This will be short and sad and maybe a bit sweet. I don't know how good it will be but I'm giving it my best. All the characters read fanfic I've read are based on humor, but I couldn't get this out of my head. Hope you enjoy!

When Sam had typed Jess's name into the search engine on a whim, he hadn't known what he expected. It had been years since Jess's death, years since Stanford, but he couldn't get Jess out of his mind today; not that he wanted to.

He missed her.

It had crept up on him so suddenly and unexpectedly. He had been on a hunt with Dean. They'd been tracking a wendigo through Beaver Creek Valley Park in Houston, Minnesota. They'd run into a girl-Annie, and her boyfriend Jason, camping together for a few days over summer break. They hadn't been able to save the girl. He could still remember the boys' agonized screams as he'd watched her fade into unconsciousness. She had blonde hair so similar to Jess's and the deep gouges in her stomach, seeping blood, brought him back to that night. He'd been helpless then, just as he was helpless now.

He hadn't understood why he searched up her name, beyond the fact that he missed her.

He'd been expecting a picture from Stanford days, maybe a eulogy or article on the fire.

He hadn't been prepared to see a link entitled Fanfiction.

In hindsight, he should've expected it. Chuck had to have written about how he'd gotten back into hunting, about his time at Stanford and Dad's disappearance. It should hardly be a surprise that some fans had written about Jess, but it was.

Once he saw it existed he knew he was going to see what it said. He couldn't not. He was curious and nostalgic and really wanted to know.

He wasn't prepared for a short story about him and Jess living together in domestic bliss. About their little apartment and a warm night cuddling on the sofa watching Star Wars.

It was riddled with spelling errors and the lines were so carefully chosen that it seemed scripted. It wasn't real, or even a good representation of their relationship. They had never sat and cuddled while watching movies. They had both been workaholics, studying, and occasionally going out for a drink with some friends.

He loved it.

He didn't know how long he sat and drank in the words, the images he formed in his mind.

After what felt like hours he scrolled down to the bottom of the page. He didn't know what possessed him to do it. It felt like his body was moving separate from his mind as he typed two words into the little review box and hit Comment. Then, carefully, he closed his laptop and went to bed.

Unknown

Thank you.