The only sound in the room was coming from the heater attached to the wall. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, and Sam cringed when Dean turned suddenly and kicked it.

"Goddamn! Fuck!" Dean snapped. "I hate that noise!"

"Yeah." Sam mumbled. "Take it out on the defenseless heater, even though the only real problem here is you."

"Shut up, Sammy."

Sam leaned back in his seat and twisted around to face his brother. "I'll tell you anything you want to know about Jessica." He pleaded.

Dean shook his head and sat back down.

"I'll stop making fun of your music."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, right."

"I'll let you put Nair in my shampoo." Sam blurted.

Dean glanced up and started to laugh. "It's no fun if I have permission, asswipe."

Sam smiled back. So that's what it took. Humor. "Asswipe?" He shook his head. "Come on, Dean. I know you can do better than that. What happened to calling everything and everybody a bitch?"

"You're still a bitch." Dean said nonchalantly. "You're just an asswipe, too. Bitchwipe." He blurted, then looked down at the floor. Buffy would have loved that. God, he missed her. He took a deep breath. "Okay, find us something. I gotta piss." He got up and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Sam glanced at the computer. He didn't want to hunt. He wanted to talk. In a way, getting Dean to open up was going to be like going after a demon. It was too bad that this couldn't be solved with silver bullets or holy water.

In the bathroom, Dean leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He just needed a minute. He glanced down at the watch on his wrist. He'd trained himself over the years to push back whatever emotions were going to get in the way, and the harder stuff to deal with took a little longer, but he was a pro. He took another deep breath and eyed his watch. Thirty-three seconds, and then he'd be back to normal. He could use ten to mourn her, if he wanted. But Sam would hear if he cried or spoke. He closed his eyes, counting the time even as his lips moved in silent prayer. "Please God, if you're around, just tell her I miss her or something." His eyes flicked open, and then he shut them again. "Thanks." He mouthed. He could have manners when he wanted to. With fifteen seconds to go, Dean wondered if there really was a higher power out there. Not the powers that his wife had mentioned. Something bigger than that. There was always something bigger. Thinking of that, he wondered what was bigger than God. The line had to stop somewhere, didn't it? Nine seconds left. Dean flushed the toilet he hadn't even needed and scowled. This was Sam's fault for mentioning her. He could have just kept his usual routine of apologizing to the woman that wasn't there anymore, then going on about his day, but Sam knew she had existed once. Damn him.

Sam heard the toilet flush and hurriedly typed 'wendigo', then pressed the enter key to start searching.

Dean walked out of the bathroom and glanced over Sam's shoulder. "Any luck?"

"Figured I'd try one last thing." Sam shrugged. "So far though, there's nothing."

Dean laid down and folded his hands behind his head. "Sorry I yelled at ya, Sammy."

Sam glanced over at his brother. "I guess I deserved it. You were right, I don't really talk about Jessica. It's just.." His cleared his throat. "I really loved her, Dean. I think you would have liked her, too. I should've called you or something so you could get to know her."

Dean frowned and sat up. "I should have told you about Buffy. So I guess we're even."

"What did she look like?" Sam asked. "I never got to see her."

Dean's breath caught in his throat. He leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed his jeans from the floor, then pulled his wallet out of his pocket and flipped it open. Wordlessly, he held a picture out to Sam.

Sam took the small rectangle and looked down at it. His brother and the sister-in-law he'd never met were staring back at him from the photograph, grinning. It looked like it had come from one of those photo booths located in every mall in the country. When he glanced up and handed the picture back to Dean, he was surprised to see his brother blinking furiously with a sad smile on his face. "Dean?"

"Forgot I had it until you asked me." He mumbled. "She made me do it. I hate those things." He laughed a little and stared down at the picture. "Her sister was excited to be back in the country, and she begged Buffy to take her to the mall. Kinda reminded me of you, the way you always used to bug me and Dad." He ducked his head to hide his face from Sam. "I miss her." He muttered. "Every damn day of my life." He paused. "It's not fair, you know? She knew what we did. I didn't have to hide it from her. She loved me back. I know that. I think she's the only woman that ever did." He tucked the picture back into his wallet. "And she's dead now, but she loved me. And you got creepy guys like Neil bringing back women that never gave a shit about them."

Sam stared. "You can't bring her back from the dead."

"No. The fucking demon saw to that. Turned her into a pile of ashes." Dean muttered, glancing up at Sam. "Oh, relax. I'm not stupid, all right? I wouldn't do that." He frowned. "Besides, we already talked about something like that, and she told me not to."

"What?" Sam looked shocked. "Why would that ever come up in conversation?"

"Because." Dean looked his brother in the eye. "She already came back from the dead once and didn't want to do it again."

"You mean, like how you did? With the defibrillators?"

"No, I mean one of her friends resurrected her and fucked it up so she had to dig her way out of her own grave." Dean's jaw clenched. He hadn't met Willow or Xander, but it was for the best. He wanted to shake them. Sure, he'd thank them afterward, because if the witch hadn't brought her friend back, he would have never known Buffy...but the experience still bothered her a couple of years later, and that was unforgivable. He relaxed a little when he saw Sam with an expression similar to his. The kid hadn't even met her, and thought of her as family anyway.