A/N: So this one kinda got a bit sappy. Is it too much?

Chapter Seven

When Dean woke up in the late morning, it was to unfamiliar surroundings and the sound of a shower running in the bathroom. It took him awhile to remember flashes of what had happened the previous day, but what really brought it back was the stab of pain in his shoulder as he tried to shift himself out of bed.

He remembered the breakfast at the diner, the running, then the being shot - and then it was a weird, trippy phantasmagoria of hallucinations wrapped around wisps of reality until he woke up. With great care he shifted himself to sit leaning against the headboard.

There was a delicious smelling breakfast sat in a paper bag tantalizingly out of reach on the table and Dean really hoped whoever was in the shower wouldn't be too long.

His hopes were answered as a couple of minutes later the sound of the water cut off and soon after that Sam emerged still rubbing his damp hair with a towel to stop it dripping onto his shirt.

"Morning Sam," he cheered to Sam's surprise, "I can't remember much of what happened last night but I hope it was good for you."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Do you think you could stop being facetious long enough to eat some breakfast?" he inquired as he moved to pick up the bag from the table and passed it to Dean.

"I'll do anything as long as you'll feed me," joked Dean already opening the bag and peering inside.

While Dean was eating breakfast Jess made an appearance and Sam revealed that he had parked Dean's baby around the back of the motel out of sight so they were probably ok to spend a day or two there before having to move on. Dean was the opposite of thrilled that Sam had dared to drive his baby, in fact the only thing stopping Dean from chewing the kid out right then was the fact that it had been the only option.

Sam held out his hand on which two small white pills rested, Dean glanced at the bottle he held in his other hand and it looked like Sam had gotten his hands on some top shelf stuff. Well Dean wasn't one to question any good luck which might come his way and he gratefully popped the pills into his mouth and washed them down with the glass of water which had been resting on the bedside table next to him.

So Dean spent most of the morning being a demanding pain in the ass to the other two, as daytime tv was notoriously lousy he quickly tired of it and made his own entertainment by annoying the only two people within range with petty demands and pointed remarks designed to provoke a reaction. He received a lot of glares and heavy sighs and Dean didn't know if the reason he wasn't being threatened or punched outright was because he was injured already or just the simple fact that people who went to college were less prone to violence than hardened criminals. He knew what he was doing was probably just shy of being cruel considering what he had already done but he couldn't break the habit of a lifetime in just one day. Until Sam announced irritably that he was going to go get some lunch.

"Make mine a double bacon cheese burger with extra onions." Dean called out as Sam walked out the door. The only response Sam gave was a noncommittal wave as he shut the door behind him, a little more forceful than necessary.

Dean chuckled, he clearly hadn't lost his touch.

Jess rolled her eyes and lay down on the couch and disappeared from Dean's view. Fine, she could be that way for all he cared.

Sam returned a few minutes later and dropped Dean's food in his lap unceremoniously before handing Jess hers with considerably more politeness. He then moved to his own bed and ate his own food in silence. Shouldn't he be a bit old for sulking now?

"Hey, it's time to change your dressing," Sam said quietly a couple of hours later.

Dean grimaced. "Well that doesn't sound much fun."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Well it needs to be done or else you'll get an infection. Take your top off and roll over."

Dean groaned, "Dude, you are not hot enough to get me to take my shirt off. I want the pretty one to be my nursemaid."

Sam sighed heavily, "The pretty one is asleep on the sofa and she's going to stay that way. So you'll have to make do with me."

Dean huffed but allowed Sam to help him out of his t-shirt and rolled over so Sam could see to his wound. As Sam started carefully peeling off the patch of gauze, Dean gave voice to the first thought that popped into his head, "So what's the deal with you and Jess anyway? Can I have a shot at her?"

Sam sighed, "Are we really having this conversation?"

"Looks like it Sammy," quipped Dean.

"It's Sam," he corrected, he seemed to do it automatically, as if he had done it so often he barely had to think about it, "and I don't control who Jess dates, I'm her friend not her father."

"So... You're not into her then? Because it kinda looked like you were really into her." Dean probed further due partly to idle curiosity and partly to his restless libido. Then he hissed as Sam cleaned the wounded area in the back of his shoulder.

"So?"

"So you would be completely fine if me and Jess hooked up?"

"However I would feel would be my problem-"

"Dude!" Dean interrupted impatiently, "Don't give me that bullshit politician answer. Can I make a move on Jess or not? Would you get upset? Would you turn into some green-eyed raging jealousy monster?"

Sam turned incredulous "You're worried about upsetting me? Seriously? After trying your best to rile me up all morning?"

"What can I say? I'm a complicated guy." Dean shrugged his uninjured shoulder, "seriously though, you got the hots for Jess or what?"

