Pairing: Sam/Jess(ghost), Sam/Dean (pre-slash)
Summary: Sam is confused and angry until he has an unexpected visitor.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by WB and Eric Kripke et al. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: wincest overtones
Author's Notes: Thanks to Soph for the beta. This is 14 out of 31 short fics, all involving masturbation in honour of the Merry Month of May. All fics were written with knowledge up to Hell House, no canon after that was used since that's as far as I've seen.
Word count: 2,417
Link: to other mmom fic
Sam slammed the door of the motel room so hard that the windows in the wall rattled. He was completely furious even though he had no right to be and the fact that he was caused more worrying feelings to skirt the edges of his consciousness. They had been enjoying a game of pool in the local bar, for once not needing Dean to hustle since they actually had a paying job, and then Dean had seen the girl from the ranch walk in. It had been like watching a dog go after a bitch in heat and Sam had found himself abandoned.
He knew he should have been used to it by now, but it had hurt, hurt more than usual, which was something he refused to look at too closely. Ever since the incident with Meg in Chicago he'd been feeling different, closer to Dean somehow even though he kept remembering telling Dean he was going to leave. It was like someone else had been speaking those words, someone he was moving further and further away from and it scared him a little.
He was furious with Dean for leaving him tonight, but he was also furious with himself for feeling so betrayed. It was ridiculous, but he just couldn't stop himself.
"You love him, you know."
A very familiar voice had him spinning on the spot to look at the entrance he had just sealed and he was backing away as soon as his eyes took in the intruder's face. A person who lived in a more rational world would probably have been thinking that what he was seeing was impossible, but Sam knew this could be all too real.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, not knowing what else to do.
This wasn't right; Jess should be at peace and seeing her now tore his heart out.
"I'm allowed to watch over you, Sam," she said with a smile, "even if I can't always touch you. I will always love you."
She walked towards him looking for all the world like a real woman.
"But you're dead, Jess," Sam felt tears gathering in his eyes; seeing her was too painful.
"I know, Sam," she said reaching up and running cold fingers over his cheek, "and I want you to stop mourning for me. I've come to say goodbye, it's time for you to let me go; properly this time."
Sam wanted to tell her no and that he would always grieve for her, but something in Jess' eyes stopped him. They were so open, so honest, the way they had always been when she sat him down to tell him something for his own good. Like the time he had refused to call Dean the first Christmas they were together and she had made him, and the time he had almost not gone to an exam because she was sick and again she had made him. He knew that look too well and he surrendered to it.
"I don’t have long, Sam," she said gently, recognising his agreement as she always had, "and there are things I need to tell you."
He did not realise she was pushing him backwards until the bed connected with the back of his knees and he was falling. Even as Jess climbed onto the bed after him, straddling his legs, his mind was still trying to catch up. He had a thousand questions and wanted to say a thousand things, but she silenced him with a kiss. Her lips were cold, but soft and she tasted like air and Sam opened his mouth to her, falling into the memory of how she had been.
Eventually Jess pulled away and Sam was left dazed and confused as he looked into her beautiful pale features.
"Why did you come?" he asked, finding that he desperately needed to know.
"Because you called me, Sam," she said, stroking the side of his face gently. "You have more power than you know and in your pain you called me back. I can feel you dying inside and that's not right, Sam."
He didn't know what to say; he did not understand.
"I love you," he said, not having any other words that seemed suitable.
"I know, My Darling," Jess said, smiling sadly and leaning down to kiss his forehead, "I can feel that too, but I'm dead. You have to release me and move on."
"I can't," Sam said, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.
Jess had been his life and he was living for revenge; he could not give her up. Needing to feel her even if she carried with her the cold of death, he lifted himself up to bring his lips to hers. In only a moment Jess was kissing him back again, pushing him down onto the bed. Her movements became frantic and Sam did not try to fight her as Jess began to move down his body.
His t-shirt split at the neck as if something had wrenched it, but Jess' hands were nowhere near it, and it continued to rip slowly as her cold lips kissed a trail down his neck and over his chest. She was vibrating power, power that felt strangely familiar, but it never occurred to him to try and stop her. Jess was here and that was all that mattered.
She climbed off him and stretched herself out so that she was lying flush against his side and the coolness of her body seemed to drain the heat from his. It was arousing and frightening at the same time as his higher brain told him this was Jess and his instincts told him she was dead. He was both drawn to her and repelled, but there was never any doubt which was dominant.
At that moment if Jess had wanted to rip his throat out he would have let her; he was defenceless and as she plundered his chest with small nips and scratches he moaned his approval. He had never dreamed of anything like this, but now that it was happening he would not have stopped it for the world.
His t-shirt was in ruins and the force undressing him did not stop there, ripping the buttons from his jeans in one swift move. When Jess' cold hand snaked into his boxers he almost reared off the bed into the touch. There was a wrongness about it and yet he wanted it so much; Jess was solid, real, whole, but she was dead. When her fingers wrapped around his cock, pulling him free from his underwear and stroking him hard and fast he could do nothing but respond.
