cherished dreams forever asleep.
This fic is ridiculously long, but I couldn't stop typing. It was all typed down within an hour, so it's a really rough draft, unbeta'd, errors everywhere I'm sure, and I haven't even read it myself yet. In its completed form, that is.
Jess, from SPN's Pilot, her dying moments, her moment in Bloody Mary, and everything that followed after. You'll see. My way of keeping her in D A R K. It's a fucked up non-life, truly.
The sun was lazily drifting through the window in their little kitchen, Jess lost in thought as she made the first preparations for dinner that night. The knife slided idly through the gazillionth vegetable, and she frowned. It didn't make any sense, it had been years since--
Why would she think back now? And this often and--
She stopped cutting for a second, staring at the cupboard in front of her. Over the course of the past week more and more memories seemed to float up to her conscious mind, whether she wanted them to or not. Truth remained that she was happy here, and hadn't thought back once, so why now, for fuck's sa--
The small cut in her fingertip was quickly made, nearly painless, and the knife dropped on the counter.
"Shit," Jess murmured as she watched a droplet of blood slowly form on the tip of her finger. It was perfect.
"Shit," a young woman whispered as she looked down at the cut in her finger, coming to a stop and crawling down a bit more in the bushes surrounding the establishment. Someone crouched down next to her, signaling the others to go on with two hand gestures, before turning to her, grabbing hold of her hand and sucking the fingertip into his mouth. Her eyebrows shot up, cynically. "You know, I have a mouth of my own," she remarked dryly as he released her hand, moving on and casting a grin over his shoulder. She rolled her eyes and followed him into the dark, making sure she slapped him on the ass hard before they reached the walls of their newest assignment.
Jess heard a door open and close in the distance, and she moved quickly, hand hiding in the nearest kitchen cloth as Sam rounded the corner, arms filled with grocery bags. She couldn't help the smile from breaking free, nor the quickening thump thump in her chest or the fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach as she regarded him, hair messed up from the wind, cheeks rosy and eyes twinkling.
Oh, she was so fucked. And hoped to be for the rest of her damned life.
"You got everything?" she asked as she nodded towards the bags, glancing down at her hand in the cloth. Cut was healed. Good.
"What, no 'Hello darling, how was your day, I missed you so, never leave me again or I might just die'? Sam teased as he put the bags down on the counter, huge hands settling on her hips.
"You were only gone for half an hour, idiot," she muttered as she stood on her toes, stealing a quick kiss before she turned towards the counter again, waving him off. "Now go, everything's set up in the living room already, you have about two hours before dinner."
Jess was probably the only person who cared more about Sam's study than Sam did, but she knew it was important to him, more compared to any other student that she knew of. Even choosing it above his own family (oh, she wasn't stupid, she had a pretty good guess why he never spoke of them, even if the few pictures hidden over the house told her everything she needed to know), and Jess made sure he got every opportunity to make the most of his time at college.
Spotting his books, notes and several pencils on their small dining table, Sam turned to her with a big smile, kissing her on the cheek with a murmured "You're a silly one" before heading into the living room. She loved when he kissed her on the cheek.
Yet that night, weeks later as she looked outside the window, waving back as she saw Sam's huge paw waving in the old Chevy, driving off into the night, her fingertips were cold and the kiss on the cheek had faded as soon as he gave it.
---
There was someone in the house.
It might've been years, but instincts, training-- some things never faded, no matter how hard she tried to forget.
Moving slowly from room to room, she passed the kitchen, walking by the cookies she made for Sam earlier that day - and fuck, why wasn't he home yet? - her head snapped up as she heard a rustling sound in the bedroom.
"Gotcha," she whispered as she crouched down, passing walls and furniture, ending up at their bedroom door and she slowly counted to three, bursting into the room, knife at the ready and poised to strike whatever son of a bitch dared to steal something in her house.
There was no one in the room.
