Author's Note: I realize we haven't heard from Dean in awhile. Don't worry. I'm not forgetting about him—and especially not in favor of Jessica. He'll be back. I promise!
SPN
(Atlanta, Georgia … Thursday, October 29, 2005)
Jessica still remembered the day Brady introduced her to Sam back in California. It was during spring break of their sophomore year. Hundreds of students flocked to the beach, and they were on the boardwalk enjoying the sunset with their beers in hand. Jessica had ditched her circle of friends to lean against the railing and gaze out at the water. She knew once classes resumed, she'd be hard-pressed to find moments like that. Moments of carefree peacefulness.
Brady had dragged Sam along with a different crowd, but when he happened to spot Jessica standing there, he felt compelled to say hi. They were in the same math class, and the same study group, so they were pleased to see each other. However, as soon as she observed Brady's tall friend, Jessica found herself at a loss for words.
Sam did not look like he belonged at the beach. For one thing, he wore jeans and tennis shoes rather than shorts and flip-flops, he wasn't half-drunk, and while he didn't seem bored per se, he wasn't having the time of his life either. In fact, Jessica later learned the only reason he came with Brady was to keep an eye out for him—apparently he was going through a rough patch, and needed a friend to hold him accountable.
Maybe it was the environment, maybe it was the beer, but Jessica could not take her eyes off Sam. He was the most attractive guy she had seen in ages, and to top it off, he was friendly and polite. He had a gorgeous smile. Brady must have noticed her checking Sam out, because he instantly took it upon himself to set them up, and the rest was history.
Sam was smart, gentle, funny, kind. He obviously had a past—whenever anyone brought up his family, he grew visibly uncomfortable. He showed Jessica a few pictures, and shared some basic details—his mother had died when he was a baby, and he and his brother had been raised on the road—but it was a painful subject, and he wasn't ready to confide in her. That was okay. They took their relationship slowly, and since neither of them went home for the summer, they had even more time for their infatuation to grow.
But that was then.
Jessica had not seen Sam in thirteen months, thanks to the Stynes. For their own safety, they had been torn apart—little good it did either of them. And now, the sweet, hopeful young man she fell in love with sat four seats away, looking miserable and broken. While the Stynes kept him clean and relatively intact, they were messing with his head, calling him "son" and "little brother." And to make things worse, Sam wasn't just putting up with it, he was actually playing along! Was it because Caroline resembled his mother? Or did they have some other means of coercion?
From her place at the head of the dinner table, Jessica watched Sam as everyone else began to eat—the old man sitting next to her, William, had summoned a few tuxedoed zombies to serve their meals. Undead waiters? Had her life really come to this? Of course, with her hands tied behind her back and a gag filling her mouth, Jessica felt more like a decoration than a member of the party. At least she wasn't hungry, and given her nightmarish situation, she didn't see her appetite returning anytime soon.
Sam wasn't eating either. He just sat there, silent and still, staring at his plate. Occasionally he would peek over at Jessica, and even from a distance, she recognized the turmoil in his eyes. Not to mention the defeat. How could anyone do this to him? It wasn't fair, and he didn't deserve it.
After awhile, Jacob interrupted Caroline's speech about wedding vows to address Sam sternly. "What did I tell you about starving yourself, little brother?"
Sam tensed, but immediately grabbed his fork and took a bite of his salad.
Noticing how the Stynes watched him like perverts, Jessica couldn't help but shake her head and tug on her restraints. She and Sam were both in danger, yes, but since Agent Hale had killed Freddie, the greatest threat was to Sam. If they were going to get out of this alive, it might all be up to her.
SPN
When dinner came to a close, Caroline dismissed the family and their guests. The Fontaines took Cyrus to bed. Jacob and Earl took Sam. William and Victor took Elizabeth. That left the matriarch with Jessica. Impudent girl. Not only did she arrive wearing jeans—making her as trampy as Elizabeth—she was also a sniveling mess. At some point during the course of the evening, her terrified expression hardened into hatred, but she remained a pathetic damsel in distress. What could Sam possibly see in her?
No matter. She would only be around for three more days. Four at the most. After the reception, regardless of Sam's cooperation, they would kill her. Slowly. Caroline could deal with her until then.
