Day 1 before Graduation
It's night. Sam is sitting on his bed, hands folded in front of his face, his knee frantically bobbing up and down to ease some of his nervousness, fear even. Dean is out to get something to eat, so he is finally by himself now because he couldn't possibly do that with his brother around.
The younger teen bothered his head over this since Mr. Parker handed him the acceptance sheet. Stanford… Sam always wanted to go to college, but Stanford? One of the most recommended colleges of all in the country, where only the really smart people ended up, where usually only brats of very rich people got to stay because they could actually afford it to buy that kind of higher education, and to that same school Sam Winchester, a hunter without means and less than fifty bucks in his pocket, was accepted without ever having an interview with the headboard, a full-ride, it is Stanford, for Chrissake! That seemed so far out of reach, so far away, so surreal, so much of a sweet dream, but… he got it right there in his hands, the sheet being living proof for his efforts, it's reality. A full-ride with all the money being taken care of, with the chance of becoming a lawyer, with a steady place, security… that is all Sam ever wanted in life and now it is just within reach, now it is there, palpable. He can smell it, feel it. It is there, the moment of truth.
How many times did he argue with his dad to convince him of that lifestyle, this dream? How many lectures did he endure, or how many extra-laps and punishments did he take without a word of complaint to keep up college and a safe life as exactly that, a dream, a refuge? How many times was him that thought a soothing lullaby when crisis was hitting him yet another time, threatening to drown him?
And now the chance is there and he is… he is afraid! Sam is afraid and confused and that is why his knee is still constantly bobbing up and down, that is why his hands are shaking. The young teenager isn't even sure himself why that is so. All his dreams would be fulfilled with that paper after all, all the things he argued for, picked up fights for, worked for, struggled for, and now they are there and… he is afraid of grasping that chance? What kind of sick logic is that?
Sam lets out a dry chuckle. Dean would probably tell him that it is his teenage-moodiness getting him in the pants, but… that really isn't the matter now. The matter is what is going to happen now, to the family, to him. It is about his future.
He could grasp the chance of course. With that sheet, he could go to college, to Stanford.
It would be rough, admittedly, but… Sam could hitchhike to get from one place to the next, afford a bus ticket and food for at least a couple of days… Palo Alto isn't that far away… at least distance doesn't matter as much anymore. Sam is so used to driving around from one point of the US to the exact opposite so that the definition of "distance" is completely different from what normal people regard it as such. Even if it would take him weeks and he would have to stop by in a remote town to work in another minimarket for minimum wage, with a guy much like Kirby making him carry box after box after box, but he would eventually see the gates of Stanford University. He would enroll for the semester, live in a dorm with a goofy looking roommate who would try to get him into partying and extensive drinking – and Sam would refused, of course. He would stick his nose into books about American laws, would study for finals by spending coffee-ridden nights in the library. Maybe he would join a club there or take a fun-course, the ones others always talked about, a subject you never heard about or where you seriously ask yourself how that is worth an actual course at a college such as Stanford, or any other educational facility. Maybe Sam would find himself a girl, a cute one, maybe a law student, too, so that they could study together, or a student for medicine. Sam always had something going on for good-looking cute little nurses for some reason, or perhaps it is because Dean spoiled him since early childhood. Not only the overly high amount of hospital visits for whatever injury, but also that Dean would always tell Sam about how great the nurse's boobs were and so on and so on… it rubs on you at some point… Sam could have all that. He could go to interviews to be accepted to an office in Palo Alto or elsewhere, maybe start something on his own, to protect the innocent, not by shooting dead things, but by using the terms of legislature, trying to help abused children to get away from their parents, to unfold a murder case, help people solve their problems and disagreements, something like that. Sam could go to those famous college parties Dean always blabbered about to be the only thing he would actually consider great fun about school. Sam could join a college fraternity, all those things, he could make his choice. It is… doable, close, within the reach of his hands. All his dreams would eventually become true.
What could Sam possibly wish for more in life?
And that is where it's getting really complicated, that is the stone that is lying in the teen's path. Because whenever Sam comes to that question, his mind suddenly starts to blur. That is the moment he doesn't consider colleges anymore. That is the place no one ever touched, the most precious treasure to him. And just as fast as Sam's mind starts to blur into faint color and sparkling white the far off and so close memories hit him.