Suddenly she felt a tug inside of her, right behind her stomach, and her back hit the wall hard, hard enough to have her gasping for breath before she glanced down, a 'what the fuck' on her lips. She got as far as 'what the-' before she got lifted off the floor, and she was left staring at her own feet dangling beneath her, eyes wide. Struggle as hard as she might, she couldn't break free, couldn't stop the continuous flow of her body up the wall.
When her head hit the ceiling, body angling sideways and sliding up that same ceiling, she began to panic, whispered utters of Sam's name quickly turning into shouts, but he wasn't home.
He wasn't home.
Suddenly the sliding stopped, and her eyes shot glances all around the room, spotting their bed beneath her, sheets still waiting to be neatly made, nightstands a cozy mess, and bright yellow eyes staring up at her.
Then she screamed.
---
Her vision was swimming, and it hurt, oh God, everything hurt, why wouldn't it stop hurting, and she still couldn't move, even her eyes were now bound to rest their gaze on the bed beneath her.
"Jess? You home?"
He was here, Sam was here, everything was going to be alright, he'd get her down, it would all be over soon.
She couldn't see him, but she felt him come into the room, and sure enough, after a few seconds she saw him sitting down on the bed. She wanted to call out, oh how she wanted to call out, but each time she tried her throat would close off and the hurt would intensify and Sam, SamSamSam, I'm here, look up, get me down, I love you, please.
He fell back on the bed, and a sense of relief washed over her. This nightmare would soon be over, he'd get her down and they could fall asleep, she could sleep and whose blood was that, dripping down on her Sam, why didn't he see her, open your eyes, Sam, I'm here.
He flinched, and his eyes finally opened and she felt like laughing. If only she could.
She waited for Sam to start moving, to get her down, but all he did was fall back in shock, and she didn't understand. She didn't understand, why didn't he get her down, he was supposed to get her down, Sam please, I'm scared.
He called out her name, and that moment she thought everything would be alright.
Flames were everywhere suddenly, licking at her skin, burning and burning and burning, and she wanted to thrash, she wanted to scream, but all she could do was lie still, eyes dying as she watched Sam get dragged away by his older brother, Don't leave me, don't, I'm still here, it's still me, no, Sam, Sam, I love you, don't, it hurts, Sam, it hurts, don't leave me, please.
Everything went black as soon as Sam disappeared out of her sight.
---
Jess was given a choice. Lay her soul to rest, accept her time was over and all would be well, forever.
Or become bound to someone, someone of her choice, destined to stay bound untill that person found his or her own end. She would need to stay bound with this person, risking eternal wandering if she tried to break free.
The choice wasn't hard to make.
---
It had been months, months, and she felt like screaming all over again. Grabbing hold of his shoulders, scratching her nails in his face, telling him to just let her go.
Jess was watching Sam die slowly, guilt eating a hole inside of him, and it only got bigger after each hunt. This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all.
She was sitting on the floor, as always, in some crappy motel, watching them sleep. As always. This was the only time she had to practice, when the both of them were asleep, guards down and not able to see her if she succeeded. It was risky, and she knew, goddamn knew she could end up wandering the planes of this Earth forever, but Sam had given her no choice. It wasn't his time, not yet.
Jess felt like laughing, cause hell, this really was ridiculous. So what if Patrick Swayze managed to do stuff in Ghost? Didn't mean she could. He couldn't even materialize himself to someone's sight. Well, yeah, at the end, but that was when the fucker really died and went to "Heaven" and that wasn't the idea of Jess' plan. Or so she hoped.
She stood in front of the mirror, not seeing herself, and tried again. And again. And again.
Dawn was breaking, and she nearly lost hope. Glancing inside the bedroom, her eyes rested on Sam, tired lines disgracing his face, and she felt something flare inside of her, an anger she could feel in her fingertips.
When she looked back into the mirror, she saw a faded reflection of herself. Only her fingertips seemed clear as day, human almost.
It was a start.
---
It took her another three weeks, dozens of different motel mirrors, before she got the result she wanted.
That next day she had to hold herself back, telling herself to not do a little dance of joy or suddenly break down laughing. Sam seemed like he had enough of a shock to deal with already, seeing her stand on the pavement beside the street as the Chevy drove by.
