"So here's what I'm thinking," Jess announces the second they exit the elevator and into the hall, practically pulling Sam along as they walk, arm in arm, returning to his apartment with a successful, yet unexpectedly eventful, lunch date in the books. What started as something so simple turned into a mildly exciting Saturday afternoon and it all started once Sam suggested a local business to try out for dessert. They could have gone home after, however, on the same block was a pet store that reminded Jess of a few things she wanted to get for her newly adopted cat. Neither of them were sure as to what led to the walk along the river that ran right in the middle of Sacramento, but it was now five o'clock in the late afternoon and they had decided to spend the rest of the evening together at Sam's apartment.

"We should watch movies all night long, starting with that thriller I brought over for last weekend," the movie meant for a night like tonight only they ended up drinking and got too distracted to even remember the film, "And then for dinner, I think you still have a frozen pizza from the same weekend," Sam nods, confirming her assumption.

"That's fair, a calm evening to go with a relatively uneventful afternoon," Sam smiles down at her approvingly, not expecting when Jess laughs almost sarcastically, rolling her eyes, and responding with, "'Relatively uneventful?' You drug me all over the city for five hours today." Sam does his best not to laugh at her dramatics, he thought they hadn't done much and had originally been the one to suggest spending the rest of the day back at his place, clearly, she didn't think the same way, "I mean, I had fun but it was five hours Sam!"

Sam begins to dig his keys out of his pocket, having neared the corner just before his apartment, a defense to her accusations at the ready, "With the traffic we hit on the way there, I think it was more like three hours. Not to mention we-" he's suddenly cut off, unable to finish with his counterargument as Jess has stopped walking, holding him back, and hushing him harshly. Right away he notices her peaking around the corner at something. Sam does as told and stops in the hall, becoming immediately concerned with wondering what she's spotted before him, even though he knows it could be anything from an animal loose in the hall to a dead body. Both situations have happened in his building, luckily the only one that occurred on his floor was when someone had left the window at the end of the hall open and a squirrel had found its way inside. Funnily enough, Sam had ended up working the murder case.

"What's wrong?" he drops his volume to ask, leaning to get a look around the corner as well but she stops him, "Jess," he urges, not enjoying being out of the loop, it was his place of residence after all. She doesn't answer him, just holds up a hand for him to wait, but before he can ask again, she whispers, "I think someone is trying to break into your apartment." He's not sure he's heard her right at first.

Break into his apartment? If that was the case, Sam wasn't going to let her stand there and hold him back longer. He pushes past her, just able to hear her ask, "Should we call the cops?" and, yes, technically they should, but Sam sometimes has a problem with act first, think later. Essentially, he doesn't want to wait to see if the intruder can actually break-in while they wait on the police. Jess tries to grab onto his sleeve as he rounds the corner, whisper shouting his name, but it's no use, he's already set his mind on it.

Sure enough, there's a man crouched at his door attempting to pick the lock. With no better plan in mind, as he doesn't exactly want to get into a fistfight in the middle of the hallway, Sam decides to confront him in an attempt to scare the guy off, thinking that the guy might make a run for it once he realizes he's caught, "Hey, man, I don't know what you think you're gonna find in there but I can guarantee it's not-" he stops right in the middle of his speech, completely frozen in the hall. Sam suddenly realizes he recognizes the person trying to break into his apartment.

The man, sufficiently spooked, quickly stands up and turns to face him. "Dean?!" Sam exclaims, just as surprised as the other at the encounter. He's not sure how he managed to recognize him, especially now that Dean sports a couple of small piercings and a large Wiccan tattoo on his neck that Sam didn't remember being there before. However, though the years had undoubtedly changed them both, his brother was still partly recognizable.

Despite being obviously guilty, Dean couldn't look more pleased with Sam's arrival, practically grinning from ear to ear, "Hey Sammy," he greets him like it hasn't been forever since they last saw one another, like this isn't the oddest thing to happen. Maybe to Dean, it isn't. To Sam? This was the very last thing he could have ever expected.

"What are you-," Sam's unable to wrap his head around it, he hasn't seen Dean in so long, yet, here he is, older and seemingly a completely different person than the last time he saw him, not that he himself didn't look mostly different, "What the hell are you doing here?" He asks of him, less enthused about this than Dean. Out the corner of his eye, he can see Jess who's braved coming around the corner, keys tucked between her fingers as if she's ready to use them as a weapon. He contemplates sending her back.

