Author's Note: Happy Easter! I've been on such a Supernatural kick recently and I couldn't help but write this. This is set in the early season 1, probably around the episode "Bloody Mary". I'm new to Supernatural and as such this is my first time writing as Sam and Dean. I've tried to make them see as real as possible, but let me know if they seem completely out of character. Please enjoy!

"Did I ever tell you how I met her?" Sam questioned his brother as Dean handed him his third beer.

"Who?" Dean asked, his curiosity piqued and he suddenly felt grateful that his brother was such a lightweight. Something had been bothering Sam and all week Dean had tried unsuccessfully to get Sam to open up to him and have one of Sam's signature "chick-flick" moments. The nightmares that Sam had been having were taking so much out of him and though Dean would never admit it, he was honestly worried about Sam. He barely slept, barely ate, and on his really bad days, Sam seemed to shut down completely.

He knew it had to do with Jessica and how Sam still blamed himself for her death, but he could never get Sam to open up about it. At first, Dean had understood and had let the subject drop. Losing someone that important had to be painful and Dean had hoped that the old adage "time heals all wounds" would prove true in Sam's case.

The problem, though, was that it hadn't and each day, Sam seemed to become continually worse.

So, Dean had resorted to other methods—tonight, he had decided to get his brother tipsy in the hopes that his brother's low tolerance for alcohol would get him to open up. Not the best plan, but Dean was running low on options.

"Jessica," Sam replied, taking a swig from the beer. "It's a really funny story."

"No, you hadn't," Dean answered, waiting for Sam to begin. This was the first time he had said her name in weeks. It must be a good sign. "Tell me."

Wearing a smile for the first time in what seemed like forever, Sam launched into his story.

"You have got to be kidding me," Sam mumbled as he faced his roommate, Jonathan. "You set me up on a blind date?"

"Hell yeah I did!" Jonathan told Sam triumphantly. "Hey, you said you wanted to meet some nice girls—"

"But not like this!" Sam protested weakly. "I'm horrible at dates and I'm worse at blind dates. You've got to cancel this whole thing."

"And leave Jessica hanging?" Jonathan chuckled dryly. "Sorry dude, but you're going."

Sam sighed. This wasn't going to be a good night.

He had arrived at the bar at 7:45, 15 minutes in advance of his 8 o'clock date. Nervously, Sam pulled at his collar and ran a hand through his hair. He really hated blind dates for the simple reason that he always seemed to mess up when he was on one. The one time Dean had played matchmaker Sam had ended up spilling a drink all over her white dress and then accidentally hitting her with the Impala's car door. Needless to say, the girl hadn't wanted to ever see him again.

So, who was to say this Jessica girl was any different?

Sam silently cursed Jonathan as he maneuvered himself over to an empty table. Bracing himself for the worst possible outcome, Sam waited for his mystery date to show. He wondered who she was. Apart from her name, Jonathan hadn't divulged any other details about Jessica.

"Sam?" A tentative voice asked as Sam spun around and bumped into a gorgeous blonde.

"Sorry!" Sam exclaimed as he helped steady the girl who winced slightly in pain. "Are you alright?"

"I take it that you're Sam Winchester then," The young woman said with a slight grin as she rubbed her arm where Sam had collided into it. "Hi. I'm Jessica." She held her hand out and Sam was too shocked for a moment to do anything. This beautiful blonde woman was Jessica? Sam blinked a few times, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him. He hadn't expected such a pretty girl to be on a blind date. Girls like her usually had boys lining up at her door begging for dates.

"Um . . ." Sam muttered and Jessica tilted her head to the side, an amused grin breaking out on her face.

"A man of few words, huh?" She teased as she took a seat across from him. Sam—partially still in shock—fumbled for his chair and finally sat down. He met Jessica's gaze and instantly felt something pass through him—almost like a shock.

"Yeah." He answered, trying to regain somewhat of his focus. He had already made one mistake—crashing into Jessica—and he wasn't going to make anymore. "Sorry, it's just I didn't expect someone like you to be on a blind date." She chucked softly and Sam thought it sounded like the most beautiful sound in the world.

"Well, Jonathan told me you were good looking," She began as she smiled coyly at him. "But, I never expected that he was telling the truth." Sam suddenly beamed and he felt confidence surge within him.

"What did else did he tell you?"

"That you were a klutz when it came to dates." Sam frowned suddenly and wondered whether Jessica thought that a cute aspect or something just awful.

"Yeah . . . well . . ." Sam's voice trailed off into uncertainty and before he had time to recover, a young waitress came up to the couple and Jessica ordered herself a drink.

"So, Sam," Jessica began, taking a sip from her bottle of beer—a choice that Dean would've approved of if he and Sam were still talking—and then meeting his gaze. "What are you studying?"

"Law," Sam replied automatically. "I'd like to become a lawyer soon. You?"

"English," Jessica answered breezily. "Not sure what I'm going to do with that though."

There was an awkward pause. Sam wondered what he should say to her. He was always bad at first dates. He never knew what to talk about or how to act. And with how much he liked Jessica already, he certainly didn't want to blow it.

"Jessica . . . look, I'm not good at this whole first date thing." Honesty was the best policy, right?

"Could've fooled me." Jessica teased and Sam felt more light-hearted. Maybe this wasn't going as badly as he thought. Feeling more confident, Sam began to talk about his classes and Jessica listened eagerly and intently. It was just when he reached the climax of his story about how his lab partner had almost burned down the whole school, that it happened. Sam swung his arm across the table and hit the bottle of beer and the liquid spilled all over her. Horrified, Sam jumped up to helped only to trip and push her out of her chair with his momentum. The two of them sprawled on the floor and Sam suddenly feared the worst.

