CHAPTER 3

He loved her.

There was no getting around it, changing it, or ignoring it.

Sam Winchester was in love with Jessica Moore.

"I really like the bathroom, Sam. The shower's really big."

Her hair was getting long. He liked it that way. He liked to watch her long hair splay out on the pillow at night. He liked to run his fingers through it, catch the scent of strawberry shampoo from it in the morning.

"Oooh, look at the cabinets! Sam, did you see the cabinets? Aw, I totally love this..."

She'd taken to wearing mix-matched colors lately. Things like purple-ish socks with her jeans and a blue tank under a green shirt. She looked good in any color, so she looked spectacular wearing more than one at the same time.

Like she was now.

"I think this is really it, Sam. It has everything. What do you think?"

She came up to him and grabbed his hand, looking up at him with her beautiful eyes and her lips involuntarily puckered in that expression that she always made when she asked his opinion, the expression that told him 'I only want what you want'.

"I think it's perfect," Sam replied, sliding a strand of her golden hair behind her ear, "We'll move in on Thursday."

* * *

The apartment was close to Stanford, close enough that they weren't the only students who lived in the building.

That was fine with Sam, though; the guys who lived next door to him liked the same movies he did, and all their girlfiriends were majoring in the same thing, so they got along well.

Brennen and Sam had a joke that the Psyche majors were the only ones worth loving.

It was barely two weeks after they'd moved in when Jess walked out of the bathroom in her bathing suit.

Sam grinned and made a show of looking her up and down and licking his lips. Jess threw her towel at his head.

"Going somewhere?" Sam asked between laughs, pulling her from the dresser onto his lap, sitting on the bed with her, "because I may have to object when you look this tempting."

Jess kissed his forehead and he closed his eyes breifly, then opened them to look up at her smile. She was playing with his hair; he loved when she did that.

"I'm gonna head down to the pool. Wanna come?"

"Naw, I'm, uh, I've got to clean the kitchen," he answered kissing her cheeck and then slipping her off his lap so that she was sitting beside him.

She promptly let herself fall on the bed and made a pouting, whining sound.

"Saaaa-aaam."

He laughed.

"What?"

"You never come to the pool with me. Or the beach, or to Alex and Andrea's parties-"

"Andrea hates me."

"Only because you never come to their parties!"

Sam sighed, falling back so he was laying beside Jessica.

"Please?" she asked, cupping his face, "I didn't make plans with anyone so we could have some time for just us. I just wanted to swim for a bit, get a tan. Besides..." she pulled herself over and on top of him, and he wrapped his hands around her back, "I want to see if the jacuzzi is all it's cracked up to be. Brennen said it was great fun if you have the right company."

"Jess..."

"C'mon, Sam! A little water won't hurt you."

Sam looked up at Jess's teasing expression, and felt the smile fade from his face. He watched hers melt too. She looked confused, and a little worried.

"Sam?"

He didn't say anything. Now she was narrowing her eyes at him. She looked affronted.

"Whatever," she said, standing and frowning,"I'm gonna go to the pool. I'll be back later." She turned to leave.

"Jess, wait-"

"Why?"

Sam wasn't sure what to say to that. Jessica didn't ususally sound that way; hard, impatient.

"Just tell me, Sam!"

It was Sam's turn to be confused.

"What?"

"Just tell me what it is! I know that face, and you're hiding something from me," Jessica was mad now, he could tell. She hated being lied to, but she usually let him get away with, because he rarely hid things from her.

Except for his past, his family, and everything that came near the subject of why he didn't go to Alex and Andrea's pool parties or the beach or the jacuzzi or water parks.

"Sam, you always feel like cleaning whenever you want to get out of something, so don't give me that crap. The kitchen is spotless from Tuesday, when you cleaned it instead of going to Alex's house for his birthday. And the bathroom is clean from when you didn't go to the beach to see Mike's band play yesterday. So either you're some neat-freak or you're gay, because generally, guys don't like to clean!"

Sam would have laughed, because it was kinda funny; he could see the humor in the fact that Jessica was yelling at him, standing in her bathing suit and accusing him of being gay because he was a guy but he cleaned the apartment all the time. But he couldn't find the part of him that laughed at things right now, because most of him was either caught up in feeling like a jerk and guilty and sorry to Jessica, and the rest was screaming at his memory to stop, please stop replaying that film in his head, the one where he was thirteen years old again and stuck inside a glass tank and there was a gun pointed at Dean and he couldn't breathe, and he was drowning, drowning...

But Jess was still saying something.