As his response, Dean holds up a brown plastic bag, like the kind he probably got it from some gas station, "Didn't wanna leave all this stuff out front of the door, I thought I could just, you know, put it inside and make sure you got it. Maybe leave a note or something." and then he shrugs like the exchange isn't abnormal, as if they've kept in touch over the years and just dropping by unannounced is casual, like it was for Jess to do so. Sam thinks about telling him off, maybe even yelling at him, telling him to go away, it's bad enough Dean never bothered to look for him but it's another thing entirely that he's brought… Sam doesn't know what he brought but he has a feeling it's not going to be deemed normal either.

Before he can decide whether or not he's going to berate Dean for his sudden appearance, he's reminded that Jess has joined them when she asks, "This is Dean? As in… the older brother I swore you made up?" Similar to Dean, she doesn't sound tense and, apparently, it's normal to run into long lost family members in the hallway of your apartment building, someone had just forgotten to tell Sam. It only frustrates him more when Dean laughs at her question, of course he'd think that's funny. He had always let himself think they'd get along if they ever somehow met, clearly he was right.

It was true, however. Sam had kept his Wiccan connections and practices a secret from her but he did tell her he had a family. He had told her about his brother and how growing up Dean had always been rather protective of him and how close they had been close as kids. Despite a few detailed stories, she still made jokes about him not being real, all because Sam didn't have a single picture of the family he claimed to have nor an explanation as to why they weren't close anymore or why this brother never called.

Sam can tell, just by looking at her that she's picked up on their tension, his tension at the very least. It's written on her face. It hasn't been but a few seconds and she's already analyzing them. Jess was one of the most brilliant people he knew and in her career as a Juvenile Defense Attorney she was one of the best at reading people, it's why he had such a hard time keeping things from her. On the opposite end of that, she was so understanding when he didn't want to share. She was complexly perfect to him.

A brief moment passes where none of them say anything, like some sort of standoff but in actuality, it's an awkward moment and none of them seem to be sure of what to say or do next. Sam sighs, knowing it's going to have to be him, being the only common factor and ultimate deciding choice here, "Dean was just leaving," he announces, not even looking at his brother, who doesn't even hesitate to add, "So I'm interrupting something," barely giving him time to finish his sentence, which in turn angers Sam and it takes every ounce of patience left in him not to take this moment to decide to tell him off. Jess, however, is even quicker.

"No, no it's fine," her smile as she speaks is apologetic in nature, as if she's the intruder in this situation. Both boys turn their attention to her, pending argument surprisingly postponed, "I've got that stuff I need to bring back to the cat. You two should... probably catch up." Sam wants to argue with her, tell her that Dean can go so they can finish their day, he doesn't even get the chance. She crosses the remaining length of the hall between them to give him a quick goodbye kiss before walking away and leaving them, waving at Dean and telling him it was, "nice to meet you!" as she goes.

Sam watches her leave, thinking about how he'd much rather be going with her than still standing in the hallway with Dean. It should have been a no-brainer that Jess would want them to spend some time together, she was rather big on family, a great factor in why she chose the career path that she did. Sam just wishes he had remembered that in time so maybe he could have reworked the situation to dodge the bullet that is his brother.

"So," Sam starts, ignoring Dean to unlock his apartment door, might as well go inside and have whatever future argument is sure to come inside rather than out in the hall, "What's so important that you decided to, you know, show up after thirteen years?" It doesn't feel like that great of an amount of time when he says it, but Sam hasn't forgotten the nights he spent missing his family, longing for his younger years, and blaming himself for their absence in his life. At this moment he's not sure if he's more upset with Dean for never contacting him or if he should be upset with himself for leaving.

He's still polite, of course, standing aside to allow Dean to enter first, who's not shy about checking the place out, looking it over top to bottom like he's considering robbing him. "You live here?" He's not impressed, nose scrunched in distaste as if he had imagined him living somewhere nicer, "It's small. Not much bigger than that dorm I helped you move into," Dean shrugs off his coat and places it onto the kitchen bar, followed shortly by the mysterious bag he'd brought for him.

