I'm awful, I'm terrible, I'm evil, I'm mean, I'm awful-wait...already said that...Anywho, I apologize for not updating sooner. I have the next UD mostly written, so I'll have that one up no long after this one. And it will be Wee! I'll try to do less angst from now on cause I realized-with someone's help(Who know who you are ; D)-that I write WAAAY too much angst haha. Ok so here this is. Hope ya'll like it...let me know)
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Chapter 6
"Ahh Collegboy, thinks he's so smaht."
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Sam pulled out of the parking lot of the hotel and headed towards the nearest grocery. After packing up the newly cleaned weapons and before heading into the shower, Dean had given Sam his usual warning of "You hurt my baby, I'll kill you." Sam had chuckled but couldn't help but notice the flash of something that looked liked regret darken Dean's face. "Just be careful with her." SaidDean, reassessing his warning as he disappeared into the bathroom.
Sam headed down the main, darkened road. His mission was simple: Food, beer, matches-which they were running low on. Sam smiled to himself at the music that filled the car. His initial reaction when he unlocked the Impala was "Alright! I finally get to choose what music I wanna listen to." Funny thing was, Sam had ended up loading a Metallica tape into the cassette-deck. He was in the mood for Metallica. One of those moods where you present the likely possibility of your eardrums exploding, yet don't really care cause you're too busy enjoying the music.
"Ah, score!" A small market appeared around the corner and up the street. Sam chose a spot delightfully close to the door and walked into the shop. It was a small grocery store; finding everything he needed wasn't too hard for Sam. Beer: check. "Thank God they actually have the good kind." Food: check. "A prime-rib or a steak every once in awhile wouldn't kill us." Sam thought as he shook his head and grabbed assorted, sorry-though delicious-excuses for food. Matches: check. "Sale: Four for the price of one. Must be my lucky day."
The teenage girl behind the register was chewing gum and staring boredly at the ceiling. She blew a impressive bubble and noticed Sam walking over to her register. Her eyes widened and the bubble popped loudly, deflating to stick to a large portion of her face. Sam held back a laugh and tried to pass off his concealed grin as a polite smile to the frazzled cashier. He placed the items on the counter as the girl-her name tag said Graflin- managed to finally claw off the sticky bubble-gum; Sam didn't have the heart to tell her that there was still a large piece stuck to the right side of her chin.
"$20.85." The girl said shakily, not even remembering to card Sam on the beer. Sam smiled and handed over a twenty and a one dollar bill. The girl fumbled with the buttons on the register and gave Sam 50 cents too much change. She laughed nervously as Sam handed her back the two quarters.
"Have a nice night." Sam said with a smile and he headed towards the door.
"Oh uh...yeah you...too." Called the cashier.
A man walking into the store held the door for Sam.
"Thanks." Sam mumbled and headed towards the Impala.
"Sam Winchester..."
Sam froze at the sound of someone addressing him by his real name. "Oh crap." He turned to look back at the man. "I'll be damned." Recognition flooded Sam.
"Charlie?"
The man grinned. "Damn right 'Charlie'." He came back outside and threw a hug on Sam. "How the hell are ya, man? Thought you were dead or something."
Sam chuckled. "Or something."
Charlie laughed heartily. "Small world. What are you doin' in Iowa?"
Sam shifted his weight, the bag in his arms crumpling with a squeaky sound. "Um, just passing through. I'm sort of on a roadtrip with my brother."
"Brother? Didn't know you had a brother."
Sam laughed, a twang of sadness and regret perfectly hidden. "Probably because I never mentioned him."
Charlie nodded. "So you had it made back at school, man. Why'd you ditch?"
Sam shrugged. "I just needed to get away. Needed some time, ya know."
Charlie nodded sadly, seeming to remember just then what Sam was referring to. "Well, what's the deal? You gonna go back and finish?"
A barrage of thoughts, things past-said, and images whipped through Sam's mind.
"No." He said quietly after a moment.
Charlie nodded again. Neither said anything for a few moments.
"Well, good to see you, Sam." Charlie put his hand out and shook Sam's hand firmly.
"You too."
Both gave the other a nod of respect and went about what they were doing before their meeting. Sam reached for the Impala's keys in his pocket, still looking through the grocery-store's window at Charlie. Sam breathed out a laugh and shook his head. "Two years...Is that all it's been?" He dropped his purchases in the back seat and straightened forward. It had been two years since he left Stanford. Why did it seem like it had been ten? Sam started up the Impala and pulled out of the parking-space, still lost deep within his own thoughts.