"I love you Sam, but I swear, I just feel like you don't trust me!" Sam wanted to interrupt, but he was feeling muddled, like he couldn't recall how to say words, and Jessica was upset, and she was hurt, and it was his fault and he felt awful,"You make excuses and I can tell you're lying, but I don't say anything because I think 'oh, he'll tell me when he's ready' but ya know, I don't think that anymore! Now, it's like, 'oh, he'll only tell me what he's really doing while he's cleaning if I happen to walk in on it one day' or 'he'll tell me what girl he's cheating with when he's tired of pretending' or 'he's never going to trust me enough to tell me' and I just don't know what o think anymore, because I don't want us to have secrets, Sam! I don't want you to have to hide things from me!"

"Jess, I'm afraid of water."

"I mean, we've been together for almost two years, we live under the same roof, we sleep in the same bed for crying out loud, but you still don't tell me things, you still hide from me!"

"Jess, I'm afraid of the water."

"And it's like-"

"Jessica!" She shutup for a seconds, and then her ears caught up with her mouth.

"Wait," she looked incredulous, "what did you say?"

Sam didn't say anything, just stared at the floor.

"You-you're...afraid of...of water?" Jess was staring at him, he could tell, but he didn't want to look up, and he could feel his face getting hot.

"Yes."

"Oh."

They didn't say anything for a bit. Sam couldn't remember the last time he felt this small.

He heard Jess cross to him, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her.

Her hand found his face, and he closed his eyes, then opened them when he saw the inside of a glas tank behind his eyelids. He tried to speak, to explain himself, whyhe was this way, that he had a good reason, that he was sorry he couldn't change it. His voice came out husky and hoarse.

"Jess-"

"I love you, Sam." He looked at her, uncertain.

"I've never been with anybody else, I swear," Sam insisted, "I'm sorry I made you think that."

"It's okay."

"I didn't want to lie, I trust you, but I didn't know what to say-"

"It's fine."

"It's just, I can't help myself...the water-"

"Hey," she pulled his face closer to her, and her eyes were soft, no more anger, no more frustration or hurt or sadness, "you are the bravest, strongest, most amazing person I have ever known. This," she smiled at him, "does not change anything."

Sam nodded and pulled her into an embrace, tight and long.

They didn't go to the pool that day.

They stayed inside, and Sam told her the story, why he could barely make it through the shower everyday.

She cried, and Sam came close to doing the same.

The next morning, Andrea called Jessica, asking if she wanted to come over next Saturday for their next bash, promising that the pool would be heated.

But Sam was the one to answer the phone. Jess told him to tell her they had plans.

Sam took a deep breath, and he told her that they were free, and they would come. Both of them.

"Yeah, Andrea, I'm coming, too. Yeah, see you there."

* * *

Jessica was a little wary at first when Sam insisted that they go to the party, but she didn't complain. She sensed that he wasn't trying to prove anything.

He just wanted to be with Jessica.

Everybody was glad to see Sam.

"Hey! The hermit finally left his hovel!"

"Hey Brennen."

"The lady finally let you out of the house, eh, Sam?"

"At least he has a lady, Mike"

"Hey!"

Everyone laughed, including Sam, and they had a lot of fun drinking, playing cards, swimming. Some football game was on, so a bunch of people were watching that.

Jess was glad Sam was having fun.

And nobody even mentioned the fact that Sam didn't get in the pool.

* * *

Nobody said anything about Sam not getting in the pool.

At least, not until they got drunk.

"Hey, Sssssam! Long time noooo see buddy! Haha, ahaha!"

"Wow, Greg," Sam wrinkled his nose, while Jess giggled at him from across the room, "how much have you had? You smell like a bar."

"Aw, c'mon Sam! Be nice!"

"HAHAHA, NICE!" Brady shouted. Sam was laughing out loud now.

They were sitting outside by the fire pit. The pool was a good twenty feet away, and Sam was okay. He was still sober; no way was he driving home even the slightest bit buzzed when he had Jess in the car with him. Half of the party, on the other hand, were too drunk to talk straight.

"Hey, lesss go in da pool..."

"Yeah! Poolio..."

"Poolio?!"

"Ya know, like coolio with a 'p'..."

"Oh...HAHAHAHA!"

"C'mon, Sam! Come in the poolio with us!"

Sam shook his head, still laughing.

"No thanks, guys," he said, standing and pushing through them to grab another soda from inside the house.

"But it's heated an' everything, man!"

"Hahahaha, poolio! Hahaha..."

"Hey! Let's throw him in!"

