Chapter Rating: PG13/T

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just stole them to be my puppets and filled them with my ideas.

Warning: These kids can be foul mouthed little bleeps. Some coarse language and mild

violence.

Summary: Alone at last Sam finds adjusting to the solo life not so solo and not nearly as

relaxing as he'd hoped, especially not with campus dumbass Gabriel terrorizing all the res

halls.

Author's Notes: Oh Em Gee. I am SO incredibly sorry for the constant delays. Life has been

tough and just keeps getting tougher.

A shiver ran up his spine, cutting through the blazing heat of the Kansas sun, and Sam turned and headed in, a fresh perspective in his mind and a smile fixed upon his face. Now things would truly begin for him, the familiar yet entirely different sort of independence he had craved, and the thought of the quiet, empty room waiting for him upstairs was glorious. The lock chirped in recognition as Sam flashed his passcard before it, and the doors rolled open for him once more, and easier experience the second time around. Slipping through, he almost ran to the elevators, speeding himself home as fast as he possibly could.

Inside that quiet, empty room it was a different story altogether. Sam had, in his excitement, forgotten what he'd left behind. Opening the door to his dorm he was hit immediately with the reality of it, and he sighed at the array of untouched boxes, only half-heartedly cursing Dean for leaving the job undone. At least, he thought, this way he'd have a half a chance at knowing where things were from day one and subsequently they had avoided any future arguments related. Dean kind of had organizational skills, they were just crap and made no sense.

Amongst the boxes the sole bag sat flumped in the middle like a bizarre centerpiece, calling for attention which, being that it was the least threatening looking item of the lot, Sam swiftly gave it. It was tipped out unceremoniously on the mattress, showering the bare fabric with little tufts of lint, food crumbs, shreds of paper, and a pool of items ranging from the practical to the downright bizarre. Amid the mess, partly covered by a scrunched up and heavily creased plaid shirt, were two lighters. The smallest of the two was a simple silver zippo adorned with a cross, an eighth birthday gift from his father that had held up well over the years, and the other was in the form of a replica Colt mark IV pistol that, try as he might, he could not stop Dean from sneaking into his belongings. It was another birthday gift, this time from Dean, that he had claimed served endless purposes and looked pretty bad ass. "Gotta make sure my little brother can take care of himself without me around," he'd said and, though Sam had protested by reminding Dean that he was 17 years old and had been trained to fight for years by his dad, he meant it fiercely and wholeheartedly. It sat there, a strange reminder of home that simultaneously filled him with warm thoughts of his brother and resentment towards his father. The confusion of it was enough to make him forcefully flick it away out of sight almost angrily, and he turned his attentions instead to the boxes taking up all the space in the dorm.

After 2 and a half hours of battling the room was significantly clearer. Sam's laptop was set up on the little desk provided, tucked away underneath his loft bed neatly pushed up against the wall and in the corner. The Ethernet cable was hooked up, drawers full of what little tech he'd actually brought along and found in his baggage thus far, and his phone was plugged in and ready to go. Things were starting to fall into place and, because he could, he was celebrating by fiddling around with his iTunes. The remainder of the boxes' contents could easily be tackled after a break; he had plenty of time for all of that with classes not starting for a week, so he didn't feel all too guilty. At his side, on a cheap and tiny but endlessly useful Ikea table, a kettle clicked, ready to provide him with coffee. He had everything he needed in one room – save his classes and the bathroom – and it was amazing.

A knock on the door resounded through the bare spot that had been designated 'the kitchen', dragging Sam out of his contented daze and catching his attention from behind the laptop. Eyebrows raised, he flicked the lid down sharply and darted out of his seat, unlocking the door.

"Hi. Sam, is it?" Standing in the doorway was a blonde and bright eyed girl, smiling wide and truly beautiful, holding out an open tin of clearly homemade cookies. Sam blinked.

"Uh, yeah. Sam. Hi." She giggled quietly before thrusting the tin out a little further.

