Chapter Text
Sam never told Dean and he probably never will. Every now and then, whenever he finds himself alone he takes out the wrinkled and worn letter and reads the words that he’s memorized years ago.
Dear Mr. Winchester,
On behalf of Stanford University I am pleased to congratulate you on your acceptance into our program for the fall semester. We were very impressed by your academic history and believe that you will prove that our confidence in you is not unfounded.
It’s identical to his except it isn’t, its Dean’s.
As much as Dean would like it to be true, he wasn’t an idiot. Whereas Sam would spend hours everyday studying and reviewing to earn the grades he did, Dean only had to glance over the material once or twice and it would just stick. His grades were ok, John wouldn’t accept anything less, a problem child drew too much attention. Sam knew that if his brother really wanted to he could have gotten straight A’s.
That day in the guidance counselor’s office, letting Mr. Montello’s words buzz around his head, his thoughts immediately went to Dean.
Choice of university.
Endless possibilities.
Anything you want to be.
Bright Future.
Bright Future. He’d never admit how much it scared him, still scares him that it’s a real possibility that one day his brother would go on a hunt that would ultimately be his last. Torn apart by a Wendigo, drowned by a siren, eviscerated by a demon; the possibilities were endless and gruesome. And not what he wanted for someone he cared about so deeply. So he managed to convince his brother to take the SATs. Dude, might as well take it, it wouldn’t hurt. He got letters of recommendation from Dean’s teachers, the one’s he didn’t rub the wrong way that is. He even got a sample of his brother’s writing, a rare composition in which Dean actually took the assignment seriously. Sam did everything possible to make this pipe dream into something plausible. Months later when he opens the small P.O. Box that only he knew about and finds the letter his hands shake with anticipation and he has to fight the urge to shout with joy.
They finally have a chance. A way to escape from their life of blood, and death and unimaginable pain.
A bright future.
His plan falls apart that night. He meant to show Dean, show their dad a different path. A path that ended with them healthy and out of harm’s way; succumbing to old age instead of a gruesome death of supernatural origin. But none of that happens because he gets into another petty argument with his father. He storms out, with just a duffel and the letter crammed into his back pocket, forgotten in the heat of the moment.
The years at Stanford he thinks often.
Dean would love this class.
He’d get along with this professor.
I wish he were here with me.
I miss him.
I should have tried harder.
I could have saved him.
I really, really miss him.
He could be dead and I’d never know.
Please please please be ok.
On the days he takes the letter from its usual residence in his duffel he thinks of all the things he and his brother have gone through that could have been avoided. Hell, Purgatory, Demons, Angels, betrayal and loss. He thinks of these things and realizes that all he’s ever really wanted was he and his brother together. Although things haven’t turned out the way he envisioned all those years ago sitting in Mr. Montello’s office, he’s happy, genuinely happy.
He puts the letter away just as Dean comes in juggling bags of takeout.
“You really had to carry it all at one time?” He raises an eyebrow when he sees a bag clenched between the elder Winchester’s teeth. Dean kicks the door shut behind him before dumping his cargo on the nearby table.
“Real men only take one trip. Not that you would know anything about that Samantha.” Dean grins to let Sam know he’s joking.
“Jerk.”