Sam sat in yet another sad and sorry hotel room, tired, bored and though he would never admit it to his brother, pouting. It had been almost three weeks since Dean had outmaneuvered his attempts to get a look at the now very mysterious novel. Sam had read the copy Dean had bought for him, how could he not? But since then he hadn't had a chance to even sneak a look.

Sam sat on his bed on his side of the room and shifted his gaze between the closed bathroom door and Dean's duffel bag. He knew he shouldn't, he was twenty three for crying out loud! Dean had a right to privacy, but the bottom line was Sam was his little brother and that gave him the right to be nosey and a brat every so often. Anyway, as long as he put the book back before Dean came out of the bathroom he would never even know. It was win win.

Sam waited till he could hear the sound of the shower going full blast. The place they were in tonight was one of the nicer ones they had seen in a couple of weeks which meant that unless Sam was actually attacked by some rabid monster Dean wasn't coming out for a long, long time. This was his chance and he was beyond curious.

Sam gave one last quick glance at the bathroom door, opened up his brothers bag and pulled out the well worn and much discussed copy of 'Jane Eyre'. Quickly flicking through the pages Sam noticed that it was indeed what it professed to be. He had half expected it to be some cheap thrilled hidden in a 'Jane Eyre' dust jacket. The second thing he noticed was that there were several little notes all over every page. There were underlined quotes and marked paragraphs and there were notes in the margins written in a distinctly feminine script.

What the….

Dean stood under the strong, hot spray of the first decent shower he'd had in two weeks. He closed his eyes and felt the tension of a long week washing away. Dean Winchester was a lot of things but stupid was not one of them. He heard the faint sound of bedsprings shifting and knew without a doubt that Sam was about three seconds away from finally figuring out why Dean had been so protective of that blasted book.

Dean knew he had no hope of holding Sam at bay forever. It had actually worked better and for longer than he had originally thought but Sam had been getting really antsy lately and if nothing else at least Dean could control how it went down. See the beauty of Sam snooping was that he couldn't ask questions or tease him for being such a sentimental sap without exposing the fact that he had deliberately gone against Deans wishes and invaded his privacy. At least this way they could avoid the uncomfortable chick flick moment.

Sam flicked back to the front of the text. On the inside cover was an inscription, in soft and flowing script.

D, This is the sweetest, sappiest thing I have ever done. I can't believe you suggested it but I'm glad you did. Don't worry tough guy, I won't tell anyone. Well here you go, this is the story that changed how I looked at the world around me and in a twisted way it sort of reminded me of you. So enjoy, Love your Jane.

Sam knew he didn't have time to read all the notes, some of them appeared to be all about the story, what the person thought of an event of a theme, others were like little personal comments about something that had happened in real life that paralleled the story and then there were private messages.

Page 100 said

The way I feel when you smile at me, I don't even have words to describe how you make me feel.

Page 25 said

I've never met someone that challenges me like you do.

Page 230 said

If I could make a wish for you, I would wish that you could see yourself the way I see you.

But the message that really hit Sam was hidden on page 187 between a comment about the writing style and a note on a day that the note writer had spent sitting in a park with the person she had written her notes to. It simply said

I Love You Dean Winchester.

And all at once Sam realized both who the mystery writer must have been and exactly why Dean had worked so hard not to let him read it. Feeling a strange mix of sorrow for his brother and guilt over having read something so private and personal Sam was struck with a growing sense of amazement at the hidden depths of his outwardly womanizing and overly confident brother. Every time he thought he had Dean figured out something came along and changed all the rules.

Dean thought back to the day Cassie had exchanged books with him. They had agreed that they would each get a copy of one of their favorite novels and write each other notes to explain why they thought the book was so wonderful. It had been a sappy idea and Dean would deny it till his dying day but after loosing so many people along the way life got lonely. Every friend he had ever made usually disappeared before long in the rear view mirror and this time, no matter where he went, there would always be a part of him left behind, someone might remember to miss him from time to time. He had foolishly hoped that maybe Cassie would be the one person he wouldn't have to leave, the one person who wouldn't leave him. What a fool!

He had read the book and all her comments in record time, he had even gone through and underlined his favorite quotes so he could sit down and talk to her about it. It was a nice feeling, having something that they could share, and hidden inside, scattered on random pages were messages of deep emotion and deep affection. It had prompted him to be brave, to trust her with his heart and with his best kept secret. Yet another stupid mistake.

Dean held his breath and turned his face up into the warm spray of the shower in an effort to stop his mind traveling back to the look in her eyes and the things she had said that had meant the end of his first and only real reach for an almost 'normal' life of his own. Dean mentally shook himself to clear his head. Even though things hadn't worked out the way he planned that tattered little book was a reminder that someone out there would remember him, someone had cared, even if it was only for a little while. So every now and again he would pull out that little book and read it cover to cover and in his mind he would have a conversation with the woman he pretended he didn't miss and think about the girl he pretended he hadn't loved.