Dean isn't wholly wrong, the living room, without counting the connecting kitchen, is the same size as the dorm he lived in during college, though, the singular bedroom and bathroom made it just slightly bigger. Sam thinks about how it doesn't really matter to him, he didn't need a huge apartment or even a whole house. Between work and spending time with Jess, he was hardly home anyway.

He follows behind Dean, opting to leave his coat on and keys in hand after he's shut the door behind them, half hoping this won't take all day and he can visit Jess at her apartment for the night.

"Kind of empty," Dean still has things to say about it, as if he'd rather judge Sam for his life choices than actually get to the point, which greatly annoys Sam. He rolls his eyes, having to take a deep breath as not to get irritated with him too quickly, but he's afraid he's already reached that point, "Look, not everyone wants to decorate as an adult like they did when they were a teenager. Now just…," he has to take another breath, steady himself for a moment or he's going to say something he doesn't mean to, "Just tell me why you're here and we can move on." Even though he's the one who says it, he's not sure if he means to move on with the conversation or move on with their lives altogether, but with the way things have been going, he has a feeling this is going to end with them going their separate ways again.

Dean doesn't say anything, just pokes at the bag he's brought him. Sam's hesitant but pulls it closer to himself to analyze its contents. The plastic rustles loudly as he pulls it apart, looking inside to find an assortment of dried ingredients, various liquids, and a brand new black candle. "I was upstate when Rowena called," Dean says, watching him pick through the items, Sam does his best to hide the look of disdain for the bag's contents, "She told me to pick that stuff up and bring it to you. That you needed it."

Drawing his own conclusions, Sam asks, "Astral projection?" tying the top of the bag together once he's confident everything is still inside and none of it has fallen out. He's unsure of how he feels, knowing it's not resentment but it feels close to that. He doesn't hate his family for taking care of him, it's just how they've gone about it. He hasn't spoken to either of them in so long and then out of nowhere he's being magically watched and brought tools for a trade he barely even practices anymore. It makes him wonder how long she had been watching him like that. It meant they thought about him at least.

Dean nods, confirms his suspicions, "It's how I knew where to find you," he states, watching as Sam lifts the bag and steps a few feet to drop it into a sliver trashcan set up against a nearby wall, his expression turning from mildly irritated to angered and confused. Sam is apathetic about it as he tells him, "Thanks for the thought, really, but I don't need it."

"I find that hard to believe, I really do," Dean laughs but it's more of a disbelieving scoff. He's quick to turn around to point out the burned down candle on Sam's desk opposite the room from them, "clearly you need it if you're burning a candle that far down."

"No, I don't." Sam snaps, glaring at the spent wax still melted on the wood, hatred still running in his veins for the thing, "You know, when I started college I didn't want to bring magic into it because it felt like cheating," it's a battle to keep his voice down and level, he's always had a hard time with his tempter but this time he's not going to let it rule him, "And I tried, I tried to make it work but I'm done. I'm done with magic, it doesn't work how I need it to, it never has." Now that he says it out loud, admitting it to himself and to another human being, that helplessness feels so much more real and he despises it. If Dean had never shown up at his door then he wouldn't feel this way, it's hard not to resent him for it, especially with the already existing anger.

"You know that's not how it works, definitely not for us," Dean's quick to defend magic, he always has been, he acts like he owes his life to it, and maybe he does judging by the stories Sam has heard growing up. But Sam's never understood it like Dean, he doesn't get why magic was always strongly encouraged of them only to have a handicap because they weren't naturally born to it or borrowers of a demon's power. He used to think it was a challenge and enjoyed the testing of his capabilities when he was younger, now he only saw it as an annoying inconvenience.

There's a pause, neither of them knows what to say next, where to steer the conversation, if they want to leave it as it was, to continue fighting, or change it entirely. Sam isn't going to wait on Dean to decide, he's had enough, he wants out of this as quickly as possible. "You've done what you came here for." he clears his throat, somehow still able to look Dean in the eye as he speaks, "If you're finished I'd like to catch up with Jess."

Another pause, Dean slowly nodding his head, he hopes he's going to take the exit, leave and go back home so they can go their separate ways, but Sam should know better than to hope.

"I see how it is," one last-ditch prayer to whatever gods were out there that Dean wasn't going to continue, he's only to be disappointed, however, "Couldn't help but notice you told her about me, must be pretty serious. You know how dangerous a relationship like that can be, Sammy."

