"Such a beautiful day."

"Yeah," Sam replied absently, taking in the sun-lit campus. "Really is."

"What's that, Sam?"

Sam turned to Jess. "I just agreed with you."

Her lips quirked up in a wry smile. "Agreed with what?"

Sam hesitated. "Didn't you just say what a nice day it is?"

Jess laughed. "No, you must be hearing things. It is really nice though, isn't it?"

Sam echoed her laugh uneasily. He could've sworn . . .

"Sam's looking so tired, I am not going to let him stay up late tonight, no sir. Make him some warm cookies, maybe some tea, that'll put him right out."

Sam came to a halt, their entwined fingers forcing Jess to stop as well. His girlfriend's lips hadn't moved. He hadn't . . . it had been her, though, it didn't make any—

"Sam, you okay?" "He's looking rather pale, I'll make him tea as soon as we get back—"

There was a buzzing in Sam's ears, and it was not going away. Incipient whispers like a million needles in his mind, and Sam felt something wet slide down his upper lip.

"Jess," he croaked, and then he heard—

"I really need to finish this project, or—"

"Dude, she is so into me, I'll ask her out, just gotta get up the courage, c'mon—"

"Ugh, such an awesome day, why am I at school, let's get to the beach—"

"Why hasn't he texted back?"

"Darn it, I'm late—"

"Sam, what's wrong, Sam, Sam . . ." "Oh my gosh what is going on should I get help, what—"

It was overwhelming and Sam couldn't, he could hear it all and it wasn't . . ."

The first thing Sam was aware of was a beeping noise. A consistent, annoying beeping noise that was not his alarm clock, and therefore he could not shut it off.

"Babe, can you hear me?"

Sam groaned and turned slightly at the sound of Jess's voice, the pounding in his head dulling down a notch. "Jess?" he croaked.

"Yeah, I'm right here. Listen, we're in the hospital, okay? Do you need me to call any of your family? It doesn't seem like this is too serious, the doctors are saying migraine, but . . ."

"No, I'm fine," Sam said. He hadn't quite made it to the point of opening his eyes, but he didn't want to test it. "What happened?" his voice slurred slightly, and his somewhat slow brain prompted him to realize he was on drugs.

"You just passed out, no reason at all." Sam could appreciate how Jess was trying to keep her panic out of her voice. "Scared me half to death, Winchester."

Sam dragged up one corner of his mouth. "I like to keep you on edge."

"You're an idiot." Sam felt soft lips on his own and he smiled fully then, carefully edging his eyes open to take in his beautiful girlfriend.

"Jess," he breathed as she drew back.

"Mmm?"

"Love you."

What Sam loved best about Jess's smiles were the way her eyes lit up. "Love you too. Shall we get you out of this place?"

"Please."

Apparently the flimsy diagnoses were that Sam had—by working too hard and not taking care of himself—triggered a major migraine and giving the reason for his collapse. Sam kept his own theories to himself, carefully not trying to root through his own brain for the source of the problem. He had research of his own to do.

"Sam, you need to go to bed, what if you get another migraine?"

Sam snapped his laptop shut and stood with a groan. "You're right, sorry," he said meaninglessly. Just barely, he reached out and touched Jess's mind, hearing a mix of her thoughts, some planning ahead, some reflecting on older memories, and the majority focusing on Sam.

Just as quickly he wrenched his mind back under his control. No, he would not be a psychic freak. He was normal. He had gotten out, and whatever freak thing this was, it would go away. Sam wouldn't use it at all.

Jess startled him by throwing an arm around his neck and kissing his cheek, and he was overwhelmed by a flood of emotions from her or from him, he couldn't tell.

"You hanging in there?" he murmured.

"Course I am, you know me." Jess kissed him on the temple and Sam felt a twinge of guilt—definitely his own emotion this time—at the continued guilt from keeping his own many many secrets.

"What do you want to do next weekend?" he asked as she moved away to get ready for bed.

Jess replied, "there's a Halloween party, remember?"

"I'm not dressing up," Sam warned.

"You're such a party pooper."

"That's why you love me."

Jess grinned at him affectionately. "C'mon, doofus, bed."

Dutifully, Sam categorized the aspects about his new ability as if he himself was a hunt. Not like he would ever, ever tell anyone, but it was still important to know his limitations. Sam found that he automatically could sense people's moods and hear their outermost thoughts. Thankfully there was a strange muted quality and a kind of flavor to the thoughts so that he could tell the difference between that and words spoken aloud.

