Chapter 2

The first week of classes passed in a whirlwind of readjustment and reality checks. Professors did their best to scare their new students into working hard, the students automatically began complaining about work to old friends as they were reunited, and confused freshmen walked around with their faces buried in campus maps even while they walked with a purpose that seemed to say they knew exactly where they were going to end up. It was like the campus had suddenly awakened from a long summer hibernation, and now, with students everywhere laughing and talking, it was alive again.

It was a glorious week for Sam. He complained about the homework and tests and papers like everyone else, but really, he relished the work, the routine and normalcy of it all. He could hear Dean's cocky voice in his head calling him "geek boy," as he so often had when Sam wanted to skip out on hunts in high school to finish writing papers, but Sam didn't care. He was no longer alone.

He had been nervous about living with Jess at first, but had found it easier and better than he'd ever expected. He loved seeing her when they both got home from a long day of classes, eating dinner with her every night, and just knowing she was there while they did their homework in silence and as he drifted off to sleep every night. The apartment that had seemed so oppressive over the long summer had quickly become the closest thing to home that Sam could remember. He supposed the house they had lived in before Mom died would have felt like home, but the various run-down apartments and motels they had lived in afterwards, moving from town to town so often, had never felt like home to Sam.

It had been a long Friday. The first week of classes had, as always, been exhausting, and Sam was drained. He exited the library with his half-completed research paper in hand—it wasn't due for another week, but he had wanted to get a head start—eager to get back to the apartment and Jess.

As he walked away from the building, a familiar figure hurried towards it, passing right by him. He stopped, brow furrowed in confusion, and turned to yell after him.

"Pete! Hey, Pete!"

His friend stopped and turned around, and Sam jogged over to close the distance between them.

"Where have you been, man?" Sam asked. "I've been trying to get in touch with you since last week!"

Pete reached up to run a hand through his short blonde spikes and shifted his weight, both signs of nervousness that Sam had been taught to pick up on. He'd seen them plenty of times before, but never from Pete. Pete smiled at Sam reassuringly, and Sam noticed that something about his sky-blue eyes was different.

"Yeah, sorry," Pete replied. "I've just been really busy is all."

"Come on, Pete," Sam said quietly. "You haven't been just busy. It's not like you not to call me back for so long. Did I say something last time we talked, or do something? Did something happen?"

A look of annoyance passed over Pete's face fleetingly, as if he had been expecting Sam to just let it go at that, but he was back to normal a second later. If Sam hadn't been an unusually observant person, he wouldn't have noticed.

"Alright…" Pete said hesitantly. "Something happened. But it's nothing you did. I'd just rather not talk about it, alright?"

Sam looked at Pete, confused. He was really acting strange. Whatever happened had to have been big. The hunting instincts that had been drilled into Sam by his father told him to push it for all he was worth, but Sam refused to do that to his friend. If Pete didn't want to talk about it, he would respect that.

"Alright," Sam replied. "I was just worried about you, that's all. I was looking forward to seeing you again, haven't seen you all summer."

Pete smiled weakly. "Yeah, me too."

An uncomfortable silence fell for a moment. Sam hated uncomfortable silences, and wondered why one of his closest friends was suddenly so uneasy around him.

"So…" Sam said, "what's your hardest class this term, you think?"

Pete grimaced. "Psychology. I got Yockey."

"Hey, me too!" Sam exclaimed. "Guess we have it at different times. Can you believe she's already giving us a test next Wednesday?"

"I know, it's so soon."

"Want to study together on Tuesday?"

"Uh…sure," Pete said, looking uncomfortable again, deepening Sam's confusion.

"Um…six good?" he asked tentatively.

"Sure, I'll meet you right inside the library."

"Alright, but…you don't want to get together this weekend or anything, with Jess and I and everyone else? I think we're all going to do something."

"No…" Pete replied, grimacing again. "I've got a ton of history reading to do for Monday, and some other stuff, too…sorry."

"Nah, it's okay, I understand," Sam said quickly. "I'll just see you Tuesday?"

"Yeah, Tuesday," Pete said, and smiled again before turning and heading into the library.

Sam stood there for a moment after Pete had gone into the building, trying to figure out what had just happened. Pete was acting very strange. It had to be because of whatever had happened, but Sam had no idea what it could be. Family crisis, maybe a family death? Something with his old high school friends? He didn't have a girlfriend, so it couldn't be that…

He started walking away from the library again, determined not to let it bother him. He had meant it when he had decided he would respect Pete's privacy; it wasn't his job to pry into Pete's problems. If he didn't seem any better by Tuesday, Sam would think about talking to his roommate.

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Sam thought about the past again that night, even though he had promised himself on that last day at the end of the summer that he wouldn't think about those things anymore.

It was Inigo Montoya who made him do it. He and Jess had decided to have a relaxing Friday night at the apartment instead of going out with their friends. They were both exhausted from the long week, and they could always go out tomorrow night.

So, there they were, sitting on the couch watching "The Princess Bride." It was one of Jess's favorite movies and one of the few either of them owned. Sam liked it well enough, but even though he had seen it several times, it suddenly struck him that evening just how much Inigo Montoya had in common with his Dad.

Inigo had dedicated his entire life to tracking down and killing the man who had murdered his father, just as Dad had spent the last twenty-two years, Sam and Dean's entire lives, trying to find the thing that had killed Mom. Both had trained and studied endlessly to prepare for that moment of confrontation with their opponents. It was all they thought about.

In the movie, Inigo succeeds, and then doesn't know what to do with himself because he knows nothing other than training and moving towards revenge. Sam wondered if his Dad would ever be able to get his revenge, and what he'd do after it was all over. Did John Winchester even know what it meant to have a life outside of hunting anymore?

That brought Sam to the future. Jess shifted against him, moving closer and draping an arm over him. Her soft hair brushed against his chin as she lowered her head from his shoulder to his chest, and he found himself wondering if Jess would want to be a part of his future.

Would she continue to stay with someone who couldn't share his whole self with her? He often wondered if what little he could give her would be enough to last, when there was so much about him that he couldn't tell her. It was the only thing that had been keeping him from taking the next step into a more long-term commitment, the fear that his unknown past would be what would ultimately push her away.

He tightened his arms around her and let his head sink to rest on top of hers. The comfort of simply having here ithere/i, holding her, and the joy he felt when he was around her, more happiness than he had ever felt through anyone else, told him that no matter how it all turned out, he had to try. One of the first things Dean had taught him was to never let his fear hold him back.