Sam has heard enough, he's tired of Dean judging him for wanting something different, for wanting better. It's why he never reached out to Dean, he knew what would happen, it just took thirteen years to occur.

"What was I supposed to do Dean?" He lashes out, voice raised, yelling now, hoping his neighbors won't call the cops, "I don't want to be alone, that's not the kind of life I want, I came here to avoid that life!"

"You could have come home!" This is the first time in the last few minutes that Sam has realized how deep Dean's voice has gotten, it's raspy and angry and sounds like a lion's roar. It's also here that Sam realizes that he doesn't know the other man standing in front of him. He realizes how much they've both changed over the years. They might have gotten along well as children and been close as teenagers but that wasn't the case anymore. He's not even sure that if he were to go back home if things would be the same, if they would still take him back, and if not, how he would deal with that.

Dean won't look at him anymore, he's broken eye contact with him, Sam can't blame him, he's cast his own gaze at the false marble countertop. He sighs heavily, there's no going back for him, he knows it, "I think you should go," he says quietly. His brother doesn't need any more prompting, before Sam can even finish the sentence he's already started towards the door, leaving on his own and slamming the door behind him.

Sam mutters swears underneath his breath, kicks the kitchen cabinet in front of him, then runs his hands through his hair. He had a chance, he could have made things better. Instead, he let his fears control him and make everything he worried about come true. He should have said 'thank you' and waited to throw it away when Dean left or maybe buried it with the rest of the stuff in his drawer. They could have reconnected, gone out and gotten some drinks, they could have talked like brothers.

That was all gone now.


Sam let himself feel sorry for about twenty minutes after Dean stormed off. Eventually moving from his spot in the kitchen to mope on the couch and internalize any depression he felt over it. He didn't want to be sad, didn't want to cry, this wasn't the kind of situation to cry over. He was more angry than anything. Angry at Dean, yes, but mostly angry with himself.

Ultimately, he decided enough was enough and he had enough of sulking. He still wanted to go see Jess, hoped that by spending time with her he'd feel better, that it would take his mind off of it. She was, quite literally, the light of his life, and if he wasn't still so scared about how he would potentially ruin it, he would marry her. Everything was better when he was with her.

He drove to her apartment, only ten minutes, on a good day, from where he lived. By now the sun had begun to set and he already distracts himself by focusing solely on the drive that had become muscle memory instead of what happened with Dean, which refused to leave him and still lived in the back of his mind no matter how hard he tried to repress it.

Somewhere between the third stoplight and her front door, he's stopped thinking altogether. He had been on auto-pilot and some would consider him lucky that he arrived to her apartment in one piece.

Sam stares at the wood of her front door, rolling his shoulders to try and relax, to try and leave all the deprecation on this side of the apartment, he wasn't going to bring it into something he hoped to be uplifting. It even doubled as a defense. If he didn't leave it behind him then he'd be sure to break when she would undoubtedly ask him how it went. He didn't want to bring up years of emotions he's so carefully kept down now.

When he's ready, it's easy to find his key for her apartment, it's yellow with a geometrical pattern on it, she had chosen it just for him when she got it copied at one of those little kiosks. Such a bright color doesn't take much effort to search for compared to the silver and bronze of his other keys.

He grins down fondly at it as he uses it to unlock her door, feeling better already. He found it bizarre how someone could bring so much light into his life and how someone else just being around could make him feel so horrible about so many things. Who needed magic when emotions did most of the work. He had supposed that's why Rowena and Dean lived by having as few connections as possible, only, in Sam's case, his romantic connection provided him with far more happiness than his familial ones had as of late.

He walks in without knocking, they came and went in each other's apartments like it was nothing, it was the closest they ever got to living together. Despite living almost on opposite ends of town from one another, that freedom to come and go was enough. For him, at the very least, it was enough. Sam wouldn't doubt if she sometimes wasn't happy with the lack of progression in their relationship, but she had always been so patient with him and hadn't said a word of protest.

"Jess?" He calls out when he doesn't immediately see her in the living room, walking in to find the space empty of anyone except him. Lamps and TV on, though odd, wasn't wholly worrying, it just meant she could be somewhere else in the apartment, like her bedroom or the spare which they often joked was the cat's room. As a matter of fact, he didn't think he saw the cat anywhere either. It was odd that the thing hadn't come to greet him at the door as it had ever since she took it in. He absently wondered if maybe it had gotten out and perhaps Jess had gone off after it, maybe even just missing each other. He takes off his jacket and hangs his keys on the key hook by the door, figuring, if that were the case, he could always wait on her.

