Journal Entry: One
January 5

Funny. I always assumed that if I kept one of these, it would be a hunter's log, some sort of record of whatever hellions I happened to encounter. I guess I always figured that there was no way out, and that I'd end up following in dad's footsteps –Dean always did say that we were alike, even though he knew how much that would piss me off.

But that doesn't matter. That's the past. Dad isn't here; Dean would have a hell of a tough job finding any sort of resemblance between us now, and this isn't a hunter's log. It's just a journal, something to help me cope while I'm at Stanford.

And it's something that I can use to both to keep track of the lies I'm telling, and to be honest. I mean, I've given my real name to the few people that I've met and all, but sooner or later somebody is going to ask about my past, and what do I say then? "Oh, I spent most of my childhood wandering the US, hunting monsters that I didn't even know existed until I was nine." Yeah, no. Sooner or later I'll start to make something up, and if I write it down then hopefully I can remember what I'm telling people –keep my story straight, and all that. I already have a few ideas in mind, but I'm not too sure what story I'll go with in the end.

As for honesty, well, I need somewhere where I don't have to lie. And I know that sounds wimpy and kind of pathetic, but it's true. Before, I always had Dean with me, and while we didn't do too much talking about how much our lives sucked, (for two reasons: one, Dean is pretty much okay with hunting, as far as I know, and two because he thought it was too girly, which is probably what he would say about this journal, if he ever found out about it) it was still reassuring to know that there was someone else nearby that I could turn to.

So far, the only person that I've met that's a student is my roommate. His name is Ben Harwood, and he seemed glad to meet me –I was worried, since it's January, and I didn't know how he would feel about a stranger moving in halfway through the regular school year, but he said that his old roommate, Glen, dropped out, and he's glad for the company. He seems nice enough, so I guess we'll get along fine, as long as he respects my privacy. I brought a few knives, with me, I couldn't resist –some silver, just in case. I'm not bringing a gun into Stanford, but I can't go in defenseless.

It's morning, and I'm getting my final schedule today. I guess I should go and do that.

Until next time,

Sam Winchester

(oh, and just a note –nobody else can read this. It's written in a cipher Dean and I came up with awhile ago. It's pretty hard to crack. I should be safe, unless it's Dean reading this, in which case Dean, get out of my journal. Now.)