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Sam breaks his life into two parts: then and now.
At first, it annoyed her, and she would be lying if she said it no longer does, but it's a little different now. She understands him a little better - she knows that that then scares him.
She knows this in the scars that litter his body from the thin, old, old wounds across his thigh that look like claws to what looks like an old bullet wound in his shoulder to the thick scar that runs from behind his right ear and disappears under his shirt like something burned him to the catastrophe of his worn, calloused hands.
She knows this from his nightmares, how he never screams, never flails - just goes still.
She knows from the way his eyes scan every room they walk into, how he would be able to tell her where every exit is and has a tendency to sit so he can see the doors in the restaurants they go into.
She's not sure what it all means together, but she knows that whatever he ran from, whatever he left behind - he does not want it to follow.
What Jess knows about before is limited. She knows he has an older brother called Dean. Sam says that she would probably hate him at first, but he's not a bad guy - she's not really sure what that means and Sam didn't elaborate. She knows he has a father called John. She knows that he trained Sam, like survival training.
She knows his mother is dead, and she knows if he has any other family, he's never met them.
She'd asked him about the bullet wound once, and she waited for one of his excuses that he definitely knew she wasn't buying, but he had just looked her for a moment, long and tired. "It was - it was his training," Sam said.
"For what?"
"For everything," he replied.
Jess's had it pretty easy, she'll admit. Suburban neighbourhood, two little brothers and her mother and her stepdad. They've never struggled for money and her parents have always supported her the best they could. But she's not ignorant, and she's not blind to her own privilege.
Sometimes kids don't get supportive parents or a roof over their head. She knows sometimes fucked up things happen to kids. She knows some bad things happened to Sam growing up and maybe he's just not ready to talk about them yet - maybe he doesn't know how.
She's prepared to wait, as long as he needs, she'll wait.
"I think he scares me" Sam had said to her when they were curled up in bed. It was so out of the blue that she strained her neck to look at his face from where she had her head on his chest.
His face was stony, staring up at the ceiling.
"My dad," he clarified when she didn't say anything.
Jessica settles back down onto his chest then, reaching for one of his hands. She laces their fingers to together and squeezes, running her thumb along Sam's rough, worn skin.
"Well, you don't need to worry," she says. "I'll kick his fucking ass if he shows his face."
A noise jumps out of Sam, like a laugh but it moves more towards hysterical. She holds him tighter.
It's a random Friday evening when they're walking back from their classes when it happens.
They round the corner of one of the old buildings on the outskirts of campus, not too far from where they parked the car, when Sam freezes. Their intertwined hands jerk Jess back, and she's almost telling Sam not to be a moron and jerk her around - and then she sees Sam's face. He's standing there, his face white even underneath the soft orange of the setting sun.
"Sam, what is it?" she says as he takes a step back, accidentally pulling her along with him. He's looking somewhere behind her, eyes wide and - scared?
She spins around, and there's a man walking towards them, he stumbles, the neck of a whiskey bottle is clutched loosely in his hand, and he doesn't even look at her. Sam takes another step backwards, shaking his head.
"No," he whispers and Jess can feel Sam's hand shaking in her own, and she knows who this man is. She recognises the face, the cold eyes and dark hair and hardened face from the photograph Sam has on the dresser in the living room. Sam's father.
"Sam," the man says, his voice slurs, and he points the bottle at Sam like he's accusing him. "You got yourself a girl huh," he stumbles, eyes drifting to Jess, sizing her up. "Not gonna last Sammy," he grins, feral.
She feels sick.
"Leave," Sam suddenly says, his voice cracks halfway through. "Just leave me alone - you wanted me gone didn’t you? Leave," Sam backs up again, and Jess lets herself be pulled one last step, but she knows how Sam feels about this man, and she's not going to let this man objectify her.
She pulls her hand free of Sam's and moves between the two. She's as tall as him, pulls up to her full height and steps closer - and she's not going to let him talk to Sam like that. Her phone is in her hand, 911 already dialled out, just waiting for her to press call.
She moves the screen, so he can see the number and lets it sink in. "Wanna spend the night in a holding cell?" she says. "Or do you wanna fuck off?"
She's keenly aware that if John decided to throw punches she'd be in trouble - she doesn't know how to fight, and she knows that even inebriated, John could do damage from what little bits Sam has said about the man, but it doesn't really matter.
She won’t let John Winchester anywhere near Sam. Not now, and not ever.
He looks behind her, at Sam, looking him over, and she doesn't think she's ever seen anyone with eyes so - so dead, so empty.
"Won't last, Sammy," he says, before he turns, he hits her shoulder with his own like he's some petty fucking child.
They stand there until he disappears around the corner and then a little longer and Jess' can feel her heart beat thumping through every inch of her body, and she heaves in a deep breath, comes down from the high. "Jess-" Sam starts, and she can hear the apology before it's left his mouth as if it's his fault his dad's a fully qualified piece of shit.
"Not your fault he's like that," she turns and grabs hold of his hand again, and starts to pull him into walking again. "Plus, it's like I said. I'll kick his fucking ass."
He looks at her then, like he can't really believe her.
"I'm not going anywhere, Sam. I'm afraid you're stuck with me."
"Thanks," Sam says, so softly she almost misses it.
Yeah, she's not leaving this boy anytime soon.