Sam's dorm room looked as if a tornado had swept through it. His roommate, a total OCD freak, would go insane when he got back from his afternoon class, but Sam had a valid reason: he couldn't find his book for class.

He'd created the worst habit of leaving his books in the oddest of places since he'd started "hiding" his books for Dean to read. He must have left his Great American Poets book somewhere, because he couldn't find it anywhere. If he'd left it somewhere else, it had his name and address in it, but he was fairly certain that he hadn't brought it anywhere but his dorm and his Literature class. However, now, with the whole room torn apart and everything is a disarray, he still couldn't spot it.

He was just about to fall into a panicked frenzy when he heard a firm knock on the thick dorm door. Sighing and running a frantic hand through his ever-growing hair, Sam opened the door to reveal a girl standing there. Her stature was small, at least compared to him, and her blond hair fell in waves over her petite frame. To put it bluntly, Sam thought that she was beautiful.

"Um, are you Sam Winchester?" she asked, voice firm yet timid at the same time.

"Yeah, that's me," Sam affirmed, sending her a short-clipped smile. While he was glad to have a pretty, female visitor, now was definitely not the time. However, he remained courteous. "And you are…?"

"Oh, Jessica Moore." She held out a thin hand and Sam took it in his, shaking it. She held out a book that had been tucked underneath her elbow. Sam's eyes widened when he saw that it was his Literature book. "I was in the library this morning and I saw it underneath on of the computers' keyboards… It had your address on it, so I decided to bring it back for you." She smiled at him warmly. "I'm in your Lit class, I know how much Mr. Jacobs can be a hard-nose. Though I don't quite understand how it got left under a keyboard in the library…?"

Her gray eyes were joking, so Sam allowed himself to chuckle. "Yeah, I guess I can be a little forgetful at times," he said. "Thanks, Jessica."

Jessica smiled again, this time showing her perfect, pearly-white teeth. "You can call me Jess, most of my friends do," she offered, and Sam nodded, appreciating Jess's forwardness. He'd only known her for minutes, and she already seemed like a personality he'd like to get to know better.

"Well then thank you, Jess." Sam self-consciously smoothed down his hair, which was surely in a disarray, as he realized she was scrutinizing him as he had earlier. Hopefully she was drawing some good conclusions. The last thing Sam wanted was to drive away someone nice because he was a freak. The good thing about Stanford, however, was that no one knew he was a freak yet. "Do you want to… I mean, you don't have to… I was just wondering if you'd like to—"

"Walk to class together?" Jess's eyes brightened, if that was even possible, and she giggled. "Of course. No way I'm walking into Mr. Jacobs' class late."

Sam nodded, checking his watch and realizing that they'd be at least ten minutes late at this point. "Neither am I."

Two months later, Sam and Jessica were dating.

Sixteen months later, they'd moved into an apartment together.

Sam had found a part-time job down at the campus coffee shop, and Jess was enrolled in a paid internship at the hospital about five miles down the road to assist her nursing degree. Between the two of them, they made enough to get by.

Life with Jess was a dream come true for Sam. He'd dreamed of a normal life since he'd found out about hunting, and now he had it. Both he and Jess cooked, they studied until ungodly hours together, and at the end of the day, they curled up together in bed. It was like a fantasy, and Sam relished in every moment of it. He loved Jessica so much, to the point where it was almost painful. He couldn't imagine losing her, which was why he kept his previous life hidden from her. She didn't need to know about all the crap that Sam had done. Currently, all she knew was that his mom had died when he was a baby and that he'd grown up on the road. Any details about his dad or Dean were never voiced, and Jessica never felt the need to ask. He'd met her family at Christmas last year, and he'd been so happy to spend time with his girlfriend's family. They were so normal. They oozed normalcy, and Sam drank it up. The only aspect of his past life that he'd kept was laying down salt lines at the windows and doors. Jess had questioned it at first, but now she didn't seem to mind. You could never be too safe.

Sam was reading a textbook at ten pm while Jess was taking a shower when she suddenly hollered, "Sam! Why is there a book behind my conditioner?!"

Sam's cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he tried to recall which book he'd stuck back there.

"And why is it Harry Potter?!"

Sam groaned, face palming. He'd only been casually reading the book, since it was a raving series right now. "Sorry, Jess!" he called back.

"It got a little wet, learn to take better care of your books!"

Sam chuckled dryly, though inside his heart hurt; he remembered how Dean used to say that exact thing to him.

To say that Dean was depressed didn't even scratch the surface of it. Life with the utter feeling of abandonment and betrayal clawing at his soul made him want to die. Whenever he thought about Sam, it hit him like a dagger wound. The fact that Sam had simply walked out without so much as a goodbye or even a glance in Dean's direction hurt more than anything. Hurt more than his first breakup, hurt more than that werewolf that had almost clawed his guts out a few days ago.

Dad had been absolutely pissed after the hunt, saying that Dean's actions had been suicidal. Dean saw it more as wanting to die in a noble way. Every day spent without his brother was like hell on earth. Sure, he loved his dad, but sometimes Sam was the only one who kept him fighting. Now, without a brother to keep the darkness out of his mind, he was kind of sorry that the werewolf hadn't killed him.

The only other thing that he'd loved in life, reading, had disappeared along with Sam. They had fallen into a steady schedule over the years of Sam losing his books and Dean reading them. He secretly admired reading, but never found the chance to do it unless he and Sam's method worked. No one was allowed to see Dean read, except for Baby. Most nights after Sam fell asleep, he'd go out and sit in the car, reading by moonlight. He enjoyed analyzing the texts that he read, and never hesitated to make lightly-penciled notes. He had never been the best reader, not by a long shot, so marking things while reading always helped him understand the books.

However now, laying in bed with black stitches strewn across his stomach, Dean couldn't help but think about how he'd kill for a good book. He could probably find some lore book in Dad's duffel, but there was no way he could get up right now. His mind was hazy with pain medicine, though his stomach still hurt like hell.

Also, he didn't think he could take the psychological torture that came with reading; it reminded him too much of Sam.

Months passed, and slowly Dean found himself crawling out of his hole. He started talking a bit more, even though he really didn't want to, because what was the point of talking when there was no Sam? However, Dad kept pushing him to get past the whole "Stanford" thing, so he did. He hid the pain into the deepest crevices of his mind and shielded all emotions with a cocky grin.

It wasn't until he found a book underneath his pillow at some motel in Nebraska that his mask cracked. It reminded him of Sam, always sticking his books in the oddest of places. It was The Catcher in the Rye, a classic that Dean had read on a few accounts before and enjoyed. So, shoving aside any pain that he felt, he read it.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! (it was fun writing Jess)

I'd love to hear what you thought about it!