"Dean?"

His eyes drifted open and he smiled lightly, the sight of her barely visible through his sleepy eyes. But he could see enough. Jess was beautiful, not just on the outside. Maybe even more on the inside. She was sweet and gentle but also stubborn and confident. She was the perfect girl for Sam. And the fact that she baked the best oatmeal chocolate cookies Dean had ever tasted added to the list of things he liked about her.

"Are you awake?" She quietly stepped into the room, a towel covered plate in her hands. The smell gave away the surprise before she sat on the bed and removed the towel. Dean's eyes swept over the treats, his stomach growling in response. He hadn't eaten much since waking the day before but Jess always had soup or bread on hand in case he needed anything.

"Yeah," Dean replied as he sat up, the motion easier than yesterday. His body was regaining strength but the blood loss had taken its toll. And with the infection clearing up thanks to Sam's care, he was feeling much better.

Jess folded the towel and placed two cookies on it before handing them to Dean. "Sam and I are heading to class," she said, glancing at the window. The sun's gleaming light poured through the east facing window and Dean estimated the time to be 7. "But I wanted you to eat something before we left." Her smile was bright but the hint of dark circles under her eye made Dean guess that she wasn't sleeping very well on the floor.

"Thank you," he said with an apologetic smile, accepting his breakfast. "Sorry for taking your bed. Sam could have put me on the floor."

Jess shook her head. "No, it's fine. It's more important that you get better."

Dean looked at her for a long moment, suddenly finding it difficult to see her and not his mother. He rarely thought about the woman he'd loved so dearly but Jessica reminded him of her, from the way she moved her hands when she spoke to the nurturing expression she wore. "Sam's lucky to have you. You should know that."

Her smile softened and she looked down to her plate of cookies, obviously surprised - and pleased - by his honesty. Her eyes met his and she quietly replied, "Other way around."

"Ready to go?" Sam's tall form appeared in the doorway, his hand knocking once on the door as he adjusted his backpack with the other.

Jess stood, sending a final smile to Dean before walking to him. "Yeah, let's go."

She passed and Sam waved, almost unnecessarily with their proximity, and smiled broadly. "We'll be back for lunch so don't do anything stupid."

Dean stuffed a cookie into his mouth and shook his head, mumbling loudly past the food. "Stupid? Me?"

Sam chuckled and stepped back when Jess snuck beside him. "See you later." The two headed for the door and Dean called out his thanks to Jess for the food. When the door locked behind them, Dean looked around the room, a smile still on his lips. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so useless and yet enjoyed the time so much. Being with Sam again, talking to him late at night while Sam did homework and Dean refused to let him work in silence, was a pleasure that Dean had almost forgotten about. And seeing him happy now caused Dean much joy.

It was a strange thing, he thought, listening to the bustle of students in the hallway and on the walkways outside. Dean had come with the slight assumption that seeing his brother again would cause Sam to want to drop everything and come back with him to their father and their life. But somehow the opposite had occurred. Instead of Sam wanting Dean's life, Dean found himself envying Sam's life.

Sam had called their father the day before and after a very short conversation regarding Dean's and John's own whereabouts, Sam set the phone down and gave a forced smile. "Forgot how much I'd missed our long chats."

The life of a hunter wasn't for Sam, Dean knew now. And not just because of the trying relationship between father and son. Sam had learned how to think for himself, how to be his own person, something Dean failed to do under his blinding admiration for their father. And Sam would be happier for it. He would graduate and get a good job and be a good scumbag, as Dean had told him in jest. Maybe a lawyer wasn't the best life but it sure as hell beat Dean's.

Dean finished the second cookie, satisfying his hunger temporarily and shifted, gauging his body's reaction to movement. The pain had diminished greatly overnight and instead of a throbbing, gripping sensation of sharp pain, a dull ache now stood in its place. Much to Dean's thankfulness. He'd checked the wound the night before and thanks to Sam's careful stitching, it was healing well.

His legs swung over the bed, still carefully, and he stood. It was the first time since he'd arrived and his legs felt wobbly beneath him, but with the support of the nearby table, he balanced himself. He didn't force himself to walk, just stood, testing his endurance. If it was good, he might consider leaving.

It wasn't a consideration that he favored but it was for the best. His Dad would need him at some point and Sam and Jess deserved to have their regular life back - along with their bed. Plus, he reasoned, there was only so long he could stand living in the same place. Not to mention he missed his car.

After a moment, and with his legs feeling stronger, Dean began to walk. Baby steps, he considered, but it was movement and he felt good. It took a while but he rounded the bed and walked to the window, leaning on whatever was around. There she was. His eyes fell on his beloved car and a smile curved his lips. Seeing her amongst a hundred other cars made her stand out even more, he thought.

But then his smile faded. The car, what it represented, all of it, called to him. He wanted to drive everywhere, for hours and sometimes days on end, and hunt and shoot and fight. It was what he loved. But he also loved Sam. His brother had been his main focus all of his life up until Sam left and that had been excruciating. The first few hunts without him had almost gotten Dean killed. He just hadn't cared. Sam's leaving had left a gaping hole in Dean and it took him a long time to fill it. And nothing had filled it properly. Not girls, or alcohol, or their father.

So how could he leave him again? How would this time be any less difficult?

Dean turned away from the window and moved back to the bed, falling onto it as he let out a breath. His mind word tirelessly to figure out what to do and slowly, he came to a conclusion. He looked around for a paper and pen and upon finding it, he raised his knee, set the notebook on it, and began to write.