Sam stiffened when a chorus of 'yeah's answered Derek's drunken suggestion. He felt hands gripping his arms, and he pulled away quickly, whirling to face them.

"No," he said, and he heard the group over by the fire pit quiet. He knew that his voice was different than any of them had ever heard him speak; low, dangerous.

Deadly.

The drunks didn't notice however.

Sam saw Alex reach to grab him again, and they were laughing, all of them, laughing at their joke, excited to tease Sam and throw him in the pool.

Sam grabbed Alex's arm and pulled, turning him and pushing it up against his back before shoving him away.

"Sam?!" Sam heard Jessica, and he lifted his eyes to find her.

He saw her a split second before he realized the laughing was behind him now, and that people were shoving him toward the pool.

They pushed him hard, and he stumbled, falling.

The brick ended and the wter came up to meet his face.

He heard the guys laughing, and he heard Jessica scream his name before the a splash that cut of so that all he could hear was the rushing water.

Water.

Water.

In his mouth, in his nose, nothing but blue, wetness, no air, he couldn't breathe, he was panicking, he didn't know which way was up, couldn't find a way up, couldn't find a way out, the glass, couldn't break the glass, Dean, where was Dean, no air, water everywhere, drowning, drowning, drowning...

No, he begged, his eyes rolling back in his head while he felt the water flood his throat, no, please, not again...

* * *

"SAM?!" Jessica screamed when she saw what was happening.

Sam hit the water and she couldn't see what he was doing underneath it.

But he was underneath it, and Jessica knew, she knew he couldn't swim, that he would't even be able to hold his breath, that he would panic, and...

"Get him out! Get him out! He can't swim!"

Everybody was jumping up, some people were staring at her, a couple of people weren't getting it at all. Jessica was trying to get to the pool, but she was stumbling, running into people, and she could see Brennen diving in the water, where Sam was flailing at the bottom, and she felt a sick kind of adrenalin surging through her, but she felt nauseous and lightheaded and wide awake all at once.

Brennen broke the surface with Sam in his arms, and Jessica realized she hadn't stopped screaming until Andrea grabbed her and shouted at her to calm down.

Jessica stopped screaming, but she started crying, because Sam wasn't moving and Brennen was doing CPR and everything was still so loud, and why isn't Sam moving?! and she knelt next to him and grabbed his hand and tried to quiet her sobs.

But then Sam gasped and coughed up a lot of water and Brennen sat back and put his face in his hands and started to cry too, saying 'oh my god' over and over.

Someone had called an ambulance, because Jessica could hear sirens.

But it didn't matter. Sam was caughing harshly and shaking but Jessica pulled him close and sobbed into his shoulder, kissing his face and his neck and his hands and then just holding him, afraid and relieved and so angry at Greg and Derek and Brady and those other jerks and at herself for bringing Sam here in the first place.

Sam was coughing, only half awake in her arms, and she whispered in his ear, her voice broken and hitching.

"I-it's okay baby, it's okay n-now."

"D-dee....deee..."

"I'm so sorry Sam, but it's alright, you're okay."

"Dean...Dean?...Dean..."

"No, Sam, it's me, Jessica," she told him, hearing people running through the house and into the backyard, probably paramedics, and who on earth is Dean?

"Jess?...Jess...love you..."

"I love you too, Sam, I love you so much."

* * *

Sam didn't remember leaving the house, or if the paramedics saw him or not. All he remembered was that Jess was shouting louder than he'd ever heard her before, and she sounded downright scary when she told Greg just mow much of a useless idiot he was, and just how much she hated Brady, and how if she ever saw Derek again, he'd lose his manhood to a pair of plyers.

Then she started crying hard, and she must have thanked Brennen at least four hundred times, and she told Sam she loved him at least eight hundred times, and then he remembered Alex and Andrea apologizing profusely, and Jessica sounding angry again.

But Sam didn't remember exactly what had happened after that.

He woke up the next morning in his own bed, next to Jessica, who wasn't alseep.

She was staring at him, the side of her face on the pillow, her eyes red and swollen, looking horribly exhausted and maybe a little sick.

"Jess?" Sam winced at the sound of his voice. It was throaty and hoarse; his throat felt scratchy and sore, "what's wrong?"

Jess just looked at him, and he saw a sinlge tear slide out of her eyes and towards her ear.

"Hey," he brought hand hand to her face and cupped her cheek in his hand. Her chin started to tremble.

"Don't, Jess, I'm okay..." he pulled her close to and held her while she cried.

