen smiled at Sam. He appreciated the empathy, but was pretty sure that she couldn't possibly understand how bad it would have to be for him to get the point where lack of sleep would become noticeable.
"I don't even need a ton of sleep. I'm pretty used to long nights and catching a few hours here and there. But for the last three days it seems every time I shut my eyes, I wake up every couple of hours from these crazy dreams." Sam frowned. He wondered if continuing to talk about this was a good idea. He had gotten way to comfortable with Jen over the last few months, and it seemed that nowadays things just slipped out of his mouth that he'd never intended on sharing. This could be too much of an open door. Nightmares were a remnant of his hunting life, and Sam didn't talk about that life here. He looked over at Jen trying to gauge her reaction.
"Like, nightmares?" She asked. Sam looked into Jen's eyes and saw compassion and concern, but no personal curiosity. She had never been very curious about things before, but Sam never knew when or if that would ever change. Typically he was still somewhat cautious with what he said. Today, however, his defenses weren't quite working as well as they would with more sleep, so he continued.
"Yeah, like nightmares. It used to happen to me more often, when I was younger- but not since I'd gotten out here, not until now." Okay. That was enough. In these mere past two minutes of conversation, Sam had left more openings into his previous life than he had in the last year. He really needed to stop talking. He laid his head on his crossed arms on the table and waited for what he expected to be a string of questions about the dreams that he would have to try and avoid.
However, the questions never came. As Sam rested for a moment, eyes shut, he felt Jen's hand gently press into his temple, smoothing his unkempt hair down. Sam was glad his head was down on the table, because between the lack of sleep, the intensity of the nightmares, and Jen's touch, he couldn't help but let a few tears escape from his eyes- tears which were quickly rubbed into his sleeves. That was certainly not part of the plan. Not that Sam really had a plan. Probably should have just stayed back in bed. Sent Jen an email instead of bothering her with my shit.
Well, that was the one thing Sam had known when he'd come here: that he didn't want to deal with this alone. When he was a kid, Dean had always been there. Even while Dean was sleeping, he'd still been there, and Sam had known that they were safe. Alone in his dorm room, waking up to these nightmares, it was much more difficult to fall back asleep without his brother's steady breath nearby. So Sam took a risk, letting Jen in on this part of his world. He still wasn't completely sure of it, but her touch was surprisingly comforting. Quietly, Jen spoke.
"Back at my place, I have a really amazing chamomile tea blend that does a surprisingly good job of knocking people out. Maybe tonight I could bring you some and see if that does the trick."
Sam thought for a moment. This is what he'd wanted, right? Someone to be with him. If tea was the key to that, then tea worked for him. He took a moment to be sure he was fully composed, then picked his head up and smiled at Jen.
"Yeah, that would be great. Thanks." Jen returned the smile. She let Sam's head rest back on the table, and he listened to her babble about 18th century philosophers for the rest of their lunch.
Later that evening, Sam waited for Jen in his dorm. He had a single dorm room this year on a quiet study floor that he'd volunteered to RA: mainly since he would get room-rent as well as the single, plus the advantage of lots of quiet, non-intrusive, students housed around him. He was relieved when the knock on the door produced Jen, lugging a bag of supplies. So much stuff for a cup of tea? Sam thought, as he watched her pull everything out.
She noticed him watching. "I don't suppose you have a kettle, mugs, or honey here?"
Sam shook his head at Jen. She smiled smugly. "I didn't expect you to." His silent question answered, Sam once again wondered how she seemed to know him so well. Once she got the water in the kettle and the tea bags waiting, she sat at Sam's desk and glanced around. Again, Sam began to get nervous. Typically, when people came into his room they looked for things to talk about, family photos, posters: stuff which Sam mostly didn't have. His walls were empty other than the school calendar, his desk neat with just a computer and some pens and pencils and the one frames photo of his parents. Fortunately, Jen might as well have not noticed anything. She smiled at him while waiting, but remained silent. Sam breathed out a slow, expansive sigh of relief when she finally declared, "Ok, it's ready now."