---
Her blood, if she had any, would've run cold at this familiar sight. She sat behind Sam in the car, looking over his shoulder, through the front window.
Seattle. Now there's pure irony if such a thing ever existed. Never going back, ever, as long as she would live.
Well then. Guess that problem's solved, she thought absently, as she followed Sam out of the car. It amused her as hell that Sam was still the grocery boy, whether he lived with her, or was on the road with his brother. It gave them both a sense of calm, doing the groceries, a glimpse of a past that seemed further away than ever before.
She was roughly shaken out of her thoughts when Sam moved into someone while rounding a corner, an apology already forming on his lips.
Jess was sure she looked like she'd seen a ghost. Again, with the irony, she thought, but couldn't stop staring. It was him. He was standing right there and how did he get out, is he on a mission, you look different, no, you're the same, it's you, oh my God, it's really you, Simon, I--.
She couldn't think anything more, Sam was already on the move again, and she felt a slight tug in all her senses. She followed the man she was bound to, though that didn't stop her from looking back the entire time, every little bit of her being screaming out to walk after him. After Simon.
Oh my God.
---
Jess had to see him again, she had to know, she never...
Never got a chance to explain, to say sorry, to find out what had become of him, them, everyone.
She watched Sam and Simon (Alec, his name is Alec now, she reminded herself) spent more and more time with each other, while she would be sitting somewhere close, trying to break free from Sam a bit longer each time, without risking eternal wandering. Cause that would just be fucked up.
She got the hang of it after a while, her maximum reaching two hours away from Sam and free to go wherever.
He looks so...lost, Jess thought as she was standing in Alec's apartment, seeing him seated in his chair. She bit her lip and walked towards him. She shouldn't be doing this, it was wrong on so many levels, but she had to know.
Her hand reached out, and she silently apologized for the headache he'd surely have after this, and watched her transparent hand dissapear into his head.
And let the memories, old and new, wash over her.
---
Donkeys, both of them. It had been several weeks since Sam walked into Alec, and sure, there had been fucking (the first time Jess fell to her knees on the pavement outside, dry heaving while The Man She Would Always Love and The First Man She Ever Really Cared About were fucking each other's brains out), but she could tell Sam needed more, and fuck it all, she might as well do something to help him out. Again. Cause Dean was right, she wanted Sam to be happy. God forbid have a little fun every now and then.
Jess watched Sam sleep, and the sight of it could still take her breath away. She smiled as he stirred slightly, reacting to the windy touch of her hand brushing his hair back. The visions were easier for him to handle now, and she was glad. She couldn't bear seeing him in any sort of pain.
She sighed deeply, closed her eyes and let her hand drift into Sam's head, passing on Alec's memories, glamoured as visions.
He'll just have to understand, she thought as she pushed down Alec's face and accusing features, transferring another image of Rachel into Sam's mind.
---
She found a companion in Dean, something that would've made her laugh endlessly after her first real meeting with him. Slick bastard.
Jess was sitting beside a changed man. It was chilly outside, Dean sitting outside the motel room, back against the wall, sky black and depressing, and she slid down next to him. She had done all she could for Sam, and she realized it was all on him now. Her work here was done.
She was still bound.
"I'm so tired, Dean, so tired," she whispered as she shifted closer. "We're not even supposed to be here, you and me."
Dean sighed as he looked up, head resting against the wall behind him.
"I know," Jess kept whispering, "It's all for Sam."
Her hand slid into his, and if Dean felt the cold seep into his veins, he didn't shiver. And there they stayed, one still wandering the Earth even though he didn't care, and one still wandering because she cared too much.
[And now I was thinking; Jess is done, she wants to rest, but her bones are already burnt, so they can't lay her to rest that way. What if we did something in the ep Insomnia? Both Alec and Sam getting dreams of Jess, who says she's had enough, she wants to sleep, she's restless; it all adds up to the theme of Insomnia, for all three of them. Sam would have to perform a ritual to bring peace to her soul, and it could be some sort of closure for him? I don't know, just throwing ideas around.]
