Stanford, Palo Alto, California
Sam Winchester's Dorm Room
It was dark. Well of course it was dark! It was three A.M. Sam heard a noise from the living room and sat up. He looked over to see a sleeping Jessica Moore. It's not her then... shit. He got up silently and crept into the living room. He later reflected that if the man had been a little less thin, he might have recognized him. The man in shadow was maybe three inches shorter than he, wore a collared shirt and had short hair. He looked familiar, but not enough. He was painfully thin, but moved with a utilitarian grace. Sam waited and then jumped at the man, hoping to pin him down. They sparred briefly, until the shorter man knocked him down, washing his face in the light from his and Jess' shared room. Suddenly Sam knew who he was and he almost winced.
"Dean?"
He looked like shit. Gaunt, worried, and obviously here for a reason. He also looked like he hadn't slept in a year. Sam realized there had to be something wrong. Something very wrong.