As it turned out, instead of panicking, he found himself looking forward to the start school. Though butterflies swarmed inside his stomach throughout the first day, the classes actually gave him a sort of comfort rather than take away the stability he was afraid of losing.

From the very start, Sam dove headfirst into schoolwork, relishing the distraction it gave him. It gave him a new sense of purpose, and that felt somewhat incredible to him.

It started out fairly easy, since most of his classes were repeats of the ones he left halfway last year. Yet, even though it wasn't needed, he immersed himself with the task of learning everything he could, making sure he understood everything the professors taught him, and doing theextra research and study when he didn't.

He tried not to think about how maybe he didn't want to be a lawyer anymore.

It was a relief, though, to find that despite his wobbly world view, he at least hadn't lost the academic part of his mind. He liked the focus that studying required of him, and he enjoyed analyzing problems and documents. Lectures soaked through his brain, and he eagerly absorbed whatever the professors threw at him.

But more than anything, he loved doing the research.

Research gave him a special kind of comfort, and the library became his second home, his second sanctuary. Every time he made a trip there, he could almost imagine a warm glow settling around him as he pulled out piles of thick, dusty tomes or typed out a string of searches on the internet. The librarian on duty would try to offer his or her assistance, but Sam found he didn't need it. After only a few days, he knew his way around as well as those who worked there. Maybe even better.

In the weeks that followed the start of school, he divided almost all of his free time between classes, the library, and his job. If he found himself with any extra time, he stayed home. He knew his social life was a pale version of what it used to be. In fact, Rebecca and Zach were pretty much the extent of his social circle. Most of his friends had graduated the year before, and of the few that remained, Sam put no more effort than exchanging a few words as he passed by.

But that was fine with him. Once, he tried picturing a night out with all of his old friends, but he couldn't, not without Jessica. He couldn't even imagine his friends before her, though he knew he had them.

Fortunately, Rebecca and Zach were the only two who knew of Sam's breakdown. As far as anybody else knew, Sam had only left for a roadtrip to clear his mind after Jessica's death. It made things a lot easier, a lot less awkward than it could have been.

His lack of friends was matched by Zach, who made as much effort as Sam when it came to going out and having a good time. Rebecca didn't fail to notice, and she didn't completely approve. Every now and then, whenever she felt they needed to see some fresh faces, she would drag the two of them out with her to meet her own group of friends.They werea small, intimate group, an easy bunch, andSam really did appreciate the break, the human contact. But if he was honest with himself, he was relieved these outings were few and far between.

Once, they went to the same bar where Sam had celebrated his last night with Jessica. After Sam mentioned that to Rebecca, they never went there again. Sam was grateful, although he couldn't bring himself to admit it.

When they did go out, he accepted the chance to let himself go. He drank enough to get a nice buzz, and his laughs come out often and easily. Sometimes he even interjected his own remarks into the conversation, but mostly he sat back with a smile on his face and let the words and laughter wash over him. In a way, he felt the same as he did when he first came to Stanford, too uncertain of himself to come out far from his shell. The difference is that this time it wasn't self-esteem that held him back.

One of these nights, he, Rebecca, and three others went out to celebrate the end of particularly rough midterms. Sam really didn't need the release; he savored the challenge those tests had presented and he felt confident in his scores. But he didn't need a reason to go out and have a good time, and he couldn't escape the relieved energy that filled the air. Soon his mood was matching the cheerfulness of those around him.

They sat at a tall round table near the bar, and they were never without a drink in front of each of them. Sam nursed his slowly, pacing himself, as he listened to the chatter around him.

At one point, Rebecca turned to him. "And I bet you did amazing on your tests," she said with a smile.

He shrugged and grinned. "Maybe." She laughed and slapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Are you going to schedule an interview now?"

Sam took a drink and shrugged again. She had been encouraging him to apply to Stanford's law school again, but he never got around to it. "Yeah, I guess I should," he admitted.

"Oh, Sam..." she said, simply. He didn't know how to respond to that, so he just gave her a half-hearted smile. She grinned back at him and nudged him playfully with her shoulder.

"Oh, God," a junior named Matilda suddenly groaned. "My parents are going to kill me."

"Aw, come on, I'm sure you didn't do that bad," Jim, a psych major, assured her.

