Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.

Chapter 13

Brittle.

If he were to give one word to describe things with Jessica it would be brittle. Delicate would work too, so would tenuous. Yeah… tenuous worked, but brittle was better cuz at any moment, everything could shatter around them. He was holding onto her by his fingertips and he knew it, but he was holding onto her, and that had to count for something.

She had demands naturally. First, he had to stop taking the drugs. That was going to be easy enough, they weren't working anyway. Second, he had to get counseling. They had to get counseling. Third, he wasn't allowed to hide from her anymore. She didn't expect him to share with her his life from before, but he had to come clean about everything that was going on now. Fourth, he had to stop working night shifts and get a day time job so that they could be together more. She was convinced that the time apart was a contributing factor into the strangers they had become and if they were going to make a real go of fixing what was wrong, they had to spend more time with each other. He could see her point on all of it, and he wished he could give her everything that she wanted, but that just wasn't gonna happen. He couldn't come clean about everything, he couldn't stop lying to her, he would still hide things from her… he was just going to have to be more cunning in his execution of the whole thing.

He quit his job at the office building downtown and got a job a call centre with a cell phone company. Working in a cubicle sucked and talking to idiots on the phone who didn't understand why their phone didn't work only to find out they didn't install the battery sucked, but it was one of the things on Jessica's list so he just grit his teeth and sucked it up. It was only for the rest of the summer and then he was hoping to get a T.A. position at the school in the fall.

He had to be careful when it came to Wilson's 'Tea' as he couldn't allow Jess to know of its existence. Wilson's dire warning floated in his still expanded head space every time he made himself a cup, "Don't you be takin more than I tells ya to boy. This stuff won't work foreva so don't speed it along by over-doin' it." And he certainly didn't want to overdo it. Not with Jess watching him like a hawk. And he felt immensely guilty at the strain he'd put on her. He could see it in her eyes, this tired and scrutinizing look in the blue depths that made his heart ache knowing it was directed at him. Her family wasn't as supportive of him as she was. Dave and Nina tried, but they gave him a wider berth than they had before, like they were afraid of saying anything to set him off. And although he went to church with the Moores every Sunday, the day had lost its previous family-closeness. Everything was just forced and strained all around and it was entirely his fault.

The worst had been when Amber came back from L.A. a few days after he got back from Wilson's. Jess was at the restaurant, the bell rang and when he opened the door, there was a beautiful Mexican woman screaming at him in a Spanish so rapid he didn't stand a chance of following. Amber stormed into the apartment, yelling at him and the general gist of the tirade was that if he ever put her Chicka through something like that again, she would personally store his testicles in a mason jar and put them on display down at the restaurant between the pickled hot-peppers and the Tequila bottles. Or at least, that was what he made out – she'd been yelling for awhile.

But so far, he was getting away with it. The tea worked like a charm. It tasted like shit and made his mouth feel fuzzy so that he had to drink two glasses of water and brush his teeth afterwards, but it worked. He was getting a steady seven hours of sleep every night, which was scores more than he'd been getting in weeks. He felt better, he looked rested and he felt rested. His head was still a giant store room, but he wasn't dreaming of the Shadowman, or dead Dean, or of Melissa's smile as she slipped over the side of the cliff. He wasn't dreaming anything that he was aware of. He would wake up in the morning on his side of the bed, and a small chasm between him and Jessica on the double bed. He would look longingly at her only a few inches away. He could feel the heat coming off her body next to him, but he couldn't touch her. He didn't dream of touching her, not with things so brittle between them. They had a lot of ground to cover before they could even think about getting back to that. But she was there. She was inches away and she was sleeping soundly and he could listen to the sounds of her soft breath in the still early morning hours before everything got crazy and stressed. It was easy to forget the last number of weeks in those early hours. When he could look across the bed at her, her hair fanned out on the pillow and her face relaxed and serene. When he would be tempted to slide over and erase those inches between their bodies and hold her against him like he used to. Reminiscing about how she used to snuggle into his side, a small warm hand over his heart, tracing patterns on his chest, or running her fingers over top of his old scars. How he fucking missed that now. He wished he could reach over and run a hand gently along a lock of golden hair, feel it's silkiness on his skin, have it tickle his face like it did when she'd pin him to the mattress, nipping playfully at his neck. The days before the nightmares and the pills and Melissa.

