Disclaimer and Notes: See Chapter 1

Chapter 4

Sunday morning woke him late with loud irregular snoring. With a moan he unsuccessfully tried to suppress he sat up and put his aching head between his hands.

First, some aspirin. Second, glass of water. Third,...

Another snore made him cringe and he discovered Brad lying in the bed across the room, arms and legs flung wildly around him like he wanted to cover as much space as possible. Quietly, as not to disturb his room mate, he went to the bathroom to splash some cold water in his face, banishing the last fuzzy thread of sleep from his mind. It felt wonderful and he promptly stuck his whole head beneath the cold jet of water, relishing in its refreshing quality even though it was not able to banish the memories of the strange dream that still clung to his waking mind like limpets.

Something with a girl... Jessica. Jessica and fire and...

His thinking process was abruptly interrupted by a careful knocking and a female voice.

"Sam? You awake?"

Becky. Groaning, Sam straightened up and hurried to open the unlocked door (Dean would have his head for this one) before she could wake up Brad, whose booming voice was not something Sam wanted to be confronted with on a fucked up morning like this.

"I'm coming," Sam hastened to say before Becky could worry and scream for the national guard when he didn't reply immediately.

"Hey," She greeted him with a sheepish, guilty smile as if she had guessed she was not that welcome so early in the morning. "Sorry, I was just worried you had died of an aneurysm in your sleep." She blushed, badly, and Sam had to grin despite his aching head and the bad mood he found himself into. Part of it was because she was carrying cup of steaming coffee in one hand and a greasy bag probably filled with doughnuts in the other.

"It's alright," He assured. "Just gimme a minute and I'm coming out."

Understanding, she nodded her head and stepped away from the door before Sam closed it again to quickly gather some fresh clothes (he still was wearing the ones from last night) and putting them on.

Grateful, he took the cup of coffee from her hands when he came out again and together they stepped on the pavement, silence between them while they sipped on their coffees deep in thoughts.

"You okay?" Becky asked finally and startled Sam out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, why?"

"How can you be so smart and still ask these stupid questions?"

Sam grinned a little lopsided and hid his face behind the Styrofoam.

"Sorry." He added. "I'm alright, honestly. No need to worry. Just a ...migraine or something."

"Look, maybe..."

"Don't worry," he interrupted her speech which he knew would at some point turn into a "I'm older than you and my Mom is a doctor" tirade which he so had no desire to listen to. He had too much experience with it and even though he really appreciated the concern of his friend, he felt uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

For a Sunday morning it was still pretty early and they did not encounter anyone else except for a few young teenagers who were earning a little additional pocket money by distributing the local Sunday Post. The heat was already beginning to rise and heat waves were visible over the small puddles of water that used to gather during the nights.

"I appreciate your concern, really, I do," Sam begun. "But fainting is embarrassing enough. No need to rub salt in it, okay?"

He was glad he had made her smile.

"I was thinking about the guy," Becky started to say and Sam gave her a look.

"Don't tell me you want to share girl-stories with me here. I know I have long hair and I really regret having read Pride and Prejudices but..."

The slap on his biceps was expected and he felt oddly pleased afterwards.

"Sam Winchester, you're such an idiot sometimes, you know that?" The meaning of this was pretty obvious but at the least the whole issue was settled for the near future. "I'm talking about the picture of this guy you had in your pocket last night."

For a moment Sam had a hard time remembering anything from the night before he realized she was talking about the dead quarterback in the library.

"Steve Benton?"

"The one and only." They had to step aside when the bell of a bike rang out behind them and they were passed by a young boy, not older than 14 with a stack of newspaper on his luggage rack.

She lowered her voice a little when she spoke on.

"I knew him."

"You did?"

This time, his curiosity was real. "How so?"

Before she replied, she puffed her breath against her coffee even though it was nearly cold already.

"I knew his girlfriend, Jess."

Jess? He almost chocked on a mouthful of coffee and coughed hoarsely to stem the scratch in his throat.

"Jess? As in Jessica?"

"Well, yeah? Why?"

If there was something Sam didn't believe in, it was coincidence. But Jessica was a common name. Common enough to meet another mysterious girl by the name of Jessica in the library. The one, Steve Benton died in a fire in.

"Uhm..." He stumbled over his words. "What ... did she look like?"

"Why?" Becky grinned mischievously. "You want to date her?"

"Just curious." He shrugged his shoulder, seemingly unburdened.

"She was pretty, I guess. Blond. Really nice and always smiling. I liked her a lot."

They rounded a corner, the pavement now a little more busy since they were nearing the centre of Palo Alto.

"What do you mean? You liked her?"

The words of the article came into his mind: According to friends and family he was in company of his girlfriend, whose remains have not been found.