"Let's go," she said, yanking Jessica up from her seat.
"Mmpphh!" The girl tried shaking free, but Caroline was much stronger.
"Shut up!" Digging her nails into Jessica's arm—enough to sting without drawing blood—Caroline led the way out of the dining room. Naturally, they had prepared fancy quarters for their new guest, but that was before Caroline actually met her. Now, she thought they were too good for the little slut. So instead of escorting her upstairs, Caroline took her to the basement—a dungeon to rival any in Europe.
With a flick of her wrist, Caroline produced an orb of light, and Jessica did a double-take at the display of magic. She wasn't even familiar with the supernatural! What made her think she was good enough for Sam?
They passed through the torture chamber to reach a row of barred cells in the back. Caroline picked one at random and telekinetically opened the door.
"MMPPPHH!" Jessica protested forcefully, but couldn't stop Caroline from dragging her inside, where the only furniture was a warped bench. Shoving her on top of it, Caroline found the two-foot chain that was anchored to the stone floor.
"I know it's not comfortable," she said, snatching the girl's foot and fettering her ankle. "But frankly, I don't care." Satisfied, she stood up and sneered. Jessica met her gaze defiantly, wrenching her arms behind her back. Caroline laughed at the futility of her struggle. "Go ahead. You can squirm all you like, but you're not going anywhere, and when we're done with you, you'll wish Freddie was alive to spare you from our wrath."
That said, she withdrew from the cell and locked the door. Turning, she left Jessica alone in the dark.
SPN
(Atlanta, Georgia … Friday, October 30, 2005)
When morning came, Sam was exhausted, having been unable to fall asleep. His eyelids were heavy, but his thoughts were racing, and he spent most of the night worried about Jessica. And Ellen, Jo, and Ash—were they even still alive? He wondered about Dean. If the Stynes could get to his girlfriend, could they get to his brother? Where was his dad? Where was Bobby?
He kept picturing the scene from his old nightmares—Elizabeth in a wedding gown, stabbing Jessica with a knife. That either meant late Sunday or early Monday, depending on the hour. He was running out of time. According to Caroline, the surest way of protecting Jessica was by keeping Elizabeth under control. But there was another option, which he first considered after discerning Freddie's fate. What if he killed Elizabeth before she killed Jessica?
That wouldn't solve anything. It would only piss off the Stynes—especially Victor, who wanted to drag out his bride's suffering—and it might spell disaster for the hostages in the laboratory. Sam couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk much of anything anymore.
Sick to his stomach, Sam trudged to the bathroom and threw up. Afterward, he brushed his teeth and washed his face, hoping to cover up the incident. Then, he walked back out, only to find Jacob waiting by the door. They stared at each other, neither speaking a word, and Sam didn't have to be psychic to recognize his would-be brother's possessiveness. Unfortunately, because he was psychic, it was that much more noticeable and suffocating.
"We're skipping breakfast in favor of brunch," Jacob eventually broke the silence. "I came to see if you'd be up for a morning run, but…" He cut the distance between them and pressed his hand against Sam's forehead. It was an oddly benign gesture, reminding Sam of Dean. "You're a bit feverish. Can't say I'm surprised, with everything you've been through lately. Come on. Caroline will have a remedy."
"I want to see Jessica," Sam said as Jacob led him by the wrist out into the hallway. They made their way through the circuitous labyrinth at an easy pace.
"Not now," Jacob told him. "She doesn't seem to be an early riser."
Well, that was crap, but Sam wasn't at liberty to object. Frustrated, he tried to concentrate on his balance, and soon they were downstairs in the foyer where Caroline and Victor were finalizing details with the undead staff. One look at Sam, however, caught the matriarch's attention.
"Everything all right?"
Jacob shook his head. "Kid needs something for a fever."
Caroline's expression softened while Victor snorted.
"A fever?" he asked derisively. "Let me tell you what he really needs. A few enhancements." Sam's heart skipped a beat and he would have fell back a step if Jacob wasn't clutching his wrist. "Give us three hours in the lab, and I'll have his immune system up to par. You know he's not a true Styne without an upgrade."