Jess, from SPN's Pilot, her dying moments, her moment in Bloody Mary, and everything that followed after. You'll see. My way of keeping her in D A R K. It's a fucked up non-life, truly.
The sun was lazily drifting through the window in their little kitchen, Jess lost in thought as she made the first preparations for dinner that night. The knife slided idly through the gazillionth vegetable, and she frowned. It didn't make any sense, it had been years since--
Why would she think back now? And this often and--
She stopped cutting for a second, staring at the cupboard in front of her. Over the course of the past week more and more memories seemed to float up to her conscious mind, whether she wanted them to or not. Truth remained that she was happy here, and hadn't thought back once, so why now, for fuck's sa--
The small cut in her fingertip was quickly made, nearly painless, and the knife dropped on the counter.
"Shit," Jess murmured as she watched a droplet of blood slowly form on the tip of her finger. It was perfect.
"Shit," a young woman whispered as she looked down at the cut in her finger, coming to a stop and crawling down a bit more in the bushes surrounding the establishment. Someone crouched down next to her, signaling the others to go on with two hand gestures, before turning to her, grabbing hold of her hand and sucking the fingertip into his mouth. Her eyebrows shot up, cynically. "You know, I have a mouth of my own," she remarked dryly as he released her hand, moving on and casting a grin over his shoulder. She rolled her eyes and followed him into the dark, making sure she slapped him on the ass hard before they reached the walls of their newest assignment.
Jess heard a door open and close in the distance, and she moved quickly, hand hiding in the nearest kitchen cloth as Sam rounded the corner, arms filled with grocery bags. She couldn't help the smile from breaking free, nor the quickening thump thump in her chest or the fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach as she regarded him, hair messed up from the wind, cheeks rosy and eyes twinkling.
Oh, she was so fucked. And hoped to be for the rest of her damned life.
"You got everything?" she asked as she nodded towards the bags, glancing down at her hand in the cloth. Cut was healed. Good.
"What, no 'Hello darling, how was your day, I missed you so, never leave me again or I might just die'? Sam teased as he put the bags down on the counter, huge hands settling on her hips.
"You were only gone for half an hour, idiot," she muttered as she stood on her toes, stealing a quick kiss before she turned towards the counter again, waving him off. "Now go, everything's set up in the living room already, you have about two hours before dinner."
Jess was probably the only person who cared more about Sam's study than Sam did, but she knew it was important to him, more compared to any other student that she knew of. Even choosing it above his own family (oh, she wasn't stupid, she had a pretty good guess why he never spoke of them, even if the few pictures hidden over the house told her everything she needed to know), and Jess made sure he got every opportunity to make the most of his time at college.
Spotting his books, notes and several pencils on their small dining table, Sam turned to her with a big smile, kissing her on the cheek with a murmured "You're a silly one" before heading into the living room. She loved when he kissed her on the cheek.
Yet that night, weeks later as she looked outside the window, waving back as she saw Sam's huge paw waving in the old Chevy, driving off into the night, her fingertips were cold and the kiss on the cheek had faded as soon as he gave it.
---
There was someone in the house.
It might've been years, but instincts, training-- some things never faded, no matter how hard she tried to forget.
Moving slowly from room to room, she passed the kitchen, walking by the cookies she made for Sam earlier that day - and fuck, why wasn't he home yet? - her head snapped up as she heard a rustling sound in the bedroom.
"Gotcha," she whispered as she crouched down, passing walls and furniture, ending up at their bedroom door and she slowly counted to three, bursting into the room, knife at the ready and poised to strike whatever son of a bitch dared to steal something in her house.
There was no one in the room.
Suddenly she felt a tug inside of her, right behind her stomach, and her back hit the wall hard, hard enough to have her gasping for breath before she glanced down, a 'what the fuck' on her lips. She got as far as 'what the-' before she got lifted off the floor, and she was left staring at her own feet dangling beneath her, eyes wide. Struggle as hard as she might, she couldn't break free, couldn't stop the continuous flow of her body up the wall.
