jebbypal

Title: Family orientation
author: jebbypal
rating: everyone
Summary: Everyone else had family at Stanford's convocation. Sam never expected anyone to show up for him.
author notes: This is for poisontaster. I've pretty much failed at ever following through on sweet charity for her (the frog goes on vacation with Kink when she gives me prompts for some reason). So this my offering to make up for it. a WIP most likely and I'm pretty much at the mercy of Sam right now...If he remains as chatty as he is right now, it shouldn't take long. Anyway, babe, I hope you like it. Unbeta-ed for the moment.

Sam assumes that college orientation reeks of lame no matter where you go. He finds it worse than useless – the talks of staying safe on and off campus (assuming you only worry about human predators), how to balance study and social life (how about how to get a social life when your entire world has consisted of two borderline personalties?), and cautions about finances. While registering for classes, Sam can’t stop hearing Dean’s voice entreating him to go do something useful with his time (Where’s the course on the three B’s of life? Beer, broads, and bowling?). By the time the week ends with opening convocation, he’s tense and brittle from being around more people constantly than he can ever remember. Worse, being around so many innocents.

So he can be forgiven for snapping at the elderly woman when she grabs his dress shirt sleeve (it only fits because his dorm roommate felt sorry for him when he tried on the one that fit last year at high school graduation and it only came to mid-arm). “Sam Winchester?” Her voice is filled with hope, longing, and just a hint of desperation.

“Did I forget to sign a paper? What? This is all just so-“

“No, no,” she interrupts while flashing him with a mega-watt smile that blinds him just a little bit.

Suddenly, he’s on guard. “You’re not with the college?”

Her hair gray and tight with a recent perm bounces as she shakes her head. She barely comes to his shoulder and he can’t decide about the vibe he gets off of her. (Other than desperately friendly. He wonders if there’s a neighborhood nursing home missing a dementia patient). “No, I – well, it’s complicated. Maybe I can buy you a cup of coffee while I explain?”

His stomach grumbles. He hadn’t had time to find a part-time job until yesterday and his saving ran out the week before orientation. Coffee and a pastry would be easy to con off of her. He squashes down the Dean-ism in his head and gives her a brief smile. “Sure. Coffee.”

The nearest coffee cart is just a short walk away and is deserted as the other students and their families leave campus to go for a meal. The lady remains quiet on the walk except to remark on Stanford’s campus. Sam indulges her in the small talk, but can’t help turning the puzzle over in his head. A mark of Dad’s that saw the name? Maybe a friend that Bobby or Pastor Jim sent to get pictures of the convocation on the off chance they could be used to mediate a peace settlement between father and son? The lady certainly looked like the church going type, and Pastor Jim was known for staying in touch with those of his flock that he’d saved.

All things being equal though, he wasn’t going anywhere alone with her until he had a chance to utter some Latin at her to be sure.

“Two large coffees, and two bear claws,” the lady ordered as she dug in her purse for money. Sam fixed his coffee and then took it and the bear claws to go to a nearby bench.

“So, Miss?”

She fidgeted with the lid to her cup and Sam was transfixed by her hands. They were just starting to wrinkle, a few age spots, but veins very prominent. A modest wedding ring on her left hand. Something about it looked familiar, he decided it must be a common design. Not that he ever recalled making a study of such a thing.

“Miss, my ass.” She looked him in the eyes then and Sam couldn’t help but clutch his cup a little tighter at the emotion they held. “Might as well out with it. My name is Sheila. Sheila Winchester.”

Huh. Sam hadn’t seen that one coming. All the traveling they did, he’d never met any of Dad’s relatives (or Mom’s). He’d asked Dean about them sometimes and generally got the blow off. We have Dad. Ain’t that enough family for you?. And now here was one. Bobby and Pastor Jim must be pulling out the big guns to get Dad to come to his senses. “Dad never mentioned that he had a sister.”

That made her laugh hard enough to splash hot coffee on her hand, but even as she winced and dried it, she kept chuckling. “I’m not his sister, Sam, though I will admit that you definitely inherited every bit of charm that your father ever had. Not that he ever chose to use it very much.”

“So you two were drunk in Vegas one night and, Christo, you decided to get hitched and then came to look me up when he ditched you? How much money did he take?”

She didn’t even flinch at the word or the accusation, but her face darkened a little bit. “Well, I’m encouraged that you think I look young enough for that, but no, Sam. John’s my son.”

Sam didn’t even feel the coffee cup dropping out of his hand until his lap exploded with pain from the scalding liquid.

part 2