Sam felt small slaps and the haze began to lift. The spots began to leave his eyes, and everything became clear. He still felt heavy. Heavier still was the elephant on his chest and shoulders. He tried, as inconspicuous as he could, to finger the torn letter in his pocket, where he met Dean’s… fingers… on his hip?
Sammy looked up, and he was being cradled by his brother. Had he passed out? The eyes that met his when he looked up were the endless green of Dean’s, and Sam felt it all tumble around him. Stanford, leaving home, leaving Dad, leaving Dean. Being normal. Being happy. But would he be? Really happy?
In a second, he sprung from Dean like he’d been burned, and everything was scary for a split second. If he couldn’t be away from Dean for a split-second, how could he live without him—
No, Sam though. Not again. I can’t…he couldn’t say the words. Not those words. Not love. It couldn’t be love. Sammy’s mind was moving at light speed, and he knew Dean could see. His whole body shook as he fingered the letter again.
But it wasn’t there…
Dean let out a little sigh, releived that his brother seemed to be coming back to him. “Sammy? I’m here” he murmured, stroking the side of his face.
Then all of a sudden his brother was ripping out of his arms, jumping away from him like he’d been shot. “Wha-Sam?” he asked, arms still extended from where they’d been wrapped around him. He was looking up at his brother with a surprised and concerned expression, before he noticed a little white piece of paper sitting on the carpet next to him. Frowning in confusion, he reached down and quickly opened what he now realized was a letter. Was it a mean note from someone school? Had that caused all this? He’d kill whoever sent it.
But as he opened it, and unfolded the thick, expensive looking paper inside, he realized it wasn’t a hate not. It was a letter from Stanford, the expensive and hugely respected college, ages away from here.