Sam flashed back to Shreveport where a demon tattooed him with the family crest. That was bad enough, but this? It would contaminate him in ways that could never be undone, much like Azazel's demon blood. He tried not to panic. "No!" The word slipped out despite his best efforts.
"No," Jacob agreed, inserting himself between Sam and Victor. "He's not ready yet."
Thank God!
"What difference does that make?" Victor demanded, crossing his arms. "The sooner he's one of us, the better."
"No, Jacob's right," Caroline said. "Sam's still adjusting to his psychic abilities. He doesn't need the extra weight of physical modifications. Maybe in a week or two."
Sam sagged in relief even as the possibility of two more weeks here repulsed him. But there was nothing he could do about it. By then, it might not matter what they did to his body. By then, he might not be himself anymore—especially if he lost Jessica. He could already feel himself on the verge of defeat. It was only a matter of time.
"Very well," Victor grumbled. "If that's your wish, who am I to suggest otherwise?" For a split second, his feelings betrayed more than just his rivalry with Jacob. Sam could sense his hatred. But then he remembered himself, and he turned away to resume command over his servants. Caroline motioned for Sam and Jacob to follow her across the foyer towards the back of the mansion.
As they went, Sam regarded his captor and—against his better judgment—said, "Thank you." He regretted his words immediately. Thank you? What the hell was he thinking? And what would Dean say? He'd be as pissed as their dad would be disappointed.
Jacob, on the other hand, felt a rush of satisfaction that Sam inadvertently shared. It made him wince.
"Don't worry, little brother. I won't let you be enhanced anytime soon. I've come to enjoy caring for you, so I'd rather you remain weak and vulnerable for as long as possible."
SPN
Considering all the other rooms in the mansion, it wasn't particularly surprising when Caroline brought them to a private infirmary with a single bed and all the medical equipment they could need. While the upstairs laboratory reeked of torture and sadism, this place offered a more healing vibe.
Caroline instructed her patient to sit before rummaging through a cabinet where she quickly produced a crystal vial. "Here we go!" In a single, fluid motion, she unstoppered it and offered it to Sam. "Drink." The weird smell made him grimace, and when he took a sip, the potion burned the back of his mouth, making him cough.
Fortunately, whatever the ingredients were, they acted quickly. Sam felt more like himself in fifteen minutes, which pleased Caroline, because she had a brunch to prepare. While she disappeared into the kitchen, Jacob led Sam out onto the patio where the Fontaines, Earl, and Cyrus were enjoying the weather. They sat for over an hour, talking about the wedding and what they would all do after its culmination. Though some of it concerned him, Sam found it hard to listen—his mind kept wandering back to Jessica.
By mid-morning, they were summoned to a grand ballroom with an abstract carpet, over eight chandeliers, and balconies on every side. Round tables were assembled along the perimeter of the dance floor, and in the back, a temporary stage was available for the bridal party. So far, nothing was decorated, but it still gave them an idea of what Caroline had in mind for the reception on Sunday night.
"We only have two and a half days left," she pointed out as they gathered in the corner where three tables were covered with an assortment of breakfast foods. William, Victor, Elizabeth and Jessica were already present, and while the men seemed to appreciate Caroline's work, Elizabeth and Jessica were both dispirited—Jessica in particular. She was still bound and gagged, wearing the same dress from last night, and Sam noticed a dark bruise on her ankle.
"As we eat," Caroline continued, "I want to hear everyone's thoughts on the room layout and potential decorating ideas. Keep in mind, we're sparing no expense, so don't hold back."
Before Sam could reach Jessica, Jacob grabbed his arm and maneuvered him to a seat at a different table where they weren't even facing each other. Sam complied, but glanced over his shoulder to meet her gaze, and from what he could tell, she was barely holding herself together. "Jacob," he whispered to keep from disrupting a lively debate between Paige, Earl and William. "When can I talk to her?"
"To Jessica?" Jacob feigned surprise while dumping biscuits, gravy, and home fries onto Sam's plate. "I'm not sure that's in your best interest, little brother."
"But I thought she was a gift?"