Dean, fifteen by the time, standing in front of him, tears in his eyes, for one of the few times he actually did, telling Sam to never-ever in his entire life dare to take off like that or otherwise he would kill him with a spoon, and Sam had only nodded. The younger brother had run away after a grand argument with their dad, but when he got almost run over by a drunken driver, Sam had landed in the roadside ditch and had decided that this was perhaps God's way of telling him that he was not supposed to walk that path. The youngest had come back and had made it half of the way until he caught sight of the Impala, Dean almost jumping out of the car as he caught sight of his kid brother and beside the anger in his voice, the most prominent feature was Dean's concern and love for Sam. After checking him over and hissing at the cuts to Sam's side and face he had cursed his infamous "son of a bitch" so loud that Sam couldn't help it but smile at that. When he told his big brother what had happened most of the anger seemed to wash from Dean's face, though, and he simply held on tight to Sam, telling him those words about not leaving. And Sam had tears in his eyes as well as Dean, but he was happy that his big-jerk-brother, even after he had run off, had come looking for him.
Dean, seven years old by the time, sitting with Sam on the bed and playing cards with him, showing him all the tricks they needed to learn to pull card-tricks, just like their dad did in the bars. It had taken Sam's mind off of the fact that their dad was gone – for whatever reason it was back then because he didn't know it was a hunt, actually – and both found reassurance in the fact neither one was supposed to ask or answer those uncomfortable questions, but instead Dean would only whine about Sam's obvious skills on those games and that he beat him after just three attempts to get the trick right, for which Dean needed a half eternity, at least so claimed.
Dean playing chaperone on Sam's first real date. And even if Dean had threatened him all the while to give him hell about the fact that he was having his first date and everything, the older brother played the perfect chaperone, said nothing, came and left without even his smug expression on, not even the moment Sam brought the girl home and they shared the first kiss, gently, hesitantly. Dean had said nothing, he hadn't dared to joke about it, not the moment it happened, the moment Sam walked back to the car, not the moment the engine started off as they drove down the road, the duffels in the trunk. And it wasn't alone for the reason that this was a sad occasion actually, since they drove off to the next hunt with the end of that kiss and Sam hadn't dared to tell the girl that they would never see each other again, but also because of the simple fact that Dean was a great brother and had willed to be silent about something for at least that one time.
Dean handing his younger brother a poorly wrapped birthday present. He had never been too much into this, but the older brother always tried – for some reason. And Sam always greatly appreciated that fact. It had been Sam's first version of Sherlock Holmes, and he had read the whole thing within a day. Dean had looked incredibly happy that Sam actually liked the present, especially since dad's ten bucks Dean was ordered to give the youngest on the day, because John was out on a hunt by that time, had a really nasty smack of bitterness. However, when Sam said they should go to the movies to spend the money, Dean couldn't have been happier. Funny enough that both seemed to understand it almost naturally how to make each other happy or how to take the sadness and anger away from the brother and simply leave a warm feeling of home.
Dean shielding Sam with his body as they were hunting a spirit and the thing liked to throw around all kinds of furniture. Dean had protected the small frame of his brother with his own, and he didn't even squint at the scratches he received from that, as long as his thirteen-year-old baby brother was safe and sound.
Dean picking him up after school every day, even if it happened more than often that Dean took a part-time job if they stayed in town for longer and he had to rush there after he was done. The older brother never had complained about doing the service and Sam had always waited for him by the entry of the school. Even in rain and snow, he had waited for the Impala to come around the corner, for hours even. It always had been a silent agreement between the two: I come for you, I wait for you, easy as that, brother.
Dean giving Sam his first driving lesson, explaining everything in detail and it sounded like he was talking about the best way of how to hook up a girl, because in fact Sam had suspicion Dean regarded the Impala as exactly such, calling it baby and everything… and the proud grin on Dean's face as they finally drove down the empty road in the middle of nowhere and the oldest leaned back in his seat and told Sam to carry on while he was going to relax for a bit, and in fact he did because Dean always felt eased with his little Sammy around. And Sam couldn't have been prouder about the fact he was driving a car now, Dean's car, his baby, and he let him do it practically by himself.
Dean taking Sammy's small hand back when they were both in elementary and Dean guided Sam from the motel to the school building. With Dean by his side, grasping his hand, Sam felt like nothing bad could ever happen to him.
Dean with him on the couch watching another re-run of a horror movie and both were laughing their butts off at the impersonation of a vampire or ghost, since it couldn't have been further from the truth.
