-1Author's note:

Well, Sam kind of got short shrift in my first story, Of Pride and Thankfulness. I'm just learning the ropes here, didn't realize that you need to add comments in front of the story and can only upload everything once. OP&T was my attempt to make sense of the 2 years silence between the boys that Dean referred to, despite Sam's obviously having been at college for 4 years, the infamous timeline screw up in the Pilot. So, I'm presenting Sam's diary entries, to show things from Sam's point of view.

Excerpts From the Diary of Sam Winchester by Swellison

This Diary Belongs to Sam Winchester - Stanford University

Monday, April 28, 2004

Well, I did it. I asked Jessica out to dinner this Friday. She said "Yes", seemed surprised by the week's notice. We've been doing dinner & a movie (at the campus theatre with pizza or burgers) on the fly or grabbing a bite to eat after studying for the last two months. I told her this was special, "after five attire" required. I'll be wearing my one good three-piece suit, from my high school prom. I wound up not going, because of that damn ghoul that we had to take care of instead. Good thing I bought a plain black suit and not something color-coordinated to Leslie's dress. At least it still fits; I may've grown up since then, but I haven't grown any taller. Dean would probably disown me if I gained another inch on him, and Dad… well, Dad already has, hasn't he?

Anyway, Jessica said "Yes."

It was serendipity, us meeting when her micro-recorder broke. She approached me after class and asked if she could borrow my notes, explaining that her recorder had croaked early in the lecture. Prettiest girl in the class, and her smile… She didn't say anything about me being one of the only students who didn't use a recorder, either. (I've overheard some of the students in my other classes speculating that I couldn't afford a micro-recorder and must be one of those Peanut Butter & Jelly scholars.) I handed her my notebook and she flipped it open, then paused. "Oh, is this shorthand?"

I taught myself shorthand several years ago. After all, you can't write down notes about incantations, demonic possession, dismemberment and the like in plain English, for anyone to read. When I got to Stanford, I just continued to use shorthand, without thinking about it. "Oh," I think I blushed. "I use shorthand to get all of Professor Sillsbee's comments - he talks a mile a minute. I'll be glad to er, translate for you, though. We can do it now, if you like?" Jessica had to get to another class, but we agreed to meet afterwards, at the Student Union.

Well, as they say in Casablanca, it was the start of a beautiful friendship. We started studying together, and that branched into hanging out with friends and taking in the occasional movie. Now, I want more, and I hope she does, too. I'll find out Friday.

Saturday, May 3, 2004

Last night was the Big Date.

Jessica let me drive her car, since I knew where we were going and she didn't. It's a metallic blue PT Cruiser. Dean would snort and make some remark about it being a pseudo-retro wannabe, but, hey, it fit all six feet four of me, so I'm not complaining. We went to Guidry's and the valet whistled when Jess got out. I probably did, too, 'cause she looked amazing. She was wearing this shimmery blue dress with a beaded V-neck and a bare back. Sheesh, I sound like a Vogue editor, or something. To put it in Dean's words, she was beyond hot.

She was impressed by the restaurant, too. I picked Guidry's because it had three stars in Zagat's and the atmosphere was described as intimate and luxurious. Jessica mentioned that she knew how hard it was to get reservations. I didn't tell her that I employed one of Dean's intimidation techniques to get the reservations, I just smiled and nodded.

The wait staff treated us right, making sure we were amply supplied with drinks and food, but had plenty of alone-time, too.

We started off with small talk. First, I complimented her on her dress, said it matched her eyes. She smiled, "Blue's my favorite color, cool and calming. It's also the color of the sky, reminding me how limitless it is, and I like that, too. What's your favorite color?"

"Green." The color of Dean's eyes, full of caring and concern from childhood. But I could hardly tell her that, so I improvised. "The color of nature and all living things. The color of hope." Then I took refuge in my water glass.

The waiter appeared with our drink order, a fine California Pinot Chardonnay. (I asked Becca what wine I should order and she said, "You can't go wrong with a good California Chardonnay." She was right.) The first toast was a no-brainer. "Good luck on finals!" We still had another week of final exams to go, including our shared history class on Wednesday.

"Seriously, Sam. I want to thank you for studying with me. I know I've benefited from your unique perspective of the class."

"Unique perspective?" I asked, not getting it.

"The majority of the class is history majors, like me. But you're not a history major, so why'd you take the class?"

"I needed to beef up my humanities requirements, and it looked like an easy course."

Jessica's eyes widened in surprise. "An easy course? You thought 'Last of the Dark Ages, Pre-Medieval European History' was an easy course? Most of the history majors I know groan when they mention any course that Sillsbee teaches, let alone this one."

Oops. How could I tell Jessica that I knew the Dark Ages like I knew the back of my hand, since the period produced a lot of the source books defining and outlining how to fight the Supernatural? Books I'd practically read from cover to cover over the years. Pastor Jim had drilled the history into us, too. He was big on learning from history, and not repeating the mistakes of others.

