Chapter One

Sam didn't even dare to breathe as he stared down at the envelope in his hands. He knew exactly what was inside… a letter from Stanford University.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, the eighteen-year old tore open the creamy white envelop, his eyes prickling with tears as he gazed at the red crest for the school at the top of the thrice-folded letter, gathering the strength to let his eyes travel down the page and find out if he would be admitted or not.

"Dear Samuel," the young man read in a whisper, his heart hammering in his chest, "I take great pleasure in offering you admission to Stanford University's Class of 2005…"

The letter began to shake, Sam's hands trembling. He didn't even finish reading.

He was in. He couldn't believe it. He had hoped and prayed… but always harboured a shred of doubt that he wouldn't be good enough. Now all that insecurity was blown away by one single piece of paper.

He could finally get away. Leave this life of hunting and killing monsters. No longer would he have to worry about dying every other day. He could finally have that normal life he'd always dreamed about.

"Sammy?"

The young man's head snapped up and he hurriedly shoved the letter from Stanford behind his back as his older brother stepped into the motel room.

"Yeah, Dean?" he asked, trying not to look like he'd been caught doing something illegal.

"Dad just called," his brother said, standing in the doorway, "He wanted to know if you'd finished the research on that Amarok yet."

Sam nodded and reached towards his backpack, pulling out a stack of papers from inside, "Yeah, I have it all here."

"Great," Dean said and grabbed the papers, "He wants to take this thing out tonight."

Sam let out a sigh of relief as his brother turned away but then stiffened as Dean turned around and peered suspiciously at him.

"You alright?" the twenty-two year old asked, "You're face is kind of pale."

"Oh… uh…" Sam stammered, "I've got a bit of a headache."

Dean nodded, "You should lie down for a while before we go out, Dad's gonna need both of us for this hunt."

"Sure," Sam replied distractedly and watched nervously as his brother exited the room.

Sighing, Sam fell back against the bed, closing his eyes.

W

"Dad?" Sam asked as John parked the Impala right beside his large black truck, turning in the driver's seat to look tiredly at his youngest son.

"Can I talk to you?" Sam asked quietly, ignoring the look Dean gave him before climbing out of the shotgun position and heading towards the motel room.

"Can't it wait until morning, Sam?" his father asked, "I'm tired and-"

"NO!" Sam cried, then sat back, embarrassed that he'd let his nerves get the better of him, "I mean, it's really important… and it won't take long."

John sighed and opened the Chevy's door, "Fine."

Sam scrambled out of the car and followed his father inside. He had wanted to talk to his Dad in private, tell Dean the news after he had found out how John would take it, but now it couldn't be helped. Dean flopped down on his bed; his eyes were closed but he was certainly going to be listening in to the entire conversation between his brother and father.

Sam stood in the middle of the room, unsure of where to position himself. John shrugged out of his jacket, laying the garment across the scratched wooden table that stood in front of the window and turned to his youngest, waiting somewhat impatiently for the news that was so important that it couldn't be held off for a few hours.

"So?" John asked, one black eyebrow rose in expectation, "What is it?"

"Well, uh… um…" Sam hesitated and closed his eyes, knowing his Dad wasn't going to like his stammering, "I finish high school in June and I kind of… applied to some colleges."

Sam looked at his father and saw John was frowning.

"I got a letter back today from one of them," the eighteen-year old continued, knowing there was no going back now, "And I was accepted. I got into Stanford… on a full scholarship so I don't even have to pay tuition or anything as long as I keep my gra-"

"No," John said simply and Sam gaped at his father, mouth open in shock.

"But… you don't even have to pay-" Sam tried again but John shook his head, "I said no. You're not going. I need you here, Sam. Dean and I both need you here."

Sam stared in disbelief at his father.

"But-" the eighteen-year old began but his father held a hand up, "You are not going to college and that's final. It's not up for discussion."

Sam didn't know what to say. He felt anger boil up inside him and he clenched his hands into fists.

"You can't make me stay!" he shouted, "I'm going!"

John's face darkened and from the corner of his eye, Sam saw Dean sit up abruptly, a concerned expression on his face.