When her head hit the ceiling, body angling sideways and sliding up that same ceiling, she began to panic, whispered utters of Sam's name quickly turning into shouts, but he wasn't home.
He wasn't home.
Suddenly the sliding stopped, and her eyes shot glances all around the room, spotting their bed beneath her, sheets still waiting to be neatly made, nightstands a cozy mess, and bright yellow eyes staring up at her.
Then she screamed.
---
Her vision was swimming, and it hurt, oh God, everything hurt, why wouldn't it stop hurting, and she still couldn't move, even her eyes were now bound to rest their gaze on the bed beneath her.
"Jess? You home?"
He was here, Sam was here, everything was going to be alright, he'd get her down, it would all be over soon.
She couldn't see him, but she felt him come into the room, and sure enough, after a few seconds she saw him sitting down on the bed. She wanted to call out, oh how she wanted to call out, but each time she tried her throat would close off and the hurt would intensify and Sam, SamSamSam, I'm here, look up, get me down, I love you, please.
He fell back on the bed, and a sense of relief washed over her. This nightmare would soon be over, he'd get her down and they could fall asleep, she could sleep and whose blood was that, dripping down on her Sam, why didn't he see her, open your eyes, Sam, I'm here.
He flinched, and his eyes finally opened and she felt like laughing. If only she could.
She waited for Sam to start moving, to get her down, but all he did was fall back in shock, and she didn't understand. She didn't understand, why didn't he get her down, he was supposed to get her down, Sam please, I'm scared.
He called out her name, and that moment she thought everything would be alright.
Flames were everywhere suddenly, licking at her skin, burning and burning and burning, and she wanted to thrash, she wanted to scream, but all she could do was lie still, eyes dying as she watched Sam get dragged away by his older brother, Don't leave me, don't, I'm still here, it's still me, no, Sam, Sam, I love you, don't, it hurts, Sam, it hurts, don't leave me, please.
Everything went black as soon as Sam disappeared out of her sight.
---
Jess was given a choice. Lay her soul to rest, accept her time was over and all would be well, forever.
Or become bound to someone, someone of her choice, destined to stay bound untill that person found his or her own end. She would need to stay bound with this person, risking eternal wandering if she tried to break free.
The choice wasn't hard to make.
---
It had been months, months, and she felt like screaming all over again. Grabbing hold of his shoulders, scratching her nails in his face, telling him to just let her go.
Jess was watching Sam die slowly, guilt eating a hole inside of him, and it only got bigger after each hunt. This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all.
She was sitting on the floor, as always, in some crappy motel, watching them sleep. As always. This was the only time she had to practice, when the both of them were asleep, guards down and not able to see her if she succeeded. It was risky, and she knew, goddamn knew she could end up wandering the planes of this Earth forever, but Sam had given her no choice. It wasn't his time, not yet.
Jess felt like laughing, cause hell, this really was ridiculous. So what if Patrick Swayze managed to do stuff in Ghost? Didn't mean she could. He couldn't even materialize himself to someone's sight. Well, yeah, at the end, but that was when the fucker really died and went to "Heaven" and that wasn't the idea of Jess' plan. Or so she hoped.
She stood in front of the mirror, not seeing herself, and tried again. And again. And again.
Dawn was breaking, and she nearly lost hope. Glancing inside the bedroom, her eyes rested on Sam, tired lines disgracing his face, and she felt something flare inside of her, an anger she could feel in her fingertips.
When she looked back into the mirror, she saw a faded reflection of herself. Only her fingertips seemed clear as day, human almost.
It was a start.
---
It took her another three weeks, dozens of different motel mirrors, before she got the result she wanted.
That next day she had to hold herself back, telling herself to not do a little dance of joy or suddenly break down laughing. Sam seemed like he had enough of a shock to deal with already, seeing her stand on the pavement beside the street as the Chevy drove by.