Sam didn't try to delve deeper. He had unconsciously shoved up shields when he had been overwhelmed, and there was no reason to delve further. Chances were, he would only end up seeing and hearing the worst of people—Sam wasn't enough of an optimist to risk that.

It would work. It had to. Sam was smart enough to keep it all under wraps, ignoring the nasty thoughts that occasionally flitted through the mind of those around him and focusing on his work and on Jess.

It was perfect.

Sam woke with a start at the feel of another mind in his house. Thief, he instantly assumed, silently unlocking his bedside drawer and withdrawing his gun. No need to shoot first, so he tucked it into the back of his pants and kept his fists raised.

Briefly, he thought that he could probably subdue the intruder with his mind, but, well, the repercussions of that . . .

Sam caught the tail end of a thought—"wonder why Sammy's got so much junk around, maybe he's got a roommate"—and was caught completely off guard. It couldn't . . .

He was jumped, slammed onto his back, and Sam stared up at his brother.

"Dean?"

His brother grinned down at him, the relief coming across palpably, quick words like Sammy, safe, not hurt, taller.

And, as Sam should've expected, a derision at how easy it was to take him down. Sam allowed the flare of defensiveness to kick up in his gut and flipped them before helping Dean up.

He got another rush of thoughts and emotions from Dean and then Sam suddenly realized what he was doing. He was becoming a freak in front of his brother, stealing without his knowledge—

Sam clamped down on his shields, hard. And it was blessedly quiet. He hadn't known he could do that.

Going with Dean on his hunt seemed like a natural conclusion, though Sam couldn't help the uneasy feeling of leaving Jess behind.

But it would be fine.

Sam had forgotten so much. Being with Dean on a case was like a rush of memories that he had been suppressing, and every time he looked over at Dean he felt a flare of guilt and regret at never having called, at having shut Dean out so thoroughly. Sure, the last time he had seen him was when their dad had essentially disowned him, but that was no reason to shut Dean out.

"So, little brother, what's changed?"

Sam stretched back against the Impala's familiar seats. "Little? We both know I'm the taller one now," he teased.

"Yeah, and you wanna pull over and see if that height does anything to help you?" Dean arched an eyebrow at Sam and Sam grinned helplessly. His shields lowered a little, he was able to feel Dean's contentment and a brush of thoughts containing memories of the past when they used to taunt each other.

"I've missed you," Sam blurted, suddenly feeling an overwhelming need to make sure Dean knew that.

Dean's grin faded a little. "Things may have changed, Sammy, but do we need to have mushy girly moments? No, I don't think so."

Properly chastened, Sam glowered at the car floor and muttered, "it's Sam."

"You'll always be Sammy to me."

"Shaddap."

The job went relatively well, and Sam should've realized that it was only lulling him into a false sense of security. The instant Dean parked the Impala outside the apartment, Sam went completely still as he heard the cries of pain and fear from Jess in his mind.

"Sam!" the shout came from behind him, but Sam ignored it as he raced up the stairs. Jess would be fine, he would save her, because that's what they did. Killed the bad things, saved the girls.

Sam burst into the apartment and found everything fine.

"Jess?" he called loudly.

No sound, but he could hear her screaming for him from the other room in his mind. Sam shoved his way into the room desperately, looking around frantically until his eyes were drawn to the ceiling.

The blood on her abdomen . . . Jess's mouth was in the shape of his name, and her eyes—Sam leapt up on the bed, reaching up to pull her down when the flames burst from around her and crawled along the ceiling with a speed far from normal.

"Jess!" Sam felt the heat along his forearms and hands as he scrambled to get a hold of Jess. He could save her, he could.

"Sam!" A yank around Sam's middle pulled Sam away, and he cried out in desperation as his brother dragged him out of the apartment.

It couldn't end like this.

But it did.

A/N: I AM TERRIBLE WHY AM I STARTING ANOTHER AU WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME UGH

*cough*

anyway, yeah. Never fear, Unseen will continue, and I will, one way or another, make it to the S3 finale. I promise. (uh oh, maybe I shouldn't've done that. fjkdlsafjk;d)

I am posting this because I FINALLY WROTE SOME FANFIC AND I NEED TO MAKE MYSELF WRITE. Thus, this. I will be simultaneously posting to AO3 . . . check it out there if you happen to love me and leave me some kudos there :D) -my username's lanri, title of the fanfic will be the same.