Song for this chapter: Goes Without Saying by Trent Dabbs. (For all the angsty feels)

"You." It gave neither an indication of happiness or anger, it simply was. But given the situation it wouldn't have been a shock for it to be the latter. Dean felt he deserved as much.

Bordering on cliche, he was ready to take a punch to the face or the gut as the beginning of his penance. Already he clenched his fist in anticipation for the pain, mangling one of the flowers still stuck in his hand from when he jerked into a standing position facing the stranger. But the tall man made no move to come closer. He just stood there with his face awash with grief, his body folding into itself. The epitome of brokenness.

Dean wanted to tell him how sorry he was but the right words kept escaping him. And it seemed fairly obvious. Were there any words that wouldn't hurt the guy more than what Dean had already done? Cause he certainly didn't have them anywhere in his vocabulary. Each phrase that seemed appropriate in his mind refused to roll off his tongue, before he managed to slip one of the stupidest lines he had ever thought out into the air.

"Look..." Dean began. "I...well I tried that night."

"I know. I saw you rush in." He seemed to open up a bit with that, but it was gone a millisecond later. "...and I saw you come out."

The man pulled his jacket tighter around him as the winds picked up, bringing even chillier air to whip around them. Any candle situated around the tombstone that had still been lit promptly went out at this point. But the cold air seemed to waken the man from the zombie-like air that hung around him, bringing clarity to the words he was obviously mulling over in his mind.

"My name's Sam." He said stronger than any of the other short lines he had said previously. "Is it your first time coming here?"

"Uh yeah it is. I saw a flier mentioning that it was here...I've been holed up in a hospital, otherwise I would have come sooner." Dean started to awkwardly thrust the lone flower, still glued to his hand, towards Sam reflexively before he thought better of it. But the movement grabbed Sam's attention.

"Purple hyacinths." He gave a small mournful smile. "I put some myself a few weeks back. The people at the flower shop said that they were an 'askance for forgiveness'."

Dean had to force himself to not gape at the man in shock. Shame crept up into his mind that he had made this man feel responsible for his girlfriend's death. It was his own fault that he wasn't fast enough to save her, Sam had done everything he could have possibly done.

"You shouldn't have done that," Dean's voice was low. If he didn't have as much control over his emotions and facial expressions, his face would have burned red and tears would have fallen freely. Hell he would be done on the ground bawling for forgiveness.

It suddenly occurred to him that he should have indeed gotten a bouquet of the purple hyacinths for Sam. Because while he felt the need to for forgiveness from the now forever gone Jessica, it seemed even more important to get that from the person more greatly affected by his mistakes in this life. Jessica was gone, at peace even if you were into that sort of thing. But Sam was still stuck here, left to deal with all the pain left behind.

"It wasn't you who failed her." Dean's voice growing louder with each increasing word. "It was my job. But I hesitated...I fucking hesitated for a second and that was enough time for it to not even matter that I had found her in the first place. Hell it would have been better that way. Just so I wouldn't have to deal with this goddamn guilt."

His chest heaving, he began again much softer. "So please don't blame yourself. Hate me. I deserve it. It was my fault."

"You didn't know what I know. I didn't...fu-" Sam closed his eyes, as if trying to wish away a bad dream, crouching down and circling himself with his long arms as he did that. Through clenched teeth he continued. "I didn't do all that I could. I ran...I just...damn...I'm the biggest coward. I didn't do my job to protect her. She didn't need me, god she was so independent. But the one time she did...I failed."

"Wait, what? You called the fire station. Don't beat yourself up cause you weren't trained to handle...those...kinds of situations. As a civilian, you did the best you could do by calling us. That's why we are here."

"I didn't call them." The sentence seemed to wobble in the air, almost being carried away by the wind since it was so soft. "I ran outside and I just sat there. Watching it burn."

"What? But I thought the fire originated in your apartment." Dean blurt out.

Sam finally looked back up. "It did. At least that's what they told me after. We didn't even have a candle in the room. She didn't like them on a regular basis…" He smiled at some distant memory in his mind before his mind focused once more.

"I woke up and she was there. Up there...on the ceiling. And I ran before I even had the time to process what was happening. Before I could realize she wasn't going to be running behind me. I was just so terrified. Someone passing by saw the fire and called it in. By the time you guys got there I had realized what I had done. And I tried to run back in but it was too much. Too much smoke. Too much heat. Too much guilt. It was suffocating." He took a deep breath. "So yes it was my fault she died. I was right there! Before you even got on the road probably! I had a chance and I blew it!"

"Wait...the ceiling?" Dean's mind flashed back to that night, ignoring the obviously upset Sam who was stubborning glaring at him. Challenging him to question his guilt in Jessica's death. "You saw that too...but...that's not...You sure you saw her on the ceiling?"

Sam huffed. "I know it doesn't make sense. But she was on the ceiling, believe me. It was terrible having to explain how her blood got on me in such a way like ice dripping down. I was practically accused of setting the fire myself to hide the fact I supposedly killed her."

