Things I think about while walking around by myself...
I know I just posted earlier, but I stumbled upon this line of thinking while I was walking back from Kroger yesterday evening, and then I decided I wanted to record my creative stream-of-consciousness for posterity. I have no idea if this will make sense to people who haven't seen Supernatural, but I typed it all out, so I'm posting it. Deal.
So. I present some light-hearted, entirely fictional speculation on Sam Winchester's time at Stanford.
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I have decided that Sam was a political science major in the Fanon According To Me. I have decided this based on observations that all the poli sci majors I know tend to be logical and categorical thinkers, extremely intelligent, and extremely impassioned and stubborn. Plus, it seems like a good major for pre-law, with the whole, you know, studying the justice system thing. Jess was an English major. I know from English majors, okay? She studied American lit and had vague notions of maybe teaching someday.
And Sam's friends always had to drag him out to football games... they play football at Stanford, right? I don't worship at the pigskin like the majority of my fellow Texans. Anyway, they always had to drag him out to games and parties and stuff, but they liked him because he was smart and snarky and had all the best ideas for pranks, even if they also secretly thought he was weird for never going home and refusing to talk about his family more than absolutely necessary. Because Sam was so socially and emotionally repressed when he came to college, his friends made it their unofficial mission for a while to get him spectacularly drunk, but this proved difficult due to his ginormousness and awesome Winchester metabolism.
For the first semester, Sam kept all his things in order with the military precision John drilled into him, hid a large and very contraband knife at the bottom of his underwear drawer, and only resisted his need to line the window and door of his dorm room with rock salt because of his conservative Christian roommate, a good ol' boy from Arkansas who would probably not appreciate being told that there are Things Out There and might try to "save" him with witnessing and/or movie!exorcism. Sam eventually relaxed on the affectations when he got busy with school and things, but his hunter's instincts still came as naturally as breathing.
Sam signed up for a class in the scientific explanations behind the paranormal once. (I have no idea if that's a real class at Stanford, but SMU has or had one sort of like it.) He dropped it after a couple of weeks, though, because he didn't want to memorize lies. Sam has also banned himself from the occult/paranormal/New Age section of any modern bookstore for what he assumes are obvious reasons and Dean thinks are stupid reasons.
Apropos of almost nothing, an idle rumor that Sam might be gay went around his crowd and their acquaintances for a while. Sam thinks this was probably because he was necessarily a bit secretive and had an obviously strained relationship with his family, but he doesn't know it was also because he was sympathetic towards women, had great hair, and made perfectly magnificent bitchfaces. (Yeah, that's a technical term. And it's also true. See?) Although the rumor was debunked in Sam's sophomore year, when he started dating Jessica, people still ask occasionally when his name comes up in the "remember such-and-so?" game.
For the first year or so, Sam wrote letters to Dean and sent them to the P.O. boxes the Winchesters (apparently) have scattered around the country. Dean never wrote back, and he never told John because he didn't want to hear the cruel comments, but he saved them all and still has them in a locked box in the Metallicar's trunk with all his other important papers, like the title to the car and that sort of thing. The letters tapered off in Sam's sophomore year, and he didn't try to contact Dean or John again until Dean came for him in late October of his senior year, which is why there are two missing years, not three and some-odd months. (Hey, Kripke may be willing to laugh it off as a Flint, but I can fanwank with the best of them!)
Jess wasn't Sam's first--that honor belonged to a girl he dated in his last high school--but she was the first he loved. He was planning to ask her to marry him so they could eventually do the whole 2.2 kids and white picket fence thing, and he was saving up to buy her a ring. After three weeks back on the road with Dean, he withdrew the money and bought a new gun. Sam never told Dean where the money came from, and Dean never asked.
While at Stanford, Sam discovered the fine music of Snow Patrol, U2, the Goo Goo Dolls, and the like. (Yes. He totally did. Shut up.) He'll still try to fiddle the radio to the college rock station if he's driving and they happen to be in an area where they can pick up radio signals and Dean's not bitching too much and/or sleeping and/or back at the motel, and he still sings along when he remembers the words, but none of it sounds like home the way Dean's music does.
Oh, and Sam was totally on facebook. He was late to sign up for it, and he really only did it because everyone else was, but he soon saw the appeal as well as its value as a communication tool. He still checks it now and again when he's supposed to be researching because, well, just because.
Sam hopes Dean never, ever finds out about the Balcony Incident. He's still a bit fuzzy on the details of that night himself, but he thinks there might have been tequila involved. Lots of tequila. And yeah.
