Chapter Seven

"It's ok, Dad. I get it. And we won't try to look for you…"

Dean stole a glance at his brother, not surprised at how Sam's face had gone from grief stricken to pissed, from zero to sixty. The shit was about to hit the fan. Immediately sensing the blow up which would soon follow, Dean mouthed "keep quiet, Sam", an action which immediately resulted in a patented Sam Winchester bitch face. Choosing to ignore his brother, the elder Winchester continued:

"…But I think we'd work better as a team."

Dean paused, waiting for his father's reaction, and not at all surprised at the man's response. "We can't, Dean." A statement which, of course, Sam somehow managed to figure out. How the fuck did he even hear that? ESP or some shit? Because, in typical Sam Winchester fashion, the kid lost his cool. "Why not?'

"Jesus, Sammy, can we not do this now?" Dean massaged the back of his neck, hoping to relieve the nervous tension building up in his muscles. And, praise God, Sam stopped talking, though not without staring at his brother in anger, as if channeling his frustration to the man at the other end of the line. He watched as Dean signed off with his usual "yessir" before disconnecting the call, sighing, and shoving the phone in his pocket; waiting for the inevitable. Because even without his being present, his kid brother always seemed eager to pick a fight with his old man.

"I don't get it, Dean. How you just let him walk all over you like that."

"I'm sure he has his reasons."

"Like he had when you were dying? When he ditched out on you at the hospital? Yeah, I'm sure he had his reasons…"

And suddenly, red hot anger welled in Dean, and he found himself grabbing his little brother by the collar of his shirt. "Don't you dare talk about Dad like that," he hissed. "I get it. You didn't want to be a hunter. You wanted to go back to school. And I get that, man. But don't you ever think that man doesn't care."

"Well, he sure has a shitty way of showing it. Even you have to admit to that."

Dean sighed, his grip on his brother relaxing. It was true; though Dean knew how much John Winchester cared for his sons, he also was well aware that his methods of showing that affection were unorthodox to say the least. And there had to have been a reason why he had left him at death's door last summer…

"Look man,that was out of line, I'm sorry…"

Dean blinked, his brother's apology snapping him back to reality. He nodded, a gruff "yeah" escaping from his lips, and he turned and headed back to the Impala, fishing out his keys. Without a word, Sam followed his brother, sliding into the passenger seat; the argument over but nowhere near forgotten.

XXX

The motel was dark, save for the glow from the screen of Sam's laptop. On the bed nearby, Dean was, mercifully, snoring away, the few glasses of the hard stuff helping in putting the older Winchester to sleep. Sam sighed, watching as his brother shifted position before once again settling comfortably beneath the blankets. The empty bed beside Dean looked inviting, despite the terrible conditions of the Rest More Motel (the young hunter had snorted at the irony upon seeing the interior). But there was no time for sleep, and so Sam had sat up with his research, consuming can after can of Red Bull (much to his disgust), until finally, an hour before dawn and with the inevitable crash from the energy drink looming, he closed his eyes…

"Hey, Sam."

The young hunter blinked, certain that he was hallucinating and telling himself to lay off on the Red Bull. Because, standing before him, was Jessica, dressed in the white negligee she had bought especially for him. She smiled at him, slowly making her way toward him.

"I'm dreaming."

"What difference does it make? I'm here, aren't I?" The young woman smiled again, gently brushing a stray lock of damp hair from Sam's forehead. "You really shouldn't drink that stuff. It's terrible for the heart," gesturing to the empty cans beside his laptop. Sam smiled at that. "Yeah, was just thinking that."

"It's not your fault, you know," Jess continued, and immediately Sam felt his heart sink. He knew exactly what she was talking about. And it was his fault. If he'd only gotten there sooner, if only the cabin had been properly warded…

"Sam, enough with the pity party. You feel bad. I get it. I was the one who let her in. Who broke the salt line after you left."

"I was supposed to protect you."

Jess softened, seeing the brightness in Sam's eyes, the soft biting of his lower lip as he tried to control his tears. "Oh, baby," she murmured, and she kissed him, soft lips brushing against his. Sam felt his heart skip a beat as Jess, his Jessica, pulled him close, running her fingers through his mop of dark hair. This can't be real. I'm dreaming. And then, as if reading his thoughts, Jess pulled away gently and smiled. "Well, if you're dreaming, at least it's a good dream."

Sam nodded, allowing his beautiful Jess to lead him to his bed, to gently unsnap the buttons of his shirt; he sighed in pleasure as she nibbled at his ear, kissed his neck, massaged his chest. For several minutes they made love, indulging in the warmth of her body against his, the brush of her long, blonde hair upon his shoulders. And when it was over, he cried softly, Jessica brushing away the tears as she lay beside her.

"Your dad knows what's best, you know."

Sam sighed, the tender moment temporarily forgotten. "How do you know that, Jess? You were there when Dean was…" he closed his eyes, the memory of his brother on his deathbed still too fresh in his mind. "You saw how far gone he was."

"And also how he suddenly got better, no questions asked. Sort of suspicious, huh? And it was right about then when your father left."

"What are you saying?"

Jessica sighed. "For a man with a free ride to Stanford Law, sometimes you surprise me." Sam looked at her, saw the sprig of yarrow flower in her hand. "Is that…"

And suddenly, she was gone, the only trace of her being the golden flower lying beside him on the mattress.

XXX

Sam's eyes snapped open, bombarded by the brightness suddenly filling the room. A quick glance around him told Sam that he had fallen asleep at his laptop, and the stiffness in his neck was enough evidence to confirm. So that meant… Sam sighed, the tender moments with Jessica already slipping away like beads falling off a pearl necklace. He had always known it would be a dream, and immediately the beauty of the moment was already being overshadowed with yet another sense of loss. Was this what was in store for him?

Sam sighed, got up and stretched his stiff muscles. The room was empty and the Impala gone, Dean having no doubt gone off for a breakfast run. Rubbing his tired eyes, he rebooted his laptop, about to continue his research on the demon, when suddenly images of the yarrow on the bed flooded his brain. Without a word, he pulled up the search engine, frustrated at the mundane articles on gardening popping up on screen. There has to be some significance. And then, Sam remembered what Jess had said before vanishing, of how Dean had miraculously recovered just before John Winchester's disappearing act. Was it possible?

Ten minutes later, Dean returned to the motel, two steaming cups of coffee and a box of donuts in his hand. Looking up at him, Sam sighed. He knew that what he was about to say would hurt his brother worse than the disease which had been slowly draining the life from him last summer, but he had to tell him the truth.

"Dean? I think I know why Dad left."