Jess's fingers on Sam's face are cool and gentle, her voice soft in his ears.

Sighing in relaxation, he rolls toward her and presses his face against her neck. "Good morning," he mumbles sleepily, kissing the skin beneath his lips.

She laughs soft, "Good morning."

The implications of warm flesh beneath his hands and curves pressed tight against his body slowly becomes clear and Sam's blood runs cold.

"Frak," he bolts upright and stares in horror at Jessica's sleepy smile.

She yawns with gusto, and snuggles back down into the sheets, reaching out to slide a hand across his thigh. "Something wrong, Sam?" Her confusion seems almost genuine but for the glint in her eye.

"You're one of those things?!" He stumbles from the bed and back against the sleek wall, hand fumbling for a gun that isn't there.

Jessica stretches, hints of lean leg showing through the tangled sheets. "You want breakfast?"

*

"Where are we?" He demands, remaining unmoving against the wall.

Jessica gives him a look of tolerant amusement. "Our home, Sam." She waves the hand holding her brush to gesture about them. "It's not exactly our apartment on Caprica," she looks chagrined, "I know, but it is nice don't you think?"

"You're a Cylon, Jess," he says, numb.

Her laughter is incredulous. "Obviously, how else would I be here?" She rolls her eyes like she would have before. "It is me Sam, it's Jess." Rising from her chair, she takes a step toward him and it's a conscious effort for him to not react, not to lash out. "Yes, I'm a Cylon but I'm still the same Jessica you've always known," she smiled, reaching out a hand to him. "It's me."

"No," he says. "It was never you."

*

"I remember the first time I saw you," Jess says, her voice light and dreamy. "It was raining and we didn't have umbrellas." She laughs, the sound filling the air around them. He used to love her laugh. "You looked like a drowned rat."

Sam tries not to listen, thinks of Dad and Dean out there somewhere. Dad still with the fleet, Dean probably holed up with the rebels. He runs through endless drills in his head, remembering everything Dad taught them, holding onto it and the knowledge that Dean's working on a way to get him out. Dean won't leave him here and he repeats it as Jessica threads fingers through his hair.

He used to love this, now he feels sick.

"You were beautiful," he says and his stomach threatens to rebel.

Jessica kisses his cheek, he clenches a fist.

*

He wakes to the sound of gunfire and singing. He grits his teeth and rolls away from her.

"It had to be done," she tells him, her voice sounds sad. "They were murderers."

"Frak you," he throws her hand off his arm and gets up, looks at her with accusation in his eyes. "How can it be murder when no one actually died? They just downloaded."

She sits, demure and still on the bed and watches him with those eyes. "We feel pain, Sam. When I died it was agony."

Sam looks out at the New Caprica sky. "So's this."

*

He's her pet and he knows it; Dean better hurry the frak up.

*

"Is this so bad?" Jessica asks him. "Wouldn't you have given anything for this a year ago?" She reaches out, runs a hand down his arm.

Sam's body betrays him, reacting to the touch. He looks away. "A year ago I would have died for this." He smiles bitterly. "A year ago I was an idiot."

*

He shoots her and doesn't want to think about how it makes him feel. Dean stands just behind his shoulder, keeping watch with Bobby and the Harvelles. They don't have a lot of time but, somehow, Sam needs to see this.

Lying on the floor, Jess gives him a sad little smile and whispers, "I'll tell your Mom you love her."

*

"Did you hear what she said?" Sitting on the floor of the bunker, Sam looks up at his brother. "Did you hear it?"

"I heard it, Sam." Dean responds with a scowl. "Leave it alone, little brother."

"But what if Mom is --"

"Mom is not one of those things!"

*

Sam wakes in the night and hears Jessica’s laughter.

Disclaimer: don't own BSG, don't own Supernatural

 

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