Sam knew that Jess wouldn't be crying if last night hadn't happened. Last night wouldn't have happened if he didn't have this...this fear...this weakness.

In that moment, while Jessica was crying and telling himshe was so sorry and she had been so scared because he wasn't breathing, and he insisted that he was fine, that it wouldn't happen again, that it wasn't her fault; in that moment, Sam hated himself for his weakness.

And he decided that was going to change; starting today, this weakness wasn't going to be apart of him anymore.

* * *

He waited until Jessica was asleep that night. He made sure she had the blankets over her, and that the window was closed. She was exhausted; Sam knew she wouldn't wake up.

He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

He slipped out of the apartment, down the stairs, and out around the back of the building, to the gated area that enclosed the complex's pool and spa.

The pool looked big. And wet. And big.

I don't think I can do this.

He opened the gate with listless fingers, feeling his heart accelerating. The gate clanged lightly shut behind him.

Okay, I really cannot do this.

He stood there and stared at the pool. It was long, surrounded by patio tile and signs that read 'no diving in shallow area' or 'no swimming after 10:00pm' or 'no running - ground is wet'. There were numbers painted on the pool's sides; 3 ft, 8 ft, 13 ft. The end Sam was standing closest to was the shallow end, with three or four steps leading down into the water, a metal hand rail next to them.

Sam could feel his hands opening and closing over and over of their own accord, and he couldn't stop his breathing from sounding haggard and hurried. He made a frustrated noise at the back of his throat.

Why can't I do this?!

He closed his eyes for a moment, and he stopped shaking as much. He wasn't cold; he was wearing only a pair of his old jean shorts - he didn't have any trunks - and the night air was playing across his skin lightly, like tickling fingers.

He thought of Jessica, sleeping in her bed, and how tired she was, how scared she had been, how much last night had affected her. He thought of how she would worry about him whenever they went to a person's house together, how she would probably worry over this their entire lives together. He thought about he loved her, and how he needed to do this for her.

Sam opened his eyes and stepped to the edge of the pool. Tremors racked his body from head to bare toes. He forced himself to take a long, deep, if harried, breath.

And he stepped. foot forward, down into the water.

Water. Cold, never still, constantly moving and shifting around his prickling skin, like something alive, purposing to conquer him. He stifled the sudden urge he had to whimper, feeling like a child, a weakling, a cowardly courageless imitation of a real man. He forced himself to stand there like, that, one fioot in the water, his mind and body screaming at him to pull it out and run, his heart pounding like a massive bass drum inside his chest, slamming into his ribs, an audible sound in his ears. He gritted his teeth, grinding them together, his hands fisting, itching to do something, anything but keep feeling the horrible wetness around his foot.

Feet. He'd just jerked his other foot into the water.

He was losing it. He couldn't stop his breathing from accelerating, everything was swaying, he was going to fall, surely. He felt every muscle in his chest and stomach and arms and back, everything tense and shivering, but somehow paralyzed, unable or unwilling to move, he wasn't sure which.

He pictured Jessica in his mind, pleading with himself to think only of her, to do this for her, to draw strength from her.

He loved Jessica.

He saw her face in his head, her smile and her lips and her perfect eyes. He saw her hair playing around her cheeks, her eyes reassuring and comforting, an echo of her voice telling him he could do it.

He wasn't convinced in the slightest. It didn't work, the picture faded, and he was staring at ther water again, lit from the pool lights and still cold, still moving, still defeating him.

He couldn't beat this.

Yes you can.

Another voice, the barest, meanest memory, small and slight, but strong and easily recognizable.

You can do this. Don't be afraid.

Another image rose up in Sam's head. Another face, not smiling, but determined, a set expression that grounded him, made it alsmot easy to stop shaking.

I've gotcha, Sammy. Don't be afraid.

Sam saw Dean, not like he usually did, through a memory of a glass tank, a gun to his head. He saw his big brother, his green eyes and sandy hair, his leather jacket and stubbled face.

He stepped again. And again. The water rose around him, cold and wet and horrible, but almost bearable, as long as he kept picturing his brother.

Dean made it okay. Just like he always had. Just like he always did.

Sam was able to swim that night. He didn't enjoy it, and he couldn't fall asleep afterward. He didn't have any desire to do it again anytime soon if he could avoid it.

But when Jessica woke up in the morning and asked him if he wanted to go get some coffee, he smiled and kissed her forehead, and told her that was a great idea, and maybe they could get some lunch and picnic at the beach afterwards.

They spent the afternoon laid out on a blanket, watching the waves.

Sam decided he would never hate himself for his weakness again.