Dean ignored the second half for the most part, concentrating on the confirmation of something not possible. "B-but that isn't possible. Possibly hallucinations...I was in the smoke long enough...but my mask was on securely and they didn't treat me for smoke inhalation in the hospital. Now I know I wasn't the sharpest tool in the toolbox but even I know 'bout gravity…"

Now as the last half processed in his mind and Dean looked back at Sam as he tried to imagine this giant pinning Jessica's body to the ceiling. Probably using hooks or some other sort of invisible wires that he just couldn't make out at the time. But if there had been any of those, they had burned away in the fire leaving no trace behind. Maybe even the explosion had been set off by something other than the relative unpredictability of fires, however since there hadn't been anything in the news about any sort of investigation into the fire the odds of any explosives being found was low. Obviously though, Sam was smart since he was going to Stanford. He probably had had some course about how murderers potentially got away with their crimes.

So he definitely had some potential to be some grade-A psychopath that could have orchestrated his own girlfriend's death. Cause how well did he actually know this guy? He had sent him inside to look for his girlfriend and that was about it. Everyone has motives behind the actions they do. And even smiles, or frowns and tears in this case, could hide the real emotions that someone is experiencing behind their mask.

Dean looked at this situation in an entirely new light. Something had never sit quite right about the whole thing. And even while lying in the hospital thinking about Jessica, he had never gotten past the odd circumstances into finding a more plausible situation. He had focused on the guilt and had been burying himself in it. And he would always carry that guilt, he had indeed been given the chance to save her. But maybe he could find out the truth for himself and possibly try to save himself for once.

A tiny part of him hoped he could take her off the list of people he didn't save. Not to downplay that he didn't save her but to focus on the fact that he had tried, for once. And if he went crazy over thinking this, then he would have to add his own name to the list. Which suited him quite nicely. Since if he had to honest, he had lost himself a long time ago and those people he saved were to atone for Sammy and his mom but the underlying current was the hope to save himself from the all consuming grief he had. Because if he opened the list to showcase even the living people he had failed, it would grow exponentially. With both his dad and him on the top of it, since they were both still living with his mistakes.

But finally his mind shifted back to the current situation, this man still 'hating' himself in front of him. He had stood back up while Dean had been lost in his thoughts and Dean finally took real notice over how much taller Sam was. This was dangerous. He was a stranger and now the focus of Dean's scrutiny. If he gave any indication of suspecting Sam, then it could destroy his investigation before it even began. And that was the last thing he needed in his life. It was time to play it cool, which would be mildly amusing to anyone privy to the knowledge that a suspicious fire had been the root behind their accidental meeting.

"So...you come here often?" Dean mentally slapped himself for the stupidly obvious question. Subtle questioning had never been his strong point and this was the worst line that sounded like a cheap pickup line.

Sam gave him an odd look but nodded. "I try to make it out here as often as I can. Putting water for the flowers that people have left behind and such. I know they do that for you here, but I...I need something to do."

"Ahh that's cool." He attempted to smile. "It's a nice gesture. I think anyway."

"Yeah." Sam took a glance at the tombstone blocked by Dean. "It looks like they beat me to it this week though. Are you going to stay much longer?"

"I'm sorry. I can't." He gave a more sincere, yet still awkward chuckle. "I have some friends I need to meet soon. And the wind is really starting to pick up. So...uh...yeah I'll leave you in peace."

Dean nodded his head goodbye and turned to walk away. But Sam called after him once more, making him look back over his shoulder. "Thank you for coming. I know you tried."

"Not good enough apparently though," Dean muttered under his breath as he kept walking to his car.

Once there he hurried into the sleek black car he loved. Gritting his teeth, he then took the key and tried to stick it into the ignition but his partly numb hands weren't helping the matter. Eventually though the key got placed into the right position and slid right in and his cold hands seeked out the heater. Blowing into his hands in an effort to speed up the process, he began to outline his plan of attack for finding out the truth about Sam and this entire mysterious one being researching at Stanford.

Interviewing people who knew him and his teachers would be difficult, but he knew he would somehow manage. So he didn't stress about it too much as he walked up to the intimidating building that held the teacher that started off Sam's day, Cas Novak.

But the moment he finally saw the door labeled 'Humanities', he found his courage somewhat lacking. And that might have had something to do with the fact the light in the classroom was out. However as he got closer someone else seemed to be heading in the same direction and they met at the door. The man looked at Dean with a quizzical look in his blue eyes as he pulled his trenchcoat off under the eave of the building, keys emerging in his hand as he took a step closer to the door.

"You're here for…?"

A/N: Ecra here again. And for once a chapter within the one month deadline. Sorry for the lack of editing. Life is busy and I wanted to get this out to you guys as soon as possible. So most likely an edited version will be uploaded later. For more info regarding when the next chapter will be posted, check our profile. I'll try to keep that up to date. Otherwise hope you enjoyed the chapter and review to encourage my friend to ditch her other work.