I shrugged. "The early Middle Ages are a hobby of mine, I've read a lot on the period. I knew the material and getting a professor's views on it was appealing, plus I was adding to my humanities credits. A win-win situation."

Jess smiled. "Like I said, a unique perspective. You're an interesting man, Sam Winchester."

"I hope you don't mean that in the Chinese way," I muttered.

Jessica caught my reference to the Chinese curse about living in interesting times, oblique as it was. I'm beginning to see that Jessica understands me very well, even though there's tons about me that she'll never know. "I meant that I'd like to know you better."

That made my next toast obvious. "To getting to know you."

The waiter reappeared to take our order. We skipped appetizers and went straight for the main course. I ordered a New York strip steak, Jessica ordered the wild mushroom risotto, on the menu as a Chef's Specialty. After the waiter left, she asked me where I was from.

I'd already decided exactly how I'd answer that question. "I was born in Lawrence, Kansas - but we moved around a lot. I guess you could say I'm from all over." Then, to divert attention, I asked, "Where are you from?"

"I'm a local, Sam. Born and raised in Palo Alto -- sometimes I think I'll die here, too. For awhile, I thought college would be my big chance to leave California, go to the University of Michigan or Pennsylvania, but… Stanford's in my blood. My mother met my father at Stanford, and they both loved the place, still do.

"And now I sound like I'm looking for an MRS degree, don't I? I'm not, I just decided that Stanford was a good fit for me, close to home and they have an outstanding medieval history program. My older brother, Lee, is going to Rice; he's a second-year med student, and my younger sister, Veronica, wants to go to Sacramento State, for reasons that escape me."

Shortly after that, our entrees arrived and we concentrated on eating. The food was fabulous, well worth the intimidation tactics I'd employed to get our reservation. We talked about our summer plans over dinner. Jess is toying with the idea of taking a summer course in England, I said more than likely I'd take a construction job in town, either working on a road crew or building houses. The pay's good, and it'll keep me in shape.

We ordered dessert. I went for the chocolate mousse, Jessica wanted the Strawberries Romanoff.

"You know, Sam, I don't know much about you, besides the fact that you're a genius, with a full scholarship. I don't even know your birthday, or anything."

"Funny you should say that. Today's my twenty-first birthday."

"Really? But, you should be out celebrating, having a party, or something!"

"I am. I'm with exactly who I want to be with."

Jessica smiled, pleased. Then another thought crossed her mind and she half-whispered. "At least one of us is drinking legally, then."

I nodded. Act like an adult and people tended to treat you like an adult. They also tended to overestimate my age; one of the advantages of my being extra-tall. "So, when's your birthday?"

"January twenty-fourth."

"But that's Dean's birthday!" I couldn't help it; I said the first thing that came to my mind.

"Dean? Who's Dean?"

Oops, well, you know what they say about the best-laid plans. "He's my only brother. Dean was born on January 24, 1979."

"Oh. You didn't mention him, earlier." Jess didn't add "why not?", but I heard it, loud and clear.

"Jess." She looked up at me, hearing the serious tone that my voice had taken. "I don't talk about my family very much. My Mom died when I was a baby; I don't remember her at all. My Dad - well, he threw himself into his work, after that. Dean practically raised me."

Jess reached out to pat my hand. "I'm so sorry, Sam."

"Thank you." I took a deep breath, and continued. "As I told you before, we moved around a lot. As we grew older, Dean joined my Dad in his work, but I wanted something different, so I came to Stanford. Dad didn't take my decision to leave very well, at all. We haven't spoken since." And that's as much as I'm going to tell Jess about my past, far more than I originally intended.

"Sam, that's dreadful."

"He had his reasons. One thing you need to know about the Winchesters, Jess, we're a stubborn lot. Dean --Dean got stuck in the middle, but he stayed with Dad. When I first got here, Dean and I kept in touch, but... I haven't heard from him in a long time." Not that I didn't jump every time the phone rang, expecting it to be Dean, with good news, or bad news, or something in-between. Don't ask me why I don't take the initiative and call Dean, I've got from one to a hundred reasons for that, depending on mood.

"Sam… I don't know what to say."

"I'm telling you this because you're important to me. I want to continue seeing you, Jess, and you deserve to know about my family."

"Thanks for being honest with me Sam. I want to continue seeing you, too." Honest? I could hear Dean's disbelieving voice in my mind, but I ignored it. I was being as honest as I could be.

We ended the evening with a nice, romantic stroll through the campus park - and a little necking. Dean would be proud of me.

Dean. I still can't believe Dean and Jess have the same birthday, what an incredible coincidence. Guess I'll take it as Dean's tacit approval. "Whatever makes you happy, Sammy." She does, Dean. Jessica makes me happy.