"I'm sure too," Matilda shot back. "But I didn't do great, either. You know, I can just hear my mom now. 'Well, your brother earned a 4.0 every semester. Why can't you? He finished at the top of his class. Why can't you? He cured cancer and made ten billion dollars and brought about world peace. Why can't you?'"

Sam laughed politely along with everyone else as Matilda took a long gulp of her mixed drink. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Rebecca staring at him. He turned to her, confused, and she studied his face for a moment before looking away.

"Ah, so your parents play favorites, too?" the fifth member of their group, Oliver, jumped in. Sam knew Oliver from before. He had been a year behind Sam in the same pre-Law program, but after Sam's leave of absence they were now even. "My dad's the same way. It's actually kinda pathetic how we would all compete with each other just to be the 'golden child' of our family. I finally gave up."

Rebecca's eyes were on him again, watching him. Sam couldn't figure out why. Heshot her a confused look, but she turned away.

"Hey," she suddenly interrupted. "What the heck was wrong with Stennis? I swear, it looked like she was crying!" Sam didn't know who she was talking about, but Matilda and Jim did, and the conversation immediately shifted from family pressure to gossip. Sam laughed at all the right moments and made comments when they came to him. He even teased Matilda when she spotted and ducked from the "hottie" she knew from her class project group.

He went through all the motions expected of him.

They stayed for another hour before the long hours of studying caught up with them. He, Rebecca, and her friends made their way to the door together, but as soon as the cool night air of outside hit them, they parted, going their separate ways.

Rebecca and Sam said goodbye to the other three and started towards their apartment together, walking side by side. Sam had a small smile on his face, not exactly happy, but feeling in good spirits. Rebecca seemed to notice, and she gave him a friendly grin.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned to see. A young man was bent over slightly, his forehead resting against the side of the building. Sam watched, wincing as he suddenly heaved.

"God dammit," the man muttered angrily, wiping his mouth. He pushed himself away from the building, his body waving unsteadily.

Sam was about to step forward to assist him, but there was a sudden sharp tug on his arm as Rebecca beside him stumbled backwards, falling to the ground and almost pulling him down with her. Startled and worried, Sam dropped into a crouch beside her, and she looked up at him sheepishly.

"Are you all right?" he asked her, reaching out a hand.

She nodded and pulled herself up, using his arm for leverage. "Yeah, I'm fine," she gasped as she came up, brushing dirt from her backside. "God, I'm sorry. I'm such a klutz!"

"No problem," Sam replied with an easy smile.

He looked back towards the other man, only to find that he was gone.

Sam was surprised that someone as drunk as he appeared would, or even could, move so quickly. Well, at least he wouldn't have to deal with some drunk and possibly belligerent stranger.Maybe heshouldn't have started to help anyway, not with Rebecca with him. He hoped the man would be okay.

He turned back to Rebecca to double-check that she was fine. To his surprise, she was looking around, just as he had. Strange. He didn't think she had noticed the guy.

ooOOoo

A week later, he once again woke up with his breath caught in his throat and his heart skipping a beat. There was a wild sense of disorientation when for a moment he couldn't remember where he was. He surged up into a sitting position as memories from both his nightmare and the real world came together.

Waking to a racing heart was a familiar feeling, but the nightmare that caused it – that, incredibly, was different.

Sam had to sit for a moment just to think, his mind trying to recall and interpret the images, the sounds that had assaulted his subconscious. It had been so vivid, so real. The strange thing, the part that threw him off, was the fact that he didn't recognize anybody in his dream.

The dream itself was also very strange, but then again, dreams always were. He didn't know what it meant, if anything, but it had been a scary rush, and he shuddered at some of the more horrifying moments now etched in his mind.

He ran a shaky hand through his bed-mussed hair and then forced himself out from underneath the blankets. After pulling on a pair of pants, he stumbled into the kitchen, where he found Rebecca and a fresh pot of coffee. She looked up at him, and the worried look that passed over her face told him he wasn't very good at hiding anything.

"Rough night?" she asked him. "You didn't drink that much last night, did you?"

He shook his head and then said, "No. I—" He hesitated, afraid of sounding stupid. Wanting to look casual, he took out a mug and fixed himself a cup of coffee. "I had a nightmare," he confessed as he spooned sugar into his cup. He turned around, wrapping his hand around his warm mug.