"I'm your neighbor from 3 doors down. Late move in, traffic problems. I ended up missing the floor meeting last night. Anyway, I thought I'd stop by, say hi and all that. Hope you like chocolate chip." There was a gentleness to her face, an honesty, that Sam instantly liked and he knew that he wanted to see more of this girl.

"Wait, there was a floor meeting last night? Isn't that a bit, you know, premature. There were tons of people moving in this morning. I mean, I only just got here myself."

"Well, I guess maybe a little, but I suppose the majority of people coming to res were scheduled for yesterday so they want to get the welcome wagon rolling out from day one. Heard there's another meeting tomorrow though which should make up for jilting us…"

He laughed, peering in the pile and pulling a cookie out. One bite and his jaw was hanging loosely, rudely, in awe.

"Ohmygod. These are amazing." He swallowed, licking his lips before sucking a fleck of stray melted chocolate from his thumb. "You just made these?" The girl nodded, smirking in satisfaction. "Ugh, so good. So, do you have a name or are we just going to stick you with 'Cookie' forever?"

"Well," she giggled again, tucking a weft of hair behind her ear, "I'm not at all against that, but my name is Jessica. Jessica Moore."

"Well, Jessica Moore," Sam stepped back in from the doorway, holding back the door with a goofy grin, "Wanna come in for some coffee?" With a girlish smile she slipped past, sealing the cookie tin as she moved, and navigated the mess of packages.

"I think I'd like that very much, Sam," she hummed, "assuming, of course, that by coffee you mean 'coffee' coffee. You do know I've been offering cookies to all my close neighbours, right?" Her tone was playful but Sam still spluttered, blushing in a flash.

"I- uh- I'll go put some water on to boil then," he muttered, wandering over to his desk. "I know there's not many places to sit, so I'm afraid the desk chair is it, but feel free to get as comfortable as you can."

"Don't worry," Jessica assured as she flopped down into the only seat, "I'm only teasing you, and it was totally worth it. You're kind of adorable all flustered like that." Sam let out a gentle, huff of a laugh, looking up at Jessica with a shy smile, spoon in hand.

"Doesn't happen very often, I have to say. How do you like it?"

"What?" It was Jessica's turn to be thrown off, a light crease in her brow in confusion, but she recovered quickly with just a hint of embarrassment. "Oh, cream, one sugar, thanks." Head back down in his task, Sam suppressed another snort of amusement, covering any failings up with the resonant clinking of the spoon circling inside the coffee mug. "So," she hummed, mouthing quick thank you as she took the cup into her hands, sighing contentedly into its warmth and sweetly strong aroma, "You got yourself a single suite I see." Though the intent was different, Sam sighed too, leaning uncomfortably against the edge of the door.

"Oh, yeah…" He shrugged and paused to sip at his own coffee, ruffling his hair with a free hand, clearing his throat for good measure. "Yeah, I wanted a share, thought having a roommate would be good, a proper college experience and just…a better way of getting used to things, you know? My dad refused, shot down the idea immediately with no good reason. Still, he hated the idea of me going off to college altogether, so this-" He gave a little flick of his head for emphasis, drawing a frown of concern from Jessica, "This is probably just his compromise. If he can't control it all, he's damn well gonna control what he can." In the silence came a strange and uneasy air to the room, Jessica seated ignoring her coffee with an almost expression and Sam grimacing with regret.

"I- I'm really sorry," she managed after a while, "I didn't-"

"Jessica, no. I'm sorry." With another sigh he averted his gaze to the wall, idly playing with his cup. Back tense, his sense of shame was fighting to balance out his annoyance and the memories that were being drudged up without warrant. "I didn't mean to- I guess I'd just sort of held onto all of that. You really didn't deserve to have all that thrown at you, we've only just met." Unexpectedly, Jessica leaned over to cover Sam's fidgeting hands with one of her own and offered a small, tentative smile.

