no little kisses goodbye
She presses her face to the wooden door as it closes behind him. He's been gone no more than five seconds and she misses him already. With a hitch in her breath, she walks to the front windows, watching him as he throws his duffle bag through the open back seat window of his brother's car. He stands outside the car for a moment with his hand on the open door, looking up at their apartment windows.
Without thought she presses her hand against the glass and he puts his fingers to his lips and gives a slight wave. Then the car rumbles to life, and he folds himself into the front seat. With a flash of taillights, at the end of their street, he's gone.
Hours pass before she settles enough to fall back to sleep.
Sometime later, her eyes fly open. There's something on the ceiling, and she braces herself up on her elbows, tilting her head to the side and squinting for a better look. After a moment, she decides it's nothing but a shadow. Soft gray light spreads slowly over the window sill and into the room. She shakes her head and rolls onto her side, snuggling deeper into his pillow. It smells like him and she breathes deeply, wishing she could shake this feeling of creeping unease.
It's no use. With a sigh, she flops onto her back, flinging her arms wide. She can't help it; she misses him and she wishes he had asked her to go with them. Wishes he had told her where the hell he was going!
There had been something dangerous passing between Sam and his brother, something she missed and still couldn't figure out. Undercurrents swam in Dean's words, threatening to pull her under and even Sam's explanation about Jim, Jack and Jose didn't make her feel any better.
All this time, she barely knew he had a family and now they've come and taken him away
What kills her most is how easily he left. How easily he believed every word his brother said. But how could she think Dean was lying? It's Dean's father too. But why did they have to go looking for him? Couldn't they have called the police like normal people would? Or a park ranger or something if what Dean said was true and their father was on a hunting trip.
There was something in Sam's face when he was saying goodbye, something she was afraid to think too much about.
As the afternoon slowly fades into night, thoughts of Sam and his mysterious family still swirl through her mind while she cleans up the kitchen. Finally, she grunts in disgust and drops the sponge into the soapy dish water. Beyond the window, the sky turns to fire as the sun goes down. She stands silent for a few minutes, hands braced against the edge of the sink, her reflection staring back at her in the gathering darkness. Pushing off, she slaps her hands against the back of her jeans. She's being retarded. Sam and Dean will find their father and he'll be back in a few days and things will return to normal. They'll have 'I missed you' sex when he gets back and he'll go to his interview on Monday morning and nail it. She pulls her hair back into a loose bun as she heads back into the bedroom. The lights flicker in her wake, but she's too distracted to notice.
She's going insane and she desperately needs to get out of the house.
Later, she'll wonder what possessed her to buy the nightgown. It wasn't anything she would normally pick for herself. It looked so soft and pretty on the mannequin and she bought it, ignoring the fact it looked like something her mother would wear.
She's falling as the red lights flash at the end of the bridge. The black car makes a whomp-whomp sound as it sails over the exposed trestles and drives away from her. The cold water rushes up to meet her, punching her body like a thousand knives. She pushes her head above the waves, taking a deep breath of the sweetest air she's ever smelled.
Sam stands smiling above her, his head tilted to the side. "Help me Sam," she cries, gasping for air. Her hands reach for him, but she fails, and sinks, blackness rising up as the blood flows scarlet against the white snowfall.
Two lambs stumble into the clearing, their hindquarters collapsing against the ground as they fall and make angels in the snow. There's a war raging, she can smell the ash, feel the heat, but the blood of the lambs stains the snow. She shivers as freezing rain falls on her, biting into her exposed shoulders. Staring down at the two dead lambs, she slowly kneels and places her fingers into the blood. Flashes of darkness, of rage fill her head.
Instantly, she sees everything, Sam, his brother, their father and Mary, oh God – Mary, and she knows she'll never hear his heart beat against hers again.
In a flash, she's back in the river, floating towards the sea, her hair undulating around her as she follows the tide. The rain is still falling upon her, masking her tears as they tumble down her temples until the salt meets fresh water. She moves her arms languidly though the water, watching, as the clouds roll above her. Stars peek through the long dark lines as they drift towards where the water meets the sky.
Sam is on the bridge behind her, waving goodbye.
Jessica awakens with a start and again for an all too brief moment, sees a shadow moving on the ceiling. She squeezes her eyes shut and opens them again. Whatever it was is gone now. She swings her legs over the side of the bed, the floor chilly against her bare feet. Sighing, she gets up and flicks on the bathroom light. It isn't much, but it helps dispel the shadows in the room.
She doesn't remember the dream, only shivers in its lingering effects. She wants to talk to Sam, needs to hear his voice, even if it's just to say hello. It's a physical ache, bubbling against her chest and pooling in the corners of her eyes. Why didn't she beg him to stay? Why couldn't Dean have found their father without him? Why did there have to be so many damn secrets between them?
The phone beside the bed is in her hand and his cell number is halfway dialed before she stops and hits the disconnect button. What would she say? I miss you…I love you…I keep imagining I see something on the ceiling…please come home, I'm scared? Hugging the phone to her chest, she turns on the clock radio, wanting anything to break the silence. Loud static crackles instead, so she turns it off and falls backwards against the pillows.
Maybe everything will be all right.
He'll come home safe and sound.
Maybe he'll be waiting for her when she comes home from work tomorrow.
Maybe tomorrow morning she'll wake up and make cookies for him. She shivers as she reaches for one of his oversized sweat shirts and pulls it over her nightshirt. She wraps herself in the lingering smell of Sam and stares up at the ceiling.
Sleep won't come easy tonight.
The front door slams. "Jess? You home?"
The monster stares at her with his queer yellow eyes and puts a finger to her lips when she opens her mouth to cry out. "So like Mary," it whispers in her ear. It tenderly touches the material of her nightgown, bringing the fabric up to its nose and sniffing gently. "You even smell like her."
It smiles as the knife slashes through her belly. Paralyzed, her mouth opens in a silent scream of pain as she's pushed against the wall and pulled backwards by her hair to the ceiling. She's trussed up there, leg bent at an awkward angle, silently dying. The monster fades into black mist as she's left screaming inside.
She wishes she was dead already as Sam opens the bedroom door. She wishes she didn't have to watch him as he glances towards the bathroom door, steam from the running shower rolling along the hardwood floor. She wants to reach out and take his hand, make him leave but he only falls backwards on the bed.
And then with one drip, two, he knows and she's gone.