Jacob laughed. "True, and while we absolutely want you to enjoy her, some gifts come with restrictions. I mean, Cyrus might be old enough for his first pistol, but we're not gonna let him shoot bottles off a fence unsupervised. He might hurt himself. The same principle applies here."
It took every ounce of discipline for Sam to remain civil. "How?"
A twinkle lit Jacob's piercing blue eyes. "She's a bad influence, Sammy. You belong to us now, and believe it or not, you're starting to accept it." Sam flinched, but didn't dispute the claim. "Jessica, on the other hand… She'd like nothing more than to turn you against us, and we can't let that happen, now can we? So for the moment, it's better this way. You're lucky she's here at all."
Yeah, right. Sam tried a new approach. "She needs something to eat."
"I doubt she's hungry."
Realizing he wouldn't get anywhere with mere petitions, Sam set his jaw. He could think of one other way to pull Jacob's strings, but it would require him to act like a little brother, which was loathsome. Still, for Jessica, he'd do anything. "I'll play you for it."
Jacob froze, staring at Sam in surprise. "Excuse me?"
"I'll play you for it," he repeated. "Pool. I win, I get to untie Jessica and help her feel more comfortable." Since Jacob had mentioned the game at dinner last night, it was possible he'd take the bait, and sure enough, his surprise quickly gave way to desire. After all, he loved a good challenge.
"And if I win?"
Sam hesitated. While pool had become a Winchester survival skill, and he was confident in his abilities, he honestly didn't know what he was up against. Jacob could be every bit as good—if not better.
Sensing his uncertainty, Jacob leaned forward. "If I win, you have to be Victor's best man, making the toast and everything—which is only natural, now that I think about it. Your girlfriend's the maid of honor, so why not? Deal?"
Sam nodded, hardly caring about Victor. "Deal."
SPN
When word spread of the upcoming pool match, wedding plans were quickly placed on hold. If anyone else had challenged Jacob, it wouldn't be as compelling, but Sam was their favorite captive, and they couldn't pass up an opportunity to watch him jumping through hoops. Subsequently, after brunch, the entire party ventured into the billiard room where the men placed their bets. Arthur and Earl were rooting for Jacob; William and Victor were rooting for Sam—the friendly competition felt surreal.
Jessica was forced to stand between Paige and Elizabeth while Caroline refereed. Every time Sam glanced at his girlfriend, she gazed back at him desperately, unable to hide her fear. He made it a point not to read her mind, respecting her privacy, but he couldn't help sharing her emotions—they were too strong and too accessible. Worried they might interfere with his concentration, Sam turned to Cyrus for support. The kid was perched up on Earl's shoulders for a clear view of the table, and as always, he offered Sam a small but reassuring smile.
"If I detect any telekinesis," Caroline said, handing out cue sticks. "The offending player will be disqualified. Understand?"
"Yes ma'am," Sam and Jacob both agreed, not that either of them had ever employed such magic in their lives.
"Good." She placed the white cue ball by itself on the right side of the table, just behind the head string. "To recap, if Sam wins, he has permission to untie Jessica and make her more comfortable. If Jacob wins, then Sam has the honor of serving as Victor's best man at the wedding on Sunday. Are we in accord?"
"Yes ma'am."
She glanced specifically at Victor, who nodded his consent. "Excellent. Jacob, go ahead."
Before the game could start, they had to determine the order of play, which was done by 'lagging.' Jacob aimed for the foot of the table and struck the ball. It ricocheted off the bottom rail and came rolling back to lightly tap against the head rail. The idea was for it to land as close to the head rail as possible, and Jacob had incredible control—not to mention practice. The ball rested about an inch and a half from the head rail, making Arthur and Earl applaud. Sam would be hard-pressed to do better.
Caroline made a quick note of the ball's position and returned it to its starting point. "Sam, your turn."
Taking a deep breath, Sam approached the table and wondered if he could channel Dean. Not that he needed to—at least under normal circumstances—but right now, he was too tense for his own good, and he could certainly use his brother's nonchalance. Sure enough, the moment he struck the cue ball, he realized his mistake. Too much power. The ball sped down the table and bounced back smoothly, but forcefully. It hit the head rail and landed at least four inches away. Crap.