Jen handed him a mug with Scrabble X words written all over it. "Sip slowly. Part of the process is to gradually bring up your body temperature, then let it drop afterward. The drop is the signal for deep sleep." Sam nodded and started sipping. This close to falling asleep was the point that he typically started getting nervous. The dreams had been terrifying visions of his Dad and Dean hunting on their own. The details changed each time, but over and over again they'd ended with creatures tearing apart Sam's family as they'd screamed his name. Sam wasn't sure he could handle dreaming that again, but he knew he couldn't keep himself awake forever either.
Jen had been silent still, but was watching Sam with an expression that Sam couldn't place... Uncertainty, perhaps? The tea was just beginning to warm his body when Jen spoke again.
"I read in my Psych book that nightmares are like cramps in your brain. When you get a cramp in your muscle, it tightens up and refuses to relax. You need to stretch the muscle, make it work, to get rid of the cramp. If nightmares are cramps in your brain, perhaps what you should do is consciously think about your nightmares to force them out rather than let them seep through while you are trying to sleep and at your most vulnerable."
Sam clutched his cup with both hands. She didn't really want him to talk about the dreams, did she? She had never pried before, but he knew it could always happen. No. He couldn't tell the dream to her. He stopped sipping and stammered, "But, these dreams ... I mean ..."
Jen interrupted him before he could finish, again mirroring his unspoken thoughts. "I'm not suggesting you tell me about the dreams, just think about them. I assume it's what you've been doing anyway. I know that I can never get nightmares out of my head. Only, this time, let it happen, don't stop it, even the bad parts."
She put her hand gently on Sam's wrist. He relaxed upon hearing her words and, almost without thought, he removed his hand from the cup and gently held hers in return. She gave his hand a quick squeeze and graced him with a gentle smile. Okay. This, he could do. What's the worst that can happen? Although Sam's trust had never been given easily, he felt at ease trusting Jen on this. He already found himself feeling better just allowing his hand to rest in hers. It was as if he could draw on her strength, not just figuratively, but in an almost real sense.
Sam nodded, and squeezed Jen's hand in return. He sipped his tea, and shut his eyes.
Then, he let the thought come through, the nightmare clear in his head. As his father and brother ran through the dark woods, Sam gripped Jen's hand hard. Again, he could almost feel strength flowing into him, he slowed his breathing slightly and kept the anxiety at bay. This had never been the worst part of his nightmares, though. The worst always came when the advancing creature caught up with Dean. Again, Sam heard the screams in his head, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight.
Sam wanted it to stop right here, as it was the next part that always left him wide awake in a cold sweat. Suddenly, he felt another squeeze on his hand, and he allowed himself to continue. The sound of his brother crying, "Sam! Help!" echoed in his head, and he couldn't contain either the sharp shudder or the tear that fell out of his eye. Before Sam could move, Jen had wiped it away. He tried to say something, sorry or thanks, but Jen said, "Shhh," and he continued to hold her hand as he slowly relaxed back to reality. When he was done, he opened his eyes, took the final sip out of his cup, and handed it to Jen.
Sam took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He felt calm and almost relieved. Maybe there was something to what Jen had said and to what he had done. He turned to Jen.
"I think I'm good now."
Jen smiled. "You sleep then, I'll leave." She gathered her stuff quickly and Sam stood up to get ready for bed once she was out the door. Jen grabbed his hand once more on the way out the door.
"Go to sleep, sweet dreams." She said. Her words, and probably the tea, seemed to hit Sam suddenly very hard and he felt incredibly tired. He moved back toward the bed as Jen left and shut the door behind her.
Sam didn't remember anything else until 8:00 the next morning.
The next morning, Jen received an email from Sam containing two words: "Thank you."
Author's note: Well! That's a bit of a rolling start I think. I stopped here because the next part is from Dean's perspective. It will go up tomorrow.