"Hey, its late and we're all tired," the twenty-two year old said in an overly-friendly tone, "Why don't you two sleep on it and talk about this college thing in the morning?"

Dean reached out to put a hand on his father's shoulder but John pushed him away roughly.

"There will be no more talking about college," John hissed, pointing a finger at Sam, "You are not going and that is final."

Dean looked from his father to his brother, clearly concerned there was going to be bloodshed.

"You can't force me to stay!" Sam egged his father on- he couldn't' help it, he was just so angry John was denying him this without even listening to him- "What are you going to do? Lock me in the Impala's truck?"

"I'll do whatever I have to do to get these damn ideas out of your head," John hissed.

Sam stood still, stunned by his father's threat, not moving as John grabbed his jacket from the table and left the motel room, slamming the door after himself and starting up his big black truck, tearing out of the parking lot as though he had Hellhounds on his heels.

SPN

John stared at the label of his half-finished bottle of beer, feeling as shitty as he ever had.

He sighed and wiped a hand over his face. He shouldn't have said those things to Sam and he knew it… it was just… that kid knew how to press his buttons and damn it if he didn't let his hot temper get the better of him.

He knew he should probably head back to the motel soon, apologize to Sam and see if he still wanted to talk about college.

John still didn't want Sam to go but there was no harm in discussing it, was there? At least his son wouldn't think he was some uncaring tyrant like he had been earlier.

Raising the bottle to drain the last of the beer, John looked up, startled when a man slid into the booth across from him.

"Can I help you?" the hunter asked, eyeing the man warily.

The guy appeared to be older than John himself, his hair and beard mostly silver. He had light blue eyes and a face that had crow's feet around his eyes and laugh lines around his mouth, lightly tanned.

He was wearing a faded denim jacket, a grey t-shirt and blue jeans with heavy black army boots.

"I think I might be able to help you," the stranger said, "Flint's the name, Eli Flint."

The man held his hand out and John shook it, still confused and a bit wary.

"I'm sorry," Flint said, "I just saw your long face and wondered if there was anything I could do to cheer you up."

The man spoke jovially, as if he were in an exceptionally good mood and that set John on edge but he also felt himself relaxing.

"Wait," he said, "I've heard of you. You help hunters, don't you?"

Flint nodded, grinning, "That's absolutely correct. Now, let me know what I can do for you?"

John grunted, taking a drink of his beer before mumbling, "Can you convince my kid not to go to college?"

Eli Flint, somewhat famous among hunters, was known for being able to assist those who were feeling as though they couldn't continue, whether they were desirous of ending their lives or pursuing a less dangerous career path and leading them back into the fold. John had never met the man until now but the many stories circulating about Flint made him seem as though he was some sort of miracle-worker, able to turn it around for even the most depressed hunter, giving them a renewed purpose to continue killing monsters and saving innocent lives.

Flint grinned widely, showing off numerous white teeth, "I could just."

W

John drove back to the motel room, feeling much better then he had a few hours earlier.

He had a plan. With Eli Flint's help Sam would realize how college wasn't for him and that his true calling was hunting with his father and brother.

Flint had warned that it may take some time for Sam to be completely convinced that killing monsters was the right thing for him but John didn't mind, as long as his youngest was shown how foolish he had been and returned with a renewed vigor to hunt, the time it took wouldn't matter.

Eli wouldn't take Sam under his wing just yet though, he had suggested they wait until the eighteen-year old was ready to go to Stanford, that way Dean would be none the wiser to his brother's whereabouts. John was certain his eldest wouldn't approve of calling on outside help to assist Sam in transitioning back to being a full-time hunter.

John smiled as he parked his truck and saw the lights out in the motel room. Quietly, he crossed to the sidewalk and opened the door. In the dim light from the parking lot he saw both his sons sleeping on one bed, something they reluctantly did if money was tight and they couldn't afford two rooms. Closing the door with care, John slipped off his boots as he walked, sinking onto the lumpy mattress of the bed closest to the door and closed his eyes, falling quickly into a contented slumber.

Author's Note:

Fanfic title comes from an Alice Cooper song.

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