---
Her blood, if she had any, would've run cold at this familiar sight. She sat behind Sam in the car, looking over his shoulder, through the front window.
Seattle. Now there's pure irony if such a thing ever existed. Never going back, ever, as long as she would live.
Well then. Guess that problem's solved, she thought absently, as she followed Sam out of the car. It amused her as hell that Sam was still the grocery boy, whether he lived with her, or was on the road with his brother. It gave them both a sense of calm, doing the groceries, a glimpse of a past that seemed further away than ever before.
She was roughly shaken out of her thoughts when Sam moved into someone while rounding a corner, an apology already forming on his lips.
Jess was sure she looked like she'd seen a ghost. Again, with the irony, she thought, but couldn't stop staring. It was him. He was standing right there and how did he get out, is he on a mission, you look different, no, you're the same, it's you, oh my God, it's really you, Simon, I--.
She couldn't think anything more, Sam was already on the move again, and she felt a slight tug in all her senses. She followed the man she was bound to, though that didn't stop her from looking back the entire time, every little bit of her being screaming out to walk after him. After Simon.
Oh my God.
---
Jess had to see him again, she had to know, she never...
Never got a chance to explain, to say sorry, to find out what had become of him, them, everyone.
She watched Sam and Simon (Alec, his name is Alec now, she reminded herself) spent more and more time with each other, while she would be sitting somewhere close, trying to break free from Sam a bit longer each time, without risking eternal wandering. Cause that would just be fucked up.
She got the hang of it after a while, her maximum reaching two hours away from Sam and free to go wherever.
He looks so...lost, Jess thought as she was standing in Alec's apartment, seeing him seated in his chair. She bit her lip and walked towards him. She shouldn't be doing this, it was wrong on so many levels, but she had to know.
Her hand reached out, and she silently apologized for the headache he'd surely have after this, and watched her transparent hand dissapear into his head.
And let the memories, old and new, wash over her.
---
Donkeys, both of them. It had been several weeks since Sam walked into Alec, and sure, there had been fucking (the first time Jess fell to her knees on the pavement outside, dry heaving while The Man She Would Always Love and The First Man She Ever Really Cared About were fucking each other's brains out), but she could tell Sam needed more, and fuck it all, she might as well do something to help him out. Again. Cause Dean was right, she wanted Sam to be happy. God forbid have a little fun every now and then.
Jess watched Sam sleep, and the sight of it could still take her breath away. She smiled as he stirred slightly, reacting to the windy touch of her hand brushing his hair back. The visions were easier for him to handle now, and she was glad. She couldn't bear seeing him in any sort of pain.
She sighed deeply, closed her eyes and let her hand drift into Sam's head, passing on Alec's memories, glamoured as visions.
He'll just have to understand, she thought as she pushed down Alec's face and accusing features, transferring another image of Rachel into Sam's mind.
---
She found a companion in Dean, something that would've made her laugh endlessly after her first real meeting with him. Slick bastard.
Jess was sitting beside a changed man. It was chilly outside, Dean sitting outside the motel room, back against the wall, sky black and depressing, and she slid down next to him. She had done all she could for Sam, and she realized it was all on him now. Her work here was done.
She was still bound.
"I'm so tired, Dean, so tired," she whispered as she shifted closer. "We're not even supposed to be here, you and me."
Dean sighed as he looked up, head resting against the wall behind him.
"I know," Jess kept whispering, "It's all for Sam."
Her hand slid into his, and if Dean felt the cold seep into his veins, he didn't shiver. And there they stayed, one still wandering the Earth even though he didn't care, and one still wandering because she cared too much.
[And now I was thinking; Jess is done, she wants to rest, but her bones are already burnt, so they can't lay her to rest that way. What if we did something in the ep Insomnia? Both Alec and Sam getting dreams of Jess, who says she's had enough, she wants to sleep, she's restless; it all adds up to the theme of Insomnia, for all three of them. Sam would have to perform a ritual to bring peace to her soul, and it could be some sort of closure for him? I don't know, just throwing ideas around.]