Sometimes Sam thought of Dean. He wondered if he was safe. He wondered where he was. He wondered if their paths would ever cross again.

Sometimes he'd be filing away an old leather bound book at his library job and it would have a title like Psychic Phenomenon of New England or Common Urban Myths and it was like the Universe occasionally reminded him of the Life he'd tried to leave behind. The rope he'd tried to cut. Some days he thought he had severed it completely but then an old book was there to remind him of what he knew. And it was then that Sam would feel the tug of the invisible chain he had never freed himself from.

Suddenly he'd think of hours of his childhood spent researching lore. And all those old feelings of loneliness and resentment settled somewhere in his chest in a vague feeling of anxiety that he could never quite sort enough to put a name to.

Even though he'd adapted well to his life amongst normal people, it still fascinated him somehow that their lives were so...simple. There was a clarity in the outside world that he'd never had when he'd been swept into the surreal world of ghosts and monsters.

He tried his best to forget those parts of his life, compartmentalize them into separate chapters and lock them into his subconscious. Occasionally Jess asked questions that made him open one of the boxes and look at it before he could shove a lid back on it again. He wished he could share the truth with her at times. But he never did.

Secrecy had been drilled into him since he'd been born. Let no one in. And honestly, he looked into her gorgeous blue eyes and as much as he wanted to tell her about his private wounds, he didn't want to as well. Even if she somehow believed him and didn't think he was crazy, such knowledge would fundamentally change who she was. He didn't want to put that burden on her. And he knew deep down that he never would.

Even though Sam Winchester had borne so much more than the civilians he was surrounded by, he had not lost his compassion. It was the lode star of his life. It colored his view point and it guided his decisions.

Even if their strife seemed trivial in comparison to that of the Winchester men, he knew by instinct that pain was pain. And hurt was hurt, no matter the source.

Jessica had been betrayed in love before. She'd had friends shift their alliances with the wind and leave her behind when it was convenient for them. She'd lost her grandparents at the age of 10 and still missed them. He never allowed himself to think "well at least you had friends!" "At least you had grandparents."

Instead, he felt all of her losses as sharply as if they had happened to him. Such was Sam's heart. If Mary Winchester had ever lived to see her son grow into a man, she would not have been disappointed.


Sam furrowed his brow when he found Jessica curled on the couch with a heating pad on her stomach. "Hey," he said softly, looking at the tight expression on her face. Her hair was pulled into an unkempt pony tail. "What's wrong? Cramps?"

She nodded miserably.

"You need me to get you some aspirin?"

She shook her head.

"How about I draw you a warm bath?"

Jessica looked at him with those beautiful blue eyes and he dropped down to one knee and brushed a tendril of gold away from her cheek.

"It's bad today?"

She nodded looking weepy. His heart gave a flop. "I'm sorry."

Menstrual cycles were a unique hell he'd never thought about until he'd started living with Jessica. She bore them in silence and was fine most of the time, but sometimes she'd have a bad month and pain got the better of her.

He was ill equipped to sit around and not fix the problem, so after ascertaining what was wrong, he dutifully drew a steaming bath and pulled the Tylenol from the medicine cabinet with a glass of water.

He brought it out to and handed it to her. "Come on. Let's get ahead of the pain, okay?" His voice was gentle as if talking to a frightened horse.

She didn't protest. She took them and swallowed them down.

"I got a bath going."

"Oh, Sam. You didn't have to do that."

"You always feel better with one."

"I think I'd feel better if I ripped out my uterus."

"Don't say that." He reached over and laid a hand against her stomach, over her womb. The gesture was tender.

He wondered if she'd ever carry any of his children there. The thought had never really occurred to him before. He wasn't sure if he wanted any and she'd never mentioned children to him before. He knew that he wanted to finish law school and Jessica had her sites set on a career in research law. So it would be long time, if ever...

A flash of blood and an open c-section incision went through his mind. He winced, unsure where the image was coming from, but sorry that she planted the idea of her womb being cut open.

He blinked and drew his hand away. "Okay, baby. Let's get you to the bath."

"I don't want to stand." She whispered.

He leaned down and picked her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head in his shoulder.

"Wow. This is some good Tylenol. Feels like I'm floating." She quipped.

He snorted and crossed into the bathroom, set her on the floor, and checked the water with his hand. He cocked an eyebrow. "You okay?"

Jessica nodded. "Sam." Her eyes were honest and grateful.

"Yeah?"

"You are the best boyfriend ever."

He smiled and his dimples deepened. "You make it pretty easy to want to try to be that."

And oddly it was then, watching the gratitude and love in her eyes, that he knew with a steadfast certainty that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Jessica Moore.


Brady leaned against the old wooden table and loosened the top button of his Oxford shirt. "Sam, your girl can cook, man."

Sam ducked his head and peered up at him through his bangs. "Yeah, she sure can."

"Better hold onto her." Brady's eyes drifted toward the kitchen.

Thanksgiving had been a low key affair-Jessica's parents were away, so she hijacked Brady's apartment for the newer appliances and cooked a meal for the three of them.

Brady looked up to judge Sam's expression.

"Oh I'm not going anywhere, believe me."

Sam was so smitten with her. It was written all over his face.

"So you dodged a bullet not having not having to visit her family, huh?" Brady picked his tooth with his fingernail. Damn turkey.

Sam shrugged. "Yeah... I'm just not accustomed to the whole family thing." His fox eyes slid to the kitchen again. "I don't think they're overly fond of me."

"Why not? Who the hell wouldn't like you?"

"I'm just not from, well, any kind of a decent background."

Brady rolled his eyes. "Hypocritical assholes."

Sam's face tightened. "Brady... shhh."

