A/N: Here's another chapter! Enjoy!

House of Cards

By: Ada C. Eliana

Chapter 10

"Sam," Jessica said quietly in the doorway of his bedroom. After telling the Jacobs about Dean's visits and exactly what happened when Sam returned home the previous night they had exchanged more loaded glances and then politely asked Jessica to check on Sam. She recognized a dismissal when she was given one, but she didn't really care, she needed to make sure Sam was alright, he was the most important person in her world last night.

And Sam had to be alright, because last night had to have been a fluke. Sam did not disappear in the middle of the night, then return making hysteria-driven orders and flee from his own home. That hadn't been the Sam she had known for these past few years, that hadn't been the Sam she fell in love with. She knew everything about him, but last night he had been someone unrecognizable.

So she just knew that Sam would wake up and smile and ask her why she looked so worried, because last night was all wrong and not Sam.

Still sleeping when she opened the door, Jessica could see that Sam's forehead was scrunched up and he was tossing slightly in the bed, making pained noises. "Sam," she repeated, crossing the blue-walled room and kneeling on the bed beside him. She reached out to him, her hand hovering just over his tensed shoulder when his eyes shot open, staring with absolute terror at the ceiling. He seemed to freeze for a second, his eyes latched to the ceiling above as though searching for something, and when he realized that it was empty, just a dome light on it, all the air seemed to whoosh out of him and his eyes closed for a second in his relief.

"Sam?" she whispered, and he opened his eyes again, turning towards her voice.

"Hey," he said, sitting up and putting his arms around her. He seemed more relaxed, more like Sam now. "You're beautiful, you know?" he said softly.

Jess smiled and her body relaxed into his touch. She was right, last night had all been a mistake. She still didn't know exactly what had driven Sam to the panic he had been in, but she did one thing Sam sure as hell was never allowed to go out with Dean again.

She didn't want to ruin the moment, not with Sam's strong arms around her and her hands stroking his hair. She did not want to let go of Sam and ask him to go downstairs, to his parents who were waiting, worried. Because even though Sam's parents had a previous claim to him, she felt, since the moment she first saw him, that Sam was hers.

He had been walking across the campus, tall and confident, on his way to an academic building, and for just an instant their eyes met, and Jess knew, she just knew. She never believed in 'love at first sight' before, but after that moment, that split second of eye contact, she did believe. And she would have done anything to get to know him.

The day after she saw him in her sociology class, and immediately sat beside him. When they were told to pair off, she chose him. Their study sessions always went later than necessary and she found reasons to drop by his dorm whenever she could. Jessica would admit it to anyone – she pursued Sam, sweet, clueless Sam who just never seemed to notice, made her come right out and tell him that she wanted him before he even realized she had been interested. And all her effort paid off in the end, Sam was hers now, and she wouldn't let anyone take him away if he didn't want to go. Though Jess wondered if she could let Sam leave if she knew he truly wanted to.

But she knew the Jacobs were worried and so she told him that his parents were waiting on him and he asked her to give him a minute to get dressed. And God, to even have him say something that normal after the terror of the previous night, made Jessica feel like she could sing. She left the room, feeling as if a great weight had lifted off of her, and completely unaware of what happened as soon as she shut the door behind her.

Sam rubbed his hands across his face, thinking on the previous night, the things Dean had said. He wished he could erase that meeting from his mind, that he could forget everything Dean has told him. No, Sam really wished he could go back in time and stop himself from answering the door the first time Dean rang the bell. He tried to work out how Dean knew about the nightmares, who would have told him. Because the only way Dean could know was if someone told him, told him so he could construct some ridiculous story about Mary Winchester and demons to… to what?

He still couldn't quite figure out what Dean had really wanted from him. Of course he didn't stick around long enough to ask, but he really would not have gone through all of that effort if there wasn't some other part to it, some next step in the plan. He fervently hoped he would never find out just what Dean had been after; what would cause him to come into Sam's life and mess with it so much.

No matter what his intentions were, Dean had clearly gotten into his head. Because that nightmare, with the fire and the blood, that had forever been about the blonde woman, the stranger in his dreams. It had never been about Jessica, not until after he met Dean, not until Dean told him that Mary had died that way.

Sam remembered the previous night, and the dream he had awoken from, the absolute terror of watching as Jessica burned on the ceiling of his apartment building. Perhaps Dean was going to kill her? Would he kill Jessica just to get to Sam? But why? What could he possibly want from Sam to be willing to go that far?

Still the dream had clearly taken place in the apartment, the dream was definitely not here, not in his parent's house. And he breathed out a sigh of relief, believing he had done the right thing by leaving when he had. And God… he loved Jess so much. He couldn't believe someone so gorgeous and smart and wonderful had pursued him for so long, had wanted to be with him, and that she loved him. She had her faults of course, everyone did, but he couldn't imagine life without Jess.

('Then you'll do what I say.')