Dean mumbling silent thank-you's over and over again when a fifteen-year-old Sam handed him a stash of papers, Dean's due project on Emily Dickens and her contribution to literature of her period, because Dean was so worked up about his other subjects – and that because they were hunting so much that Dean couldn't wrap his head around stuff like "French for Starters," "Drawing Coplanar Spaces," or "Stock Market Crash and its Effects on Today's Society" – that he couldn't finish to read all the stuff about the author and write the report. Dean had been fully convinced his Lit teacher was going to give him hell the other morning for his not turned-in presentation and had already been on probable excuses, but that was until Sam handed him the sheets. Dean had been totally dumb-folded about it, unable to speak coherent sentences for at least a couple of minutes and simply gave Sam a brief hug – because this indeed saved his ass and prevented him from a sit-in for a year. And of course Dean had received an A+ for the presentation, which certainly pleased his Lit teacher so that she finally left him at peace for the next couple of weeks.
Dean being freaked because a five-year-old Sam was running high fever and dad was still nowhere in sight and no matter how many times Dean prayed to God their dad would come, he didn't, so Dean carried on with putting cold cloths on Sam's body and talked to him in a hushed voice that everything was going to be over soon and that he would fix this. And Sam had always believed him.
Dean carrying his duffel without a word because he simply knew that Sam hurt his shoulder on that hunt, but either didn't realize himself until then or tried to hide it.
Dean being the first word Sam ever spoke, even before he had said mommy or daddy.
Dean being the first person Sam, as a toddler, made his first steps to, no longer on all fours, but walking like he was about to tackle the world and Dean couldn't have been any prouder of his baby brother.
Dean humming "Hey Jude" in the middle of the night to ease Sam back to sleep after another painful nightmare of dead bodies, decaying flesh, and eyes of beasts darting him in the dark as the older brother snuck with him under the covers.
Dean making fun of him for his rather healthy lifestyle-attitude by calling him princess and all those other names only those two either understood or that only Dean found incredibly funny.
Dean and him sitting on the hood of the car to watch the stars.
Dean and Sam sneaking out of the motel room to go to the movies or get some ice cream.
Dean and him making the first snowman Sam has ever made – and he looked like a werewolf.
Dean reading out bedtime stories to Sam when he was still too small to read by himself. And once he could read, Dean would still sit behind him, Sam between his legs, Dean's arms gently wrapped around the younger brother to hold the book, and Sammy would go ahead and read the text to Dean. And Dean would listen very carefully and smile proudly at how well Sam could read by now and at how incredibly cute the small kid looked as he carried on.
Dean wrapping an arm around him as they finish their first salt-and-burn the youngest was allowed to come along with and Sam couldn't help himself but cry upon seeing the body burning to ashes, the body of a girl, maybe about Sam's age, who was crying out for her parents the whole time during the hunt – after she had been raped, killed, and tossed into the woods by some bastard fifty years before the Winchesters came to put her to peace. Dean didn't say anything, just held on to Sam and allowed the younger sibling to cry all he wanted.
Dean pulling all kinds of pranks on him, especially those involving clowns, since Sam always displayed some sort of phobia of these fellows.
Dean listening to all Sam had to tell about school day, even if he was all tired and exhausted, he still put up a conversation with the younger sibling to make him feel that he actually was the most important to the big brother, which he has always been.
Dean full-heartedly singing along to his old cassette tapes in the car, driving Sam nuts about that he wanted him to sing along because the younger man knew all the lyrics by heart after hearing them for the millionth time. And eventually Dean always got his will.
Dean treating his injuries, or if John did it, Dean holding on to Sam's hand to reassure him, soothing words whispered into Sam's ear as the procedure carried on in motel rooms, shacks, woods with meager light and nothing but darkness between them.
Dean giving Sam his first bottle of beer after the younger teen had to kill a family father who turned out to be a Skinwalker. The man who had turned into a monster was that close from eating Dean's face, at least that was the description Dean came up with later on, so Sam simply had to get the man before that could happen and killed him in the end. The man left three children and a loving wife and it was one of those occasions where Dean said simply nothing and Sam was more than grateful for the silence and the numbing effect of the alcohol.
Dean using a paper clip to stitch Sam's A+'s to the walls, as the triumph of the day, because they didn't have a fridge in most of the places, at least not one of those you could stick papers to, and even if John had always given it a snort, Dean carried on with the same kind of spirit because he cared for Sam's achievements and seemingly wanted to honor them his very own way.
Dean beating the crap out of Steve Anderson and his fellows after they decided to pick up on Sam as the new one at the school. Dean had stormed off after patching Sam's cuts and bruises they inflicted on him… they had beaten him up and then tossed him into a huge trashcan. Dean spotted them right away, Sam behind him, and Steve was the first one to get a clean uppercut that knocked him out. The others got their fair share, too, before Dean pulled down their jeans and tossed the trousers in a garbage bag far out of reach so that the jocks had to run down the streets of town with only boxers on. They never had dared to bug Sam ever again.
