October 2000
To the Dean of Admission, Stanford University, from Sam Winchester. Most influential person, my brother, no doubt!
Even sitting in the farthest corner of the musty small town library Sam couldn't help but smile as he thought of Dean. It was a bit of coup, really, taking the time that had been allocated by his father for researching their latest hunt to fill out college applications. It wasn't often that he had time alone, their small family unit was fairly close after all and his father and brother very protective of him. What time he did have in solitude he tried to put to best use. Although he was already on his third high school of the year, and it still being only early October, he'd already been called in by counselors at all three of the schools for the 'what are your plans for the future' talk. With his grades and SAT scores (oh, and it hadn't been easy to earn the money for the test fee, he had lost count of how many walks he'd shoveled and lawns he'd mown through the early part of the year to pay the test fee and to save for the application fees) the counselors were highly suggestive that he try for the ivy leagues, Harvard, Yale, Columbia, even Stanford. The way they talked they felt that his folks should be very proud of his academic accomplishments thus far. He didn't bother to correct the assumption that his mother was still alive, or that his father was anything less than proud of the time he had put in to earn that 4.0 and to earn the national merit scholarship that he had the year before after taking the PSAT.
No, the counselors had no idea of what Sam Winchester's home life was like and he was happy to keep it that way. Dissuading them of their happy notions would only get him in deeper trouble with his father. There had been a few close calls with CPS over the years and now that they were so close to 'the goal line' of both him and Dean be of the age of majority he didn't want to ruin it now by being put in foster care with just 7 months until he turned 18. Even worst if they knew the full extent of his whacked out home life they'd be more likely to place him under psychiatric evaluation than in a home. Sometimes Sam almost wondered if that wasn't where he belonged. The way their father raised them, the sparring and sharpshooting exercises, the memorization of several different versions of the Latin exorcisms, the habitual laying of salt lines and the drawing of the protective sigils above the doorways and windows was far from what anyone would call a normal childhood. Sometimes Sam felt the only things that DID keep him sane were the light at the end of tunnel, an escape to college, and his brother.
The idea of a normal life, a safe life, was one that Sam had dreamed of since he was 13 and he'd had a brief taste of what it might have been like. He hadn't thought about that time in a while, but when he did it still made him feel both regretful, wistful and angry all wrapped up in one. Regretful that he'd lost the opportunities and for his actions at the end of the time, wistful for the life they'd had that wonderful summer and fall and the girl he'd fallen in love with all that time ago, and angry at both his brother and father for ripping him away from that life. He knew that he'd never dissuade his father from his crusade for revenge or his brother from being his father's perfect foot soldier but that didn't mean he had to live his life like that. He understood that for both of them the loss of Mary Winchester was still very painful and it was what drove them and their need to hunt down as many 'evil sons of bitches' as they could. He knew that they saved many people's lives while doing this but he couldn't help feeling that while they saved these other people they were sacrificing their own sense of normalcy and well-being, while risking their safety and health at extreme levels. Personally in his 17 years he could remember all of two birthdays that his father had been present for, and not once had they celebrated a traditional Christmas or Thanksgiving. He'd lost any illusions of his family being like others after he was 7 and had been disappointed one too many times and being told to keep quiet when he started talking about what his first grade classmates had done for their holidays and what they did to celebrate their birthdays. That was also when he'd learned to stop asking about his mother because he knew he'd never get answers out of either of his brother or father.
Despite all this he still didn't feel like he'd missed out on much. Sure his father had been absent for much of his youth, but he still had his brother. Having Dean in his life made up for pretty much every other crummy aspect. Dean was his confidant, his advisor, his mother, father, brother and best friend all wrapped up in the same quirky package. Having lived most of their life on the road didn't leave much room for other long-term relationships. While Dean was more likely than not to be seen walking his flavor of the week home from a bar these days Sam knew that in the end he was still his brother's closest relationship. This also why he knew that filling out these college applications and writing these 'most influential person' essays had to be done in private. While his brother wouldn't have shown it he would have been deeply hurt if he knew Sam's plan for the next year. He didn't want to hurt his brother but he also knew he couldn't continue living his life like a hunter. He couldn't live a life on a quest for revenge for a woman he hardly remembered, couldn't keep living in the shadows of society always wanting what he couldn't have.
He frowned as he thought about the upcoming months and the battle of wills that would be fought with his father over his decision. He knew the likely outcome, a full and total break from his family. This was why he needed to make sure he made his fully thought through and would work. He needed to get into a good university, so that he could get into a good law school, and he needed way to pay for it on his own. While loans were always an option he knew that at 17 or even 18 he'd likely need his father or bother as a 'cosigner', meaning that was a no go. They'd never go along with it, and if the loan companies even attempted to look into their credit histories they'd find they had none and had been off the grid for nearly 17 years. He'd had this plan since that time when he was 13, he knew he wanted to go to law school, a good law school, so that he'd be more likely to get well paying job once he'd graduated. He also knew scholarships were necessary. Since he'd realized this he'd hit the books with a renewed zeal and had decided to make the most of his academic experiences in high school, no matter how many he attended. If his brother had noticed this dedication and focus on his grades he hadn't commented. With their lifestyle it had been hard to balance the research and exercises his father required and his schooling (a source of many, many fights with his father). So far he'd made it through three years and had yet to falter in his grades and he wasn't about to let up now. He hoped this focus would help carry him through university with good grades as well.
The first step, though, was to finish these applications and get the mailed in as early as possible. He knew the earlier the better in terms of being considered for scholarships. While he was applying for other outside scholarships he knew he was more likely to receive school-sponsored scholarships, and those were more valuable in terms of what costs they would cover. Considering his track record even with his school attendance finding scholarships based on extracurriculars were unlikely. He knew that in another life he might have had a shot at an athletic scholarship, likely for soccer or basketball (height did have its advantages after all) but he had given up that argument in 6th grade. His father refused to let him participate in school sports because they might lead to an injury that would keep him from hunting, and while he knew his father wouldn't admit it he was protecting Sam's feelings as well. Being on a sports team would likely just lead to disappointment because they'd end up moving at the last minute before a 'big game'. He'd also been cut off from most other after school activities such as honor society or the other numerous clubs because they would be a 'waste of time' and distract him.
So here he was, trying to figure out how to express in words why his brother was the most influential person in his life. His mind drifted back again to that wonderful summer and fall of 'normal' when he was 13 and decided that it was probably the only period in his life he could write about without it being untrue or being seen as a fiction. That experience had also proven to him why his brother was the most important influence in his life so it seemed appropriate. As he pulled the scratch paper towards him images of that time flooded his mind and he found himself lost in memories of a happier time for a short while.