It felt so good and so bad; so completely what he needed and yet so far from reality that it hurt. Jess loved him, of that he had no doubt, and he loved her, but this should not have been happening. Ghosts that stayed too long became bitter, their beings twisted into things that he and Dean had to kill, and that should never happen to Jess.
As Jess touched him and thumbed his cock with deliberate intent, Sam knew what he wanted and he knew what was right and they were not the same thing at all. As his body rose towards release his soul tied in knots and even as he came, bucking into Jess' grasp he knew the truth. Frantic, he grabbed her, pulling her to him even as he understood so clearly why she was here.
Sam clung to Jess as if his life depended on it, but he knew at his core that he could not keep her. Now the tears were flowing and he could feel the truth of her earlier words; he was keeping her here and he knew it was wrong. When he finally let her pull back she looked down at him with sad eyes, but her hand brushed away his tears.
"I will always love you, My Darling," she said, smiling sadly, "but you know it is time."
"I'm so sorry, Jess," he said, feeling all the pain and guilt welling up, "I should have told you; I should have saved you."
"We all have our time, Sam," Jess told him, wiping away the tears from his other cheek, "it turned out to be mine. You didn't kill me and you will find the thing that did; that is all I can ask for, but you must live for me, Sam, don't die for me. Remember me with love, but let me go."
Gazing into her eyes, Sam knew that he had to grant her request, but it felt like his heart was breaking again.
"It's so hard," he said, his voice cracking as he saw himself losing her all over again.
"I know, Sam," Jess said, tone full of compassion and love, "but there is more for you in the future than you will find in the past. You already love another if you can just bring yourself to see it."
Sam didn't understand; there was no one else.
"I came to tell you something, My Darling," she continued before he could form any sort of question, "and I want you to promise to think about it before you dismiss it. It will be hard to understand, but it is the truth."
Jess' words were ominous, but Sam nodded slowly; he had no choice but to trust her.
"You hold inside yourself the ability to love so completely that nothing can take it away from you, Sam, not even death," Jess told him almost reverently. "I have felt that love and I give it back to you now. Your love knows no boundaries, Sam, it never has and it never will and it can save both of you. You have used it once, when the need was so great that you allowed yourself to feel it properly and you can use it again if you accept it is real."
Sam still did not know what she meant. There was no one in his life, had been no one, not like Jess, and then it hit him; he remembered her first words to him when she had appeared.
"Dean," he said, half in shock and half in horror, "you're talking about Dean."
She smiled at him then and she looked proud of him.
"But he's my brother," Sam said, confused that he had misinterpreted what she had been trying to tell him.
"No boundaries, Sam," Jess said, cupping the side of his face with her cool hand. "he is more than that to you. I saw it when I first met him and I have only seen it more since. He is running as fast from you as you are from him and one of you has to stop. Let yourself believe, Sam; give him your heart as you gave it to me and stop pretending that you want normal. You have to be strong for what is to come, and together nothing will ever be able to stop you."
Sam just lay there looking at Jess, unable to sort his thoughts out enough to speak. Even living the way he had all his life he had enough social sensibilities to know that what she was suggesting would be viewed as wrong by everyone, but something inside him was trying to tell him she was right. His feelings in the bar made sense in that context and in Chicago everything had seemed to come to a head and they had all been so close to death that the fact his emotions were so raw was weirdly logical.
"Dean doesn't want me," Sam said, but he remembered the look in his brother's eyes when he had said he would be leaving and he did not believe what he was saying.
Jess kissed him on the forehead and brushed his hair away from his face.
"We both know that isn't true," she said kindly. "You turn away from everyone, Sam, Dean runs to the nearest woman who will have him; it is the same thing. It is time to claim what is yours."
"How?" he asked in little more than a whisper.
This time her smile held amusement.
"That is up to you, Sam," she said and began to pull away from him; "you know him better than I do."
Sam wanted to follow her, to take her hand and not let her go, but the way Jess looked at him stopped him. It tore at his heart to just lie there and watch her, but he knew it was the only way he would ever be able to let her go.
"I'll be watching, My Darling," she said, her face losing its sadness, and Sam began to realise that her sadness had all been for him. "One day we'll meet again, but make sure it is not for a very long time."
He could not put into words what he was feeling and he had to hold himself very still as Jess slowly began to fade. Part of him wanted to reach out and grab her and he knew it always would, but he held himself in check. He let one last tear fall as she waved at him and as she vanished from sight he felt something release in his emotions.
"Bye, Jess," he said in little more than a whisper.
He was caught between the desire to sob in anguish and to laugh in relief as he felt at least some of his guilt release its hold on his soul. The empty space left by Jess was starting to fill with something else that made him think he was crazy, but it was familiar and he fell back on the bed not even trying to understand it.
Cleaning up and rearranging himself never entered his head as he lay there staring at the ceiling. For once he did not try and think and he did not try and rationalise, he just let himself feel. He did not know what Jess had meant by his love saving them and he had not understand when she had told him he had used it before, but he believed her. He was tired and he let his eyes drift shut with memories of Jess and Dean swimming around his brain. He barely realised as he slipped towards sleep still sprawled on the bed and he drifted off with the two loves of his life in his head.