Author's Note: Thanks again for the wonderful reviews! I love getting them...they put a pep in my step! (That was cheesy, I know...)

I have figured out that I am going to try to update this once a week, unless my life gets in the way, so keep checking in with me.

Enjoy and let me know what you think!

"What's the matter, Sam? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

Sam blinked, just knowing his eyes were deceiving him. First his mom and now Jess? Yes, his eyes, not to mention his mind, were definitely playing games with him now—very cruel games, indeed.

She was standing in front of him, the picture of beauty. She was still the same as he remembered, only somehow she was even more radiant, which he didn't think was possible. In a long flowing white gown with her long blonde hair blowing the breeze, she was the epitome of his dreams, a beautiful vision he thought he lost that fateful night a year ago.

"Jess?"

Jess smiled. "Is that all you can say?"

"But how? I mean, why are you here?"

"Your mom told you'd have two other guides. I signed up for the second leg of the journey. As for the why, I think you know why."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think I do. Why would you help me? Why would you want to after I got you killed?"

Jess walked closer to Sam until she was mere inches from him. She gently caressed his cheek with her thumb. "Sam, you didn't get me killed."

"It was my fault, Jess. I didn't tell you who I really was, what I really do."

"I understand why you didn't, Sam. You didn't tell me because you wanted to protect me."

"A bang up job I did of that," he grumbled. "I wanted to protect you more than anything. But I didn't and you died because of it."

"I won't lie to you, Sam—it sucked to die like that. I wasn't ready to die. There was so much I wanted to do with you. But that's life—you take what it gives you and you go from there."

"But if I'd just told you the truth—"

"About what? The nightmares? The visions?"

Sam stiffened. "How did you know about that?"

Jess shrugged, smiling. "You learn a lot of things when you get to Heaven. Some things you wanted to know and other things you didn't."

"You shouldn't have found out like that. I should have been the one to tell you. Besides, do you honestly think you would have believed me if I told you that? That you wouldn't have taken off running as soon as the words were out of my mouth?"

"Maybe so, Sam, but we'll never know. What's done is done and there is nothing we can do to change that. We have to move on…you have to move on."

"You make it sound so simple, but I can't do that. It's so hard for me to let go and move on without you."

"Is it the guilt? Sam, it will eat at your soul every day if you let it. It will consume you until there is nothing left of you but a shell. You can't let it do that to you. I won't watch it do that to you."

"I'm so sorry, Jess…"

"Sam, I forgave you a long time ago. You need to do the same for yourself." She smiled softly at him. "I'm okay, really. I just wish you could believe me."

Sam nodded, feeling a single tear roll down his cheek. Jess was right about the guilt—it was something he carried with him every day for a year now. It continued to eat at him every day, though he had gotten better at concealing it from Dean. But he couldn't help it—in his mind, it was because of him that Jess, the love of his life, was brutally murdered—even the Yellow Eyed Demon pointed out that fact to him. Jess was in the way therefore she had to be eliminated.

But now, here was Jess telling him she never held him responsible for what happened to her, she had forgiven him. It was a feeling of relief for him, yet he knew he would never completely escape the guilt.

Sam finally smiled. It was a sad smile, but a smile, nonetheless. "I've missed you so much, Jess. You have no idea how much," he said cupping her face in his hands.

Jess smiled, a tear trailing down her face. "I've missed you too, Sam."

Bending down, Sam kissed her tender and lovingly. God, how I've missed this feeling. It was a feeling as if everything was okay in the world and he had nothing to worry about or fear—no demons, no freaky visions, no nightmares. He wanted those feelings back—the love and touch of a woman.

Breaking away, Sam smiled at Jess—a genuine smile and she returned it.

"Are you ready, Sam?"

Sam sighed. He should have known this moment wouldn't last forever. "What are you going to show me?"

"We'll focus on you and Dean since the night he picked you up from Stanford. It's my job to show how you and your brother have been beneficial to each other since that night. After that, I'll show you how Dean has been since John died."

Dean had never seen his baby brother like this and it hurt him more than the older hunter cared to admit. Sam was broken, completely and utterly broken, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it, to fix him. He wanted so badly to take away Sam's pain, to assure the kid everything was going to be okay, but he couldn't because Dean refused to fill his kid brother with a false sense of hope. That only fueled Dean's hurt with anger.

It had only been two days since Dean pulled Sam away from his burning apartment. Two days since Sam watched Jess, the love of his life, burn to death in the very same manner their mother had died twenty-two years prior. Sam barely said a word since then and it freaked Dean out. Sam was always one with something to say, but now it was taking Dean all he had to get Sam to say one word and quite frankly, he was getting tired of it.

He knew Sam was mourning. Hell, the kid deserved to mourn. No one deserved to watch their loved one die, especially knowing there was nothing they could do to help them. And though Sam hadn't said anything to him, Dean knew what was going through his brother's head—a million what-ifs. What if he had gotten there sooner? What if he never left in the first place? What if Jess never gotten involved with him in the first place? They were the same questions Dean would be asking himself over and over if he was in Sam's position.

Tossing a look in Sam's direction, Dean saw Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, still wearing his suit and tie, and staring down at his hands. He'd been doing that ever since they returned from Jess's funeral over an hour ago. His posture reminded Dean of an ancient Greek statue, teetering on the edge of a pedestal.

"Hey, you okay?" Dean felt a twinge of guilt as the kid nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of his voice.

Sam barely glanced up at Dean. "I'm fine, Dean."

"Like hell you are."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Say you're pissed, upset, shitty—hell, I don't know! But don't sit there and lie to me by telling me you're fine."