"But do you feel better?" He blinked, looking from the hand on his to the warm, quizzical face focused on him. Jessica was something else entirely.

"I feel rude and embarrassed."

"Sam," Jessica let out a huff of mild indignation though her tone was still light, "Seriously, do you feel better?" Her eyebrow raised, lips quirked at the corner, and she watched Sam as he clearly processed how he felt, thoughts laid bare on his face. Though Sam himself didn't realize it, it was one the joys of knowing him and one of his biggest downfalls.

"Actually, yeah. I think I do." It was a simultaneous shock and relief to him, and he blinked, exhaling sharply at the realization. The simple honesty of the reaction brought a smile to Jessica's face and she sighed softly, relieved.

"Then good. I don't mind at all. I like to help people and even if I was just listening, if I've done some good by being here, I'm happy to help. Anything else on your mind?" Again Sam clearly, depply thought about it, though the guilt and worry of troubling Jessica was evident across his face.

"No, I think that's all cleared up now. Sorry aga-" She held up a warning finger, eyebrows raised incredulously.

"Don't you dare, Sam. Like I said, I like to help when I can. I… I should probably head off though, other people to greet, unpacking to do. Fun stuff. Don't forget the floor meeting tomorrow though. Oh, and my door's always open, okay?" That genial smile was back on her face again as she stood, mug clutched awkwardly in one hand as the other reached out to touch Sam with a light, reassuring pat.

"You sure I didn't scare you a-"

"Seriously. That offer is genuine and I expect to see your face at the meeting, or at least your tree-like height, okay?" Sam laughed, reaching over for the cup, and followed Jessica's path to the door.

"Yeah, yeah, you'll see me for miles before I reach the door. Oh, and same to you – the offer I mean. If I'm here you're…you're more than welcome, but I can't promise you homemade cookies. No skill." Leaning against the doorway he put on a face, mock shame, which drew another giggle from Jessica.

"Well maybe I can swing by and teach you a few things, hey?" A moment of silence passed between them with Jessica looking almost timid in her pondering, just biting at the inside of her lip. "You're really sweet, Sam," she decided, eyes bright. "I'll see you around."

With an all too pleased grin he waved her off, slipping back inside the dorm and straight back over to his desk, his music, ready to finish the chore of unpacking his worldly goods. His first meeting and, possibly, friendship had not gone without a few bumps but was ultimately starting off brilliantly. It felt lame to reflect on it with such elation, but with all the friends he'd made and lost over the years, having the seeds planted for another with at least 4 years of guaranteed residential stability was nothing short of thrilling. It was this good mood that kept him working, clearing up his tiny little dormitory space until it was actually usable, singing along obnoxiously all the while. It was this good mood that kept him so focused he didn't notice the little tin of cookies left behind in the corner of his desk, tucked away and obscured by the relative mess of gadgets and papers, until somewhere after 6 that night.

Sam groaned with the realization, feeling oddly guilty that it had taken him so long, before yanking open his door and charging out into the hallway, not bothering to lock his door as he headed down towards Jessica's room. At the halfway point her door swung open and she stepped out looking somewhat alarmed, softening once recognition hit.

"Sam! I was just coming to see- What are you…?" A valiant effort in restraint played across Sam's face as he did his best impression of Jessica, adjusting his stance, holding out the tin of cookies, and trying to find a balance between smiling gently and not falling apart laughing. Jessica's lips twitched.

"You left these on my desk. I got so busy unpacking - busy day – that I didn't notice 'til now. Hope you like chocolate chip!" Her hand swooped out to slap his arm playfully, grabbing the tin with scrunched lips and a huff of a laugh.

"Hey, don't think because you're twice my size I can't kick your ass…" A pointed warning finger was employed along with a smirk, and she tucked the cookies away, remembering her purpose. "I was coming down to see you."