Sam sighed as he seemed to realise Dean wouldn't be letting him wriggle out of admitting his feelings, "So what if I have? Doesn't matter if I like her or not if she doesn't feel the same way."

"Are you blind? She was all over you the other day." Dean said turning his head to look over his shoulder at Sam as began taping a clean patch of gauze to his skin.

Sam shook his head sadly, "She was in shock. She needed a shoulder to lean on and I was the only one there. I think she's recovered a bit now, she's barely talked to me since the day before yesterday."

"You think she had some sorta Stockholm syndrome?" Dean asked doubtfully.

Sam only shrugged in reply.

"Whatever. If you don't make a move, I will. Someone needs to tap that."

Sam cuffed the back of Dean's head lightly, "You're disgusting. Anyway, what makes you think she would want to sleep with you? She's a smart girl, she's probably got the good sense to realise she's way out of both our leagues and fall for someone else entirely."

"Hey! Speak for yourself! I'm at least an nine on a bad day, just because you're like a four or something..." Dean grumbled after the initial indignation.

Sam fell silent and still behind him, prompting Dean to turn around, thinking he might have finally pushed the teasing too far - but Sam hadn't struck him as particularly vain in that way or at all likely to take what Dean said seriously, yet there he was, sat on the bed with Dean's dirty bandages still in his hands looking utterly despondent.

"Dude, it was just a joke..." Dean trailed off uneasily. As much as he had always let his mouth run away from him, he rarely felt an iota of remorse, but Sam was sat looking like an overgrown kicked puppy - it was all in the eyes, he thought - and anyone who witnessed that display would have to have a heart of stone to resist.

Sam's lips twitched up into a mockery of a smile, "Sorry. I should be used to... I never talk about shit like this... I, uhm, I think I'm gonna go for a walk - just... Clear my head for a bit."

He swept out of the room in one determined motion, throwing the soiled bandages in the bin and scooping up the room key with no change in his velocity, eyes on the door. Dean watched him walk out and as the door closed after him, Dean saw the back of Jess' head poke above the back of the sofa then after a moment, turn to face him a concerned expression plastered on her face. But as her eyes met his she went from looking concerned to decidedly unimpressed.

"So... Ah. Where did you hear from?" Dean asked, praying that she wouldn't have heard too much.

"I want the pretty one to be my nursemaid," Jess quoted sarcastically at him, then after a pause said, "tap that, really?"

Dean grimaced at his own coarseness, he could see any chance he had with her growing slimmer by the second. "What can I say? You're hot, my dick noticed." He defended, earning a scowl and a shake of Jess' head, "So, would you wanna..."

"No." The syllable cut through the air harshly and resolutely.

Dean threw his hands up in surrender, "Alright, alright. You could have let me down nicely, you know."

Jess ignored him, instead she glanced to the door and chewed her lip. "Maybe I should go after him."

"Why? He's a big boy, he can take care of himself. I'm the one who needs looking after." Dean protested. "In case you forgot I'm the one who got shot trying to help us all escape."

"Don't play the wounded soldier card with me, you're the one that got us into this mess in the first place."

"Sam was right, you're kinda mean when you don't have a gun pointed at you." As soon as the words were out of his mouth Dean knew he had crossed another line, that was two in the space of ten minutes.

Jess' eyes flashed with rage, "You can look after yourself," she spat as she stormed out of the door, slamming it behind her.

Once she was on the other side of the door, Jess didn't know what to do. The overheard conversation had given her a few things to ponder on top of everything else. Her mind seemed like merely a jumbled mess of questions and she desperately wanted to seek clarity from Sam. But what would she even say? Should she reveal she had awoken amidst his heart to heart with Dean first or ask about the image of Sam's shirtless, scarred torso still flashing in her mind? And what about the stunt he pulled at the clinic? Maybe Dean had been onto something when he thought Sam wasn't exactly as innocent as he claimed...

No, she couldn't believe that.

Sam seemed like a beautiful, fragile puzzle that didn't know how desperately he wanted to be solved. She found him sitting hunched over on a bench in the park opposite the motel, his chocolate locks ruffled slightly in the breeze. His hair always sat in a fluffy halo around his face, a strangely charming combination of delicate features amidst a strong, sharp bone structure. The juxtaposition gave him an instant likeability, an air of innocence and yet, it seemed a direct contrast to his height, which had been deemed a threat by more than one drunken idiot at a party.

Jess took a deep breath as she joined him.

"Hey," she said awkwardly, she had been too quiet the last couple of days. She had been angry with herself for reacting the way she did, for being so useless; and she had been angry at Dean for forcing the situation upon them, but never at Sam. He flicked an answering smile at her but couldn't keep the sadness from his eyes.

