2nd December, 2001

Dear Dean,

I'm sorry I left like that but you know I had no other choice. I'm not like you and dad, he doesn't want me around. He sends me away on weeks on end whilst you both 'work' or whatever the hell you do on those trips together. But seriously what the hell do you even do? Is it still a secret? What do I need to do to be part of your secret club, sacrifice a virgin or something? Anyways, I miss you. On my way to Stanford, I'm considering to study law. It sounds fun, lots of work though; I know dad would disapprove immediately. I'm rambling, sorry, this is just the longest we have and ever will be apart you know?

Sam. W.

4th December, 2001

Dear Dean,

I just enrolled into Stanford; I'm waiting for the verdict now. I guess you could say I'm scared shitless because I have no idea what to do next. I'm working at three different places in hope of getting money but you know how college fees are. I made a few friends, they're great, they're not you but they're great. I honestly wish you were here; I miss you every god damn day, even dad. Well I hope I get in, but I don't know what to do. I'm so lost Dean, I don't know anyone and I miss you, I left and I'm just god damn lost. Why did you have to make me leave? Why did dad do that to me? I get that he doesn't want me, but why Dean…

Sam. W.

8th December, 2001

Dear Dean,

I got in! I bloody made it by some small miracle; I'm starting up in the Winter Quarter at the beginning of next year. Last letter I said I was scared, which I am, but not that way anymore. Yeah it's been rough but I've got a proper part time job and I've met a few people. I don't care what I said before, I am glad I left. You and dad are fine without me. Besides, you know how great it is to be this free? Not daddy's little soldier, not having to spend an hour each day learning how to shoot a gun. I mean, what psycho teaches his kids to do that anyways, I should have put that on my resume. Other skills: decapitation, shooting a gun, lock picking, faking ID's. I'm sure that would sit well with the professors. It's a real good way to make friends, not that'd you know. Dad never let us have 'friends,' we moved around way too much.

Sam. W.

15th December, 2001

Dear Dean,

I made a new friend, huzzah. His name is Brady, he's a great guy, and he'll be going to Stanford too. I think he is my first real friend; we never had friends you know, well I didn't, not really. I can't really say with you, I mean you were always the popular one. I think I've already said this before. Do you even get these letters, or do you not care? I like to think that an elf is stealing them before you get them but not everyone's life is magical, I mean, we don't live in a book. Life is cold, hard and empty, without magic, monsters or anything besides the harsh reality of life, as Brady put it 'a sexually-transmitted, terminal disease." That sounds 'bout right doesn't it? Well I got my timetable, school starts up on the fifth of January, and it seems so far away. Did you know that that's less than a month away? Time goes by quickly, too quickly.

Sam. W.

25th December, 2001

Dear Dean,

MERRY CHRISMAS DEAN, I hope dad got you something nice. Scratch that, I hope dad's home, there's nothing like spending Christmas alone. I'm going out with Brady and a few other guys tonight, Christmas only comes round one a year, might as make the most of it. Remember our Christmases together? Alone cooped up in a shitty motel with barely enough food for both of us, shame you weren't good at credit card scams then. Yeah I know about that, I just know when to keep my trap shut. Dad can't do anything about that now. I miss you Dean, I miss you every day, don't forget that.

Sam. W.

31st December, 2001

Dear Dean,

Last day of the year big brother, I miss you. This is the longest we've been apart, well will be. I wish you were here, going out with a few friends. Drinking, hustling some pool, you were always good at that. You're good at everything, maybe besides school and keeping a single relationship, but hey, we're only human. A year is gone and I'm almost nineteen years old, they say time flies but I never knew how much. These last few weeks have come and gone within the blink of an eye. Which is odd, maybe because I've gotten over leaving, I know it's for the best so why mope around. As dad'll say, don't cry over spilt milk. Well he never really said it, but that's the expression. Anyway, have a good last day of the year, don't get too drunk!

Sam. W.

TBC