Sam spends the rest of the car ride to Stanford glancing at his brother and smiling, when Dean wasn't looking of course.
He missed this so much.
Dean tapping his fingers on the wheel as they drove, and singing along (extremely off key) to his mullet rock. The way he pets the dashboard and says "Listen to her purr!" whenever he pushes the pedal down to the floor, clearly proud of all of the work he's put into the car. Most of all though, Sam loves how most of the stress fades from Dean's face when he drives. What he wouldn't give for his brother to be this happy all the time.
Unfortunately though, they eventually get to Sam's apartment at Stanford, and much to his dismay, as soon as the engine shuts down, so does Dean's mood. He's back to scowling and rubbing his forehead.
"Alright, hurry up would ya?" Dean demands, reaching and pulling the keys out of the ignition.
"Promise I won't be long," Sam tells him.
He gets out of the car and starts to head up to his apartment, when he notices Dean starts to head to the trunk. The trunk that's holding about an army's worth of weaponry. With a click, he pops it open, wedging his favorite sawed off shotgun under the lid to hold it up. He sighs, and starts reorganizing.
If anybody sees him, they're going to call the cops on his ass.
"Dean, seriously?"
"What?" Dean asks, as if he's completely oblivious. Sure, it's dark outside, but Dean was parked right under a street light.
"You are aware that you're in the middle of a college apartment complex, don't you? Ever heard of the neighborhood watch? I hear they don't take kindly to guys in leather jackets messing with guns in the middle of the street," Sam tells him, which gets him a smirk.
"All the more reason for you to hurry your ass up," Dean says, looking at Sam and smirking. "Just spend a little less time doing your makeup."
Sam glares at him after that, and then Dean seems to get the hint. He closes the trunk and proceeds to get back in the car.
"Alright, alright," Dean says, opening the driver's side door. "I'll just sit in here and twiddle my thumbs, like a good boy. Promise."
"Thank you," Sam snaps, and then he heads upstairs. He's sure he heard Dean say something else, probably a swear, but ignores it.
As soon as he opens the door, Sam clenches his nose.
"Geez, it reeks in here," he says, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.
This is why I don't let Jess cook, he thinks, stepping through the apartment to get to his bedroom, glancing around trying to see where she was.
He hears the shower running as he steps into his room, stripping out of his shirt.
"Hey babe, I'm home!" Sam calls out to the bathroom, putting on another shirt he just pulled out of his closet, but he doesn't get a reply.
Weird.
He grabs a duffle bag out of the closet and starts to stuff a random assortment of clothes into it, before calling out to Jess again, "Well, hey, I'm going to be going on a road trip with my brother for a while, and I probably won't be back for at least a month or so."
Still no response.
"So, if you want to kiss me, you might want to do it now before I disappear!" Sam tries again, putting the duffle bag down on the bed and walking towards the bathroom, starting to get a little worried.
"Jess?" Sam calls out again, peeking his head through the bathroom door.
Okay, what the fuck?
He sprints towards the shower and rips the curtain open.
Jess isn't there.
Panicking, Sam runs out of the bathroom and back into the main room of the apartment, franticly searching every corner.
"Jess!" Sam screams, starting to really get worried.
He turns and runs back into the bedroom, and then stops dead in his tracks. Sam realizes what it is he's been smelling.
Rotten eggs. Sulfur.
Sam feels something thick and wet drip onto his forehead. Reaching up with his hand, he wipes whatever it was off, and then stares at his hand in horror.
Blood.
Nopleaseno.
He jerks his head upward, and screams "No! Jess, no!"
She's hanging on the ceiling, her sandy blonde hair dangling, her body limp and her mouth open, like she's trying to scream for help but can't. There's a straight line of blood across her stomach, which is bleeding profusely.
He doesn't know what to do, and stands there frozen with shock for a split second before more blood drips onto his forehead.
Then it happens.
An explosion of flames engulfs her body, the force knocking Sam backwards onto the bed, and making his ears ring. They spread throughout the room, shattering through the windows, soon engulfing the entire ceiling, the entirety of Jessica's body, and the whole apartment. Sam can't do anything but lie there helpless and scream, watching as she burns away on the ceiling.
All of a sudden Dean's beside him, yelling at him (Sammy!), trying to get him off of the bed (Sammy you have to move!). Sam's body isn't letting him go anywhere though, no matter how hard he tries to.
Then he's in Dean's arms (Christ, you're heavy), being carried out of the apartment. As they reached the door, Sam could only make one thing out as he looked back into the bedroom.
A single pair of yellow eyes.
—-
Sam's ears are still ringing, and he's pretty sure he's going to have a migraine for days.
