AN: As much as I love brotherly love and bonding, this chapter isn't so warm and fuzzy. We all know that things didn't go well when Sam went off to Stanford, so this bridges the gap a little bit. Or at least it's supposed to...

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Six months later

Sam looked up with the rest of the class when there was a tap on the door and someone handed the trigonometry teacher a note. He looked back down at his quiz while tracking the teacher's progress weaving among the desks. But he was still surprised when a folded piece of paper labeled Sam Trent landed on the desk in front of him. He nodded his thanks to Mrs. Willis and finished the quiz – easy this time – before opening the missive.

Message taken by: L. Donaldson

Date: January 21, 1990

Time: 2:05 pm

Caller: Dean Trent

Message: You'll have to walk home today.

Sam had to grin as he tucked the note away and began to pack up his things, knowing the bell would ring any time. Trust Dean to know and acknowledge the exact day that Sam "graduated" from his 6-month probationary period where he spent every minute either at school or within sight of Dad or Dean. Sam hadn't attempted to break his lockdown even once, determined to regain his family's trust. A pang went through his heart. There was one thing he'd done behind Dad's and Dean's backs. Before Bobby had headed home from that ugly little motel in Wyoming, Sam had asked him a question.

"Can I use your address, Bobby?" he asked, trying not to scuff his toe like a shy little kid.

"Sure, boy. What for?" Bobby's eyes were too knowing, for all his tone was easy and agreeable.

Sam licked his lips, but he kept Dean's words – and Bobby's – in mind. They'd both told him to do what he needed to do to find joy in life.

"Uh…college applications."

Bobby studied him even more closely. "Sure. You keeping this from Dean? And your dad?"

Unreasoningly nervous and not sure of how to explain how frightened he was, of failing, of succeeding, of disappointing his family again, Sam just nodded. "For now, at least, Bobby."

Bobby had tried to talk him into telling the rest of his family, but had agreed not to rat Sam out. He'd wait until Dad stopped watching him like he would disappear, until Dean didn't stress every time Sam was out of his sight (even though Sam was never alone), until…he was ready. Sam knew it was cowardly to hide his plans, and he hated himself for it a little bit. But he also found hope in his plan, and escape from the hunting that weighed so heavily on him.

Dean had told him to find his hope. His happy. And Sam thought he might have found it.

That, however, was in the future. For now, he was off his probation period. He took the SSRI meds that a friend of Bobby's had prescribed and felt a lot more like himself. He enjoyed school. He and Dean laughed and hung out together. He noticed pretty girls, made friends, impressed teachers. And he fought with Dad again. Sam hid a wince at the thought. Not ideal, but normal. He walked down the hall and the smile came back to his face at the thought of Dean's show of trust. Up until today, Dean had picked him up from school every single day, and take him to the garage where Dean was working to do his homework until Dean was finished.

Kaylee Poll caught his smile and smiled broadly back. Sam blinked and blushed, but the pretty blonde only smiled wider and gave him a tiny wave. Sam slowed and said, "hey," thinking this was a great day for more than one reason.

Ten minutes later, Sam was walking Kaylee home and slightly dazed by this turn of events. The sun kept the January day from feeling too cold, he was walking with a pretty girl who had sought him out, his brother and dad were starting to trust him again, and he would probably have a chance to sneak off and find something to surprise his brother with for his birthday in a few days. More than that, some of the dimness that had led him to such a dark place had lifted. When he struggled, Dean was there, and listened and teased him out of the dark moods. And more than all of that, he could imagine more of this normal and safe in his future.

Sure, they were staying in a squalid house that should have been condemned in the 70's with only sporadic hot water and intermittent electricity. Sure, Dad was gone more than he was there, and he and Sam were back to fighting like cats and dogs when he was around. Sure, Sam spent more nights than he cared to think about digging graves, beheading monsters, and washing blood out of his clothes, even before his ribs had healed (to Dean's displeasure). But still, Sam had something he'd been missing before. It tasted a little bit like hope. Hope seasoned with understanding and support, in a way he hadn't realized before. There was even a smidgeon of hope that Dad would get it when Sam said he needed out, that he would see that Sam could find a different way to combat the evil in the world. There was doubt, too, but Sam was young and optimistic enough to bury it.

Sam thought about his brother's 21st birthday coming up and wished he'd had a chance to make some money to get him a real gift. He had the passing thought that maybe he could convince Kaylee to bake a cherry pie and it was such a Dean thing to think that Sam grinned reflexively. Catching the smile, Kaylee dropped her eyes and blushed. Sam had seen at least 10,000 women react that exact way to Dean's megawatt smile and the realization floored him. Was she…did she…because of him? Yes, yes, she did. He couldn't wait to tell Dean about her reaction – he didn't even care about the teasing he'd get. He'd done the whole hiding things from Dean, and look where that had gotten him. If he were honest, leaning on Dean again the way he'd done when he was younger had helped him more than the rest of the changes all put together.

At that moment, Sam decided that not only would he get Dean the best cherry pie ever, he'd tell him about his aspirations and get his advice. He'd explain how excelling at school made him feel alive, and his thoughts on how having an ally in law enforcement or working at a research facility or even a lawyer could help so many hunters. He'd even tell Dean how it sometimes felt like hunting was eroding his soul piece by piece. Dean would understand.

