A/N: I am terribly sorry for taking so long to update, but with school resuming I have had no time. Hope you all are not too angry with me. :)

"She's a beautiful woman. Such a shame for her to have passed so young." Cassandra spoke. Her words were echoing through my head, bouncing off around my ears, causing a whirlwind of thoughts to appear.

"Should Sam be here..he was her son too?" I asked, swallowing hard.

"Do you want him here?"

I swallowed again. It would be wrong to say that I didn't. He never got to know her, this would give him a chance to actually understand how great a woman she was. But a part of me did not want him to join. I was the one who had known her. I was the one who had followed her around, clinging unto her. He'd had Jess. He didn't need to hear Mom.

"It's alright if you don't," Cassandra cooed. "Mary understands. She knows, late at night, when you sneak out to your car...she knows it's her your crying over. She's perfectly aware that Sam misses her and loves her, but it's you Dean, that was truely torn up over her death."

"If she wants to talk to anybody, it should be my father. He's the one who never recovered. He's the one who only thinks of her, night after night." I responded. I had become angry that the woman knew about my moments of weakness. Knew that I snuck out when Sam was asleep, sat in the driver's seat of my car, stared out into the unknown world, and silently sobbed.

"She loves you so much, Dean...please let her talk. It'll be good for you. You might never get another chance."

I thought of the past twenty two years. There was so much I could talk to her about. So many questions I could ask. If I had grown up the way she wanted it. If I made her proud. If she was dissapointed I hadn't paid any mind to school.

"Just get on with it," I demanded through clenched teeth. My hands were curled together in a tight ball, unseen in the pitch black darkness.

----

A deafening clash of thunder resounded in my ears. Moments later a tree with thick heavy leaves fell against Rosalind's wall, bringing with it a loud thud. Once the young girl had made me swore never to ask her mother to contact Jess, the air of the room had become tense. The friendly conversation had dwindled, replaced by awkward silence. We had sat listening to the storm, cringing every great once in awhile when an especially ferious bolt of lightening lit up the sky.

"So why are you and your brother in Barbank, anyways?" Rosalind asked, twirling her now empty Coke can through her slender fingers.

"We were just driving and the storm sort snuck up on us. We had to pull into the nearest town for shelter."

"Fair enough," the woman nodded. "Do you and your brother always drive through Colorado in the middle of winter?"

I frowned slightly. "We're sort of, on a road trip."

Rosalind smiled. "In the middle of winter?"

"Yeah, Dean's job runs through the summer so we decided to go now." Lying had become easy. My entire life I'd picked up the skill. What to say, what not to say. But somehow, telling this fake story to my houseguest caused a wave of guilt to run through me. Although I was good at it, I hated doing it. And having to be so dishonest when Rosalind had told me all about herself hurt even more.

"You're lying," Rosalind answered quickly, standing up.

A look of surprise had crossed my face. I hadn't expected that response.

"No offense to Dean, but I'm beginning to think more and more that he's a pretty crappy brother."

I stood up also, defensive. I didn't mind people picking on me, calling me names or insulting my way of life. But to mess with my older brother, to say he was a bad brother, when really, he was the best one anybody could ask for, was my limit. "Excuse me, I don't appreciate you making that kind of judgment. You don't know me well enough to say something like that...and besides, Dean is an awesome brother."

"So that's why instead of having you face your girlfriend's death he's letting you run away from it. That's why you still haven't been able to stop thinking about her," Rosalind said calmly. She wasn't afraid of my anger, she didn't back down when my voice rose.

"How can you say these things! You don't even know me? Yet, all of a sudden, you're my very own Dr. Phil?" I spat back, angered that my attitude had failed to have any effect on her. "You know nothing about me! You cannot just get to know me for a few hours, then start dishing on my family and my problems!"

"Sam!" finally Rosalind's voice had risen a notch. "My father died five months ago! Just one month before your girlfriend! Don't you think I know what you're going through? Don't you think I recognize the hurt on your face?"

Shaking my head I turned around. I didn't want to hear what Rosalind had to say. Her words were too much. They brought all the hurt back. All the memories of Jess and the hopes that had been washed away came tumbling towards me once more.

"Don't you think I saw the way you looked at my things? The pain that crossed your eyes when something reminded you of her? Don't you think I saw the look of guilt when you accidently slipped and showed a smile to me?"

"Please stop..." I pleaded softly. The hurt was becoming too strong.

"How many girls have you passed up because you haven't come to grips with the death? How many oppurtunities have you wasted?"

