This was written for the experimental bingo challenge over at the livejournal spnspiration community, and includes the following elements: radical revisionism, second person pov, and extremely minor character pov. Lots of interesting stories and fanart have resulted from the challenge, so if you haven't checked it out, I highly recommend it.
And as always, feel free to let me know what you think.
When Jess introduces you to the guy she's been sleeping with, your first thought is fucking finally. You're pretty sure it's the same dude she's been talking about for months, putting way too much effort into the pursuit, if anyone asks you. Which no one does, of course.
But then you get a better look, and things start to make a little more sense. Because hot damn, this guy is gorgeous, all big hands and big feet and pretty much big all over, which makes you wonder of course what other bonuses Jess might be getting out of this relationship.
He's got that floppy hair, too, that Jess always likes, and puppy-dog dimples when he smiles. Something about him reminds you of Eric, your Eric, and you think maybe it's the way Sam's so careful with Jess, so protective without that annoying flare of chauvinism that ruins so many of the nice ones. So yeah, you can see what she sees in him, and it makes sense, it really does.
As you get to know him, though, the whole thing starts to tinge with doubt. At first, you're not sure why. He's really smart, and Jess likes smart, so it's not that. And he seems even more invested in the relationship than she does, so the threat of broken hearts is minimal. But there's something about him, some sense of desperation maybe, that makes you wonder if it's really about Jess at all.
Then you start to notice other things: the hard edges in his eyes as he avoids questions about his family with an otherwise harmless-seeming vagueness, the way his hand twitches sometimes toward the waistband of his jeans as if he's reaching for a weapon.
It's an unannounced visit to their new apartment that finally does it for you. Jess is there, Sam isn't, and when you peek into their bedroom to find the dress you lent Jess last week, there are salt lines by the windows.
Jess laughs it off, says something about Sam and how adorably superstitious he is, and you smile politely like you should, but inside your brain is shutting down, and you know, you just know that this is going to end badly.
It does, though not as soon as you'd expected. It isn't until a few years later, when Jess is dead and you've forgotten the salt, and your carefully planned dreams are finally coming together, that Sam shows up at your door. He calls you "little Becky" as if you're still back there, in college and innocent, and he's got with him an irritatingly cocky man you think is maybe that brother he ran off with. Someone from school must have told him about Zach.
The pain doesn't bother you; you make the cuts yourself. And you're a pretty damn fine actress, judging by Sam's reaction to finding you bruised and bloodied in that tunnel underground.
It isn't until Eric - your Eric, the man who taught you, showed you how to fit into your skin in this hostile, alien world, who found a place for you, a family for you to hide among, who owns your heart and soul and was just settling the keystone into the vault of your life together - it isn't until Eric falls to Dean's bullet that your old fear crystallizes into reality, worms into your heart and chokes out any hope of life, because as dark as it's gotten, as lonely as you might have been, there's always been Eric, and now there's nothing left.