"Oh?" Sam couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, my friend Leah's had some visitors from floor 8 today, apparently this guy Brady and his roommate are throwing a party tonight, sort of a multi-hall mixer thing he's trying to pull off. I was going to see if you wanted to come. It could be fun." There was a hopefulness in her tone and her expression, and Sam found himself nodding without thought. "Awesome! He said things should kick off in a couple of hours so if you wanna get ready or invite some other people…should be enough time?" He nodded again, too amused by her enthusiasm to really comment.

"Sure," he agreed simply, laughing softly which Jessica copied.

"Meet you there or…?"

"I can meet you at your place if you want?" A wide, bright smile erupted across her face, infectious and warming.

"Great. I'll see you at 8 then?" Her triumphant feelings were evident, emanating from her like a beacon and, with Sam's nod, she turned and left with a wave, heading for the elevators with a lightness to her step and a little sway in her walk. Sam chuckled, heading back past the threshold yet again, a new set of preoccupations to carry on with.

"Hey," Sam greeted softly. Jessica stood clutching the door, almost wrapped around it, jaw slack. One the other side, out in the hallway, Sam stood with carefully combed hair, a light, loosely buttoned shirt, and a pair of dark and much more fitted jeans, hardly worn. He was casual yet polished, and the difference was unexpectedly astounding. Neither spoke again for a while, the distant dull thud of bass thrumming through the walls and filling the space between them. It took Jessica a while to slip out into the open, revealing her light and lacy dress for the evening, leaving Sam flustered all over again. "Wow," he managed after a few failed starts, running a hand through his hair, "you look incredible, beautiful."

"You look pretty sharp yourself. Shall we head up?" She bit at her lip, swaying nervously. A soft smile and an extended arm answered her question, Sam ushering her forward wordlessly toward the elevator and Brady's dorm. The second the doors opened it was clear exactly where they were meant to be, the noise from earlier exponentially louder and spilling out directly from the open door with the chattering throng of people hovering in and out of it.

"Hey, hey!" A voice boomed from the end of the hall. In amongst the horde a face peered out, grinning, and after a struggle a burgundy silken-clad guy stepped out, sweeping his hand towards the entrance. "Jessica, glad you could make it. Come on in." Feeling quite invisible, Sam rubbed at his neck and stepped back, letting Jessica creep forward uncertainly toward the chaos. "And who's your, uh, your friend here?" He didn't look at Sam, eyes focused on her the whole time, merely flicking his chin up in Sam's direction. It was rude enough to cause an instant dislike.

"Braeden Besatt, Brady," he extended his hand in greeting, shaking Sam's roughly, briefly. "Nice to meet ya."

"Yeah, you too," replied Sam though he wasn't quite sure that was true. Again, Brady steered them in without a word and they were quickly swallowed by the crowd and the noise.

"You drinking tonight, Sam?" Brady was back, handing a bottle to a pleased looking Jessica with a flourish, spinning around in a dance to grab another smoothly. The smirk was fixed on his face and, though his voice wasn't quite able to cut through the music, he was certainly getting his point across.

"What? Oh, uh, no. I don't think so, not tonight." His eyes flicked to the beer in Jessica's hands and then to her face, and she seemed unsure as to whether she was impressed or disappointed. Brady was very clearly the latter.

"You sure? Not even a beer?" He waved the second bottle around in invitation, waggling his eyebrows in rhythm. Shaking his head and scrunching his nose, Sam waved him off with a slight air of discomfort.

"No, no. I'm good, really. Getting up early tomorrow."

"Whatever, dude. If you change your mind there's a couple of kegs in the back and a cooler full of, well, pretty much everything. Free reign. I'm off to offer this one," he waggled the other bottle again, "to one of the lovely, boozeless ladies in here. Later." Sam shook his head and laughed, Jessica too, at the sudden awareness that Brady was that guy, and there was a strange sort of relief that came with his absence. Finally they could enjoy themselves, feel the music, take in the party experience. It was nice, and for the first time in a long while Sam actually relaxed and had some fun.

