Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them.
A/N: I am very curious to see how you guys react to this chapter. I have to warn you that this is the last of what I actually have written. I've tried to stay ahead with the writing but this week has just sucked so far and I don't see it getting any better until at least Thursday. I probably won't be able to update again until the weekend but I promise I know where I'm going. I have the ending written in my head and I don't think we're too far away.
Chapter 8
Sam opened his eyes. He was disoriented from a dream he barely remembered and from waking up in the unfamiliar room. It took a moment for him to comprehend where he was, and as he made his way to the living room, he realized he was alone in the apartment. He figured Dean had gotten tired of Sam's boring lifestyle and had gone out for some fun so he resigned himself to an evening front of the television alone. Just as he sat down on the couch, the door opened and Dean came in with two bags.
"I figured you'd still be asleep." Dean said as he put the bags on the coffee table. "Dinner is served. I had the cook downstairs make a couple burgers. There are fries and stuff, too."
"Thanks." Sam said quietly.
Dean glanced at his brother as he sat down next to him. "You okay?"
"I'm still kind of tired."
"Then why are you up?"
Sam shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."
"Nightmare?"
"I don't know. I think so, but I don't remember anything."
They sat quietly for a few minutes as Dean took a bite of his hamburger and Sam played with his. "Dude, you can't do this to yourself." he finally said. "I don't know about those other dreams you've been having – and we still need to talk about you hunting alone – but the ones about Jessica –"
"I don't want to talk about Jessica." Sam said angrily.
Dean looked at him, surprised.
"I'm sorry." Sam whispered, refusing to look at his brother.
"You may not want to, but I think you need to."
"You never wanted to hear about her before."
Dean knew that wasn't exactly true. He was curious about the woman that his brother loved, but talking things out was not the Winchester way. More correctly, it wasn't the John Winchester way and Dean had developed the same habit after Sam left for college the first time. When the brothers were growing up, and even when they were teenagers, they talked about almost everything. They were together so much, and so often left to their own devices, that sometimes it was all there was to do.
But what Sam said was true enough. Dean didn't encourage Sam to talk about Jessica after her death and Sam was in too much pain to do it on his own. Instead, he threw himself into the hunt. He plowed headlong into trouble without taking the time to assess the situation and, on more than one occasion, Dean had to pull him away from fire. But gradually Sam went back to the hunter Dean remembered; he researched every situation and critically analyzed every position. Dean pretended that meant Sam was over his grief, but he knew instead that Sam had only buried it. He was angry with himself for letting Sam suffer that way; especially now that the dreams about Jessica were happening again and Sam was right back where he was three years ago.
"Sam," Dean began carefully. "Look, back then – back then I—"
Sam held up a hand. "Don't worry about it. I don't want to fight with you, man. I just want to spend time with you, see how you live. The dreams went away before and they'll go away again."
"You're probably right." Dean conceded. "But until you deal with your feelings, they'll keep coming back."
Sam couldn't help but laugh. "Deal with my feelings? You've been watching too much Dr. Phil, Dean."
Dean smiled, realizing how ridiculous that must have sounded coming out of his mouth. "Look, man, I'm just sayin' –"
"I know what you're saying." Sam looked at him, his eyes filled with a love he could never – and didn't need to – express. "And I appreciate it. I just don't want to have this conversation now."
Dean nodded. "Fair enough."
The next two days were spent exploring the neighboring city blocks. Dean had been right about the antique bookstore. Sam spent hours there his first afternoon in town and planned to go back again before he left. Dean enjoyed seeing his brother so relaxed and happy; it happened so infrequently. Even now that the hunt for the demon that killed his girlfriend was over, Sam seemed to have a hard time having fun.
They spent an evening in the bar where Dean worked. Sam liked seeing this part of Dean's world and he liked his brother's friends. They treated Sam like they'd known him for years and for the first time in a long time, Sam felt almost comfortable around other people. This did not go unnoticed by the older brother.
But things changed later in the week.
Dean agreed to fill in for another bartender on Thursday night. Sam hung out in the bar for a while, having fun watching his brother so clearly in his element. After he left, Sam walked back to the antique bookstore and bought something he'd seen his first time through. He headed toward the coffee shop on the corner but stopped in his tracks when he saw Jessica standing outside the door.
She turned to smile at him, gesturing him to follow. He walked just behind her as she led him toward Dean's apartment. He followed her up the steps that led to the private entrance and nearly called out for her when she disappeared in front of him. He frantically turned in every direction, looking for her, but saw the door open and walked into the apartment.
"Jessica!" he called. "Jess, where are you? Why are you here?"
"Sam." he heard her voice.
"Where are you, Jess? I can't see you."
"Here." she became barely visible on the couch. "But there isn't much time."
Sam sat next to her, reaching out with a trembling hand. It passed right through her.
"I'm sorry" she said sadly. "You have to stop holding on to me and live your life."
Sam felt a stab of pain and tears sprang into his eyes.
Jessica felt herself being pulled away.
"Sam, please don't. Not again. Not until I've told you what you need to know."
He looked at her confused. A moment later he was lying in his bed, opening his eyes to see Jessica on the ceiling above him.
"Sam? Sammy!" he heard Dean's voice from somewhere far away.
Dean cradled his brother's head in his lap. He'd come into the apartment a few minutes before, just in time to see Sam collapse in the middle of the living room. After a moment, Sam opened his eyes and looked at him.
"Dean?"
"What happened, Sam? Vision?"
Sam shook his head. He tried to sit up but a wave of nausea forced him back down. Dean touched his shoulder. "Give yourself a few minutes."
"She was here." Sam whispered.
"What? Who was here?"
"Jessica."
"You saw Jessica?"
"It wasn't a vision, Dean, she was really here."
"What did she say?"
Sam shook his head and closed his eyes as the tears began to flow freely.
"Sam," Dean had no idea what to say. He shifted so that his hold on his brother was more of an embrace.
After a moment, Sam reached up and grabbed Dean's arm. He held it as if he were to let go, the world would end.
Dean was so out of his element he nearly panicked but instead, he let his instincts take over. If they were both still kids, he would know how to comfort his brother so he let himself drift back to that time. He pushed his inhibitions and self-consciousness aside and just let himself be there for Sam. They didn't need words. Sam needed to let his feelings out and Dean needed to let him.
Dean didn't know how long it took for Sam to fall asleep. He stayed on the floor with his brother's head cradled in his lap, holding him protectively. He willed Sam not to dream; to have one night of peace and if he had to sit like this all night long to give that to Sam, he would.
TBC