Sam laughed at something Kaylee said, feeling lighter than air. But a cloud crossed in front of the sun and a prickle touched the back of his neck. They were being watched. Too well trained to change how he was acting, Sam didn't adjust his tone or speed, but sent his focus outward, trying to note anything that seemed out of place.

There. At the end of the block, 99% hidden by an ambitious hedge, were two tall, familiar figures. Only Sam's well-honed skills let him notice them, much less identify them, but he had no doubts whatsoever who it was, and disappointment swamped him, twice as bitter since it chased such joy.

They don't trust me after all, he thought. I promised, Dean. And I've done everything both of you asked me every single minute of every single day for six months. If you thought I shouldn't be on my own yet, you should have told me.

Even after the cloud moved past, the sun didn't seem so bright, nor Kaylee's company quite so sweet. And Sam decided that he wouldn't talk to Dean about college after all. He'd keep his plan, he'd keep working and living and hoping, but his plans would be his own. Maybe they'd understand, and maybe they wouldn't.

Kaylee was sweet and adorable and told him he could walk her home any time, but as Sam headed toward his temporary home, he shivered.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

Dean was really, really angry with his dad. To be honest, there was a lot of anger buried from way back in July, when Dad had not really listened to Dean's concerns. And there was some anger from the way the older man treated Sam. Sure, the kid was a pain in the ass with his never-ending questions and hand-wringing over ethics, but Dad sometimes acted like mindless obedience was the only proper response for Sam to make to anything. Anything, from what to eat to how to wax the car. Kid was going to suffocate.

It was obvious how much better Sam was doing from the summer to now. He was more obedient than he'd ever been, but it was clear he was starting to feel suffocated. Sam had worked so hard to get better, to be transparent, and to follow the rules, that he deserved to be treated in a way that was less…draconian.

Dean got it. Dad had been scared – was still scared. They'd almost lost the kid, and neither of them had really known what he was thinking or planning. But Dean had the terrible feeling that if Dad didn't ease up, something was going to break in their little family, permanently.

And now this.

They'd made a big deal (as much as Winchesters ever did) about Sam's upcoming six-month anniversary. Dean had timed his call to school so that Sam wouldn't find out that he was truly unsupervised until just before school was done. And he'd taken off early from work so he could meet Sam at the house and take him out for dessert, maybe even a movie. They might not really do celebrations, but he really wanted to let Sam know he was proud of him. Being an overprotective big brother, he'd read up on depression and suicidal ideation and realized that fighting it took a tremendous amount of courage. It was waging a war within your own mind and it could be a long, even constant struggle. It was, Dean sometimes thought, just a different kind of monster.

He'd been on his way home when he'd spotted an unmistakable tail light. Since Dad was supposed to be hunting imps in Wichita, Dean almost put his foot through the floor of the 1979 Chevy Nova he was limping around in. He parked haphazardly and headed for the oh-so-familiar man concealing himself in the corner of an overgrown yard a block away.

And, yeah, he was angry.

"Dad, what are you doing?" he hissed, automatically stepping into the shadows of the ridiculously oversized hedge that Dad was using.

"You know." Dad was a rock of placidity.

"We told him things would ease up after six months." Sam wasn't in sight yet, but Dean kept his voice low anyway.

"And they are." Dad looked at Dean for the first time. Dark thoughts lurked in the depths of his eyes. "He's walking home, isn't he?"

Dean recognized that what appeared as anger was actually worry. He softened his tone. "Dad, you have to start giving him some space. If he gets even a whiff that you're watching him when you said you wouldn't, he's gonna flip out. He's gonna feel like all his work and obedience since this summer doesn't mean anything."

"I can handle his anger, Dean."

Dean stared at his dad, uncharacteristically at sea. On a hunt, they understood each other perfectly, so how could it be that Dad completely misunderstood him – misunderstood Sam – right now? That so wasn't the point, Dean thought. Before he could try to figure out a way to explain, Sam appeared at the far end of the block, kitty corner to them. He was carrying two backpacks and talking with a cute blonde chick who didn't even come up to his shoulder.

Despite himself, Dean thought way to go, geekazoid! Sammy looked happy. Relaxed. Healthy. But right when Dean started to relax, a cloud passed in front of the sun, and he had an intangible feeling that something had just happened. He couldn't see any threats, and Sam said goodbye to the girl and continued on without incident, but Dean couldn't shake the feeling. Something's changed. He waited until Sam was well out of sight, implored Dad to think about what he said, and headed back for the POS he was barely able to keep running, all trying to label the feeling, but he never could.

Sam was happy to see Dean and provided Kaylee's name and address without prompting, further proving himself, and Dean argued to himself that he was only imagining a fly in the ointment.

And three days later, Dad was home on Dean's 21st birthday and showed up with a handsome pick up – and turned Baby's keys over to Dean. For his part, Sam showed up with cherry, apple, and pecan pies, homemade by Kaylee and her mother after Sam had asked them to recommend a bakery and explained that his brother was turning 21 and loved pie above all else, but neither he nor his father knew how to bake one. The delight of the greatest birthday ever eclipsed the bad feelings Dean had, and his worry faded as Sam still seemed happy and healthy.

Dean wouldn't think about it again until the day Sam left for Stanford, and the family broke.