Sam started at the sound of the voice in his head. He wanted to think that leaving would have made it go away, that things would have changed. What Sam really, really wanted was to believe that he had never heard the voice in the first place. Because last night, when everything seemed grim and disturbing, then the voice seemed to fit, all of it seemed not so crazy. But to listen to that man's deep tones now… in broad daylight in his bedroom at home, that was different, that was strange… wasn't it? ('I'm the only one who can help you protect Jessica,') the voice murmured. With the mention of Jessica's name, Sam's doubts and thoughts all disappeared and he listened carefully, waiting for him to elaborate, to hear more about what this person knew of Jessica, of what Jessica needed protecting from…

"What do I have to do?" Sam whispered to the empty room when no further information seemed to be coming, wondering if the voice, whoever it was, wherever it was coming from, could hear him.

('Stay far away from Dean and John Winchester.')

"Sam? Are you coming?" Jess' voice filtered through the door and Sam snapped up from the bed immediately, the voice disappearing as he struggled to dress quickly. And the man… the man told him that to protect Jessica he had to stay away from Dean and John… Sam was pretty sure he could do that.

Sam avoided having any insane outbursts as he reassured his family that he was okay, but still failed to give them a reason for his actions. Though Patty's mind was already filled with ideas and dread about how Dean Winchester fit into all of this. Sam did not say one word about Dean at all, and that made it all the more obvious that Dean was somehow involved than if Dean had spoken about him.

"Sammy honey, you know you're free to stay here whenever you want, but please sweetie, tell me what's going on," Patty requested softly, sitting beside Sam in the kitchen, Jessica upstairs searching for her cell phone and Dan having been called in to the hospital.

"I just need to get away from the apartment for a while," Sam shrugged. Until I'm sure Dean has left and Jess is safe, he added to himself. She burned in the apartment, not in this house, not here. We're safe here.

"Does this have something to do with Dean?" she asked softly, her eyes following Sam's. He turned away from her, halfway between anger and fear. Anger that someone had told her about Dean. Fear that she knew, knew more than she said, that she knew all about Dean and Jessica and burning and the voice and that meant all of it really was real. Because, if he was honest with himself, Sam still wasn't sure if all of this wasn't some sort of trick. But he wouldn't take that risk, wouldn't doubt any of it if it meant Jess' life was in danger.

"How do you know about Dean?" he asked finally, staring at the wall and the cherry cabinets.

"Jessica told me. She was worried about you honey," Patty added, assuming that Sam hadn't wanted anyone to be told about his brother's arrival. "What did Dean say to you, what did he do?" she asked.

"This isn't about Dean," Sam mumbled, his lie not completely believable.

"Dean was alone, wasn't he? There wasn't someone with him?" Patty questioned, her voice barely above a whisper, her mind caught in the horror of that night so many years ago. "Patty there's someone upstairs! Call the police!" Dan held a rifle in shaking hands as he climbed the stairs, Patty fumbling with the phone, terrified. And the worst part of all, Sammy upstairs, and that terrible silence that came when something really was wrong.

"What do you mean?"

"He… John wasn't with him, was he?" Her voice shook slightly with fear and her eyes gazed at Sam's face as he turned to her again, studying him, knowing he could never lie when their eyes were locked.

"No. John wasn't there. Isn't he still in the nuthouse anyway?" Sam mumbled.

"He should be," she answered, relieved that it had just been Dean, not anyone else. "Sammy, come on, tell me what's happened."

"It was just Dean you know. He showed up without any warning and wanted to be all buddy-buddy. Just something about him isn't right," Sam responded vaguely, standing and walking away from the table. He leaned against the counter, the granite cold against his fingers as he watched for his mother's reaction.

"I can understand that. You know… John's influence on Dean was strong when he was young. And John being what he was… it just would have been surprising if there wasn't something odd about Dean," Patty said, choosing her words carefully.

"Is that why you adopted me and not him too?" Sam asked. This question had never been posed to Patty by Sam before, and she was taken aback, staring at Sam through pale blue eyes, gathering her thoughts.

"Sammy, what you have to understand is that Dean was older, you know, old enough to remember all of it, to have let it influence him. And it wasn't just that…" Patty stood now, crossing the room to where Sam leaned on the counters, facing him and staring up into his face. "I came to see your father at work… and he was in the room examining the bruise on your jaw, and at first I just saw you, so young and beautiful and vulnerable. I honestly paused, I was so taken, I think I loved you right away. And then I saw Dean, he was sitting beside you on the exam table, holding your hand and staring at you in the way a parent or a guardian would, so focused and adult-like for such a little boy. I went in and tried to talk to you, and you stared up at me and opened your mouth like you wanted to respond, but Dean squeezed your hand and you closed it again, refused to say a word to me.

"You and Dean… the two of you were connected to the exclusion of outsiders. And I knew that if I took both of you in, that I would never really know either of you. Dean already saw himself as your parent, and I doubt he would have relinquished the role. And it wasn't good for him. He was too young to define himself completely by his little brother, to have someone else be his responsibility. It wasn't good for either of you. You both needed childhoods and love and support, and somehow… I just think that you never would have had it if you stayed together. It's all very difficult to explain."