He shrugged. "They can't tell a boyscout when they see him because his daddy is a drunk."

To his surprise, Brady felt Sam almost bristle at the callus assessment of John Winchester- but he said nothing.

"You gonna go to her place for Christmas?"

"Yeah. I think so. Probably." Sam pushed his plate away. "Holidays are so uncomfortable for me."

"Hey." Brady said, evaluating his friend, "People go skydiving off of buildings with no parachute thanks to holidays. You aren't alone."

He saw Sam's eyes take on a curious light. "I never did ask you what you said to that Tom guy on Halloween. Did you rile him up or something?"

"He didn't need any riling. He doesn't like us much... We're so loveable that I don't know why." Brady gave his best salesman smile.

Sam's dimple deepened in amusement. "Yeah. Me either." He opened his mouth, closed it again.

Brady cocked his head. "What?"

Sam huffed a long breath. "I don't...when he went for Jessica I thought I was gonna kill him, man."

"He roughed up your girl. Anyone would have done it."

"No. I mean really kill him, Brady."

Brady tried to conceal the delighted light in his eye. That was the Sam they needed, the Sam that was lurking under all those civilized layers waiting to be peeled like an onion. The rage he kept carefully contained within...they needed to tap into that. -Throw Sam into a position where he had no choice but to make it happen. When push came to shove, Sam was a survivor. They just had to pen him into a corner and cut off all his options to make him finally turn and fight.

Losing Jessica was going to light that rage up like a bonfire. The coup de grace of the unfairness that was Sam Winchester's life.

"Sam you'd never kill anyone." Brady protested gamely. Like he believed it. Like he didn't know both Winchesters were honed killers at their core.


Christmas skated by, Sam and Jess enjoying their vacation together. The weather was pleasant and somehow Sam knew he was never going to be used to sun. Even after all this time it felt like a lie or a dream he was going to be awakened from.


Jessica Moore tilted her head sideways and smiled, her face framed by that long blonde hair that Sam loved so much. He loved to touch it, run his fingers through it, hold her by it in the heat of passion. Bury his nose in it when they were intimate. It had come to be a familiar comfort.

He watched the way it caught the light when she moved to pick up the present he'd bought her. "Oh Sam." She gave him her dazzling girlish sunlit smile. He found himself returning it.

"Go on. Open it." He leaned forward and kissed her gently on her full lips.

"Did you wrap this?" She asked, turning it over in her hands.

Sam snorted. "I made Rebecca do it, actually."

She laughed. "I didn't think you did this good a job normally."

"We weren't big into presents so I guess it's a skill I never picked up."

She got a nail under the corner of the wrap and tore it with a shredding sound. The blue paper covered with kittens and balloons tore apart like a beautiful illusion to reveal the plain parcel under neath.

She opened the white cardboard box on the inside and her face lit up.

"You went back and got me this?" She held out the crop top with a screen print of the smurfs on it. There were a pair of blue sleep shorts nestled in the tissue paper. "I can't believe you even remembered. When did we see these?"

Sam shrugged. "I think a few months ago. Happy Birthday, Jessica Moore."

She bounced off of her seat and threw her arms around him. Sam held her, feeling complete, whole.

He kissed her again. "How did I get so lucky?"

Jess pulled away. "You know, I just don't know..." She kissed the tip of his ski jump nose. "Okay, let me get ready for dinner."

She hopped off into the bedroom to change, bouncing off the edge of the chair on his antique desk as she did so. "Ow." She said rubbing her hip. "I keep forgetting I have these things."

"Hips?" Sam grinned and cocked an eyebrow. "I sure don't."

She wandered around the corner and his eye landed on the shirt she'd wanted.

What was the name of the girl smurf?

Dean's voice rang sharply in his memory and a flash of surprised guilt flooded him.

Dean.

It was Dean's birthday too. He'd actually forgotten.

Sam swallowed and dropped his gaze to the floor. They hadn't even contacted each other for Christmas. It would be weird to send him a text now. He thought of it though, wasn't sure if he was still angry at him over their last conversation.

"Hey..."Jess poked her head around the door. "Can you zip this up?"

Sam blinked and looked up to see an expanse of bare shoulder and a bit of her rounded breast sheathed in a red dress.

"Why do you look sad?" She asked.

"I'm not sad." Sam stood up.

"Melancholy then."

He crossed the room in a few strides. "I'm not melancholy."

"You are a terrible liar." She bit her lip and pulled her hair up to expose the zipper. "Lawyer. You're gonna have to work on that."

Sam huffed. If only she knew just how good he was...that secrets and lies came to him as easily as breathing. "Okay, I'll try," he said.

Sam walked around behind her, but she turned to look at him.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Dean. I almost forgot today is his birthday too."

"Oh that's right!" She turned back around. "You should text him."

Sam's eyes swept over the long elegant curve of her exposed back. He took hold of the zipper. "I don't want to open up that can of worms."

"Why not?" Jess asked, holding her hair to the side.

Sam let go of the zipper and placed his hand across her bare back, then slowly slid his palm up her muscle without closing the zipper.

"Sam..." but he could hear the smile in her voice.

"Yeah," he asked, running his hand over her shoulders, feeling his body respond to touching her.

"We have dinner reservations."

He edged his hip up against her and his hand drifted under her dress to cup her breast.

She inhaled sharply and dropped her hair. "Sam."

He leaned over and kissed her ear. "We have time."

Sam drowned himself in Jessica Moore and didn't think about his brother again until late in the night when she'd drifted to sleep.

Thank you so much for the reviews, NCSupfan, Shadowhuntingdd, Michele, and my guest. It would be hard to keep writing without your encouragement. Stay tuned...it's all down hill from here.