I know that this is long overdue, but I was having issues with what I wanted to do exactly. It took me a while, and I ended up putting two pieces that were originally supposed to stand alone together. Please tell me what you guys think! I have the next chapter ready, I'm just going over it, fixing the small things. it should be up tomorrow!


Dean's trying to convince him to stay, but he won't have it. There's a scholarship to Stanford waiting for him, the life he's wanted itching to unravel. He can hear John's truck down the road, and he takes a deep breath, ready to set his future in stone. He's ready to throw in his gun, to abandon the salt and holy water. He's ready to forget the myths and lore. Dean's getting antsy, urging him back and rambling on about his duty as a son, anything to make him stay. It's pissing him off.

Sam's jaw is clenched, frustrated. "I never picked this, Dean. I never wanted it. The constant traveling, countless motel rooms, the fear of something always being after us. I'm tired of it, and this is my chance to break away from that." The truck is pulling into the motel parking lot; the moment of truth is fast approaching. Dean objects, shaking his head violently. Sam waves him off, walking forward as their father arrives, the engine dying. Sam gets so far as to open the door before Dean grabs his arm.

"Sam, listen to me. This isn't something you can just forget about. This stuff isn't gonna stop existing just because you're at college. There are evil things out there, people in danger. It's our job to help them like we couldn't help Mom." It's a speech he's heard way too many times before, one that he's in no mood to hear now. Dean's fingers tighten on his arm; he's getting impatient with him. "Hunting isn't something you can just walk away from."

The younger Winchester grits his teeth, ripping his arm away from his brother's grasp.

"Watch me." He utters through his teeth. It's enough to shut Dean up, finally, and a victorious smile pulls at Sam's lips as he walks out of the motel room, just as John climbs out of his truck.

~.~.~.~.~

The words haunt him, echoing in his mind as he walks, foot one in front of another, sun beating down onto his back. Beads of sweat are sliding down the sides of his face, his dark hair clinging to the skin of his forehead. His jaw is clenched tightly, he's trying to forget. He knows this is better than the life he's had. Finally, an escape from the danger and the fighting; an escape from his father's unhealthy obsession to chase after the one thing he would never be able to catch. He's leaving everything behind him. It's his chance to make something of himself, something that didn't involve ghosts and monsters and weapons stashed in the trunks of cars and spending dark nights in a cheap motel room lined with rock salt. He won't have to be paranoid now, he was no longer involved.

And still, his father's words cut through him like a knife.

If you walk out that door, don't even think of coming back.

It had been so easy to pick. Almost impulsive, walking away, leaving his only family there as he went towards a better future. The one he wanted. He never expected John to see eye to eye with him. They never understood each other, and he doubts they ever will. All John cared about was killing that thing that had killed Mary. Sam was tired of it. He wasn't about to follow orders blindly like Dean did.

John told him to stay away.

That's what he plans on doing.


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