Disclaimer and Notes: See Chapter 1

Epilogue

Waking up was an art Sam had never really brought to perfection. He tended to wake up slowly, cautiously, carefully. One step after the other. Unlike Dean and his father. No "flip the switch and the light is on". At first his thoughts hung behind as if they still weren't awake enough to keep up with his conscience. Their toes still dipped into a dream that was fading like a cloud on a windy day. He remembered Jess and cookies and a fire. And a strange man with yellow eyes.

Dull voices floated around his head like mosquitoes but it seemed too much effort to wave them away. He knew them, the voices. Knew them well enough to feel safe and he let himself fall back into the darkness.

The next time he woke it was either caused by the pain in his chest or by the voice. He wasn't so sure but in his state of mind it was pretty unimportant, anyway. An unpleasant phlegm lay upon him, making his thoughts process slow and lethargic and it took him a while to realize that his eyes were open.

"Look who's gracing us with his presence?"

A face leaned into his line of view, smiling shyly, and for a moment it looked like Jess but it quickly turned into Becky, who was hastily blinking away the tears in her eyes. When Sam lifted his left hand to unconsciously wipe them away she chuckled mildly and held his fingers between her palms.

"You're such an idiot, Sam Winchester," she said lovingly.

"Hey, that's my line." It was the voice that made the last cobwebs in Sam's mind disappear and he struggled to lift his head and look at the person standing in the background, looking casual on the outside but Sam could see deeper. Could read the unnumbered layers of one Dean Winchester who was wrapped more tightly than an onion. The small crest between his eyebrows, the slightly pinched tension in his lips. The worried look in his eyes.

"Don't talk!" Becky ordered when Sam opened his mouth. "The doctor said you inhaled a lot of smoke." Her eyes widened a little and she glanced at Dean, who had come nearer, his hand now on the rail of the bed. "I should go get the doctor."

Dean nodded and waited until she had left the room before pulling up a chair and sitting on it, elbows resting next to Sam's left arm.

"You're such an idiot, Sammy," he said ... and smiled. "What were you thinking?"

Sam licked his lips, wanted to give his voice another try but Dean stopped him.

"What's there not to understand with "Don't talk"! What the hell have they been teaching you in that freaking college?"

He reached for the night stand and presented a small spoon with ice chips for which Sam could have kissed his brother. They tasted like truffles, Sam decided. Of course he had never eaten truffles before but it was the most delicious thing ever. They melted on his tongue so fast he was afraid he was still caught in a fire.

He parted his lips and mouthed one word. Jess.

"Jess? As in Jessica Moore?" Dean asked and when Sam's eyes widened the corner of his mouth twitched. "Your friend, Becky, told me." Uncomfortably, he made a pause before asking. "You knew her?"

Past. As in Simple Past. Scary, how grammar could make his blood pressure go to the roof. The steady beeping of his heart monitor spiked for a few seconds and Dean was gently laying one hand against Sam's lower arm.

Then he shook his head. No, he hadn't known Jessica Moore. Had never met her and still remembered her smile, her sneaky sneakers, the way the light was forming little halos around her head.

Cookies and love and sulphur and death.

No, he hadn't known her and never would. Someone had made sure of that and still she had found a way to tell him something. To look for her, to find her.

Dean seemed to understand even though there was no chance in hell this all fucked up situation was making any sense, neither to him nor to his brother who had magically appeared out of nowhere to rescue his stupid ass. The thought must have been written all over his face because Dean's expression turned serious. Not that it was not serious before. Sam furrowed his brows. What? What is it?

"Nothing. Just get better, okay?"

Sam nodded but he couldn't rest. Not yet, there was something else... Turning his head he looked around the hospital room. It was a double and the other bed was not occupied for the moment even though it looked like someone had slept in it. Probably Dean.

"I found the notes," Dean said conversationally. "You had them in you pocket." Reaching for his back pocket he produced the folded paper, the one with Sam's notes and the news article about the dead footballer. Dean was a hunter, he had always know what he should be looking for.

"I've taken care of him," he added, almost as a side note. "Stubborn son of bitch, that one."

Dean was here and everything seemed to fall into places, everything seemed to get easier, the breathing, the thinking.

His eyelids drooped and he tried to keep them open. Didn't want to stop looking at Dean because if he fell asleep and woke again then maybe Dean would be gone. Maybe this was all just a weird dream. To make sure he turned to the ceiling, expecting to see flames and blond hair and a scared o-shaped mouth that he had never kissed. However, he was greeted by stark white walls, bleached, clean. Just a hospital.

"Sleep, Sammy!" It was an order and Sam followed.

oOoOo

The next time he woke it was easier and less fuzzy, even though his throat still hurt like the mother of all sore throats. Even before he was really awake, Becky told him in a rush "Dean has gone to get changed. He'll be back in an hour, tops" as if she had been instructed to assure him first thing that Dean would be back.

He blinked tiredly and Becky took it as understanding because a little bit calmer now she leaned back into her chair, putting away the book she had obviously been reading until now.

"How are you feeling?" She wanted to know but didn't come closer, hugging herself instead.

Sam just shrugged his shoulder a little, regretting it immediately when his sore chest complained with cramping.

"Stupid question, huh?"

Something was wrong, Sam could hear it in her voice, could read her body language and he stared at her, trying with all his might to ask with his eyes what his tongue could not.

"I'm sorry, Sam," she finally sighed, quietly. "They found her. In the library." She swallowed, as if trying to push down something bulky in her throat. "Steve and she must both have been in the library when the fire... They sometimes met there to... you know." She smiled knowingly. "But... She was long dead when you... found her. Had been there for months and no one had known that she was even there. They just hadn't... searched thoroughly enough, I suppose." Really, she was pretty good with it, sympathizing, delivering bad news that Sam had already known. Had known for a while without realizing it.

He blinked. It's okay.

"No, it's not. Jess is dead." She sounded incredulous and he remembered, she had seen her too, standing in the window, waiting for him to come and get her.

There's so much he wanted to tell Becky, wanted to explain. But even if he had had the voice to do so he doubted the words would have passed his lips. So he remained mute and did not let his sorrow show, face impassive. They looked at each other, all the unsaid things between them like the smoke from the library. When Dean entered half an hour later he brought another kind of urgency with him and Sam had had enough from his secrecy.

"What's going on?" he croaked, using his voice for the first time and fuck, it hurt.

"You are not supposed to talk," his brother mumbled but his heart wasn't in it. Something else was bothering him and in order to not irritate him anymore Sam looked at him pleadingly, which Dean replied with a meaningful glance at Becky, who was watching their exchange with growing agitation.

Sam, pursed his lips, meaning to say Whatever you wanna say you can say it in front of her.

To his surprise, Dean cleared his throat with much fussing. „Okay. Um…dad hasn't been home in a few days... "

"And if your heart should melt away
No matter, I'll find you anyway"

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'A heart to hold you' by Keane