Disclaimer: I wish I could say the boys were mine but as the philosopher Jagger once said "You can't always get what you want."
Sam was supposed to be looking up the historical records for Pigeon Pointe, trying to find out about the former keepers. He wasn't supposed to be on a bus heading towards Paolo Alto. He wasn't supposed to be grasping the bus seat so hard he felt the plastic begin to rip. And he certainly wasn't supposed to be talking himself up towards being able to go into the cemetery for the first time since leaving Stanford.
But with a hat pulled low over his head and a pair of dark sunglasses on, so that no one who might recognize him would, he was doing all those things. Sam had set out to do the task he traded Jack for but somehow he five minutes into reading through the dull, old records he found himself thinking about Jess and the familiar pang of loss and pain was accompanied by a sort of defiance. He was rebelling against himself, against the nagging panic that grew the closer he got to her grave.
'No pain. No pain. You can make it through this.' He thought, modifying the mantra he said himself before falling asleep in a fruitless attempt at calming himself.
He almost had himself convinced when the bus stopped and he saw that he was only a few blocks away from he and Jess's old apartment. Panic sliced through him and Sam started to hyperventilate. A spike of pain ripped through his head and he leaned forward with a cry of agony and surprise. Crack. Sam looked up in bewilderment and saw a small line of cracks spider webbing across the window of seat. His mouth dropped open. The bus started moving again without Sam noticing. Finally the whirling of the scenery and the pain splintering through his skull brought Sam back to reality with his stomach lurching. He leaned forward pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, mumbling incoherently. He was well aware that people were starting to edge away from him but he didn't care. The next time the bus stopped Sam stood up on legs made of rubber and stumbled off the bus, headless of where he was let off.
'Dean.' He thought pulling out his phone. Dean would come and pick him up and it would be alright. They'd get the gig done and leave and that would be that.
"Dean, I need you to come pick me up." Sam said as soon as his brother answered the phone.
"Sam, where are you? What's wrong?" Dean asked sharply.
Sam looked around him and gave the street number to his brother, praying that Dean wouldn't ask him any questions. Dean was quiet on the other end of the line. The only sound was his breathing; a slow comforting in and out, the heaviness showing his concern better than words could.
"I'll be right there." Dean said and cut the line. Sam walked to the bus stop and sat down on the bench hunching over as much as he could. His head hurt and even with the sunglasses the lights were too bright. He thought back to the glad splintering and shuddered.
'Just a coincidence. A freak thing. You don't even need to tell anyone about it.' Sam told himself mentally.
Minutes, hours, days, Sam had no concept of time, Dean roared to a stop in front of Sam. He threw the car into park and stayed inside talking into the phone with a strangled expression on his face. Sam watched him stop talking and listen to whatever the person on the line was saying, then drop his head in a second of resignation before he looked up and straight ahead. Sam made out the words "Yes Sir". Dean was talking to dad and from the look on his face as he hung up he wasn't happy with the result. Sam put his head in his hands and resumed rubbing his throbbing temples.
Dean got out and walked to Sam standing in front of him. He sighed heavily sitting down next to Sam, looking straight ahead at the street. At the people walking around without a care in t he world besides what they were going to wear on their dates or how they were going to pay their credit card bills. The sun was shining brightly and the weather was just warm enough for a normal person to consider playing hookie and going to the beach for the rest of afternoon. They didn't know.
"That was dad." Dean said unnecessarily. Sam nodded still hunched deep in his jacket like he was trying to sink into it and disappear.
"Its not your fault." Dean said barely above a whisper. He knew Sam heard by the way he tensed.
"I thought I could make myself okay and believe that but…." Sam trailed off. He sat up straighter and took off his glasses shutting his eyes against the harsh light that made it hurt more.
"It isn't your fault Sammy. This is just how it is." Dean insisted. "It doesn't just stop hurting. You can move on, fall for someone else, do whatever and it will still hurt."
"If I'd told her. If I'd said something to her about what I did." Sam argued.
"She would have thought you were joking or crazy. Like Cassie." Dean told him.
"I could have brought her with us that night. Then she wouldn't have been alone there." Sam said around the lump in his throat.
"To fight that Constance bitch? Are you crazy?" Dean asked sharply. His vision was trained on a guy about Jack's age holding a dog almost as big as he was on a leash.
"She would have been hurt or killed if you'd done that." Dean said.
"Its easy for you to say these things Dean. You got to forget after awhile. You don't need to relive every moment of your time with mom, cause you don't remember it all." Sam said in a grief stricken voice. His eyes widened and he looked up at Dean, who was frozen like a statue.
'Fuck what did I just say?' Sam thought frantically.
Dean heard the words like a knife cutting into his abdomen and twisting. And he knew how appropriate the comparison was.
"Dean I-" Sam tried. Dean stood and walked away from Sam to the car.
"Lets go." Dean said, disconnected and impassive. Sam jumped to his feet and got in the car before he could drive away without him. It wouldn't be the first time.
"Dean I didn't mean-" Sam started again. Dean cut him off with a cold look.
The rest of the drive passed slowly in the suffocating atmosphere of the Chevy. Sam kept looking at Dean, willing him to look at him and say something, anything.