And he couldn't forget Melissa.

She was haunting him more than the image of dead Dean in the cavern because he knew that Dean wasn't dead, and Mel was. He'd seen the whole fucking thing after all. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that silver moonlit tear on her cheek... that smile of freedom as she took her life... the way she held her arms out as she fell like a diving bird would do before it swooped up to skim the earth... Only Mel didn't swoop up last minute to skim the earth. She met it head on and lost.

He was determined to find out why the Shadowman was after her… and him as well. He would find out what the Shadowman was, and he'd kill the sonofabitch if he could. There was no way that that evil-of-evils was gonna get away with causing that frightened girl to take her own life in the place where he'd hunted her. There was no way that he would let that monster ruin his life anymore than he already had. He had to protect Jessica, he had to stop the Shadowman, and he had to do it without either of them finding out he was doing it.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Early July, 2005

Sam was dropping Jessica off at the restaurant. He was borrowing the car so that he could go and 'meet' with a psychiatrist. He was telling her that he was having preliminary interviews with them so that he could find one he liked. In actuality, he was trying to track down Melissa Pitero's friends and relatives and pumping them with questions. He'd found a former boyfriend of hers in a bar two days ago, knocking back shots like beers at a keg party. The guy, Danny, had been very free with information, telling Sam anything he asked about and didn't think twice about it mostly in part to the amount of liquor in his system. He also seemed quite happy to offer things about the girl on his own so long as Sam kept plying him with more drinks. They had apparently broken up back in March when she'd 'gone off her rocker' and he'd hardly spoken to her after that. March was when she said she started dreaming of the Shadowman so the time-line made sense. Danny thought that she'd gotten herself wrapped up in some bad drugs or prescription meds or something. She'd been a sweet girl and then she just went off-line with everyone except Amanda. She probably would have ditched her too if Amanda wasn't so hard-headed and stubborn when it came to Mel. Danny figured that losing Amanda was what set her off and pushed her over the edge. He had the sense to look sheepish at that analogy, wincing and apologizing as Sam was posing as a distant cousin of the deceased girl.

Today, he was going to talk to the dead girl's mother. He knew how to find her before he even got back from Wilson's, but he put it off and hadn't felt up to going to talk to the grieving parent yet. He wanted to look healthier before going to her, not wanting to upset her by showing up on her doorstep with the same haunted, empty look in his eyes that Mel had in hers. He had gleaned a lot of info on Mel the last couple of days, enough to make a good attempt at claiming to know her fairly well which was what he was going to do with her mother. He'd read her obituary, he'd gone to her old school and looked through old year books... spoke to old teachers, posing as a journalist student wanting to write a story on the unfortunate girl.

So he dropped Jess off at the restaurant, didn't even hold his breath in hopes of getting a traditional, chaste kiss on the cheek, and took off for San Jose.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Thank you Mrs. Pitero," he said as she placed a cup of coffee in front of him on the dining room table. He found the home no problem. It was on a nice quiet street in the outskirts of San Jose. Modest, but clean and warm feeling. Or it would have felt warm if there wasn't a huge shadow of grief hanging over the place. But you couldn't expect anything different from the older woman – she buried her daughter last week.

"It's Holly," she corrected gently. "Holly Morgan. I went back to my maiden name several years ago." She dropped wearily into the chair opposite him with a mug of her own. Her hands were wrapped around the mug as if it were the only thing keeping her together. Her straggly red hair hung around her face, and her eyes were drawn and red-rimmed. Sam wondered what Mel's dad looked like as the woman in front of him bore no resemblance to the girl from his dreams at all.

"Sorry," he said, more to his coffee than to her. The poor woman... "Thank you for speaking to me today," he continued, "I just got back from North Carolina yesterday and heard about Mel... I'm sorry I missed the funeral..."

"It was a lovely service," she whispered, seeming to be more of an automatic response than something she actually thought.

"Mrs. Pitero... ahhh, Holly... can you tell me what happened in the last couple weeks? Mel seemed stressed out the last time I saw her, but that was at the end of May... and I just can't wrap my head around this..." he gave her a full dose of the puppy dog eyes from underneath his shaggy hair. He had told her he was a patron of the coffee shop where Mel had worked, and that they were slowly becoming friends over the past couple months. And if he made it seem to the grieving mother that there may have been a budding romantic connection between the two, that was unintentional but seemed to work in his favor.

