Chapter 4—Making The Grade

AN: Thanks to SkyHighFan who pointed out a couple of things to me. I had to take literary license to explain how people would know the last name as Winchester. Chuck never mentioned their last name in the novels, or at the convention.

And, as always, thanks to you guys for your continued support.

Dr. Keats had barely gotten into the classroom before one of his students raised her hand. "This guy really thought…this Edlund really thought that these guys were for real, right? I mean, I was reading the part about the memoir and that's what it said."

"Chuck had memoirs?" Dean asked.

"Who knew?" Sam replied.

Keats nodded as he put his books and coat down. "He really did." The instructor continued to unpack. "He withheld their last names for that reason. He thought people would think him crazy."

"Didn't Chuck/Edlund whoever like…just…disappear?" One of the guys in the class asked.

"Yes, it's true. The police consider his case open and unsolved." Keats replied.

Sam and Dean just looked at one another, neither had any idea Chuck was missing.

"We will get back to Edlund. We were just getting into the Winchester's story. Dean grew up following in his dad's footsteps, like an obedient son. He knew his dad's motivation for hunting, and he following his father, willingly, into the life." Keats paused. "Sam, on the other hand, was just a baby when his mother died. He didn't feel the same. He still loved his mother, but he had no memories of her, of his own. He didn't feel that loss as acutely as his father and his brother. Sam wanted to live his own life. And he was a smart guy. He excelled in school. He got good grades. He got accepted to Stanford University. It was only after Jessica was killed, in the same way as his mother, that he joined in the 'family' business.'"

"This guy thinks he's the…authority on my family." Dean said, angrily.

"He's right, Dean." Sam admitted.

"About what?"

"I didn't feel Mom's loss the same way you too did. I didn't know her, Dean." Sam replied. He knew Dean was ready to say something, that he was angry. "I don't have any memories of my own. I just…I have what you and Dad told me."

"You thought we were lying?" Dean asked.

"No, I thought you wanted to give me some good memories." Sam could feel Dean's anger. "I love her. But…."

Dean was close to exploding, Sam knew. "But what? What the hell, Sam?!" Dean said, just a little too loud.

"Hey!" A girl sitting 3 rows in front of them turned around and said. "We're in class. Do you mind?"

"She didn't just tell me to shut up." Dean replied.

Sam grinned. "I think she did."

Dean held his tongue until the end of class, ashamed of being called out by a 20-something coed. They continued their conversation on the way to the cafeteria to get pie.

Sam started. "Jessica made it personal, Dean. I love Mom. I swear to you, I do. But I didn't know her. I didn't talk to her every day. I didn't…." He shook his head, doubtful Dean could understand where he was coming from.

"I think I get it, Sam." Dean replied. "But this was Mom…our mom." He was asking for Sam's understanding.

Sam and Dean were both silent as they went through the cafeteria line. Each absorbed in his own thoughts. Dean was the first to speak after they sat down.

"I…I can't understand what it was like for you to loose Jessica like that, Sam. It's just not possible. She wasn't my girlfriend. But I had hoped…me sharing my memories of Mom would…." Dean shook his head unable to put to words what he wanted to say.

"It does make me feel closer to her. It does. Without it there would be nothing. But not having my own memories makes me feel kind of…detached. I know that that sounds cold." Sam stated. "I wasn't as close to her as you were, Dean. And if that makes me a bad son, then I'm a bad son."

Dean just looked at his brother. He finished his pie and then got up to leave. "Are we staying for the exam?"

Sam grinned. "You realize if you fail you have to hand in your knives, guns, and holy water and become the fry cook at a greasy burger joint."

"If I get anything less than a B, I'll do your laundry for a week." Dean replied. He knew how much Sam hated to do laundry.

"And if I get anything less than a B, I'll make your bed every morning." Sam offered knowing what Dean would really want him to do. But offering that instead.

"No, Sammy, you know what I want."

"No!" Sam said.

Dean grinned.

"Forget it!"

Dean's grin got broader. "I win; you clean out my baby's backseat."

The last time Sam found a green furry burrito, by sticking his hand in it.

"Let's make it interesting." Sam said. "Best overall score. You lose, you eat salads every meal, every day for a week…and no pie."

Dean frowned and pouted for a moment. Then he nodded. An evil grin spread over Dean's face. "I win, you have to wash my car…on campus…in front of a sorority house…wearing only your boxers." He knew how modest his brother was.

Sam immediately blushed, just thinking about it. "You trying to get me arrested?"

Dean shrugged. "All you have to do is make the better score."

Sam stuck out his hand and agreed, reluctantly. They shook.

TBC