1.3 The Woman In White: A Supernatural Fan Fiction

Chapter IX: Jess

As Dean drove back down the newly un-haunted Centennial Highway, only one headlight shone along the road.

Sam busied himself with tying up loose ends and looking more deeply into finding his father. Although he was going home from here, Sam still wanted to give Dean a good place to begin in his search. His father's journal was open on his knee, the page with Dean's name and the coordinates staring up at him like a neon sign. Sam had a flashlight propped up under his chin, and in his hands was a large map of the United States that had been hiding in the glove compartment for who knows how long.

35 – 100.

Sam quickly located it. "Okay, here's where Dad went," he said aloud, so that Dean could hear. "It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado."

Dean nodded appreciatively. "Sounds charming. How far?"

Sam checked. "About 600 miles." He replied, removing the flashlight from his cheek to look closer.

Dean shrugged, looking over at his brother. "If we shag ass, we can make it by morning."

Sam turned up his head with an exasperated sigh. Now he was just making this awkward. All Sam wanted to do was go back to Jess and his normal, safe, apple-pie life. "Dean, um..."

He hated that he could see the disappointment in his brother's eyes.

"You're not going." Dean realized aloud, his entire demeanor deflating.

"The interview's in like 10 hours. I gotta be there..." Sam protested, guilt gnawing at his stomach as Dean looked away. He gave an exaggerated nod, his features settling into an expression of anger and hurt.

"Yeah." He said quietly. "Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home."

And with that, Sam turned out the flashlight. They were silent for the rest of the ride.

*

It wasn't long before they reached the apartment that Sam shared with Jess in Palo Alto. Dean pulled up, his eyes forward, and the engine stopped.

Honestly, Sam didn't want to end on this note with his brother. But there was nothing he could do. Grabbing his bag, he climbed out of the Impala for what he could assume was the last time. Keeping his hand on the door as he pushed it closed, Sam leaned down to look in the window. Dean reluctantly turned his head. Sam could see on his face that he didn't want to talk. He had shut down and just wanted to pull away from that parking lot and never look back.

"You'll call me when you find him?" Sam asked his brother softly. Dean simply nodded.

"Maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?" Sam pressed hopefully, still feeling bad about abandoning his brother.

"Yeah, all right." Dean replied, but he said it too quickly. It was a canned answer. Sam patted the door of the impala and began to walk away from the car. Behind him, the engine turned over with its usual, homey growl.

Dean sat in silence for a moment, staring at the steering wheel of his car. He didn't want this to end. He wanted his brother back. He wanted the days that they used to have together back. He sighed, then leaned across the seat.

"Sam." He called out. Sam twisted around, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Dean attempted a smile.

"You know, we made a hell of a team back there," he pointed out. Sam nodded, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face.

"Yeah." He replied with a sense of almost nostalgia. But then there was nothing more. Dean sighed, then adjusted his position to one where he could properly drive. His hand closed around the stick, and he pulled away, eyes always forward.

Sam watched him as he went, until the rumbles of the engine and the red blush of the taillights disappeared into the darkness. He sighed heavily, considering the life he'd left behind.

The place was nice and quiet as he headed up the stairwell and inside. He unlocked the door as quietly as he could, but the jingle of his keys would have alerted Jess to his presence if she were awake at this hour. Oh, Jess. He couldn't want to curl up in bed with her, let her stroke his face, his hair, wrapped in the warmth and safety of her love.

The place was unchanged when he stepped inside, looking around. It was a little after 5:00am. Perhaps she was awake by now.

"Jess!" He shouted to the empty air. "You home?"

He glanced down to the table, where there was a plate of chocolate chip cookies waiting with a note reading "Missed you! Love you!" In Jess's delicate handwriting. Next to it was an edition of National Geographic. Sam smiled contentedly.

He reached down to pluck a cookie from the pile, taking a bite as he tread quietly into the bedroom. It was delicious, as always. It was one of the many things Sam loved about Jess – she could cook.

The bedroom was empty and dark when Sam walked in, but he could hear the shower running in the bathroom adjacent. Sam's eyes travelled around the room, and he sighed. Home. Nothing had changed.

Closing his eyes, Sam let himself fall back onto the bed. The cushions were there to meet him as he let out another huff and tucked his hands behind his head. He felt sleep beginning to crawl over him like a blanket, and he let himself become subservient to its lazy charm.

Something warm dripped onto his forehead.

Sam turned his face away, his eyebrows pulling together.

Then came another drip, this one harder than the first. As if urgent.

Confused, Sam finally opened his eyes. Then all the air left his body in one petrified gasp as his gaze found the ceiling, and horror mercilessly pierced his body with icy claws.

Jess was sprawled out above him, her limbs at unnatural angles, her hair fanned out around her face, and her stomach concealed by a patch of dark, dripping red. Her face was paper-white and her eyes and mouth were wide open in a silent cry as a dying breath escaped her throat.

"NO!" Sam screamed, but it was too late. Flames erupted from above her, crawling across the ceiling and down the walls in a blinding, skin-tightening blaze. Sam crawled backwards on the bed, staring, tears streaming from his eyes, as the fire, like an animal, claimed her, wrapping around her face, disintegrating her skin and hair.

Sam couldn't stop screaming. And the fire screamed, too. The horrible shriek of it filled his ears as he struggled to breathe.

The door kicked in and Dean emerged. He'd seen the explosion of flame from outside.

"Sam!" He barked in terror, bolting for the bedroom.

"JESS!" Sam howled, raising his arms to defend his face from the fiery blaze that grasped the love of his life. The flames covered her. His eyes stung. His lungs shrieked in agony from the hot air and the smoke. Oh, the smoke. The stinking, putrid smoke. Sam couldn't move, paralyzed by terror and grief as the flames licked the room.

"Sam! SAM!" His brother's voice entered the cacophony of fire and screams.

"NO! NO!" He could only cry, over and over again.

Dean lunged forward into the room, seeing Jess's burning form, and his brother writhing on the bed. The heat was intense, and the smell of burning skin and hair was like daggers invading his nostrils.

His only thought was to save his brother.

He seized him by the arms and hauled him up. His hollers of, "NO! JESS!" resounded in his ears over and over again as he dragged Sam from the smoldering room.

By the time Dean got his brother over the threshold, down the stairs, and outside, there was nothing left of Jess.