William and Victor held their breaths while Caroline clucked her tongue. "Sorry, sweetheart." She glanced at Jacob. "It's your choice."
Jacob hesitated, considering his options. As much as he wanted to win, he also wanted to test Sam's skill. Nevertheless, he opted to shoot first, and while Caroline racked the fifteen stripes and solids, Arthur and Earl cheered him on.
As soon as the balls were broken, Sam knew he was in trouble. Jacob managed to sink three consecutive stripes with masterful finesse, and could obviously keep it up until he won the game. Frustrated, Sam clutched his cue stick tight enough to turn his knuckles white.
But then, Jacob struck the ten ball and deliberately missed the pocket. He briefly smiled, but quickly forced a scowl to match Arthur and Earl's disappointment. Caroline narrowed her eyes, but didn't say anything, and Jacob shrugged. "Now's your chance, little brother. Mark my words, you won't get another."
He meant it, too. The stakes were high enough to ensure Sam's best performance—otherwise his heart wouldn't be in it—and apparently Jacob welcomed his determination. Still, he had a reputation to maintain, so if Sam miscalculated, the game might as well be over.
Casting one final glance at Jessica, and then Cyrus, Sam focused on the table and tried to center himself. He could do this. His family hustled pool all the time. It was easy. The only problem was the pressure he put on himself. He had to relax!
Taking another deep breath, Sam ignored everyone around him and aimed for the solid two ball. It went straight into the left-side center pocket. He tuned out William and Victor's encouragement and aimed for the solid six ball, dunking it into a corner pocket. The cue ball found itself surrounded by the four remaining stripes, and to continue his streak, Sam had to bounce it off the side rails. His angles were perfect, and he managed to sink the yellow one.
Jacob cocked his head. "I thought you said pool wasn't your thing."
It was Sam's turn to shrug. "As in, I wouldn't choose to play it over darts, or a crossword, but I never said I wasn't good at it."
"Technicalities," Jacob countered, but not without admiration.
Sam proceeded to sink the final four solids, and won the game by hitting the eight ball into the targeted corner pocket. As Caroline acknowledged his victory, William and Victor heckled Arthur and Earl, who both groaned at their unnecessary loss. In their minds, Jacob was a fool for holding back, and they eagerly demanded a rematch.
Sam barely heard them. At Caroline's go-ahead, he bolted over to Jessica, circled around her, and fumbled with the ropes—his hands were shaking, so it took extra effort to loosen the knots. Once her wrists were free, he helped her remove the gag, and the next thing they knew, they were in each other's arms. She pressed her head against his shoulder, clinging to him like a lifeline, and he gently stroked her hair.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, wishing he could offer her more than an apology.
"It's not your fault," she said hoarsely.
All around them, the Stynes and Fontaines watched like nosy spectators. Jacob and Caroline were true to their words, but neither of them cared for Jessica's comfort. William and Victor were appeased by their winnings, but Arthur and Earl were equally bitter. Only Paige and Cyrus found the scrutiny awkward, and as for Elizabeth… She was beside herself, simmering in jealousy. Why should Sam have Jessica when she was cut off—perhaps forever—from her beloved Thomas? It wasn't fair.
Not for the first time, Sam despised his powers. He closed his eyes and took a minute to collect himself. Then, he glanced at Jacob. "Thank you." It was his second display of gratitude in a single morning, and his sincerity frightened him. But Jacob had been holding back, allowing Sam to win, and he owed him for that. Didn't he?
Absolutely not! He didn't owe the bastard anything! He was here against his will!
And yet, Sam couldn't shake his appreciation for Jacob's leniency. He heard himself repeating those dreadful words. "Thank you."
What the hell is wrong with me?
Jacob chuckled smugly. "Don't mention it, little brother. I had no idea losing could be so much fun."
SPN
Author's Note: Uh-oh... They're really messing with Sam's head, aren't they? :-p
So... I haven't been getting as many reviews lately, which can be somewhat demoralizing. Please send me feedback! Otherwise, I have to convince myself it's worth all the time I'm putting into it, and I'd much rather you do that for me. Here's hoping I hear from each and every one of you!