It was shortlived though. Not even 2 hours in the angry roars erupted, the fists were flying, and an all too amused face was weaving away from the madness. Sam spotted him immediately, brow furrowing in thought, recognition, and followed his path.

"Are you okay, Sam?" Jessica struggled, hand resting in his arm in a futile attempt to regain his attention. Her voice was lost in the chaos and his concentration, and she felt a little put out. Sam followed that face, the short and sly man who seemed to have gone practically unnoticed by the others, to its next destination. Within minutes the fire alarm was blaring, a line of vodka was spread out and blazing across the countertop, and the cause was slinking his way towards the door and out of the party. Though the actual fire wasn't much, nor was it even that dangerous, the confusion and disorder of the fighting and the noise and the fire alarms was enough to send most rushing around and out the door in worry and aggravation.

"I- I've gotta…go. Sorry, Jessica," muttered Sam feebly, darting away before she even had a chance to speak, pushing through the masses in the hopes of catching a glimpse of him. The crowd was flooding directly towards the elevator, tightly packed, but blessedly overhead the stairway entry was just, just coming to close. In his head Sam prematurely reveled in his triumph as he forced his way opposite the flow of people, rushing to catch up. He broke through, running for the stairs and skidding to a halt, looking and listening for any clues on which way to go.

Almost perfect silence greeted him, the remnants of his thudded footsteps lingering briefly, and it hung for too long. It was disconcerting, disheartening, but when a click echoed from above that feeling of success hit again and his feet began pounding again, winding up the steps and onto the landing in time to just see the 9th floor door closing. This time he was closer, there was no crowd to delay him and no confusion to obscure his target. He yanked the door open far too forcefully, fury rising up again now that the feeling of victory had settled in, and met the menace from downstairs properly, one on one.

"Hey! HEY! Hey, asshole! What the hell do you think you're playing at, huh?" Sam bellowed, huffing with fury. The guy stood there in the hall making no attempt to run and turned slowly to look at Sam directly.

"What's it to you, giant?" His face was flat, eyes the only indication of his mood, and for all his outward apathy there was an angry fire burning beneath the surface. Though he was clearly shorter and smaller than Sam there was an odd sort of maturity to his face and a confidence to his stance. He was in no way intimidated.

"People are just trying to have a little fun here." Across the hall the man laughed, humourless and spitting.

"Stupid way of getting your kicks," he muttered. That only flared up the rage building in Sam, tensing his jaw and his chest, curling his fists.

"You don't have to inflict your damn opinion on everyone else. Thanks for ruining everything, dude."

"Oh, give me a break," the guy scoffed, barely letting Sam finish. His arms folded and he rolled his eyes, firmly rooted to his spot and his point. "20 minutes and you morons will be at it again, playing beer pong and trying to score a few drunken fucks in the bathrooms. Thank you for being part of the good old college stereotype. Bravo." For good effect he clapped slowly, each echo winding its way up Sam's spine, grating. He gritted his teeth and scowled, taking a few measured steps closer, shoulders hunched.

"You don't know anything about me," he growled, and somewhere in the back of his head he was berating himself for letting some douchebag get him so riled up, but the selfish part of him was just aching from another good thing ruined by yet another reckless idiot. It was irrational, it was impulsive, and it was so like his brother it was scary.

"Oh, and you're obviously an expert on me? Do us both a favor kid and just go. Stay out of my way." Sam didn't need to think on that one.

"Gladly." He turned and let left, practically panting in his anger and the horror of his realization, wasting no time in getting to the stairwell and his path back down to Brady's. He doubted there'd be much of anything to go back to, but he at least needed to make sure that everything was okay in the dorm and he had to apologize for brushing off Jessica so quickly. It wasn't until he'd opened the door to the 8th floor that he realized where he'd seen that asshole's face before.

Shit.