Dean cut the engine, jumping out of the car before Sam could try another apology. Sam got out slower lagging a few feet behind Dean. When Dean got to the front door of the hostel he turned around to face Sam. Hi face wasn't hard and guarded anymore. Sam recognized this look from the few glimpses he got of it when he told Dean he wanted to leave when the demon was dead, when they thought their dad might be dead and that night in Lawrence when he caught Dean looking out the window haunted by ghosts of yesterday.
"You're wrong Sam. Its worse to forget things." Dean said. He opened the door and walked in leaving Sam to stand alone and absorb what Dean had just told him.
Dean walked up the stairs and into their room throwing his jacket aside. He was grateful to be alone for awhile. He threw himself into the research he'd already gone over before. He knew the name and age of the most probable person to be haunting the lighthouse, hell he even knew where she was buried already. But he needed a distraction and since he had nothing to shoot at this would have to do.
The door opened and closed behind him but he didn't notice. Jack walked toweling off her hair and was surprised to find the room occupied. She was about to turn around when she saw that Dean was staring at a piece of newspaper so hard it would have burst into flames if he had her ability.
"Dean?" She asked edging closer to him. She put the towel down on the side table and reached out to take the newspaper from him. He looked up surprised to see her there. Hesitating, he let go of the paper.
"Is this our ghost?" Jack asked looking at the little article about a camper in the state park dieing seven months before.
"Only death to happen this close." Dean answered.
"And the light could attract a discontented ghost." Jack mused. She put down the paper and walked to her backpack on the bed. She took to semi-cool beers she'd smuggled from t he mini fridge under Rodney's desk and brought them to Dean's side of the room. She used the side table edge to pop the caps off and held one out to him. He took it gratefully downing half the bottle in one swig.
"Well I guess we're going to the cemetery tonight." Jack said.
"Not Sam. Just you and me." Dean said decidedly. He wasn't angry exactly, he was frustrated he couldn't do anything to help his brother. If there was an off switch for t his kind of pain he'd have found it already but t here wasn't and Sam was a wreck.
"Does Sam know that?" Jack asked thinking back to his earlier outburst.
"I don't think he'll be to eager to go into any graveyards any time soon." Dean said running a hand through his short, blonde hair.
"So am I the only one who got any work done today?" Dean asked her finishing off his beer.
"I went back inside and it doesn't look like much B&E takes place in there and Rodney didn't know that the window was easy access." Jack shrugged. It was an hours work tops. And the boys had been gone the better part of the whole day. She spent most of her day prank calling Maddy at work till she finally turned off her cell phone, and marinating in the shower with her sore leg.
The sun was just starting to set when the brothers got back from where ever it was they went.
"I'll tell Sammy." She said.
Jack thought about asking what went on while she was gone but decided against it. If it was something Dean or Sam wanted to talk about with her they knew where she was. Dean nodded at her and gave a lopsided smile. He nodded at the beer, Thank You, shrugged back into his jacket and started going through his pack for the salt and matches.
Jack didn't have to look far to find Sam. He was sitting on the back step of the building looking out in the direction of the water. He looked furtive and guilty.
'This boy broods like no one I ever met.' Jack thought sardonically. She stood in front of him blocking the view for him, hoping to annoy him out of his funk.
"We're goin a grave digging. Deano says you should hold down the fort. You know in case the British attack or something." Jack joked with a drawl. Sam tried to smile but it wasn't happening. Gets an A for effort, Jack thought.
"You went to see her?" Jack asked carefully. Sam jerked up to look into her face, half silhouetted by the setting sun behind her.
"How did you know?" Sam asked.
"I figured it out." Jack shrugged.
"What are you Sherlock Holmes now?" Sam asked weakly.
"No I think I'm more like Irene Adler." Jack said enjoying the momentary widening of his eyes. "I even have an I.d. that says that's my name."
"Stop looking do shocked. I may not be book smart, College Boy but I can read." Jack teased. The conversation lapsed then and Jack was just about to give up and walk away when Sam spoke up again.
"Remember what you said about being backed into a corner?" Sam asked not meeting Jack's eyes. She studied Sam and nodded then realized he wasn't looking at her.
"Yeah." Jack said.
"I get that. I really do." Sam said pushing off the step and walking away.
"Its a bad habit. Think they have a patch for it." Jack said catching up with him.
"I said it was easier for him because he didn't remember mom." Sam said cutting through the fake lightness Jack was trying to use to get a smile from him. Jack grimaced. Sam walked inside before she could tell him anything.
She went to the car to wait for Dean, afraid of losing her patience with Sam. She got it, they all did. It was a tough time and there wasn't any getting better at dealing with it. He wasn't the only one who'd been sucker punched by life. He did however need to learn some things; Like that just because his life was torn to shreds a shorter time didn't mean that his pain was any more pronounced than anyone else's. She thought he knew that to a degree. But pain can shorten a memory.
Dean opened the drivers side door pulling her out of her thoughts. She fastened her seat belt and reached for the radio as soon as the he started the car.
"Its a lot worse not remembering certain things." Jack said before turning the volume up loud, filling the car with Metallica. Dean had never been so grateful for the noise.
TBC………