He's going to sit down on the couch and get comfortable while he waits when something in the small hall just off the living room catches his eye.

Cautiously approaching, at first he's not sure what he's looking at. An end table, one from her bedroom, is set up with a black and red cloth draped over it. Carefully placed on top, like someone took the time and care to arrange it all, are lit candles, illuminating the dark space in a dancing soft yellow glow. Crystals, an animal skull, and bloodied knife accompany the candles, placed along the points of a symbol on the cloth he doesn't recognize. He knows what it is, even the newest of witches could identify an altar. But this one? Something about it is chillingly dark and doesn't sit well with Sam.

"Jess?" He calls her name again, heart rate rising, as far he's ever known she wasn't in occult practices, the altar couldn't belong to her, especially not something so sinister. He's forced to draw the horrible conclusion that she wasn't alone, that something else may have arrived before him.

The door to Jess' bedroom is closed but under it, between the wood of the door and the carpeted floor, he can see light, a bright glow similar to the candles in the hall but so much more intense. He sidesteps the altar, burying the thought that maybe he's just discovered his girlfriend wasn't as sweet and as innocent and as pure as he had thought, that the light in his life hid dark secrets.

He reaches out and grabs the doorknob, pulling his hand back sharply as soon as his skin makes contact with the metal, a burning sensation running from his fingertips to radiate in his whole body, similar to having touched a hot stove. Alarms go off in his head, fight instinct taking over every other thought. Something wasn't right, Jess wasn't okay. Without thinking, he breaks the door down, putting as much force as he can as he barges at the wood, shoulder first and causing more pain to his body, insignificant compared to the danger she could be in.

The sight he's met with once the door is down makes Sam wish he were dreaming. He can't swear to it that he isn't, that he hadn't fallen asleep on the couch and this was just a dream. But the heat that rushes him through the open doorway is enough to tell him he isn't. He's felt vivid temperatures in his dreams but this is enough to make him aware he's very much awake.

Jess lies on top of the bed, clothes and bedsheets stained a dark deep red, a stark contrast to the bright orange and yellow flames that completely engulf the room from floor to ceiling, an intense blaze that's blinding. Curtains, carpet, her body, swallowed up quickly by the unforgiving and rapidly growing fire, so rapid it's reached him and the door, if he lingers any longer he's sure to be consumed by it as well. He has to flee, to save himself where he was too late to save her.

Sam turns for his escape, met with the same heat from the room, in his distraction the front room has caught fire as well, the altar and hall supernaturally untouched by the destruction. If he hurries he has a small window to make it to the door before it's too late.

Smoke quickly fills the air, forcing him to choke on it, slowing down his haste, he can't help but feel like it wants him to fail, of course it does, fire selfishly claims whatever it touches. He knows this like second nature, he's had dreams about it, knows fire stole the family Dean told him stories of when they were young.

He wouldn't let it claim him too.


Much of the complex has caught now, Sam feels helpless as he watches it burn from the parking lot. He wonders if he could have stopped it, if he had been earlier if he could have saved her. Maybe if he told Dean to leave to begin with then she'd be safe with him, maybe right about now they'd be laying on the couch together at his apartment, maybe he'd be holding her in his arms instead of feeling like he might as well have died too knowing he's lost her. He wonders if he had arrived at the apartment any sooner if it would have changed things or if they would have burned together. Maybe he should have stayed and died along with her...

No, no he still had things to live for, people who loved him and cared about him even if every day his head told him otherwise.

The phone he holds to his ear rings loudly but doesn't drown out how deafeningly his heartbeat is. He prays the number is right, he hasn't called it in years but he still knew the seven digits as well as his own, as well as he knew Jess'. It's his only option, his last resort, his only saving grace from the heat he swore he could still feel despite being so far away.

The line picks up at the very same moment he sees him across the parking lot, looming by the black car he hasn't seen in so long. A fond feeling of home clenches at his already aching heart. He speaks into the phone, suddenly feeling like the timid child who relied on the safety of his older brother again, "Dean?"