October 25th
Sam Winchester opened his lap top and checked his email. It was the last day of the window when test scores were supposed to be released. His computer was taking forever to load and he leaned his arm on the antique desk and stretched his long leg out before him. He chewed absently on his nail while he waited.
Jessica stopped baking and knocked the oven closed with her knee as she tried to wipe her hands off on a kitchen towel. "Did ya get the results?" She called, poking her head around the corner.
Sam didn't look up at her. "I don't know. This thing is taking forever to load." He logged into his account and let out an audible breath as he read. "Yeah. Yeah they're in."
"And…" he heard Jessica rinsing her fingers. "What's the score?"
"It's here." Sam clicked on the email. He bounced his leg nervously until the screen loaded. He let out another huff of air as he opened the attachment.
Test scores for Samuel Winchester.
175.
He felt the tension drain out of his shoulders with utter relief.
"Well?" Jessica walked over while Sam was still digesting the information.
He was in the 99th percentile of test takers.
"I did pretty good," he said.
Jessica glanced over his shoulder. "Pretty good? Oh my god, Sam! That's awesome!" She grabbed his neck from behind in an exuberant hug.
Sam allowed himself a relaxed grin and leaned back into her embrace.
She stepped around front of him, using his shoulders as a swivel point and straddled his lap with a wide smile that he couldn't help but return.
"My boyfriend is a genius!" She praised. Her expression was glowing. She was so damned radiant when she was happy that Sam didn't have the words to even describe it.
"You're the smartest person I've ever met. I mean and I'm no slouch." She gave him a wink.
He blushed. Sam's reactions vacillated between eating up the praise and being somewhat embarrassed by it. The way Jess bragged his abilities up was very foreign to him and he had a hard time emotionally processing it even though they'd been together for over a year and a half.
"Well I'm pretty smart to have chosen you, I have to say." He hooked his hands under her thighs and adjusted her seat on him with a smile full of mischievous promise. Something that belonged more on his brother's face then his own, although Jessica was often on the receiving end of this rare Sam Winchester expression.
She was having none of it yet, still enraptured with victorious jubilation rather than where she'd led his body to take his mind. "You did so awesome! You know you're going to nail that scholarship. Whatever internship you need...it's all yours."
"Hey let's not get carried away." He protested and she put her hand over his mouth.
He raised his eyebrow expressively.
"Yes!" She said. "Let's get carried away. Let's just be happy for a minute over a freaking amazing accomplishment. Let's be happy that you missed one question on a test that is elite."
She took her had away and replaced it with her lips. Sam melted under her, let her take the lead for a moment until she got him fired up and he returned it with building enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around her slender body on his.
She broke away, her full lips glistening and wet from him. "Let's get carried away."
Sam tilted his head. "I don't know what I'd do without you. I don't know who I'd be."
"You know that guy that hangs outside Jack in the Box?"
"The one with the big beard and the shirt he wears backwards?"
"Yeah. That'd be you."
Sam laughed and watched her bounce with the contraction and release of his abdominal and chest muscles.
It lit something lustful in him and he dove for her lips again, scooted his arms back under her thighs. He picked up her weight as if she were nothing.
"Sam," she laughed, tilting her head back as he kissed her chin while she was being carried. "What are you doing?"
She locked her ankles around his back.
"You're getting carried away." He replied.
"Oh! That is the worst pun ever."
"Sorry," he mumbled, tossing her onto the bed. "I'll try harder."
Jessica didn't unwrap her legs as he tossed her and she brought Sam down with her in a surprised heap. He laughed squashing her beneath his weight on accident and trying to get purchase on the floor with his stockinged feet.
His sock slipped on the hard wood as Jess pulled him off balance. "I'm gonna crush you." He warned as she clung on to him, trying to wrestle him down.
She was agile and fairly tall for a woman, it made her a harder opponent than he'd expected. Sam laughed breathlessly as he tried to extract himself from her; he finally admitted defeat and made a controlled fall onto the mattress at her side. He could hear himself laughing along with her girlish giggle and he wondered at the sound. It was a beautiful audio-one he'd never heard before her. Satisfied that she'd won the round, Jessica climbed on top of him and his smile faded into something intent as she straddled either side of his hips. Her warm thighs touched him, made him feel content.