"She just got really withdrawn the last couple weeks... More so than usual I guess. And after the accident... and Amanda..." she sniffed loudly and a tissue came out of its hiding place up her sleeve and Holly started dabbing at her eyes, "Well, that was the beginning of the end right there. I wish I'd seen it coming... I wish I'd been able to h-help her..." The tears were free-flowing now and she wiped at her face with the disintegrating tissue. "I wish I'd handled everything differently..." she sobbed, shoulders hunched and shaking.

"You couldn't have known Holly," he leaned closer to the crying woman and spoke softly as he patted the back of her hand. He felt so guilty for putting this woman through this, always hating his dad for doing this exact same thing to countless victims of evil circumstances. But his dad was right about some things – one was that grieving people liked to talk to sympathetic listeners.

"Can you tell me how it all started?" he asked her.

"It was back in February or March sometime," she sighed, her voice shaky with emotion.

Her birthday was February twelfth… his mind dug the knowledge up from the obituary he'd read.

"She told me she was having these really dark dreams – that they were coming to her every night. She was frightened of them, but they were just dreams, you know?" Holly looked up with crimson eyes, pleading with him to understand. "They were just dreams..."

"Did she tell you what they were about?"

"She said the devil was stalking her, that he would chase her through the woods up at W-Wapama Falls," her voice hitched as another volley of shakes took hold of her. "I asked her if she was on drugs. Can you believe it? She's having nightmares and talking about the devil chasing her and I asked her if she was on drugs," she hissed. "She was convinced that the dreams were real, she was frightened and scared and I asked her if she was on drugs."

"Was she?" He already knew the answer to that one, but she would expect him to ask the question.

She nodded grimly. "I found out later she was trying all sorts of drugs. Prozac, Vicodin, Marijuana… you name it."

"Bennies?" he offered.

"Them too." Holly took a long drink from her cup before continuing. "I was angry with her, but she said they helped keep the dreams away and she withdrew even more from me. Melissa and I… we haven't always had a rosy relationship…"

"Since you and her dad split up?" he offered.

"Yeah… she was messed up for a long time after that. Didn't talk much, until Ted came over to read her her bedtime story." She wiped at another stray tear as the memory came to her. "And then when Teddy died… it was like part of her went with him. It took a long time after that for her to open up to me again. Things were going good for us the last couple years. She finished high school, and she started working… last year she moved out on her own. I was so proud of her for that. Twenty one and out on her own? It wasn't like she made a lot of money at that coffee shop, but she was paying her own way. She started seeing a really nice boy named Danny…" she paused, looking at him a little guiltily at the mention of the former boyfriend.

"I met Danny before," he took a sip of coffee. "He did seem like a nice guy – like he really cared for her."

Holly nodded numbly. "He came to the funeral – Danny did. It was the drugs that pushed him away I think. She just got so withdrawn… the only one who could talk to her was Amanda…"

"She took Amanda's death really hard – didn't she."

"Undoubtedly. She felt responsible for her death. They'd been friends since they were little girls," her breath hitched, "but it was an accident. She was even clean for the last couple of weeks before the accident – the hospital ran tests on her while she was in the ICU. But she felt so guilty, and you couldn't tell her it wasn't her fault."

"Is that when you talked her into seeing the psychiatrist? Dr...?" He was fishing. He didn't know the name of the shrink yet and he definitely wanted to talk to him in person.

"Doctor Cogsworth," she nodded. "He seemed like a nice man, but Mel never favored him much. She was convinced that he couldn't help her."

"Did Mel ever say what she thought caused the accident?" he leaned closer to the grieving mother, giving her another dose of the puppy eyes.

"She wouldn't talk about it, just kept saying it was her fault. If you ask me, I think she may have been having a drug flashback. I read how they can attack you from time to time, make you have hallucinations… Acid, and stuff like that can stay in your brain for a long time – eating at you. I think that's why she felt so guilty. I-I wish she would have talked about it. We might have been able to help her but she w-wouldn't let us." Her face disappeared in her tissue again and her shoulders racked with sobs.

