Disclaimer: I do not own "Supernatural" or any of its characters.

Author's Note: And so it happens.

"You can go home now."

Jess blinked, startled to her core, looking up at Sam with what she knew must be sheer incomprehension.

The words were nonsensical. Not that much had made sense in the last thirty minutes.

They were standing just outside Dean's room – Dean's regular room. Dean was awake, Dean was alive, Dean was fine.

His father, Sam's father, was not.

The man who had promised her that everything would be fine was dead.

And Sam was looking at her with dark, impassive eyes, telling her to go home.

She had still been in Dean's room when Sam had returned from his last errand clutching a brown paper bag to his chest. By that point Jess had given up on reading, on talking, on trying not to cry.

She had just been sitting there, occasionally brushing her fingers over his hand; wiping at her face with her other hand while making bargains with God about all the things she'd give up and start doing if He would just save Dean.

"Hey," Sam said, seeming surprised to see her.

Jess looked up, quickly wiping at her face again. "Hey yourself. Glad you're back."

He nodded, but his eyes were already on Dean. "Any change?"

She shook her head. "No. Just . . . quiet."

He nodded again, still looking at his brother. She could feel Sam's longing, his need for Dean to be okay, and Jess offered up another quick prayer for God to take notice, to understand that these brothers were two halves of a whole and that was rare enough that it should be saved, preserved.

Sam looked at her suddenly and her prayer faltered.

"Do me a favor?" he asked.

She nodded, not needing to voice the anything her eyes were saying.

"Would you get a motel room somewhere? I just, I don't want to have to figure it out and you – we should . . . there should be somewhere for you- us, to go tonight."

She ignored the stumbling words. It was no surprise that Sam had no plans to leave here tonight. And she really had no plans to leave Sam.

"We don't need to -"

"Please, Jess," he interrupted. "Go do this for me."

The key word being 'go' of course. She threw one more glance at Dean and then stood. "Yeah, okay."

Sam swallowed, nodding. He was still standing by the door, still clutching that bag like it held the answer to all their problems.

Jess wasn't going to ask what was in it. She just hoped it somehow did.

"Thanks," he offered a moment later when she approached him.

She nodded and he moved aside, so she could leave the room. She heard him shut the door firmly behind her.

She'd come back to the hospital less than two hours later and everything had changed.

She'd spoken to the doctors involved trying to get a clearer understanding beyond Sam's Dad's dead, Dean's okay, but apparently there was no clearer understanding to be had. It had happened abruptly and for no medical reason that either man's doctor could determine.

Sam was still looking at her, but she got the feeling it wasn't because he was waiting for a response. She got the feeling he wasn't seeing her at all anymore; like Dean, who was awake, but not there.

Dean who had looked straight through her a moment ago when she'd gone in to see him, not that she'd had a chance to say anything to him. She'd barely walked into the room before Sam had come to stand between her and the bed, blocking her view of Dean and muttering a low, Let's talk.

And now this.

"What?" Jess finally asked, needing him to say it again, even though she knew he wasn't going to change a word of it.

Sam blinked very slowly, as if pulling himself out of a deep daydream. "You can go now," he repeated, as she'd known he would. Then he added, "Back to Palo Alto. You can go."

She swallowed and made a conscious effort to not take this personally at all; because yes, she was his wife, but his father had just died.

"I want to be here, Sam," she told him gently. "To help with – with whatever needs to be done. I want to be here with you -"

"I want you to leave."

The soft words cut her off and Jess snapped her mouth shut, clenching her jaw against taking that personally, ignoring the sting behind her eyes.

"Sam, you -"

"You can't help," he hissed, the first edge of emotion she'd seen since getting to the hospital. He was so stoic, so severe; Dean too. Nothing like she would be if her father were gone. "It's just me and Dean. Just us."

She wanted to argue that, to protest it, to tell him that she was here and wouldn't leave – but she didn't.

She didn't because he wanted her to leave. She didn't because she had known the Winchester brothers for long enough now to realize, that in a way she could never hope to understand – it really was just the two of them.

"Okay," she whispered instead, but the tears pooled in her eyes anyway. She was careful not to blink so they wouldn't spill in front of him.

He saw them though and wavered, a hand coming up to frame one side of her face, his thumb touching an errant tear. "Thank you."

She nodded, stepping back, out of his hold. "How long – where will you -" She couldn't finish the questions, suddenly irrationally afraid of the answers.

"We're staying with a friend of – he's a friend of -" Sam stumbled over the words, pain flickering over his face, before finishing with a quiet, "Ours. Friend of ours."

Jess nodded again. "I can stay until they release Dean -"

"No, you don't have to do that," he interrupted. "You can leave today." Sam didn't say now again, but she heard it loud and clear.

She swallowed hard. "Yeah, okay . . ." Her gaze flickered to the doorway of Dean's room.

"I'll tell Dean you said goodbye."

It was too much; that she couldn't even say goodbye after – after liver contusions and cerebral edemas and if he wakes up. The sob slipped out and even without looking she felt him flinch.

"Jess." The word was ragged, slipping out through clenched teeth and when she looked up, he was stepping back away from her, disengaging; as if just being near her was unacceptable right now.

She shook her head. "I just -"

He cut her off. "I can't -"

She released a rushed breath, not needing to hear anything more, turning away from him, from the doorway, swallowing back the lump of unfair that was stuck in her throat. She had to understand – certain people locked down under grief, Sam would be like that. Dean too – they couldn't deal with her. She understood that.

"Okay," she murmured, knowing that he could hear her. "Just… call, okay?"

A pause, then a quiet, "Yeah."

She didn't look back, didn't want him to see how much she was crying; because it wasn't all about this moment, it was everything; it was this day and how it always hurt the same no matter how many times she slammed into the Winchester Wall. It was the missed opportunities with a man who had surprised her with his warmth. It was a profound well of relief too huge to process, surrounded by a sea of burning shame for being so thankful that Dean was okay to the exclusion of all else.

It was just everything – and suddenly, going home didn't seem like such a bad idea.

Jess walked away.

Author's Note #2: I'll be away until the end July, so next chapter will be a bit long in coming-- but allow me to entice you with the promise of some Bobby PoV! and at looong last brother moments! (I miss Dean :P) and angst! A boatload of it. ;)

Huge thanks to everyone who reviewed and commented! I appreciate your feedback so very much! :D I also really appreciate the offers I've gotten for tape! Heh. I'm afraid it won't do any good with where I'm taking them in this story. ;)

And massive thanks to Lembas7, whose lovely beta'ing skills have been bestowed upon my stories for a year now! Thanks, hun! Any remaining errors are all mine.