Three months had passed since Dean had dropped him off at the bus station. Three months had passed since Dean had gone behind their father's back. Three months had passed since they had spoken. It worried Sam, as he had promised, he had called as soon as he got to Stanford, but his brother hadn't answered nor called back. Dean always called back, especially if it was his brother.

Sam was pacing in his room, the room he shared with an obnoxious boy called Brad Travis. He never cleaned up after himself, he let his stuff in the fridge get bad and he was always begging Sam to do his homework. Sam had done it the first several weeks but then realized that he was being used. He stopped and requested a dorm change, but it had been declined.

It was past 2 PM and Sam couldn't lay still, worried that something had happened to Dean. There's an easy way to check, though, call him! So he did, but he thought it would go as his previous attempts, straight to voicemail. But today, Dean had left a message. "Damn it Sam! Stop calling me. If we need you, we know where to find you." That had Sam's jaw dropping. He was surprised at the anger, and what he had said stung. He didn't want anything to do with him. If he was needed, they would contact him.

Deciding that he was too strung to sleep, he decided to go to the coffee shop not far away from campus. The night air was cool, his breath came out in white puffs. There weren't many street lights, but the moon shone bright enough for him to see where he placed his feet. The coffee shop was a rather impressive building, white stone from the ground and about half a meter up and dark blue wooden panels in a linear pattern up to the roof. The glass door had silver letters painted on with a name only a few would appreciate, Bean Me Up. Fortunately for Sam, Dean had made him watch the Star Trek movies, which were surprisingly good. He usually preferred movies like the Alien trilogy.

Upon entering the room, he smelled the distinct smell of freshly crushed coffee beans. He looked around, it was smaller than he had originally thought, there were three tables with four seats each on the left side of the entrance and three tables with two seats on the right side. The chairs were clothed with a brown, soft looking leather and gold rivets. The dark brown wood that had been used to the tables had similar looking rivets into the legs, but they were in a silver color. There was a bar as well, six round bar stools with the same clothing as the other chairs. As there was no one else around, he took a seat in front of the bar, patiently waiting and thinking.

"What can I offer a good looking guy such as yourself, mr.?" The soft voice was enough to break through the trance he had sunken into.

"Uh, a Black Eye, please," Sam answered. He wasn't planning on sleeping when he got back to his dorm anyway. He had too much to think about.

"Alrighty, just a second and you'll have it." The coffeemaker said. Sam shot him a smile and went back to his thinking. Why had Dean been so angry? Was he angry with him? Of course, he is, you left him, remember? 

Sam lowered his head as his inner voice yelled at him. "Something on your mind, Stanford?" he was again pulled out of his thoughts, this time with the smell of coffee under his nose as well.

"Just got a lot to think about." He took a sip of the strong and bitter coffee before he spoke again. "How'd you know I was from Stanford?" The champagne-colored eyes belonging to the man who had served him his coffee turned to him.

"You walked here and you aren't wearing a coat or jacket, which means that you didn't walk far. There's also the fact that there's almost no one else except Stanford students that knows about this place." Sam nodded and curled his fingers around the warm mug, feeling the warmth spreading through his limbs.

He sat in silence for a few minutes, emptying his Black Eye and stood up. "How much for the coffee?" He asked, reaching for his wallet in his pocket.

"Don't worry, it's on me." He winked at Sam who froze for a second before he felt a warmness boom out in his chest.

He glanced at his name tag before answering. "Thank you, Gabriel." And with that, he winked back and left the warm café with a smile on his lips. On his way back to his dorm, he wondered if he was lucky enough to actually have found someone else that swung the same swing.

Once back in his room, he laid down on his bed, closing his eyes for a second. It was nice with the silence and the darkness around him, it allowed him to think it through at his own pace.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but he had. He dragged himself up and showered quickly, not wanting to have to wait for Brad to finish. God knew that his dorm mate took at least forty minutes to get ready and he used all of the warm water in the tank.

Even though he had managed to sleep a few hours that night, he couldn't keep himself awake during the first lesson he had. Mr. Whyatt was not happy with him and gave him extra homework. The rest of the day was a complete joke. He was so deep in thought that he didn't notice that he had walked into the girls' bathroom until it was too late. He hurried out the door with a red face and a mix between laughs and screams following him. He couldn't even focus during Miss Dewhill's English lesson, which happened to be his favorite one.

After the humiliating Friday had ended, Sam retreated back to his dorm, only to find Brad sitting on his bed with a senior girl crawling all over him. Sam quickly backed out of the room and shut the door, not caring whether or not Brad had heard him or not. He walked to the library instead, finding that it had been flooded and they were repairing it. Well, why not try the café? His brain suggested.

So that's where he sat the rest of the afternoon. In the café, warm and protected from the rain that had started to fall as soon as he had started on Mr. Whyatt's assignment. It was to summarize one of the most abused laws and to reason through each step on the way to why that was the case. He was struggling to pay attention, but he managed to finish it a few minutes before midnight.

He stood up and walked over to the bar to order his fourth cup of coffee. He was secretly glad to see that Gabriel was working tonight as well.

"Hey Stanford, same thing as yesterday?" Gabriel winked at him, already brewing his coffee.

"It's Sam," he said and reached a hound out to Gabriel. He took it with joy and fired off one of those I-already-knew-that-but-you're-cute-so-I'll-let-you-get-away-with-it smiles. Sam blushed and looked away a second before returning to staring into the warm eyes.

"Here you go, Sam," Gabriel said as he handed him a to-go cup.

"Thank you, Gabriel," Sam smiled at him and handed him the cash he owed him. He walked back to his laptop at on of the two people tables and shoved it back into his bag along with the notepad he had used. He slung it over his shoulder before he turned towards the door.

The night was warmer than the previous one had been, but it was still cold enough to make his breath turn into white clouds. Deciding that it wasn't too cold to walk one of the more time-consuming paths, he turned left, towards the road, instead of walking straight to the grand building where he was being taught how to be a lawyer.

There weren't many cars out, but the few that were, were far apart and gone too soon for the sound to linger. However, one of the cars slowed as it closed in on him. He turned around to see which kind of car it was, maybe it was a police who thought he was running away or something. But as soon as the engine hummed, he knew it wasn't just any car. It was the impala. Their black, '67 Chevy Impala.

"Sammy?" It was Dean. Of course, it was him, it's his car. Their dad had bought another one as soon as Dean could drive the damn thing. Sam stopped and squeezed his eyes shut towards the bright light coming from the headlights.

"What, Dean?" Sam sighed, not entirely sure he wanted to know what his brother wanted to say to him.

"I need your help. Dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home in a few days." Dean pulled over next to Sam so that he could speak through the open window.

"I'm sure he's fine. You tried to call Caleb or someone else he hunts with?"

"Of course, Sam. But no one knows where he is. I need your help." He repeated with a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Fine, but I need to be back by Monday, I have a test." Sam opened the passenger door and threw his bag into the back seat and settled down.