Jess has been dating Sam for two weeks when he tells her about his family. He's an only child; his parents are named John and Mary (how unusual) and they're both very proud of him. His dad works at a garage and his mom is a secretary at a local doctor's office; she stayed at home with him when he was young and then started working again once he hit junior high. Jess gets to meet them at Thanksgiving -- Sam's dad is big and dark-haired with a kind smile, and his mom is blond and beautiful with a soft, gentle voice. Jess can't help but think that they'd make perfect in-laws.

Sam has such a nice family, must have had a great childhood -- two supportive parents, straight-A student all the way through school -- so she wonders why he seems so fragile to her sometimes, for all his height and muscular build. Sometimes there's a lonely look in his eyes, like he's reaching out for someone to save him but there's no one who can. Sometimes, in unguarded moments when he doesn't realize she's watching him, he looks so utterly lost that it makes her throat ache, and she doesn't know what to do.

They've been dating for five months when he says, out of the blue, "I had a brother."

They're sitting on a park bench watching the sunset, and she stares at him without a clue what to say because he's never even hinted at this before. He has that lost look again, and she just wants to hold him and never let go.

"His name was Dean," Sam's saying, and she's not sure he even remembers she's here any more. "He was four years older than me, and he died in a house fire when I was six months old." He laughs a little, an aching sound that's centuries older than his twenty-two years. "It's funny -- I know I was too young to remember anything about that night, but sometimes I dream about it, and he's pinned to the ceiling over my head, bleeding. Then there's fire, and he's gone." She doesn't say anything, because God, what can you say to that?

The sunset is painting Sam's face in soft hues of red and orange, and he just keeps on talking. "Other times I dream that he's not dead, that we grew up together. He's shorter than me" -- he laughs a little at that -- "and he looks like Mom, and he's really protective of me, you know? The way big brothers are supposed to be."

She watches him, staring blankly into the sunset and talking about the brother he might have had, and she finds herself thinking that maybe the only person who could have saved him died in a fire almost twenty-two years ago.

"I really wish he hadn't died," Sam says, and his voice breaks, and then Jess holds him and wishes the same thing.

They've been engaged for two months when the man shows up in the living room.

He's a few inches shorter than Sam, solidly built with light brown hair and gorgeous hazel eyes, and his handsome face wears a casual smirk. "Hi, Sammy," he says calmly, and Sam stares wide-eyed, his mouth open but nothing coming out. Jess tries to step forward, because Sam looks scared and she wants to be at his side, but she can't move. It's like her feet are glued to the floor.

"Come on, Sam -- you didn't forget your big brother, did you?" The man asks with a razor edge of sarcasm in his voice, and suddenly Jess sees him, really sees him, this man with Mary's eyes, Mary's fair skin, Mary's fine-boned features. Sam's still staring, just staring, and the man -- Dean, no, it can't be, Dean's dead -- laughs, low and chilling. Maybe it's just a trick of the light, but for an instant Jess thinks she sees a glint of yellow in his hazel eyes.

"Dean?" Sam finally whispers, and the hope in his voice is so closely twined around the fear that it's impossible to separate the two. He takes a step forward, toward his brother who's been dead for twenty-three years. The wrongness is buzzing inside Jess' skull, and she wants to scream No, Sam, stay back, but she can't make a sound.

The man with Mary's beautiful eyes, the man who isn't Dean, reaches out and touches Sam's arm. There's a flash of light so bright that Jess automatically closes her eyes, and when she opens them again, Sam is gone.

She's left with nothing but a lingering smell of sulfur.

The police never find a trace of Sam.

The next time Jess sees Sam is just before he kills her.

He's been leading the Demon's army for a while by now, and the world is falling helpless before him. For a long time, even after the Apocalypse began, Jess tried to convince herself that it wasn't Sam, but deep down she's known all along, so she isn't really surprised when time runs out and she finds herself facing him.

He tilts his head a little and says mildly, "Hi, Jess." She looks into his empty brown eyes and knows that he's not Sam, not really, not any more than the man who looked like Mary was Dean.

Jess knows he's going to kill her, and she doesn't much care any more -- she's tired of hiding, tired of fighting, tired of watching the world collapse around her. She just has one thing she wants to say to what's left of the man she once loved. "That wasn't your brother, Sam," she says quietly.

He smiles a bit sadly, and for just an instant she thinks she sees a flicker of her Sam in those eyes, but then it's gone. "I know," he replies. "My brother wouldn't have let any of this happen."

Then he snaps her neck with a thought, and steps over her body and walks away without a backward glance.