Before Stanford there was Dad and Dean, hunts and fights, blood and stitches, cold coffee and cherry pie. There were dingy motel rooms and bad television. There was the Impala and always moving around. Before Stanford there was Mom, seen only in pictures and never talked about in words. There were sofa beds and lumpy mattresses, stuffy caravans and old tents. There was homework done by torchlight while Dad and Dean hunted, there were second hand clothes bought from the Salvation Army or Oxfam, there were Dean's hand-me-down shoes, so battered and worn that they were only good for the thrash. There were guns and rock salt, incantations and exorcisms. Before Stanford he could speak Latin almost as well as he could English, could name the capitals and at least 20 cities in each of the states, hell he'd been in most of them over the years. There was research and training and staying out all night and 'Yes Sir' and always being prepared and never ever letting your guard down. There were friends that came and went quicker than the ghosts they hunted. There were teachers concerned at the lack of stability, encouraging him to stay, telling him he could be anything he wanted. There was Dean, shared jokes, whispered stories told curled up on the back seat of the Impala, punishments taken side by side, there was beer stolen from a liquor store and drank on the hood of the Impala at three in the morning. There was the knowledge that no one in any of the 50 schools he went too would ever hurt him cos they knew Dean Winchester was his brother. Before Stanford there was demon that killed his Mom and ruined everything and that they had to kill, that they had to avenge even though he'd never known any other life than the one he was living now and even though it sucked it was still a life so what was there to avenge?
During Stanford there were dingy dorm rooms that seemed like home, roommates who came and went and got drunk and made him feel part of something and at the same time feel totally alone. There were classes and friends and being able to do whatever the hell he wanted whenever he wanted it. There was, study, parties, staying out all night and not once thinking about Latin or pushups or newly dug graves. There were football matches, cheerleaders, homemade cookies and the smell of Jess's hair just after she washed it. There were the same Salvation Army clothes that suddenly seemed cool, there was California and sunshine, trips to the beach in an old beat up truck. There were a couple of routine salt n burns, one in Palo Alto that he read about on the internet and one that got from Bobby, who'd heard he was in Dallas on spring break and asked him for a favor. There was Dean, never actually there but always present somehow, standing beside him bitching about how he didn't use enough lighter fluid and 'Dude that'll never burn'. There were sudden feelings; the feeling of being watched, the grumble of a heavy car at two in the morning. There were summer jobs and evening jobs and the bar just outside of town where the owner turned a blind eye at a kid who hustled pool better and more modestly than anyone he'd ever seen. There were knives hidden in drawers and charms under the pillow. There was Thanksgiving and Christmas and birthdays and all the things real people did but that he never truly enjoyed. There were newspaper clippings and the sound of phones as they rang and rang and rang. There was happiness and loneliness and anger and joy and everything was so different and so normal and it was inevitable that it wouldn't last, he knew it never could.
After Stanford there were nights so long that he didn't know if it would ever be morning, there were words seldom spoken and hidden meaning, there was guilt and betrayal and anger and pain, there was blood and fire and smoke and anger. There were shapeshifters and wendigos and demons walking around looking like cheerleaders. There was guilt and suspicion and arguments and motels and bad food. There was grief, lost girlfriends, lost fathers, lost friends. There was confusion and blurred lines. There were visions so bad he just wanted to die right there. There were betrayals and secret and lies, whispered conversations, hidden meanings, old cities, new cities, working backwards, walking forwards. There were bandages and stitches and painkillers and booze and so much greasy food his insides almost gave way. There was good and evil and everything in between and not knowing where he really belonged. There was everything he ever believed in being shattered to pieces over and over again like some kind of waking nightmare so bad he didn't know what would be worse, death or life. There was Dean, always there strong and solid beside him. There were greasy diners and motels so bad they could only laugh. There were pool games so familiar it was like replaying the same scene. There were fist fights and bar fights and bitch fights and everything in between. There were long conversations and even longer silences. There were arguments and tears and misunderstandings. There were moments where they hunted side by side so perfectly it was like they had never been meant to do anything else. There was blood and stitches and whiskey and flying along the road at 100 miles an hour. There was Dad and Jess and Ellen and Jo and Bobby and Cas and Ruby and Samuel and Gabriel and Michael and Cowley and Lucifer and Mom... and everyone else who didn't really matter in the end, except Dean. There was a destiny he had never chosen but which had chosen him. There was a brother whom he loved so much that he didn't think he could ever fully explain it. There was a way out up ahead but only if he had the courage to take it.