Two years since he had left Stanford to help Dean find their dad.
Two years since Jessica died.
Three and a half years since he'd met Jessica.
Six years since he'd applied and been accepted in the first place...Six years since Sam had been accepted to Stanford.
June 2001
Sam walked up the steps to a house in Lincoln, Nebraska. John's friend Caleb had called with a lead on a pretty serious haunting and he and John both left the previous night. Dean insisted on staying behind, to "Make sure Sammy stays out of trouble." The hunt needed no more than two people any way, so John agreed.
Sam had been out; at the library to check his e-mail and then off to the P.O. box that he had secretly asked Caleb to open for him a little over a year ago ago. It was the address that Sam had given all the colleges he had applied to. To his disappointment, no letter waited for him at the post office.
Sam heaved a sigh and opened the front door. The house was quiet...unusually quiet actually; especially for Dean being there. Most of the time, Sam would usually come back to their place of residence at the time to hear classic rock vibrating the windows, but not today. The door almost seemed to echo as it closed behind him today.
"Dean?"
Sam called softly as he walked through the kitchen towards the living room. As he passed through the doorway, he found Dean sitting on the couch with his back to him. Sam started towards where his brother was sitting, but slowed his pace as his eyes caught sight of broken glass on the table and floor in front of Dean. Sam rushed his steps when he noticed blood staining bits of the shards.
"Dean! What-"
Sam rounded the corner of the couch and stopped. Dean slouched back against the couch; bloodshot eyes looking blankly ahead. One hand held a glass of what Sam guessed was whisky and the other rested gently on his leg, blood running from it and staining his jeans.
"What the hell happened!?"
Dean's gaze lifted lazily as Sam kneeled in front of him and inspected his bleeding hand. Sam's eyes darted up to Dean's face and back down again.
"Huh? What'd you do?"
Sam didn't have much time to wait for a reply before his attention was diverted to a white square peeking out from under the coffee table. Sam reached his hand out slowly and picked it up, his stomach twisting as the bold words "Stanford University" lettered the top of the page. "Mr. Winchester, we are pleased to inform you..." was all Sam needed to read to figure out why the bottle of whisky that had been full this morning was now empty and on the floor in pieces.
"You got what you wanted, Sammy." Dean's voice was drained and gruff.
Sam placed the letter on the table and looked slowly back at his brother. Dean smiled half-heartedly and raised his glass up.
"Cheers."
Sam grabbed the glass away and banged it down on the floor. Dean looked at Sam as if he had just slapped him across the face.
"Hey-!"
"You've had enough." Sam stopped Dean before he could start and turned his attention back to Dean's hand.
"There's some glass in here." Sam mumbled as he stood up and walked towards the bathroom.
Dean didn't say anything, he just watched Sam disappear into the other room and return a moment later with a first-aid kit. Both remained silent as Sam opened the kit and selected a needle-nosed instrument. He gently parted the slice in Dean's palm and located the piece of bottle with the tip of the pliers. Dean bit back a protest of pain as Sam pulled a large chunk of glass from the wound. Sam held the crimsoned sliver up, studying it a little, then shook his head. His sea green eyes flicked a glare up at Dean.
"You're a true dumbass, you know that?"
Dean huffed out a chuckle. "Guess that's easy for you to say, huh collegeboy?"
Sam blew out a sigh and poured alcohol over Dean's hand; Dean's features twitched a bit at the sting and he continued.
"So, full ride, huh? That's uh...great. Just peachy."
"Dean, you knew I applied. Do you have to do this?"
He placed gauze over the long cut and wrapped Dean's hand. Dean's face contorted with flecks of bitterness.
"Nah, I think it's great. You taking off, just..." He made a sweeping motion with his un-injured hand. "...Off to California. Off to law school, pretending to be just another preppy yahoo."
Sam smacked a piece of tape on the gauze to hold it in place-ignoring the painful effect it had on his brother- and stood up quickly, his voice raised now to meet Dean's challenge.
"And there's something wrong with that? This is an opportunity of a lifetime! It's my whole future!"
"And what about your past, huh? You just gonna pretend it never happened?!" Dean stood up to lessen the upper hand that Sam had with his impressive height; his feet felt a little less steady than he would have liked.
"This is what I've worked so hard for! I always wanted to do something with my life and this is it! It's what I want to do!"
