It was difficult adjusting to this new atmosphere, the boys, they seemed to walking on eggshells every time she said something or walked into a room, whenever she started to say something about the hotel, or the fire or anything they would tense up and become uncharacteristically close mouthed. What was particularly difficult was that she couldn't look at a man without remembering the pain, she couldn't have one touch her or flirt with her without her body cringing in fear, it was hard. Jocelyn hated that she couldn't talk to them about her nightmares or help with their hunt, they were afraid, she wanted to be hugged and held at night but found that all they did was wake her up and stay at a safe distance.

"Dean?" she asked.

"Yea?"

"Any leads?"

"Don't worry about it Joce, just relax."

"I don't need to relax anymore today, I've been "relaxing" all week. I want to help."

"We don't need help, but if we do, we'll ask for it."

She felt helpless and useless when he said this, it felt as though she didn't matter to him or to Sam anymore, ever since that night they hadn't been able to look her in the eye or talk to her for longer than a few seconds. She felt like it was her fault, that she had somehow provoked their distance from her, she felt dirty and cold as Dean continued researching on the computer.

"I need something to do."

"Lay down, get some rest."

"I don't need rest anymore."

"We'll…."

"Handle it, I know."

Dean didn't look up as he talked to her, tears welled in her eyes and threatened to spill over onto her cheeks, she turned away and looked at the wall, putting her hand over her mouth so she wouldn't cry. She heard the scrape of a chair sliding over the floor and bootsteps coming closer.

"What's the matter?" worry laced his voice.

"Nothing." She tried to say.

"Jocelyn…" he started.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked him suddenly.

"Wrong?"

"Neither of you will talk to me, you won't look at me while we're talking, you won't even touch me!"

"I don't want to hurt you…" The door opened and Sam came inside, he looked at the two of them.

"Is everything okay? Are you okay, Joce?" he came over then stepped back, realizing how close he was.

"Everything's fine." She said in a steady voice then walked off to the bedroom section of the small hotel.

Sam

He wished he didn't have to do this to her, keep so far away, not touch her, not look at her. It was difficult not to gather her into his arms each night after a nightmare, but he knew he would be making it worse if he touched her, talked to her, she would remember all the horrible things he had done to her. He felt guilty when he looked in her eyes, when he touched her, no matter how brief.

He'd fallen even deeper when he had walked in on the two of them together, guilt and pain were palpable on the air, his breathe came in short and his heart raced. When he looked in the mirror he was pale and his eyes held a strange cast, broken and lost, for some reason he felt like he was drowning.

"They hate you." He said into the mirror.

"I don't hate you." Jocelyn said from the door, he hadn't noticed that she'd opened the door.

"Joce…"

"No. Don't." She looked away.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop it!" She yelled. "Just stop it!"

Her eyes were beseeching as they stared up into his, fresh pain and humiliation crashed through him, he wished he could escape the pain he saw reflected there, wished he could run away or turn back time and make things right.

"I want to make things right." He said gently, slowly.

"I do too."

"I want to forget."

"I can't."

Sam winced, Jocelyn looked away.

"It wasn't you." She said.

"It was."

"You tried to save me."

"It wasn't good enough."

"It was enough."

"You didn't escape."

"It doesn't matter."

His heart tripped, he looked away as she got closer. "Why won't you look at me?"

He didn't look at her and heard her leave the doorway, relief trickled through him. It wasn't fair that she had to face his demons, she had to stare them in the eyes he was terrified of what she'd think, what she'd do.

They were both broken, shattered and somehow, someway, they would find a way to mend the pieces.