Instantly, like a light being turned on, Lori's face appeared in my head. Dean and I had gone to her town, strictly to kill the hook man. But when we got there I was drawn to her. We both had so much in common. She was the first girl I actually felt feeling towards since Jess. And after we had left, after the Impala's wheels had spun out of town, all I felt was hurt and shame. I had led Lori on, making her believe I might actually stay, allowing us to kiss. Then left her staring at the rear of Dean's car.

For days afterwards I couldn't talk. I was so ashamed. I had felt like I had cheated on Jess. Asked her over and over to forgive me.

"All I can figure is that Dean made you go on this road trip to get away from school and to come to grips with your girlfriend's death. But whatever he's doing, it's not helping. You still look as if it happened a week ago."

Was I using the 'road trip' to come to grips with Jess? The more I thought about it, the more I believed it to be true. Dean was never a good talker, he always let his actions speak. Maybe he thought tracking down the thing that killed my girlfriend would erase the pain. Maybe he figured killing all the paranormal bastards out there would allow me to forget what had happened.

"Your girlfriend will always love you, Sam. But do you think she'd want you to stay in mourning? To put your life on hold?" the girl asked, slowly putting a hand on my shoulders. "No! She'd want you to overcome this! To take one final look back, and use her loss as an oppurtunity. A chance to better yourself at whatever you want. To give you more determination to reach your goals."

"Don't talk about Jess like that! You don't know her! You don't know me! You think she'd be proud of me dropping out of law school! Of leaving all our friends in the past and spending the rest of my life in a car with my brother? You think she'd be proud of that!" my voice had reached the screaming point. Rosalind had stepped over the line. She had pushed too far. "And what about you! You think coming back home and leaving your old life behind is coming to grips with your dad? Or is that just what Cassandra says? Are you able to move on because you can talk to him whenever you want?..See for you, it's easy, never having to actually say goodbye, having him there forever. But not me! I never even got to say good-bye! Never got to say 'I love you' one last time!"

My words fell into the air. Although my back was turned, I could tell by Rosalind's hand going stiff, by it immediatly removing itself from my shoulder, that my words had cut her.

"If what your doing makes you happy, Sam...then yes, Jess is proud. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as your doing what you want, then she's looking down on you and smiling."

Rosalind's icey voice brought another guilt-induced feeling. It amazed me that she could remain that calm, even when I had hurt her so much.

"Sam, I'm sorry I couldn't help you. But I'm even more sorry that you can't help yourself. Because if you haven't already tried to move on...you never are. You are going to live with this for the rest of your life. It's going to tear you up until there's nothing more inside of you. And you know what? That, is when Jess will be dissapointed in you. When you ended your life with hers, stopped living."

Before I could stop her, Rosalind had left the room. I heard her soft feet pattering down the hall, slowly fading as she moved further away. My eyes burned from the salty tears forming in my eyes. I wanted to punch something, wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, but I also wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, let all the sorrow come flooding out. Rosalind's last statement had been the straw that broke the camel's back. It made me realize what she was trying to say all along.

As much as I believed I was moving on, I truely wasn't. I kept promising myself, once we found the thing that killed her I'd be able to get on with my life. But it had been five months, and still nothing. The guilt brought on by her death prevented me from living.

The thunder was beginning to fade. It could be heard miles away, a sodt rumbling. No real threat any longer. It had accomplished what it wanted, stirring up dirt and trouble and causing an upheavel.

"Oh Jess," I said to the empty room. Falling down hard on the large bed, I rubbed my face harshly. Covering my eyes in my hands I allowed a few tears to escape. "Are you really happy with me? Do you truely not hate me for everything I've done?"

A part of me wanted to hear an answer. To hear her voice assure me that it she did still love me. I hoped that she would appear, just as mom had at our old house and I could get another look at her beautiful face. But just like all the other nights, where I was locked inside a small hotel's bathroom, sitting on the toilet, my guard down, no answer came. Nothing but the distant sound of the clock running on batteries ticking was heard.

Laying down, I wished Rosalind hadn't left. I hated being stuck in the room, with only my broken heart for company. Pulling out my wallet I flipped through the pictures until I reached the one I wanted. It was taken on a bright sunny day, in the middle of a large park, with trees and old benches lining the walkway. In front of an old oak, sitting down, her feet wrapped under her, was Jess. I'd taken that picture at the end of September, when we both had gotten out of classes and wanted to take a walk in the cool wheather. Seeing her mesmorizing eyes and her blonde hair shimmering in the sunlight gave me a different feeling than I usually got. My heart felt determination, a need to overcome the constant depression that had taken over me.

Sitting up, I knew there was only one possible way to do that. I needed Cassandra. I needed to speak with Jess one last time. To finally say the things I wanted to tell her for so long, to recieve the answers to my burning questions.

Pushing Rosalind's promise out of my mind, I made my way downstairs, in search of closure.