Dean blinked, as if stung by Sam's words, and said nothing. He stared at Sam and swallowed hard after a moment.
"Why?" Dean asked in a quiet voice.
Sam's face softened a bit, his need to defy fading away a little. He shifted his weight between his right and left foot.
"It just is. I...You really couldn't understand."
"Well you're right there."
Dean's retort had little anger behind it, dominated mostly by defeat and true agreement that he did not understand. He rolled his head to look away from Sam, the sudden movement causing his numbed body to sway a little.
"Come on, man. Sit down before you fall down, you look like a wind sock."
Sam put his hand on Dean's shoulder and guided him back onto the couch, taking a seat next to him. Dean immediately took to staring blankly ahead again. Sam looked at him a moment but was lost to anything he might say. He turned front and leaned back into the couch, deciding to join in the stupor-like scowl that Dean was so fond of. The silence was deafening for a long time, only filled by the occasional squeak from the springs cause by Sam's uncomfortable fidgeting.
"When do you go?" Dean's low question broke the quiet.
"Start of fall semester." Answered Sam simply. He could tell Dean was figuring the months til that time. Sam himself counted it out to be about five. Dean made a noise that sounded something like "huh" and Sam knew that the conversation on the matter had closed. He looked down at Dean's bandaged hand.
"How's your hand?"
Dean shrugged vaguely.
"Does it hurt? You wanna take something for it?"
Dean raised his eyebrows and sighed out an answer. "Yeah."
He leaned forward and took up the glass of whisky Sam had stolen away from him. He drained a large amount of the remaining liquid and hardly made a face as he swallowed the warm bite of the alcohol. Sam waited a few moments to ask the question he knew he and Dean were both thinking.
"What do you think Dad will say?"
Dean turned his head slowly to look at Sam. His right eyebrow arched slightly and a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes shaped his lips. Sam nodded shortly.
"That's about what I figured too."
Sam hoped that Dean didn't catch the flicker of fear that he let register on his face for the briefest second. He and John had had quarrels before, but both brothers knew that the one that was soon to come would take the cake; along with a good part of the entire bakery. Dean growled out a sigh and looked down at the shattered glass on the ground. He nudged Sam's arm and held up the tumbler of whisky to him.
Sam looked between the beverage and Dean a few times before accepting the glass. He braced himself and threw back the last of the alcohol. Sam's features squeezed up as he forced himself to swallow. He let out a disgusted grunt, drawing a light chuckle from Dean.
"Ugh, that's awful."
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A loud rapping by his left ear broke the spell Sam's mind had had on him. Sam jumped and looked over. Dean was looking at him through the window of the Impala, eyebrows raised in a questioning look. Sam looked around. He was back at the motel. He had driven the whole way back and not really realized it. "Well that was safe."
"So you just gonna chill out here with the engine running?" Dean asked through the window.
"W-what?" Sam gave him a confused look.
"Some hippies waving signs and screaming about the ozone layer might show up soon." Dean's tone was light and playful.
"Oh." Sam said blankly, realizing just now the the Impala's engine was in-fact still running. He pulled out the keys and reached into the back-seat for his bought-items. Dean opened the car door for Sam.
"How long was I just sitting there?" Sam asked as they both walked back into the motel room.
Dean shrugged. "I don't know. Five minutes maybe? Tell ya what, you're buying gas next time, dude."
Sam chuckled and dropped their food and drink on the table. Dean looked him up and down questioningly.
"What were you doin' out there any way?"
Sam shrugged and looked out the window at the Impala. "I don't know. Just...thinking."
Dean was quiet and Sam could tell he still had more questions. Questions he didn't particularly feel like answering right then. Sam selected a bottle from the holder and tossed it to Dean.
"Here. They had the good stuff."
Dean caught it, a pleased grin spreading over his face as he read the label.
"Ah, score!"
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I realized I was curious as to what Dean's reaction might have been when Sam was accepted to college. In the show, he never really seems angry that Sam went to college, so I can only assume that he was heart-broken when Sam left.
By the way. The name of the cashier? Graflin? That's an anagram I made up for Fangirl. HAHAHAHAHAHA! Cause that's about the way a fangirl would act if she saw Jared I think.
So, hope ya'll enjoyed:D
It's Dean's turn to reminisce next...what happened the days following his mother's death?...Find out next time; )
Reviews are like causing harm to Dean's left shoulder...and I'm the Supernatural writers.
oOo-Lil-oOo