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Hee. That was fun. I sort of want to read Sam-at-Stanford fic now, even though I know fanfic well enough to know that that's almost asking for trouble with the plethora of OCs required. But I like the idea of laid-back!academic!Sam. It makes me happy. :D
So. I present some light-hearted, entirely fictional speculation on Sam Winchester's time at Stanford.
----
I have decided that Sam was a political science major in the Fanon According To Me. I have decided this based on observations that all the poli sci majors I know tend to be logical and categorical thinkers, extremely intelligent, and extremely impassioned and stubborn. Plus, it seems like a good major for pre-law, with the whole, you know, studying the justice system thing. Jess was an English major. I know from English majors, okay? She studied American lit and had vague notions of maybe teaching someday.
And Sam's friends always had to drag him out to football games... they play football at Stanford, right? I don't worship at the pigskin like the majority of my fellow Texans. Anyway, they always had to drag him out to games and parties and stuff, but they liked him because he was smart and snarky and had all the best ideas for pranks, even if they also secretly thought he was weird for never going home and refusing to talk about his family more than absolutely necessary. Because Sam was so socially and emotionally repressed when he came to college, his friends made it their unofficial mission for a while to get him spectacularly drunk, but this proved difficult due to his ginormousness and awesome Winchester metabolism.
For the first semester, Sam kept all his things in order with the military precision John drilled into him, hid a large and very contraband knife at the bottom of his underwear drawer, and only resisted his need to line the window and door of his dorm room with rock salt because of his conservative Christian roommate, a good ol' boy from Arkansas who would probably not appreciate being told that there are Things Out There and might try to "save" him with witnessing and/or movie!exorcism. Sam eventually relaxed on the affectations when he got busy with school and things, but his hunter's instincts still came as naturally as breathing.
Sam signed up for a class in the scientific explanations behind the paranormal once. (I have no idea if that's a real class at Stanford, but SMU has or had one sort of like it.) He dropped it after a couple of weeks, though, because he didn't want to memorize lies. Sam has also banned himself from the occult/paranormal/New Age section of any modern bookstore for what he assumes are obvious reasons and Dean thinks are stupid reasons.
Apropos of almost nothing, an idle rumor that Sam might be gay went around his crowd and their acquaintances for a while. Sam thinks this was probably because he was necessarily a bit secretive and had an obviously strained relationship with his family, but he doesn't know it was also because he was sympathetic towards women, had great hair, and made perfectly magnificent bitchfaces. (Yeah, that's a technical term. And it's also true. See?) Although the rumor was debunked in Sam's sophomore year, when he started dating Jessica, people still ask occasionally when his name comes up in the "remember such-and-so?" game.
For the first year or so, Sam wrote letters to Dean and sent them to the P.O. boxes the Winchesters (apparently) have scattered around the country. Dean never wrote back, and he never told John because he didn't want to hear the cruel comments, but he saved them all and still has them in a locked box in the Metallicar's trunk with all his other important papers, like the title to the car and that sort of thing. The letters tapered off in Sam's sophomore year, and he didn't try to contact Dean or John again until Dean came for him in late October of his senior year, which is why there are two missing years, not three and some-odd months. (Hey, Kripke may be willing to laugh it off as a Flint, but I can fanwank with the best of them!)
Jess wasn't Sam's first--that honor belonged to a girl he dated in his last high school--but she was the first he loved. He was planning to ask her to marry him so they could eventually do the whole 2.2 kids and white picket fence thing, and he was saving up to buy her a ring. After three weeks back on the road with Dean, he withdrew the money and bought a new gun. Sam never told Dean where the money came from, and Dean never asked.
While at Stanford, Sam discovered the fine music of Snow Patrol, U2, the Goo Goo Dolls, and the like. (Yes. He totally did. Shut up.) He'll still try to fiddle the radio to the college rock station if he's driving and they happen to be in an area where they can pick up radio signals and Dean's not bitching too much and/or sleeping and/or back at the motel, and he still sings along when he remembers the words, but none of it sounds like home the way Dean's music does.
Oh, and Sam was totally on facebook. He was late to sign up for it, and he really only did it because everyone else was, but he soon saw the appeal as well as its value as a communication tool. He still checks it now and again when he's supposed to be researching because, well, just because.
Sam hopes Dean never, ever finds out about the Balcony Incident. He's still a bit fuzzy on the details of that night himself, but he thinks there might have been tequila involved. Lots of tequila. And yeah.
----
Hee. That was fun. I sort of want to read Sam-at-Stanford fic now, even though I know fanfic well enough to know that that's almost asking for trouble with the plethora of OCs required. But I like the idea of laid-back!academic!Sam. It makes me happy. :D