He had blown it. Jessica would never want to see him again. He would lose a girl that he really liked due to his clumsiness. And then, something strange happened.

Jessica laughed.

She sat up on the floor and began to laugh riotously. Sam stared at her for a few seconds before he suddenly felt compelled to laugh too. The two of them laughed for a minute before Sam finally regained his senses and helped Jessica up.

"Are you alright? I'm so sorry!" He brushed off some of the dirt that she had obtained from falling on the floor.

"It's nothing that the wash can't fix," Jessica assured him. "Is this a hobby of yours? Crashing into girls?" There was a hint of a playful challenge in her voice and Sam couldn't help but grin.

"I try my best to prevent it," He played along. "But you know how hard it is to get rid of a habit."

"That I do," She answered and then she crossed away from the table. "It's getting pretty late." Sam glanced at the clock, suddenly realizing that he had been here with her for almost three hours. He hadn't even realized it—the time had just flown by.

"Oh, yeah, okay." Sam mumbled before Jessica suddenly closed the gap between them and lightly kissed his lips. Stunned, Sam froze.

"Here's my number," Jessica explained, handing his a notecard. "Give me a call sometime." It took Sam nearly 20 seconds for him to snap out of the shock. When he finally did, he felt his mouth fall open in surprise.

"You mean you'd still like to see me? After all this?" Sam couldn't hold back the surprise that colored his tone.

"You're interesting, Sam," She said, her way of explaining. "I'll see you around." With a wink and a smile, she vanished outside. A grin broke out on Sam's face and he couldn't help but feel excited and eager.

He was the luckiest guy alive.

"So, you spilled beer on her and she still wanted a second date?" Dean asked, a bit incredulous.

"Yeah," Sam told him proudly and Dean grinned. It seemed that his brother was finally in better spirits. "She is—" Sam stiffened suddenly and his eyes glazed over. Instantly, the smile that Dean wore faded away. Sam gripped the bottle, his knuckles turning white from holding on so tight. "She's . . . dead now."

"Sam—" Dean began to interrupt, knowing full well where this train of thought was going.

"She died because of me." Sam's voice broke and Dean could see him valiantly fighting back tears.

"That's not true—" Dean assured him as he placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. Sam knocked it away and stood up, swaying slightly from the effects of the alcohol.

"I should've died!" Sam shouted. "Jess had nothing to do with this!" A few tears escaped from Sam's eyes and Dean wondered what he could say to get his little brother to calm down. "All I've ever done is get people killed, Dean."

"Sammy, stop." Dean ordered softly as he took a step towards Sam and took the glass beer bottle out of his hand.

"Mom died because of me," Sam rambled, tears now freely flowing. "And now Jess died for me too. Why, Dean? Why do people keep dying because of me?"

"Sam, you're drunk, okay?" Dean tried to reason with him. "I think you need to—" In a flash, Sam brushed past him and headed towards the door. "Sam!"

"Dean, just . . ." Sam froze at the door, his hand on the doorknob. "I should just go away. I don't deserve this—that demon should just kill me. I should be dead! I should be—"

Dean socked him across the face. Sam fell to the floor and gingerly touched his nose, which was bleeding slightly. Anger filled Sam's eyes for a second, but then disappeared as he saw his brother's eyes—a mix of fear, concern, and sheer frustration.

"Enough of your bitching, okay?" Dean hissed as he helped his brother up. "Don't say that you don't deserve to live. Sammy, you have every right to be alive."

"But Jess and Mom—" Dean let a tired smile grace his lips.

"Would want you alive," Dean emphasized. "Listen, I'm not saying that the pain or the guilt will go away instantly. I just . . ." He chuckled dryly, not very good at these heart-to-heart moments that Sam was so famous for.

"Just what?" Sam questioned.

"You need to talk about it—about Jessica's death."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore." Sam informed him and he walked towards the table. Dean grabbed his shoulder and spun his brother around.

"Well, you need to talk about it," Dean told him. "Because it's killing you inside. You barely sleep, you won't eat and hell, you won't even talk to me about it. And I'm scared, Sam."

"Scared?" Sam echoed. Dean shifted his weight uncomfortably. He had never been good with talking about emotions—that was more of Sam's forte.

"Yeah," Dean answered truthfully. "It's like you're slipping away right in front of me and I can't pull you back."

"I'm sorry," Sam replied automatically. "Dean, I didn't know that you—"

"Yeah, well, now you do," Dean muttered. "Look, Sam, I can't even imagine what you're going through. I just want you to keep fighting, okay? And if you need to have one of your chick-flick moments, then I'm here for you." Despite the teasing undercurrent in Dean's voice, Sam could tell how serious he was. The youngest Winchester smiled softly and nodded my head.

"Yeah, of course, Dean," Sam assured his brother. "Thanks."

"Anytime." Dean said with a shrug. Sam then swayed a bit and Dean instantly steadied him.

"I think I'm drunk." Sam muttered, his words beginning to slur and Dean chuckled dryly. He had wondered when the full effects of Sam's three beers would take affect.

"Yeah," Dean affirmed as he maneuvered his brother to the bed. Gently, he lowered Sam to the bed and his brother tiredly grinned up at him. "Get some rest, princess." Dean began to walk away when Sam's hand shot out and gripped Dean's jacket. "Sammy?"

"Thanks, Dean." Sam mumbled as his eyes begin to droop. Within seconds, he was asleep and Dean felt relief as he noticed that it was peaceful for once. He'd never admit it, but he relished those moments when Sam relied on him—it made Dean feel like he had a purpose in life besides hunting things.

"Anytime, Sammy," Dean whispered. "Anytime."

Author's Note: Please review! And I hope you have a wonderful Easter!