Title: Hello, This is Your Mind
Author: Jace22
Pairing: Sam/Dean & Sam/Jess
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: incest
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys of Supernatural. If I did there would be a lot more touching involved. Hugs? Would be the least of their worries.
Notes: A big, huge thank you to the wonderful lj user moonfairyhime for betaing this. Loves
Summary: You know you think about someone too much when they're the voice in your head.


Hello, she says, this is your mind speaking.

Sam laughs, when did Jess become the voice in his head?

He thinks it's funny that she can still make him laugh even after she's been dead for far too long now.


When Sam was a kid he and Dean used to play Clue a lot. Their dad encouraged it, saying that it was a good way to test their logic skills. "Logic is one of the best weapons you can have. You have to keep your wits about you even in tough situations, things out there'll try to fool you, but you can't let them." He explained patiently to Sam one day, handing him the little miniature candlestick. "Scarlet, in the lounge, with the candlestick," he said.

Sam always got that. The logic thing. And he's always remembered what his dad said, although he can't quite remember if it had actually turned out to be Scarlet, in the lounge, with the candlestick that time.
Sam's always been good with the whole logic thing, which is how he figures out that it isn't really Dean, but the shape shifter. Um, hello, duh, logic. as Jess had said to him once when she was trying to convince him Tom Cruise was a total closet case, logically speaking of course.

So now, with the shape shifter, it's all about the logic. A leads him to B which then leads him to C. Dean was hurt, Sam noticed that Dean certainly didn't seem hurt now, so Sam tossed him the car keys, Dean caught with the hurt arm. See? Logic. Having an inkling that it wasn't Dean because of the way he didn't walk up to him and knock his shoulder against his, or the way he didn't bat his eyelashes, trying to make him blush, isn't using logic. That's either wishful thinking or just plain dumb.


Lori is soft and wonderful, all sweetness and hurt and lost innocence. He can taste it on her lips, feel it trickling out of her in the form of a kiss.

Sometimes you just need someone to connect to, and he found that in her. It was nice to be able to give her something: acceptance, understanding. He too knew what it was like to feel that the world around you was going crazy and that you were to blame.

He kisses her, and for one blissful second he's happy, but then he hears Jess' voice in his head and he knows he can't do it. He hears her laughter, and he knows she's telling him it's okay, but maybe she's lying. Or maybe it was just his imagination.

It's funny how it's only his imagination when it might mean something good for him. But it's always all too real when it doesn't matter, when
he's just sitting by himself thinking about nothing and everything all at once.


"You know, at first I thought the Hook Man was all about naughty-dirty-teenage sex. Underlying sexual tones were in most of the legends. I mean, I guess it sort of was here. Not really, though." Dean laughs. "Like seriously, it would have been so funny if we had hot-dirty-guy sex to bait the Hook Man."

"Dean…" Sam starts, half-laughing. Sometimes Dean says things so bluntly, so easily. Sam wishes he had that same ease, now.

He wonders if he ever had that ease.

Not really. His mind answers, and he wonders if it means something about him that his inner-voice is a girl's voice.


When she was going out someplace special Jess used to put on this one perfume that smelled delicate and pretty and made him think of gardens filled with flowers.

"It's the kind my mom used to wear. Before she died. It makes me feel closer to her, you know?"
Sam nodded. "I just wish that I had something to remember my mom by. I don't even know what she smelled like. I never got to know."

She gathered him into her arms and kissed the top of his head and murmured something soothing about being his lover, his mother, and all that stuff.

It hurts the most to remember sometimes how sweet she was, how much she understood, but didn't.
How much she knew, but how much he hid from her.

You should have told her. Me. His mind says, and Sam shuts his eyes, trying to hide from himself. From
Jess. From everything.

"You okay, man?" Dean asks, but Sam doesn't reply, he just gives a sharp nod.

His eyes stay closed.


You could have stayed with her, you know. Dean would have let you even though he wouldn't have liked it. You could probably even go back now. You could have gotten her number, stayed in touch. You could have had someone new to love you, because, Sam, I can't love you like I used to anymore. I'm gone, and you have to accept that, move on.

But Jess doesn't understand, or maybe it's Sam that doesn't understand. He has to hunt down whatever it was that took her from him. The same thing that took his mother from him, the thing that prevented him from ever finding out what his mother smelled like or what she looked like when she smiled. He doesn't mean one of those frozen smiles you always see in pictures, but a real life smile.

Jess doesn't know that when he thinks about girls now he thinks about death and having them ripped away from him. If he lets himself love Lori she might die too. It's not fair to her, to anyone.

But you let yourself love Dean. You always have.

That's stupid, though. Dean is strong, stronger than Sam. Sam doesn't have to worry about him. Dean's the only person that makes him feel safe right now. The only person he doesn't constantly have to protect.
There are a million reasons he can't stay with Lori, keep in touch with her, let himself fall in love. Too many to pick from.


The first night Dean tried to kiss him again, tried to make things how they used to be, how they weren't supposed to be, Sam hit his hand away and scowled.

Dean's too fucking persistent for his own good, and Jess must not actually be speaking in his head, because if she was she probably wouldn't approve of the way Dean is kissing him now.

Whenever Sam kisses Dean, memories come flooding back to him in clusters and bunches. They blend together to create something he thought was long lost, hidden under layers and layers of self-deprecation and loathing. He remembers hotel beds that were never used, remembers feet touching at night, remembers brushing hands in the car.

He wonders if their father ever noticed anything.


If Sam was compiling a list if You Know You When You this is sort of how it would go:

1. You know you had a strange childhood when, instead of opening the closet door and smiling at you, your father handed you a gun when you told him there was something in your closet.

2. You know prom is not meant for you when you're father takes you shopping for weapons instead of a suit.

3. You know you'll never be able to sleep on your back again when blood drips down on your face, and you look up to see your girlfriend gutted and burning on your ceiling.

4. You know you think about someone far too much, someone you should be getting over, when they're the voice you hear in your head.

5. You know you're sitting between Messed Up and Fucked Up on a plane ride—Messed Up being the guy who won't stop blowing his nose, and Fucked Up being the guy who's taking up half of your seat—that's destined to crash, when the voice in your head alternates between your dead girlfriend and the brother you're fucking, and sometimes the two blend together.

Sam knows that Fucked Up and Messed Up are smiling at each other over his head, which is kinda hard since he's so tall and all. Since it's a metaphor, though, they must have some special matter-defying abilities. They can see through him or something.

And last but not least 6. You know you weren't raised right when your brother's hand is down your pants and all you can think about are lists.