"I um... I heard your conversation with Dean," she began.

Sam grimaced, "I thought you were asleep."

"I was," she agreed, "I woke up when Dean said he wanted me to be his nursemaid. I didn't realise the conversation would get so personal but by then I didn't want to interrupt..." She trailed off as she was hit by the waves of embarrassment that rolled off Sam as he stared at his hands clasped between his knees. It was kinda cute how much he reminded her of a schoolboy having his secret crush revealed.

"So you think I have Stockholm syndrome?" She asked curiously.

Sam shrugged and seemed unwilling to give away any more of the inner workings of his mind than he already had.

"I don't think I do." Jess replied gently.

"How do you know?" Sam asked doubtfully turning his head to face her.

"Because I liked you way back before this whole thing started." It was easier to admit now she knew how Sam felt, but instead of being happy or relieved he only frowned at her. "Is it really that hard to believe I could like you on my own terms and not as a result of some psychological trick?" The look on his face told her she had hit the nail squarely on the head. "How? How is that so hard to believe?" She asked nonplussed.

He grew even more uneasy under the weight of her gaze. "Does it matter?" He finally lamented, "I'm dangerous to be around, once this is over and you're safely back at Stanford I'll leave you alone."

"Sam, what the hell does that mean? Do you think you can just make decisions like that for me?" She was feeling a spark of anger building in her chest.

He looked at her with such sincerity that it made Jess pause, "I could never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me," his voice was soft but the earnestness in it was a direct reflection of the strength of feeling in his eyes and Jess didn't resist as he picked up her bruised wrist and caressed it lightly in both hands.

"It's only a bruise," she whispered as she brought up her free hand and brushed her fingers delicately over Sam's own bruises. He closed his eyes and tilted head into her palm for a moment before straightening up and looking at her again.

"But it could have been worse, a lot worse."

"But it wasn't, because you stopped it." Jess puzzled at Sam's pained expression, it was like he wanted so fiercely to believe her but for some reason couldn't let himself.

Her mind flashed back to the events that had resulted in the bruises which had caused Sam so much mental anguish, "How did you even do that anyway?" looking at him now it seemed hard to believe he wasn't the gentle giant she had gotten to know at college. He had been called the mountain by their friends because the sight of him looming high over your shoulder with crossed arms and a glower was daunting enough to put most trouble-makers off starting anything, so much so that she had never seen him have to lift a finger to diffuse a situation. Along with the fact that he seemed mostly immovable by anything, always calm, always focused, always kind.

Maybe he was a volcano instead.

"There are things about me that I never told anyone, things I've done that I wanted to forget... Things that once you learn, can never be unlearnt."

Jess considered his vaguely ominous admission and felt a thrill of nervousness run through her, which Sam caught with his eagle eyes. He seemed satisfied that he had made her realise the depth of his seriousness, or maybe he thought she was changing her mind already Jess speculated as he drew away from her and into himself, falling back on his long time habit of trying to take up as little space as physically possible.

"Does this... Have anything to do with your scars?" Jess asked afraid that she might only make things worse but unable to let the image go. Of course his scars weren't the only thing she had noticed; he was surprisingly well muscled and she really wanted to know about the tattoo over his heart as well...

"I don't want to talk about it." It was the most abrupt she had ever heard Sam and she fell silent, feeling that she had probably pushed Sam for all she was going to get out of him for now at least. It had been quite a personal question after all.

Jess tried to stop herself from imagining where Sam got all his scars from, there were too many to be creditably ascribed to a reckless childhood. The presence of the tattoo indicated a gang, but Dean - the only live example of a legitimate gangmember she had to go on - was nowhere near as scarred as Sam even with his fresh bullet wound and he didn't even have a tattoo; then her mind jumped to child abuse and her heart clenched at the mental image of a young Sam cowering before a parent, their eyes blazing with evil rage, but that didn't prove consistent with what she knew about Sam and what he had told her either... Or did it?

She looked at him, he was handsome enough to turn people's heads wherever he went but none of the vanity that usually went along with it; he was intelligent enough to talk circles around everyone else but, again, none of the accompanying arrogance. And as Jess had just found out, muscled up like a football player but with none of the disrespectful, loutish behaviour that was rife among that subsection of the student body.

Instead he was inerringly kind and humble; maybe a bit shy, a bit unwilling to let loose and have fun, to take risks... Could all that be the result of a childhood filled with only cruelty from his parents? He hadn't seemed especially meek or anxious, like he was expecting harsh punishment for putting a toe out of line; or particularly angry at the injustice of the universe for handing him such a crappy lot in life.

Maybe it was something else entirely...

Jess let her speculations dissipate into the air, she would never know without asking Sam and he didn't seem like he would be in the mood to talk any time soon.