Patty seemed almost apologetic as she spoke, and Sam was immediately sorry that he even asked. He didn't want to make her explain herself over something that happened almost twenty years ago, something Sam did not remember and could never really understand. He loved Patty and Dan, they were his parents, and they had never done anything to make him doubt that they loved him. He wouldn't give up the life he had lived with them for anything, and especially not for Dean Winchester.

"She didn't do it for you, she did it for herself." Sam winced as the voice cut through his thoughts. His mother noticed, and reached out to him but he backed away, bewildered. ("They don't love you, Sammy. They just want to you.")

"I'm gonna go upstairs… to… grab something…" Sam mumbled, hurrying out of the room, his heart beating fast in his chest. He climbed the stairs in a rush, frightened that Patty would find out about the voice, would somehow divine it from the expression on his face. He paused in the hall to get his bearings.

("They're not your real parents. They don't deserve you.") the voice kicked in suddenly.

"Why are you saying all of this?" Sam asked, keeping his voice low, not wanting to be overheard.

("You can't trust them.")

"Why not?! Who the hell are you, what do you want?"

("I'm here to help you Sammy, to protect you from the others, the ones that only want to use you and hurt you.")

"Yeah? Why should I believe you?"

("Because if you don't…") He trailed off and as his voice faded a searing pain shot through Sam's temples and his vision shook and went white before clearing up on a single image. Jess pinned to the ceiling abdomen covered in blood marring her snow white clothes, her mouth twisted in a silent scream.

"No, no," Sam repeated, shaking his head, digging his fingers into his skull trying to be rid of the image.

Flames blossomed from behind her and Sam dropped to his knees.

"Stop! Please!" he cried. "Don't show me this!"

White shuddered through the image and then Sam's vision settled on the green carpeted hallway. His head pounded and he couldn't erase what he had just seen (again!) from his memory. "Please, I – I can't let that happen to her," Sam whispered, his head in his hands, Jessica's pain-filled eyes staring out at him through his mind's eye.

("As long as you listen to me, Jessica is perfectly safe. I can protect her, I can protect both of you.")

"You sure this is the place?" John asked, ringing the buzzer for what seemed to be the fiftieth time at the door to Sam's apartment building.

"Of course I'm sure, I've been inside," Dean responded with annoyance. "Maybe he's just out."

John nudged Dean out of the way and backed up as someone approached the steps. He unlocked the door and opened it, not paying attention to John who caught the door at the last minute and ushered Dean through.

They climbed the stairs in silence, Dean in front until they reached the second floor and Dean headed down the hall for Sam's. They paused outside the door and Dean knocked hard, not really expecting an answer but humoring his father. John tapped his fingers against his leg impatiently and as Dean gave up and turned to him, he noticed John eyeing the lock much too closely.

"No," Dean said firmly. "You're not going to break into Sam's apartment. He's already pissed off, that'll just make it worse."

"I was just going to check for sulfur traces, make sure he left of his own accord," John shrugged.

"How about we check the parking lot for his car first? Jesus…" Dean muttered as he pulled John back down the hall.

Jessica paused at the doorway to Sam's bedroom, thinking she had heard his voice from the hall. Listening for a moment she definitely heard the timbre of his voice, speaking in hushed tones, whispering a one-sided conversation.

She thought he must be talking on his cell phone and peered around the corner for a better look. What she saw stopped her in her tracks. Sam had his back to her, and both of his hands were visible, both empty, and no headset on his ears. She listened for his mother's voice – was she calling up to him? – but could not hear her.

"Yeah? Why should I believe you?" Sam said. There was a moment of silence before Sam suddenly lurched forward, hands gripping his head. "No, no…" Everything in her screamed at her to go to him, to put her arms around him, to stop whatever it was that was hurting him. But instead she seemed planted to the floor, completely frozen, incapable of moving even a little as she watched her boyfriend, her love fell to his knees and ranted.

"Stop! Please! Don't show me this!" She winced with each syllable, unknown horrors floating through her mind, incomprehensible possibilities. Words like 'mental illness' and 'nuthouse' and 'medication' echoing between her ears.

"Please, I – I can't let that happen to her." Sam's head was in his hands and she thought she heard him crying.

The sobbing got her feet moving, and she hurried down the hall, kneeling behind Sam, whose head was buried in his hands. Pulling him close to her chest, she got him to turn, to look up at her, his eyes lost and filled with tears. "I can't lose you," he whispered, his arms wrapping around her as he held her desperately.

"You won't," she said softly though she had no idea what he was referring to, what he had seen or heard, what sparked this breakdown. Her fingers ran lightly through his hair as she comforted him there in the hallway, wishing that none of this was happening, wanting nothing more than to wake up and find out it had all been a nightmare, and everything was back to normal. "You won't."

A/N: Oh Sam, you have so many issues. If you feel like the story is moving really fast, then you're right, cause that's the point. You should feel just as unsettled as they do.

Thanks for reading, leave me a review to remember you by!

-Ada