Stanford, California, 2001
Title: Stanford, California, 2001
Verse: Me, I'm not.
Author: Lifeisticking
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean (mentionned)
Rating: Gen
Words: Under 1000
Warnings: Swearing
Summary: He's done it; he's at Stanford now.
Note : Sam's POV.
Stanford, California, 2001 - Sam is 18
‘’Hi, my name’s Sam. Winchester.’’ He says, with a small smile, as he reaches to shake his new roommate’s hand.
It’s a firm grip, and the other boy responds with the same small awkward smile; ‘’Hi, the name’s Brady Butler... Winchester, like the rifle?’’
‘’Yeah, and isn’t a Butler a manservant?’’ he replies with a smirk.
‘’Ouch, yeah okay, we’ve both heard that about our names a millions of times... Sorry.’’ the other boy admits, a little bashfully, before laughing along with Sam.
He leaves Brady to do his own thing while he unpacks the few belongings he has. The clothes go in the dresser on his side of the room, the new shiny books for pre-law on top of the desk along with whatever else he might need for the courses. He leaves his handgun at the bottom of the bag; he’ll put it under his pillow later, when he’s alone in the room.
Dean is probably off exploring; his range of movement has considerably extended since they were young, and he sometimes wander off now. Never *too* far though, but it’s good for Dean to be able to wander off - his classes will probably bore him out of his skull... but knowing his perverted brother, he’s probably peeking in the girl’s dorm or something.
But when it’s urgent, Dean can come to him almost instantaneously if Sam calls for him in his head (something they discovered during a hunt when there were two werewolves instead of one). His telekinesis had also strengthened, but he still didn’t have much control over it; it wasn’t like he practiced it anyway, but now he had better control - things rarely flew off or shook anymore when he was in a strong emotional state.
He had been so excited though, when he received the letters in the mail; one of them containing a full ride, all expenses paid or so, to Stanford in Pre-Law. Dean had congratulated him with a hearty slap on the back and kisses to his neck. He had been about to turn around and make-out with Dean when his Dad had come home.
The resulting fight when he had seen the envelopes had been explosive to say the least.
They had yelled at each other and everything had rattled or hovered, plates, windows, mirrors, the kitchen table and chairs, and some things had actually flied off this time, crashing into walls - Sam had been unable to leash off his telekinesis, or subconsciously hadn’t wanted to.
John had said he was abandoning all these peoples for no good reasons, and that he was abandoning his family. Sam’s answer had been that he didn’t owe anything to these people; he didn’t even owe anything to mom’s memory, that she probably would never want this to happen, them on the road and chasing after monsters.
They had yelled some more, and the last argument had been that the only reason his son should go away like this was because his schizophrenia was no longer controlled, not to go off to college to become a lawyer. John had to duck a frying pan (that Sam hadn’t yet cleaned after supper) when the words left his mouth. Sam wasn’t sure if that had been intentional or not...
Dean had been speechless, but had then shoved Sam away and told him to go pack his things. He had also told him that their father could never understand that they didn’t want part of his holy crusade. And that John didn’t mean his words, he was just angry and hurt, ‘’you know how the man is, Sammy.’’
When Sam had been in the doorway with his duffle bags, John’s last words had resounded for a while; ‘’If you go through that door, don’t you dare come back.’’ The door had slammed close on its own.
He had walked, then hitch-hiked up to the bus station, and had bought a one way ticket to California with his admission leaflet tucked carefully inside his backpack, Dean sitting next to him silently for the entire ride. Nobody had tried to sit on that ‘’empty’’ seat. He had checked his cellphone from time to time, but nothing.
Now Sam was in a double dorm room with another guy named Brady, starting Pre-Law in a week, on his way to a normal life. His sole regrets was that his dad hadn’t called in for news and that the bed was kind of small to squish in there with Dean; he had grown in height some more and started to fill out, and he was pretty sure at least one foot would hang off at the end of the bed. Those things were *tiny*.
They would have to make do; it was a good thing Dean could go through things, he guessed, that way it wouldn’t bother him too much to be half in the wall. That was what he hoped for, anyway.
He’s finally made it: Just him and Dean, and a normal life with no monsters. He’s going to have to work hard, but it’s going to be worth it.