He's slouched against the Impala, which is parked down the street from where his apartment building used to be. There are firetrucks and ambulances surrounding the scene, and the fire still hasn't been put out. Dean carried him out just in time, as the roof began to collapse behind them the moment they emerged.
A pain shoots through his chest as he thinks about Jess, and how he couldn't help her. She was everything Sam could ask for, and he even started to think he was falling in love with her.
His chest starts to hurt even more as he remembers the last time they spoke.
Sam was sitting on the couch looking dumbfounded, with his cell phone still open in his hand.
He had just gotten off the phone with Bobby.
"What's wrong?" Jess asks him, heading over to sit beside him with a bowl of cereal in her hands, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and panties.
"My…" Sam starts, staring down at the ground in disbelief, but he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.
"Sam, baby, what is it?" Jess asks him, putting the bowl of cereal on the coffee table, and stroking his hair.
"My Dad's dead."
The couch shifts beside him, and her arms are around him in an instant.
"What happened?" she asks him after a moment of silence.
"They're not sure, but my Uncle Bobby thinks it could've been a hunting accident," Sam answers, not talking about the same kind of hunting Jess thinks he is.
"I'm so sorry…," Jess says, hugging him even harder. "Any idea when they're having the funeral?"
"Today, is what he told me."
"I'll start to get ready," Jess says, getting up from the couch.
The last thing he wants is for her to be around a bunch of hunters, and not to mention his brother. He wasn't ready to expose her to that world yet.
Sam reaches out and grabs her arm, before saying "No, no, you don't have to worry about it. We weren't that close, and plus, Bobby lives all the way up in South Dakota. It'll be a long drive."
Jess looks at him and frowns.
"He was your Dad, Sam. I want to be there for you," she protests, not taking no for an answer quite that easily.
"I'll be okay, really," Sam tells her. "Plus, my family's kind of… complicated."
Like that even came close to describing it.
She was still frowning, and looking like she wanted to argue the matter further, but after seeing the desperation on Sam's face, she drops the subject, and then pulls him into a hug again.
"I understand," she says, and then pulls away and begins walking towards their bedroom. "Go ahead and get in the shower, I'll get your clothes ready and pack you something to eat for the drive."
What did Sam do to deserve this woman?
Sam jerks out of his flashback, his chest aching worse than ever, and looks over towards the crowd of people. Dean's standing in the midst of them, staring at the fire. He turns and sees Sam looking towards him, and begins to walk towards the car. His face was caked black from the smoke, and even though he was just in a burning building, refused to let the paramedics check to see if he was okay.
"Make sure everybody else is alright. Don't worry about me," Dean told them, shoving a pushy and demanding paramedic away from him.
He really wishes his brother would swallow his chivalrous pride and just let himself be helped for once.
When Dean reaches him, he starts to pat Sam down for the fourth time, checking for injuries.
"Dean, I'm okay, I promise. The paramedics said I didn't suffer anything major," Sam tries, while Dean is still patting him down.
"There's a reason they don't actually work in the hospital, Sam," Dean says, finishing his examination and looking satisfied. Out of nowhere he reaches out and pulls Sam into a hug. "I'm just glad you're okay."
Dean wasn't letting him go anytime soon, so Sam gripped his brother's jacket, and nuzzled his face into Dean's neck, his nostrils burning from the fumes of the smoke.
"I'm okay, but Jess…"
He could feel the tears coming, and Dean just stands there and holds him, running his hands through Sam's shaggy hair.
"I'm so sorry, Sammy," Dean mutters into his ear, gripping tighter, and tilting his head to rest his face in Sam's hair.
"It-it was the d-demon, Dean. I-I c-couldn't do anything t-to-"
"Shhh," Dean interrupts, still stroking his hair and trying to calm him down. "There was nothing you could've done, you hear me?"
He wants to believe Dean, he does, but how could he just lie there while she was burning above him? Such a pathetic excuse for a boyfriend.
God, he must look like a complete wreck.
Sam sobs for a few minutes, trying to calm himself down and breathe in his brother's scent beneath the burning odor of the smoke.
Dean's scent does wonders for his nerves.
Gaining his composure, Sam pulls away from Dean, wiping his tears and heading to the passenger's side of the Impala.
"C'mon, we've got work to do," he says, opening the door and climbing inside.
Dean stands in the street for a moment, puzzled, before hesitantly climbing into the drivers seat. Dean looks over at him with worry, but instead of meeting his gaze, Sam stares out the window.
"Sammy, are you sure that you're-"
"I'm fine," Sam spits out, cutting Dean off. He didn't want anymore words of comfort. All he wanted was to drive away from this place as quickly as possible, and never look back.
Sighing, Dean turns the keys. The engine roars to life, shaking the car. As they drive away, Sam stares into the rearview mirror and watches as his life as he knew it burns away.
Watches as Jess burns away.