But this was impossible. He had seen her, spoken to her. Or maybe not. Maybe it really was just another blond girl by the name Jess who happened to visit the library a lot. That was a good explanation. It had to be. Because the Jessica he had met was real. She was as real as he was, vivid and funny and the way her hair sparkled in the light... Had he touched her? Had felt the heartbeat beneath his fingers? He couldn't recall it but it didn't have to mean anything.

"Find me!" Her challenging voice rang clearly in his memories and he shook his head, as if trying to put his thoughts in their right places but it was impossible to shake of the apprehension.

It was illogical, his mind one lump of muddled thoughts. It was impossible. Period.

Jessica was alive.

"Actually, no one knows? She disappeared the night Steve was killed in the fire."

Becky seemed slightly troubled by this fact and Sam could hear it in her voice, feeling the same confusion and uncertainty. She must have cared about her even if it was just a distant friendship connecting the two woman.

"I'm sure she's okay." He tried to reassure her even though he had trouble convincing himself. "Maybe... she just needs time and took of. He was her boyfriend after all?"

His tactic proved to be successful. He'd always had a knack for talking with people, taking away their anger and pain and giving them hope. He wondered how Dean and his father were faring without him in this matter. Presumably, they either angered the victims or scared them even further into a state of shock. Both of them were really useful if it was about killing or burning something. As long as it didn't involve talking, they were fine.

They had to sidestep one of the teenagers bikes which the parked across the walking line and Sam's gaze fell on the headline. The paper still smelled sharply like printing ink and the words: "Another mysterious Fire in the Stanford Library – Fire Department has trouble keeping it under control"

Putting the almost empty cup of coffee aside on a staircase railing he grabbed for the topmost sheet and ripped it from its secure hold. The boy yelled something behind his back which Sam ignored as much as Becky's questioning "Sam? What's wrong?"

"We gotta go to the library."

"What? Sam, it's Sunday. The library is closed." Irritated, she took the newspaper from his hands and quickly noticed what had Sam so agitated when the headline sprang into her line of view.

"A fire?" She asked to no one in particular. "That's … odd."

Understatement of the year. There were no such things as oddities in the life of a Winchester, only self-heralding catastrophes. For just a second he closed his eyes to calm his nerves but apart from the ruthless return of his headaches all he could see was Jessica, swimming in an ocean of flames.

"Sam!" He could feel her hand against his biceps and when he opened his eyes again, he saw himself confronted with his friend's worried face. "Sam, you're scaring me. Is it your head? Should I..." Already she was fumbling for her mobile phone when Sam pushed away her steadying hand.

"No, I'm okay. I just … really need to get to the library. I know, you don't have to understand this but it might be important."

He did not look back to see if she was following him when his long steps carried him into the direction they had just come from.

Already from a distance the hustle and bustle from the still working firemen was audible and when they finally could see the large entrance hall it was widely roped in by a screaming red-yellow plastic band. A few people were standing on along the fenced area, busily clicking their handys and black berrys. Some of them obviously came from news channels and with serious faces and professional clothes they were talking vividly into the cameras.

"... the night guard seems to have survived without any further injuries..." A young woman, who was looking much older than she really was with all the make up in her face, addressed to the camera. "According to his statement, someone left the scene but a thorough search did not produce any evidence for a fire accelerant. The police is still searching for the source of the fire. All we know, it started exactly at the same place, where another fire, barely three months ago, took the life a young student, Steve Benton. As soon as we get new information, we'll be the one to give it to you. This is KC-TV, I'm Belinda Rom..."

"You think someone was hurt again?" Becky asked quietly.

"I don't know." Sam replied, trying to get as much information as possible out of the scenario.

Three ambulances were standing within the fenced area, the paramedics were standing in little groups, obviously not needed momentarily. Firemen and a few policemen, plain-clothed and in uniform where pouring in and out of the building. Wads of smoke were still rising lazily into the air from at least a dozen windows in the left wing of the building, which Sam remembered had been under renovation for at least a few months now.

"I have to get in there," Sam stated matter of factly and a rush of adrenaline shot through his veins, reminding him of good times, dangerous times... lost times.

"You have to … what?" She hissed, lowering her voice at the last word. "Are you insane?"

It was as if he hadn't even heard her question and without waiting for her reaction he walked away, slowly. His hands hidden in his pocket, his head bowed to look as unsuspicious as possible... which was easier said than done when you were more than 6'' tall and followed by an almost hysterical young woman trying to hold you back and thereby as successful as a children's tricycle trying to stop an oncoming train.

"Sam! Wait!"

Already around the next corner she had to run to jog up with him and tried to hold him back by hanging herself on his arms. He turned his head, his eyes widening in surprise and he finally realized she was still there.

"You don't understand," He begun, shaking off her fingers. "I..." He halted abruptly, his eyes locked on one the windows, from which smoke was coming in thick, dark clouds. The smell was much more noticeable on this side of the building due to the wind sending it their way.

