Chapter 1
"Hey Dad, can I talk to you for a minute?" John Winchester shuffled across the kitchen and threw together a nasty little sandwich that consisted of just mustard and old bologna. "Sam, I'm beat. Can we talk tomorrow? That sonofabitch took more to kill than I thought it would." Sam dropped his gaze to the floor. And yet again I get put off until another day. Thanks Dad, Sam thought. "Sure Dad. Goodnight," he mustered, masking his true feelings.
Dean took one look at his brother's face and new whatever Sam wanted to talk about was important. He waited until John's footsteps faded up the stairs and down the hallway, then inquired "Sam, what are you so eager to talk about with Dad anyway?" "Dean, I'd rather have you both here to hear it. It's important," Sam started to walk away, but Dean sidestepped in front of him. "Okay, congratulations, you have me interested for once. What is it?" Sam shifted his weight uncomfortably and dropped his gaze to the floor. His brother was always able to get stuff out of Sam without having to do much.
"You know how I brought up the idea of me going to college instead of hunting?"
"Yeah…?"
"Dean, I got accepted into Stanford. Stanford, Dean."
"Don't even tell me you're going. Don't say that. Sam, we need you."
"I'm going. It's what I've always wanted. This is the biggest opportunity I've ever gotten and there's no way in hell I'm turning it down."
"Sam! You better not! I swear to God," Dean's voice had escalated to a yell, stirring their father who had just slumped into bed. He rolled off the bed, more than a bit irritated, and lumbered down the stairs to see what the issue was. "Boys! What's going on down here?"
"Sam is leaving us for college!" Dean screamed.
"Sam?" his father looked at him with an accusatory glare.
"Yes Dad, I got a full ride to Stanford and I'm going. I'm sorry."
"Sam, we need you here. Dean is going to need you. I won't always be around, and he's going to need you. You're not going to college. You can't"
"Dad I'm going. It's what I've been dreaming about ever since I hit high school. Don't make me feel guilty for following my dreams and not living yours."
"Sam if you ever walk out of this house for some stupid college-boy dream, don't even think about ever coming back, you understand me?!" John raised his voice. Sam winced, and flashes of doubt crowded his vision. But eventually his head cleared again. He knew what he wanted, and this time, he wouldn't let his father get in the way.
"Fine. If that's how this has to be, then so be it. Let me pack my things and go. Please don't say another word to me on the way out. You won't change my mind this time. You'll be fine without me." With that, Sam raced up the stairs taking two steps at a time, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He was shaking from the argument as he quickly packed his duffel with the bare necessities and a few other things important to him. A picture of his mother, a knife, his laptop. He grabbed his duffel, packed to the brim, and leaped down the stairs, rushing out the door before even Dean could stop him. He ran all the way downtown to the bus stop, the cool night air rushing across his flushed face, pushing his hair back. He bought a ticket to Stanford, California and never looked back.