Next >
Verse: Me, I'm not.
Author: Lifeisticking
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean (mentionned)
Rating: Gen
Words: Under 1000
Warnings: Swearing
Summary: He's done it; he's at Stanford now.
Note : Sam's POV.
Stanford, California, 2001 - Sam is 18
‘’Hi, my name’s Sam. Winchester.’’ He says, with a small smile, as he reaches to shake his new roommate’s hand.
It’s a firm grip, and the other boy responds with the same small awkward smile; ‘’Hi, the name’s Brady Butler... Winchester, like the rifle?’’
‘’Yeah, and isn’t a Butler a manservant?’’ he replies with a smirk.
‘’Ouch, yeah okay, we’ve both heard that about our names a millions of times... Sorry.’’ the other boy admits, a little bashfully, before laughing along with Sam.
He leaves Brady to do his own thing while he unpacks the few belongings he has. The clothes go in the dresser on his side of the room, the new shiny books for pre-law on top of the desk along with whatever else he might need for the courses. He leaves his handgun at the bottom of the bag; he’ll put it under his pillow later, when he’s alone in the room.
Dean is probably off exploring; his range of movement has considerably extended since they were young, and he sometimes wander off now. Never *too* far though, but it’s good for Dean to be able to wander off - his classes will probably bore him out of his skull... but knowing his perverted brother, he’s probably peeking in the girl’s dorm or something.
But when it’s urgent, Dean can come to him almost instantaneously if Sam calls for him in his head (something they discovered during a hunt when there were two werewolves instead of one). His telekinesis had also strengthened, but he still didn’t have much control over it; it wasn’t like he practiced it anyway, but now he had better control - things rarely flew off or shook anymore when he was in a strong emotional state.
He had been so excited though, when he received the letters in the mail; one of them containing a full ride, all expenses paid or so, to Stanford in Pre-Law. Dean had congratulated him with a hearty slap on the back and kisses to his neck. He had been about to turn around and make-out with Dean when his Dad had come home.
The resulting fight when he had seen the envelopes had been explosive to say the least.
They had yelled at each other and everything had rattled or hovered, plates, windows, mirrors, the kitchen table and chairs, and some things had actually flied off this time, crashing into walls - Sam had been unable to leash off his telekinesis, or subconsciously hadn’t wanted to.
John had said he was abandoning all these peoples for no good reasons, and that he was abandoning his family. Sam’s answer had been that he didn’t owe anything to these people; he didn’t even owe anything to mom’s memory, that she probably would never want this to happen, them on the road and chasing after monsters.
They had yelled some more, and the last argument had been that the only reason his son should go away like this was because his schizophrenia was no longer controlled, not to go off to college to become a lawyer. John had to duck a frying pan (that Sam hadn’t yet cleaned after supper) when the words left his mouth. Sam wasn’t sure if that had been intentional or not...
Dean had been speechless, but had then shoved Sam away and told him to go pack his things. He had also told him that their father could never understand that they didn’t want part of his holy crusade. And that John didn’t mean his words, he was just angry and hurt, ‘’you know how the man is, Sammy.’’
When Sam had been in the doorway with his duffle bags, John’s last words had resounded for a while; ‘’If you go through that door, don’t you dare come back.’’ The door had slammed close on its own.
He had walked, then hitch-hiked up to the bus station, and had bought a one way ticket to California with his admission leaflet tucked carefully inside his backpack, Dean sitting next to him silently for the entire ride. Nobody had tried to sit on that ‘’empty’’ seat. He had checked his cellphone from time to time, but nothing.
Now Sam was in a double dorm room with another guy named Brady, starting Pre-Law in a week, on his way to a normal life. His sole regrets was that his dad hadn’t called in for news and that the bed was kind of small to squish in there with Dean; he had grown in height some more and started to fill out, and he was pretty sure at least one foot would hang off at the end of the bed. Those things were *tiny*.
They would have to make do; it was a good thing Dean could go through things, he guessed, that way it wouldn’t bother him too much to be half in the wall. That was what he hoped for, anyway.
He’s finally made it: Just him and Dean, and a normal life with no monsters. He’s going to have to work hard, but it’s going to be worth it.
Next >