He loved it when she asserted herself with him. Jessica Moore on top of him was the most stunning view in the world. One he'd never forget. He let the cascade of her curls and the blue of her eyes burn into his memory as she leaned down to touch her lips to his.
October 27
Sam watched Jessica unfold her obligatory sexy nurses uniform and gave her a rakish grin. "Wow. I never had any nurses that looked like you before."
She looked up from the mess of fabric on the bed, her blonde hair in a wild tangle and smiled. "You spend a lot of time at the doctors?"
"No. But I sure would if you were there to give me a sponge bath."
She rolled her eyes. "So predictable, Winchester."
He cocked his head with the boyish smile that always worked on her. "I'm a guy."
"Thank God you told me." She said, peeling off her tank top and shoving the dress over her head. She got it stuck for a second and Sam watched with mild amusement. "I may need a doctor after I dislocate my arm to get this on."
She wiggled it down over her figure triumphantly. "Tada!"
Sam's dimples deepened. "I love you." He said.
"I love you too."
"So much that we don't have to go to Jerry's party this year?" He pushed playfully.
"Not that much." She told him with a wink.
Sam frowned.
"Oh come on, Sam. We're not going to run into that asshole again."
"Probably not. But..." he sighed. "I still hate parties."
"I know," she returned. "All those friends and fun. They're terrible."
She walked over to him, sky high bare legs in a little white skirt. Plunging neckline. Sam let his eyes trace her body a second before he brought them back to her face.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. "It's just for a bit."
He sighed "Okay, okay."
She gave him a kiss and Sam closed his eyes and relaxed into her.
"Can you wear this later tonight?" He asked, nuzzling her ear.
She wrapped a hand in the back of his shirt. "Do you have a fever?"
"Yeah." Sam said, deadpan. "Maybe a hernia too. You better check."
She tossed her head back and laughed at the unexpectedly brazen comment and gave him a swat on his back side.
"Sorry," he said. "I think maybe I'm channeling Dean."
"Well," she pecked him on the lips. "I only want Sam. But I gotta say I like this side of him. You should let him come out and play more."
Sam crushed her to him and closed his eyes against an unexpected wave of emotion that hit him out of nowhere. He'd never wanted anything as badly in his life as he wanted her. He wished he knew how to verbalize how much he loved her. But then he looked into her eyes and suddenly knew that she knew.
October 29
"Dad. It's me. Call me." Dean Winchester snapped his phone shut and paced the motel room. The place hadn't been updated or probably cleaned since the seventies. The gold shag carpet was covered in stains and cigarette burns. The mattress sagged in the middle.
He crossed his arms in front of his chest and paced a circle like a caged panther as he thought. The light from the lamp caught the shine on his full bottom lip. He kicked the edge of the bed savagely and the old metal frame and box spring lurched sideways with an ominous metallic ting. "Come on, Dad!"
Dean had been trying to pick up his father's trail for weeks. John had just disappeared into thin air in a way so uncharacteristically ominous that Dean's whole nervous system was on edge. Something was wrong, he knew it down to his soul.
Even when they were hunting apart, they never stayed out of contact for long. John's behavior had been strange for the last several months. His father had always been a secretive sonofabitch, but the behavior leading up to his disappearance found him even more withdrawn and taciturn than normal. Dean initially dismissed it as some alcoholic induced depression that his father was prone to, but there was a little warning system in the back of his mind that told him something else was afoot.
Then he'd disappeared. And Dean had called every number, every contact looking for him. He'd retraced where John might have been in every shithole he could think of. The only thing he'd turned up was Dad's Journal that was obviously intentionally left for him to find tossed in the glove compartment of the Impala.
So yeah this was weird. This was batshit, piss-your-pants, something-is-fucking-wrong weird. And he was in it alone. Utterly alone without Dad.
Everybody fucking left him. They all fucking did. He was sick of it and he wasn't going to deal with this by himself.
Dean grabbed his duffle and slammed the door behind him.
He settled behind the wheel of his black '67 Chevy Impala and heard the deep savage growl of her engine start up as he turned the key. He let her idle for a minute and ran a hand through his shortly cropped brown hair. He threw her into reverse and pulled out of the parking lot.
Almost without conscious thought, Dean pointed her west toward California.