"I'm sorry Holly. I truly am. I wish I could have known her better…"

Holly reached out and rested a cold hand on top of his, red tear-stains down her pale cheeks. "Thank you Sam. I can tell you mean it. Some folk come in here to give their condolences, but they don't feel it. They're here because they feel like they're supposed to walk in that door and tell me how sorry they feel, all the while grateful it wasn't their child being buried. But you're different. I could see it in your eyes the second I opened my door. Can I ask how close you two were? I don't mean to pry, but I'd like to know she still had a few friends who cared about her at the end. Really cared about her."

"I… I wish I could have saved her," he whispered truthfully. "I wish that…" and his words trailed off because he couldn't say anything else to this poor woman that wouldn't hurt her more than she already was.

"I know Sweetheart," she patted his hand maternally and gave him a sad smile. "We all wish we could have saved her."

"I'm sorry Ms. Morgan. I should go now. Thank you for speaking to me." He had to get out of there because he could feel tears forming behind his eyes. He had thought that there was no resemblance between mother and daughter but he was wrong. Mel had the exact same defeated smile as her mother and he had to get out of there.

He grabbed his coat off the back of the chair, thanked her again, and tried not to run down the walkway to the safety of the Colt parked on the sidewalk. Once inside, breathing in the remnants of the Jessica infused car, he felt a bit better. He cranked on the key, prayed that the old engine would catch, and when it did, he headed to the coffee shop where Mel used to work. He had a few more questions.

At the café, he used the free wireless internet to do some research on Dr. Cogsworth. Originally from Boston, he left a successful practice and came to San Jose several years before. He had an address and a phone number listed on the site he was reading so he dialed the Doc's receptionist and scheduled a preliminary interview with the shrink for the following week. He'd always known what psychiatrist he wanted to see, and now that he found him, it would make Jess happy to know that he'd found someone he felt 'comfortable' talking to about his problems.

A waitress came by and refilled his cup. He smiled at her, and said, "Excuse me. I'm a journalist student at Stanford University. I'm writing an article on Melissa Pitero and I was wondering if I could ask you some questions?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

That night, he skipped the tea and lay in bed next to Jess for a couple hours until well after midnight. He put on old sweat clothes, grabbed his sneakers and Jess' car keys and headed to the cemetery in San Jose where Mel was buried. Her last couple months alive had been a nightmare – literally. The least he could do was to ensure that her death was peaceful. He had stashed a can of salt and a shovel in the car on his way home earlier so that he could give her his final gift. Mel wasn't a hunter, but she was going to get a hunter's burial so that the Shadowman couldn't get to her anymore and so that she didn't come back as a restless and vengeful spirit in the future.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Where were you?" Jessica was standing on the other side of the door when he got back, arms crossed tightly across her chest and her eyes narrowed into deadly slits. It was later than he'd hoped to get back, shortly after six am, but he hadn't expected her to be awake so early. Awake and pissed.

"I woke up at like three-thirty," he lied, hoping not to get caught in his lie because he had no idea how long she'd been awake. "I was really jittery and I couldn't get back to sleep so I got up and went for a long jog." He wiped his forehead on his arm for effect.

She gave him a scrutinizing look through those awful narrowed eyes and leaned in close. She sniffed loudly and wrinkled her nose. "You stink."

"That tends to happen when you go jogging."

Or digging up a body for a salt and burn…it was closed-casket for a reason by the way... and he tried to hide his shudder by kicking off his sneakers.

He risked touching her and put his hands on her elbows, willing her to uncross her arms. "You have no reason to trust me Jess. I know that," he said softly. "But believe me. I wasn't out doing drugs or anything else. I was just jogging. It helped to clear my head a little and I'm sorry if I worried you. Next time I'll leave you a note," he promised.

She softened a little, nodding her golden head and giving him a small smile. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. You're doing everything I asked you to and this can't be easy for you, and you haven't complained or grumbled once. I thought there would be more withdrawal symptoms but you're doing amazingly well. I thought that maybe you were doing so well because you hadn't given them up," she confessed.

"Believe me Jess. I'm done with those pills. They were bad news and I'll never take them again – I promise."

"You really are trying, aren't you?" she looked up at him then, blue eyes sad and soft.

"Jessica – I don't want to lose you. You know you're everything to me. I screwed up and I'm going to do what I have to make it right."