"Fine, I'm all of the above." Sam looked over at his brother, eyes bloodshot. "Happy now?"

Dean sighed, got off his bed, and planted himself firmly on Sam's bed next to him. He wanted Sam to talk to him, not fight with him. But talking never came easy to Dean Winchester—he never was one to talk about his feelings, it never helped him. He always found beating the crap out of some demon, monster, or inanimate object helped him deal with his emotions. But not Sam—no, Sam required a little more help. No way was pounding away at something going to help his grief. He needed to talk and by God, Dean was going to sit there and talk to him even if it killed him.

"Look, Sam, I know you're hurting…"

"Do you?" Hazel eyes flashed angrily at Dean. "What gave it away Dean? Was it the fact I haven't been talking? Was it the damn tears I can't seem to get a control of? Or, hell, was it the fact I just watched a complete stranger lower my girlfriend's body six feet into the ground?"

Dean felt a wave of anger wash over him. Okay, Sammy deserved to lash out at something. It still didn't give him the right to be a complete ass about it.

"Sam, you're pissed and you deserve to be. But I'm trying to help you out here, man."

"How can you help me, Dean? Can you bring Jess back to me? Can you give me back the last three days of my life?" Sam didn't wait for an answer. "Well, can you Dean?"

Dean shook his head. "You know I can't do that, Sammy."

"Then how the hell can you possibly help me?" Sam stared hard at him and Dean could see it was taking everything his baby brother had not to break down again.

"Sam, I wish to God I could give those things back to you. I wish I never would have dragged you back into this life. I wish you and Jess could have had a long life together with a bunch of little rugrats. I wish you could get your law degree so I could have someone to bail my ass out at the drop of a hat."

Sam studied Dean, thoughtfully.

"I wish I could give you that and so much more. I wish I could take away all of your pain so you never have to deal with it again. I wish we could have a normal family again and not have to deal with monsters, demons, and other baddies that go bump in the night. I wish I could make this world safe for you. I want that more than anything, Sammy."

"Dean…"

Dean shook his head. "Now look what you've made me do. I'm turning into a girl here."

Sam chuckled softly.

"Seriously, dude, you should be pissed and I'm not going to stop you if you feel the need to rage all of a sudden. I'm not going to sit here and pretend I know what you're going through. It wouldn't be fair to you or me."

"But with Mom—"

"I was a kid, Sam. I barely remember any of it. Besides, I still had you and Dad."

"I just…I don't know, Dean. I feel like I'm about to break at any given moment and that scares the hell out of me. I want to be angry but at the same time, I can't do that to Jess's memory. I want to sit here and do nothing but cry, but that's not going to do me any good either."

Dean nodded, letting his brother talk.

"But most of all, Dean—and this is the part that scares the hell out of me—I just want the ground to swallow me whole. I want to give up on it all. Without Jess, I have nothing left so I ask myself why I should go on."

Dean felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. What was Sam talking about? Dean knew grief affected people in different ways. Hell, their dad's grief turned into an obsession of finding the thing that killed their mom. A tiny voice in Dean's head told him he didn't want Sam to become like their father, to lose focus of everything but vengeance. But Dean also didn't want his brother to give up and he wasn't about to let him.

"Sam, you have me," Dean said softly, but firmly. "You've always had me. I know we haven't been there for each other much over the past two years, but I have always been here. So, don't you sit there and tell me you have nothing left."

Sam looked up at Dean with a pained expression, but Dean was glad he struck a nerve. "I'm sorry, Dean…"

"I don't want your apology, Sam. I want you to hold on, fight with me." Dean's eyes stayed focused on Sam's. "Now, I promise you we'll find Jessica's killer. But to do that, we have to find Dad. I wasn't lying to you the other day, Sammy, when I told you I can't do this alone. I need you to help me. I want you to help me."

Sam nodded wiping away a tear from his eye. "I want to help, Dean, I do. But I also need to find what killed Jess. It's going to take a few days before I can hit the road with you; I'm just not ready yet."

"Take as long as you need, Sam. Who knows? We may find a clue around here. You just tell me when you're ready."

Sam nodded, smiling faintly at his brother. "Thanks, Dean."

"You're welcome." He patted Sam's leg and stood up, smiling. "Now, what do you say we grab some grub? After all, Mr. Bob Freeman's paying for it."

"You see, Sam. Dean needs you as much as you need him," Jess said, rubbing his arm soothingly.

"He really helped me after I lost you. If I didn't have him, I really don't think I would have made it."

"You helped him, too, Sam. Having you with him, you filled a void he'd been carrying around for two years. When you left for college, it was as if you took a piece of him with you. He was happy for you—he wanted you to experience a life outside of hunting, to have a chance at a normal life."

"He never told me that."

"And he wasn't going to. Your brother would never purposely do anything to destroy your happiness, Sam. He cares about you too much to do that."

"He's stubborn."

Jess smiled. "He's a brother. He never wanted a life of hunting for you. But when John went missing, he didn't have anyone else to turn to. He needed you; you helped him cope with this. I really don't think Dean could have done it without you."

"Yes, he could."

"Do you really think that?"

"Dean can do anything. He's…Dean."

Jess chuckled. "A brother's love. You never can find fault in your brother."

"There's nothing—"

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that, Sam. Just the opposite. The love you and your brother have for each other is what helps you, guides you. It's why you've been able to survive for as long as you have."

Sam nodded, understanding. He didn't know if it was the same for Dean, but the only reason Sam kept going was because of Dean, because he knew there was someone to fight for. More than anything, he wanted Dean to have a chance in the world, to experience something other than a hunter's life. That was why Sam fought so hard everyday—the only reason.

Jess took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Come on, I have something else to show you."