Dean making stupid jokes so that Sam would forget his anger or sadness for a moment to give a roll of his eyes and then both could start to laugh again.
Dean calling him a bitch and Sam calling him a jerk as a response, even if neither one could remember when or why they had started it.
Dean, always, being the first face greeting him after he woke up from a nightmare, after being knocked out, after surgery. It had always been Dean's smug, cocky, brotherly-concerned-mother-hen-look that was the first thing Sam caught sight of in any kind of haze and both found peace in that the very same way.
Dean ruffling through his hair all the time.
Dean calling him Sammy.
Dean.
It is always about Dean.
Dean is every start of Sam's memory, and very often the ending, too.
Wherever Sam searches, Dean's images flood his mind. Dean is the world to him and Sam knows that he is the world to Dean the very same way. It is a truth left unspoken, but it needn't be said because both simply know.
Dean had always been there for him, through the happy times of life, through the hard times of life, and all the while in between. Even if Dean would give him hell about it if Sam would ever say that out loud, Dean is the most precious thing to Sam, the one person he truly… loves. Dean is the one reason for Sam to live. He knows by now that it was indeed Dean who carried him out of his nursery when their house burned down and mom died. He saved him that night and for that Sam devoted his life to the older brother the very same way. Sam lives because of Dean. Dean is in every corner of Sam's mind. Of course John is an important part of his life as well, but… but Dean simply plays the greatest role in his life. Their connection is on a completely different level that probably neither one of them truly understands. Dean had always been there for him, he can't repeat that often enough. Dean is his big brother, and besides being a total jerk at times, he is the greatest brother on earth, so Sam thinks.
And if Sam actually went to Stanford… he would have to leave Dean.
Dean wouldn't be able to join him on that path. Dean is all into hunting and just as much as family is everything to the older teen, so is the family business. Dean is a born hunter, familiar with almost any kind of weapon, smart, fast and strong. He works hard and is very stubborn. Dean was and always will want to protect people, with weapons, and not by using terms of legislature. The big brother couldn't just stop with what was his mission since he was so young, too damn young, Sam reminds himself.
Dean already had to give up on so much in life. He had to make sacrifices for the family Sam was aware of for the most part, but what John only demanded as if those sacrifices actually were a higher order for Dean. Dean always did without attaching to places, the girl he was going out with. He didn't complain when he had to give up on his friends or when he had to stay with Sam instead, to watch the younger brother. Dean always had restricted himself, for the sake of the family. And Sam tries to give him as much appreciation for it as he can because he sees Dean trying, he sees him making those sacrifices, willingly, because family always comes first for Dean.
Sam couldn't ask Dean to make such great sacrifices again by coming with him, to live a life without hunts, work in a body shop or try to enroll college himself. He couldn't ask his older brother to leave the most precious thing to Dean, his family, his dad. The younger man couldn't demand from Dean to walk away from hunting, the one thing he finally accustomed to, got used to. Sam could never possibly ask Dean that.
And then there is dad. Sure, Sam loves his father, no doubt about that. However, their dad plays a completely different role in Dean's life. John Winchester always had been his role-model, the person he looked up to. John was Michelangelo's "David" to Dean, the strong, great, big, ready-to-fight, perfect man. Dean always sought their dad's approval, even more than Sam did. And for Dean it never was just about the praise, but that this was the only way those two could actually connect. Dad was always perfect to Dean, he was invincible, infallible, the man Dean always wanted to be. Dean couldn't be without their dad, Sam knows that. He depends on him. Dean couldn't live without his dad by his side, couldn't be without his praise, his orders, everything that makes John Winchester the man he is. Dean would wither if Sam actually dared to take that man, that pillar, away from Dean. And Sam couldn't do that. He could never intentionally hurt Dean. Dean is the world to him and he would make any sacrifice for his big brother's sake.
A man who matters to him so much… Sam couldn't let him go, right? He couldn't leave him, but that would be the case if he decided to go to Palo Alto. Sam couldn't have it all. There was no way the younger teen could incorporate hunting, staying with Dean, being there for him, with studies, finals, and school activities. He couldn't make new memories with Dean if he would go to Stanford. Either way, it is a clean cut that needs to be made. Either to do something on his own, or stay with the family. So that is the core problem. There is no way to find a compromise to this. It is either that or that, no second chances, no way of return, a clean cut. It is either Stanford or the family, simple and plain and terrible as it might be.
"Sometimes you gotta take one for the team," Sam exhales. Dean had told him with a smug grin so many times, but there was great truth behind the simplicity of that statement. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made to keep what is the most precious to you.