"Thank you," she whispered, surprising him when she stepped in and gave him a gentle hug around his waist, resting her head against his shoulder. The contact was so unexpected that he froze for an instant before letting his arms wrap around her and hold her tight. These small steps were mountains to them right now, but every mountain climbed would be worth it if they could get back to where they were before.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Sunday morning church...

He used to enjoy it. It wasn't as if he were a holy roller or anything, and his beliefs ran far darker than even the most devout follower, but he had enjoyed it for the fact that it was a family thing and the Moores had welcomed him into theirs. Things were different now – strained and forced. He suspected that Jess' parents had suggested she leave him – not that he blamed them – and they seemed resigned to being polite and cordial, but that was it. They treated him like he was a neighbor they didn't particularly care for. You had to try and be nice because they were your neighbor, but that didn't mean you invited him the backyard barbeque. So he now felt like he was a disliked neighbor – not that he didn't deserve it.

Jess, the angel that she was, ignored the coolness her parents showed him and smiled encouragingly at him. She stood next to him, hymnal in her hands, holding the book aloft for them both to read and her slightly off-key voice was music to his ears. He could feel the warmth of her body leeching out towards his side. Memories of the hug she gave him this morning coursed through his veins, giving him hope that they could fix what was wrong. That he could fix it. Jess hadn't done a thing…

They hymn over, the pastor called for them to be seated and to bow their heads in prayer. Obediently, he dropped his head and stared at his lap and his folded hands, while listening to the pastor's monotone voice begging God for strength and the safe return of the soldiers in Iraq. Dave's brother was serving there, and the wedding was being held off until after Jeremy came back in early August. Jeremy was to be the Best Man, while Dave's partner Mark was going to be an usher. Sam didn't miss that he hadn't been asked to be a part of the wedding ceremony, but they didn't ask him before he became a walking pharmacy, so that wasn't the reason why he wasn't included. Dave just didn't know him well enough to ask him to stand for him, and they certainly weren't getting better acquainted now. Nina and Dave tried to be nice to him, he knew they were trying, and he kept telling himself that their busy lives and the wedding plans were what kept them preoccupied. He just wished that it were easier for Jess. She loved her sister, and being at odds with her over this was hard on her at a time when she didn't need more stress.

The pastor called for everyone to take a moment to offer a silent prayer of their own, and Sam found himself actually praying. Nothing for himself really, just for Jessica.

Please God, if you're up there, and if you're listening… help her. She's good, and she's kind, and she loves her family. I'm sorry that I screwed up, and I'm probably the last person who you'd reach out to help because of all the wrong I've done in my life… but her? She's your greatest creation. Seriously Dude – and he cringed a bit at calling the big guy 'Dude' but plowed on anyway – she's an angel in a mortal's body… I know she is. She didn't ask for any of this and I've put her through so much, but she's trying to forgive me. Forgiveness is your calling card isn't it? Just help her with her family issues. She loves them and I'm the one who screwed up and she's paying for it because of me. Just help them work through this so that they can be a close-knit family again. The frayed edges are brutal on her and I want her to be happy. She's the only bright spot in my life and I know I don't deserve her…

A glint in the stained glass window just ahead of him caught his eye. The sun was shining brightly outside, and a ray of light caught a green stained-glass eye on the face of the angel depicted on the window. It sparkled and twinkled for a moment and the brief warmth he'd felt in his chest was replaced by a warm squeeze in his hand. He looked to his right, into the world's bluest eyes, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze back. She smiled shyly, like they were little kids daring to hold hands for the first time and she leaned against his side ever so slightly but so that he could feel the warmth of her washing over him. He closed his eyes in exaltation; just soaking up the touch like a sun-bather on the beach soaks up the heat of the sun. He looked up towards the stained glass angel, got one more brief twinkle – almost a wink if he wanted to be hopeful – out of the eye, and then it was gone.

But Jessica's hand was still in his and he couldn't help but think that maybe his prayer had been heard.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

A/N: Sappy – I know… but that adorable faith of his had to come from somewhere right? And not to spoiler for anyone who's not up to date on the episodes, but there will be no Brody in this story. Kripke throws one hell of a curve ball and there's no way to change what's been posted already cuz it screws with the whole fic. So sorry to you guys. It was a hell of an episode though, and I got to admit... I'm lovin' Crowley.