Immediately, a glow of sympathy came to her eyes. "I'm sorry, Sam. Jessica?" she asked gently.

"No, actually. That's the funny part," he told her, quickly wanting to avoid that uncomfortable topic. "It was so weird. It was like I wasn't even in it."

Now Rebecca looked intrigued, and she pulled out a chair from the table, offering him a seat. Sam took it, and she sat on the opposite side. "What was it about?" she asked

Sam started to shake his head, not believing he was actually going to talk about this. But something told him he needed to, even if only to rid his mind of it. "There was this family. I think so anyway, it looked like a father with his son and daughter...But I've never seen them before – well, as far as I know. Anyway, they were camping along a beach somewhere, just hanging out, having a nice time. And then..."

He swallowed and licked his suddenly dry lips. "Suddenly this pair of werewolves attack. Just ripped them apart."

It seemed to him that Rebecca paled, but she didn't say anything. Sam rushed to explain himself. " I know it sounds silly, like a bad horror movie. I know. But it was just so...real. So graphic and..." He drew in a shaky breath. The girl hadn't been any older than ten, and the werewolves savagely tore her into pieces.

He looked up at Rebecca, who was watching him with a stricken expression. "What kind of sick mind would imagine something like that?" he asked her. His voice scratched roughly against his throat.

"What...what else do you remember?" she finally said.

Sam jerked his head back, startled by her question. "What do you mean?"

"Do you remember anything else from your dream?"

"Why?" Sam was still confused. "You really wanna hear all the grisly details?"

"No, no, it's not that," she replied quickly. "I just—Sometimes, details can help you figure out what your subconscious is telling you. You know what I mean?" She said it in a rush, sounding a little embarrassed but wanting to press forward. "The little details are in your dream for a reason, right? And the more you remember about a dream, the better you can, I don't know, interpret it."

Sam was still a little dubious, but she did touch on an interesting point. He could remember very specific details, things that should have been blurry or vague, too insignificant to be given defined lines and colors. The fact that they were clear could be clues. Sam frowned thoughtfully.

"The father figure was wearing a gray Tulane sweatshirt. And I remember he also had thinning blonde hair. The girl was also blonde, and the boy had darker hair."

Rebecca blinked at him. "Oh! Good, what else?" she asked enthusiastically.

"In the background, there was a black and white lighthouse with a red top. Um...the boy called his sister 'Penny' and..." Actually, the boy had screamed her name, his voice still echoed in his head, but Sam left that part out. As he talked, Rebecca began rummaging around, eventually pulling out a pen and a pad of paper. "You're writing this down?"

She nodded. "Maybe if we can see everything listed, it might provide a better picture."

Sam shrugged. "Alright," he agreed indifferently. "Um, the moon was full, which of course fits. There was a campfire and a dark green tent. The werewolves were, uh, definitely a male and a female. When they rushed in, they attacked the dad first, using their claws to slash-"

Rebecca held up a hand, interrupting him. "Okay, I think that's good enough," she said quickly.

Sam let out a relieved snort. He'd rather not relive that part of his dream. "So, what does all that tell me?"

"No idea."

He gaped at her. "Huh?" She looked at him and shrugged, giving him an apologetic smile. "But..." he protested, trailing off.

"It's a start, isn't it? Maybe we can look up one of those dream dictionaries. Or we'll do this again the next time you have a dream, and we can compare, see what kind of, uh, themes emerge."

Sam sighed with frustration. If he had known that's all their conversation would lead to, he wouldn't have bothered. Rebecca pushed herself from the table. "I'm sorry, Sam, I gotta run. I have a ton of errands today." A moment later, he heard the door to her bedroom close.

Sam slumped back into his chair, swirling the coffee around in his mug. He thought voicing his nightmare would help exorcise the images from his mind, but it only left him feeling cold. Helpless.

AN: About Sam's dream - I wrote this before Nightmare, and it never occured to me that Sam would only have visions about people connected to him. So just in case you were wondering, yep, that family is just a random one, not one he knows.

I hope that, if you stick around, all your questions will be answered! But if you're still confused about something, please ask.

If you review, I'll love you forever.