And what is more precious to him? Stanford – a dream, maintained for so long now, worked so hard for, earned with every fiber? Or… a brother for whom Sam would walk through any desert, would swim through any drowning current, would jump in front of any train for?
Sam lets out another sad chuckle.
The question of what is more precious to him isn't very hard. It's easy. Dean, Dean of course. Sam would choose Dean over anything, anything, anything.
And that is when it dawns on the youngest that he finally made his choice. He had probably done it the moment he received the sheet from Mr. Parker. He didn't say yes - already back then Sam said that the teacher probably can't imagine how important his family is to him. And that is true. Dean is that important to him. The little brother can't leave him, can't ditch him, can't imagine to be without him. Sam couldn't ditch Dean, not even for a dream like Stanford, not for anything in the world.
Stanford, even if it is a dream, is still a place, a place, nothing more, not a living being. Dean on the other hand is, and that living being is far more precious to him than anything Sam ever knew and is probably ever going to know.
Tears are now freely running down his cheeks.
Even if the choice of what is more precious to him is easy… the hard part is about letting go of a dream, to forget about himself and concentrate on Dean and not the dream of security and peace. The hardest part is to admit it, that the dream is over, that this chance won't be grasped, will be left in the dark, even if it was a comfort in a long, long time.
Sam bites his lower lip as he retrieves a box from underneath his bed, his hands feeling heavy at the movements.
"I'm doing this for you alone, Dean," Sam whispers in a ragged voice.
"Sam Winchester made up his mind… I'm going to become the best hunter out there. I will make my family proud and will protect them. I will never complain about not having the chance of… of anything that comes even close to Stanford ever again… because… because… because of you, Dean. I will work this, promise. You will never know and it's probably better that way. You shouldn't carry my burden. I just want to make memories with you… and… and… here go my goodbyes for Stanford University. I really pictured me there, but I am sorry, especially for Mr. Parker, after all the effort, but… but I guess my life simply doesn't allow me. I love Dean too much, so… thank you, but no thank you," Sam speaks in a shaky voice. He has to make that clear to himself, to make this his final answer. Once you speak out the words, then they become an undeniable truth, he always had believed in that. This is why their mum wasn't dead until Dean admitted for the very first time that she was. That is why Sam had been sad only the moment he told Dean that he really missed Bones, the dog he took care of in one of the towns they stayed at. That is why dad only got back after Sam had happily exclaimed upon seeing the familiar face appearing in the door frame. That is why Sam was not injured until he had told Dean that his side hurt so much that he could barely take it. That is why they never left a town until the order came out of their dad's mouth. That is why Sam had stopped in his tracks after trying to run off because Dean had told him to stop, and so he did. That is why it needs to be said now, so that it becomes reality and truth. Sam folds the paper he received from Mr. Parker and stashes it into the box, closing the lid with teary eyes and shaking hands.
"Thanks for seeing me worthy, but… but I can't. That is my choice," Sam whispers before he starts to cry another time as he hides the box underneath the bed. The youngest is just glad that Dean didn't catch him talking to himself because the oldest would blackmail him over this for a felt eternity. Sam sobs silently and when there is a rattling on the door, he is surprised he didn't hear Dean coming through the front door and he is hastily wiping his tears away, trying to brace himself. Dean peers into the lightly dark room and spots the younger man, red blotches on his face and reddened eyes.
"Everything okay with you?" Dean asks with an edge of worry in his voice. He comes inside, studying his younger sibling carefully.
"Yeah, yeah, nothing to worry about, Dean," Sam assures.
"You've cried," Dean states flatly. It never means any good, so the older brother knows.
"Yeah, yeah, but… it's nothing really, I am finished with this now," Sam answers.
"Will you tell me why you cried?" Dean asks. He is already pretty sure what the answer will be, but that doesn't mean the question shouldn't be asked.
"Just had to wrap up some old business, but now it's all done and I am… ready… how 'bout we simply eat something, huh?" Sam offers a small smile. Dean is a little suspicious, but lets Sam have his way because he looks so defeated, Dean doesn't want to push him. So they simply sit down and eat in silence and Sam desperately tries to push the new questions out of his head.
Was it the right choice?
Am I going to regret this?
Will Dean realize? Will he find out?
And what would Dean have said if he had asked him for guidance?
What would Dean's opinion have been?
Sam swallows hard on the fries, trying to think of Dean and him watching old horror movies again, looking up to the stars, playing cards, Dean's smug grin.
"I hope that will be enough," Sam murmurs and even if Dean understood the words, he doesn't get the meaning.