"Sam..." She followed his gaze and... "Jess?"

Even though the windows were barely visible, a figure was prone behind the billowing dirt rising high. A blonde girl, seemingly undisturbed by the chaos around her.

"Jess!" Becky screamed horrified and looked around for help, any kind of help. But apparently every action was at the main entrance of the building and except for some firemen who where busy extinguishing some left over flames through a lower window no one was even aware of her waving arms hysterically.

Sam, though, had already stormed away, snaking his way through the bustling firemen who weren't fast enough to hold him back.

"Stop!" One of them screamed. Another scream followed and finally Becky's feet moved.

"Hey! You can't go in there!" A muffled voice shouted next to her but she ignored it, until one of the men managed to wrap his arms around her stomach, holding her back. She struggled, arm and legs flailing and all she could see was the black hole Sam had disappeared into.

"There was someone in there!" Her own words sounded strange, like she was watching herself in a tv-show. "There's someone in there!" She repeated, voice cracking , pointing towards the window where she had seen Jess. "Jess! She was in there. Sam? Sam...!"

Her struggles were getting weaker, her mind trying to accommodate to the situation that had so fast and so drastically changed.

"Sam," she whispered numbly. "No."

oOoOo

He entered another world.

Leaving behind the hustle and bustle of the firemen he had stepped over the threshold into a bubble of smoke and heat and burning. Immediately, his eyes began to water. His throat hurt after the first breath and he lifted his shirt over his mouth to ease the scratchy sensation.

Squinting against the murky quality of sight he felt his way along the scalding walls. The wallpaper was crumbling under his fingertips and he stumbled when his right foot hit the bottom step, groping blindly for the handrail. He found it and started pulling himself upwards, the thought of Jessica driving him forwards.

Once, he tried to call out her name but it felt as if flames were shooting down his throat and he coughed. Muted voices reached him, strangers, probably firemen who were trying to save what could be saved in the ruins of the wing. They evidently could not see him through the thick smoke, otherwise they'd have grabbed him long ago and dragged him out of here.

It was stupid, it was insane, suicidal even. Dean would have his head if he ever found out. Deep inside he knew it. However, deep inside he also knew, he had to do it. Jess was here and somehow... she had called to him.

It felt like hours until he finally reached the top of the stairs and with his eyes closed he conjured the path he had taken until now, trying to figure out in which direction the room would be he had seen Jess in. Whether it was the sun outside or something else that penetrated the smother he didn't know but since his orientation was lost on him, he walked towards it, right arm stretched out in front of him while the other pressed against the cloth over his mouth. Every breath sent spikes of down pain down his throat now and he held his breath until the pressure in his chest was too much and he doubled over, coughing and gagging.

"Jess!" He yelled between two breaths. His hand met nothing and he seemed to have reached another room. The door, oddly hanging in its hinges, was flung aside and he finally could make out the outlines of a window. Hopefully the one where...

"Sam." Her voice, clear and melodic as church bells on springy Sunday morning sounded close to his ear and he spun around, black dots dancing in front of his eyes. A dizzy spell almost sent him to his knees.

"We have to... get... out?"

His sight blurred, eyes tearing and he was afraid of just fainting.

"You found me?" she sighed, as if she was surprised and pleased at the same time. A comfortable feeling, cool and soothing on his sizzling skin engulfed him when she reached out for him. Her fingers on his cheek. He could feel soot clogging his nostrils but all he notices was the scent of her shampoo, lavender and strawberry … and then there was something else, like rotten eggs and burning flesh and … sulphur.

A tinnitus filled his head, almost drowning her words. He could feel his pain and panic shrivel away like snowflakes in the sun and a light-headedness was finally taking away all his awareness. With it the image of Jess standing in front of him, burning up...

"This is how it was supposed to end. Crash and burn," She whispered and her voice filled his mind, pushed the rest of the world into a far distance. "This is where you travel another road."

… and she was smiling, full of love, while the skin in her face was blistering, shivelling and peeling like the wallpaper he had ripped from the walls on his way to save her.

"No! Jess!" There was nothing left in him and his vocal cords denied their service. She was gone. And when smoke lifted like fog in an autumn morning his gaze fell on blackened bones and scorched ground.

He felt like floating... or falling. And gagging his lungs out at the same time. He couldn't decide. There were hands on his face, strong ones, wearing rough gloves. He could hear someone shout his name and it wasn't Jess, couldn't be, not anymore. Even though it was muffled, like spoken behind a mask, it was booming, accusing and endlessly annoying.

He tried to push the hands away.

"Stop it, Sammy! It's me. I'm getting you out of here."

"Jess?" He wanted to say it out loud but was pretty sure his lips had not moved.

Someone hoisted him upwards but his knees buckled, unable to hold his weight.

"Help, someone help!"