WARNING: No spoilers, actually. :)

Author's Note: So this is the story I had lined up to release after the season 10 finale to help people combat their feels regarding 10x23 and the Hellatus. Let me tell you, after that (awesomely intense) finale it was just so bizarre to look at this (comparatively much less intense) story. lol This takes place pre-series after one month of Sam being away at Stanford. Enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

Sam stared at the bottom of his job application and sighed.

The eighteen year old had only been at Stanford for one month, and though he'd been enjoying the perks of having a full ride to cover the cost of attending the prestigious university, he wasn't fool enough to think he wouldn't need to work.

The money the school gave to him was for tuition, on-campus housing, and text books. It was up to him to cover his food, clothes, and other necessities. He had enough cash saved up when he came to the school to pull him through the first couple months, but with an entire thirty days already gone by, Sam's personal finances were dwindling. He knew it was time at last to seek out employment, but unfortunately there was an issue with that plan.

Sam didn't have a lot of job experience to begin with- at least not the type that one could put on paper- and he had been forced to invent a few short-term positions to enhance his chances of being hired anywhere. That wasn't very difficult for him, actually. He was accustomed to lying and therefore only provided fake employment history regarding jobs he understood and could comfortably feign experience with. No, the big obstacle he was facing came from the fact that, to complete any of the job applications he wanted to submit, references were required.

And references were not something he could fake.

Sam glanced down at the application in his lap for a job at a campus coffee house and read once more:

Please list the contact information for up to six references, three minimum:

Who could he possibly list? He'd made a few friends so far at the college, but none that he could guarantee to give him a solid reference for a job, let alone a valuable one. He simply didn't know them well enough to trust they would help him make a good impression and he literally couldn't afford to screw this up. Reluctantly, Sam began considering the few people he knew from his past that could potentially serve as references.

Immediately Bobby Singer came to mind. The gruff hunter might not be a true blood relative, but he was definitely family to Sam and the young man knew he could rely on him to put in a good word if called upon. In fact, Bobby would probably even be willing to pretend to have employed Sam at some point.

Sam wrote down Bobby's name, number, and email address on the form with confidence, then listed him as the owner of a private coffee shop Sam claimed to have worked at over a recent summer.

One down, two to go.

Moving on, Sam considered Pastor Jim. Another member of Sam's 'extended family', Jim Murphy was a good and compassionate man. He had even once encouraged Sam to apply for college, so the Pastor would be supportive and understanding of his current situation.

Sam wrote down his contact information next, though he only labeled him as a friend, not wanting to force the religious man to lie for him.

He paused then, frowning at the words 'three minimum' that sat there on the paper in his lap. There was a third friend of the Winchester family he knew- a young hunter named Caleb- but Sam was sure the man had changed his phone number since they last spoke, not to mention he honestly wasn't convinced Caleb would approve of his choice to leave his father and brother for college life.

That thought lead Sam to the main matter he was avoiding; a person he would have put in slot number one straight away if not for the way Sam had left their relationship...

Sam wanted desperately to list his big brother's name and number, if only to prove to himself that he hadn't cut the chord with Dean after all. Except he also knew that Dean had been severely hurt by Sam's choice to leave his family for Stanford, and Sam wondered if his brother wouldn't resent being asked to be a reference for Sam now. Perhaps he wouldn't have anything good to say about Sam at all anymore, and perhaps he'd even share negative comments with a potential employer instead...

The college freshman stared at the application for a moment longer before assuring himself that Dean would never actively sabotage his life, and so he began to write the name 'Dean Winchester' in the third space.

OoO

It was 4pm on a Friday and Sam sat in a small waiting area near the back of Stanford Steam, the primary coffee shop on the university's campus. He had been called in for an interview a few days after submitting his application and this was the day he would be meeting with the manager.

"Samuel Winchester?" A short, beefy looking man marched out from an office at the far back of the store and called Sam's name.

"Yes sir, that's me," Sam responded, standing promptly as the man approached.

The difference between their heights was practically comical, yet somehow the older of the two carried an air about him that indicated he felt larger than Sam could ever hope to be.

"My name is Mr. Blores. Follow me back to my office," the stout man commanded, then turned on his heel and headed back from whence he came.

Sam swallowed, feeling slightly nervous, and trailed after the manager.

The interview went pretty well, honestly. Sam, who had always been gifted with a strong sense for people, read Mr. Blores from the start and was able to casually play along with the man's obvious desire for respect. Sam had never been more grateful that his father had pounded into his head the importance of the word 'sir' as he was when he noticed Mr. Blores perked up each time he said it.

After about twenty minutes of Q and A, including a detailed array of inquiries regarding Sam's previous employment that forced Sam to utilize all of his expertise in dishonesty, Mr. Blores finally said, "Well Samuel, I think you could serve this coffee house well. However, I have one last thing I'd like to do while I have you here."

"Whatever you need, sir," Sam replied with enthusiasm.

"I would love to call these references you've provided and have a chat with them. See, I noticed you only gave one former employer, and the other two are a friend and a family member," the shorter man pointed out with a judgmental scowl.

"I was hoping to demonstrate my good standing with a variety of types of people," Sam quickly supplied what he hoped was a passable excuse.

"That may be, but it still leaves the concern that there are only three. Three is the bare minimum, you see, and I don't care for employees who only do the bare minimum. So I want to give these three a thorough evaluation, just to be sure they are of maximum quality. That sound fair?" Mr. Blores asked in a tone which indicated there was only one appropriate answer.

"Yes sir," Sam responded with all the confidence he could muster, even as his gut began to twist with nerves.

Mr. Blores dialed Bobby's number first, and as though he sought to make Sam as uncomfortable and intimidated as possible, he also chose to put the call on speaker. After two rings, the hunter answered.

"Bobby Singer," a familiar voice filled the office.

"Hello Bobby. My name is Mr. Blores, and I'm the manager of Stanford Steam coffee house. I'm interviewing a young man by the name of Samuel Winchester for a position with us, and he provided your name as a reference. Apparently he worked at your coffee shop last summer. Is that correct?"

To Sam's great delight, Bobby didn't even hesitate before stating, "That's absolutely right. I take on a lot of youngsters in my shop, especially during summertime. Sam was one of the best hires I ever made. Hard working, good with costumers. It was a damn shame when the summer ended and he had to go off to school."

Sam wished he could reach through the phone and hug Bobby for having his back like that, but instead he focused on hiding his immense relief.

Mr. Blores simply said, "Thank you for your input. I appreciate your time," before disconnecting without waiting for a response. Instantly he was onto the next call, punching Pastor Jim's number into the phone and sitting back in his chair to get more comfortable as the sound of ringing filled the air a second time.

Eventually a recorded voice came up, saying, "You have reached the personal cell of Pastor Jim Murphy. Please leave a message and I'll return your call just as quickly as the Lord allows."

Mr. Blores ended the call before the 'beep' noise for the voicemail was even finished. He then looked at Sam with a rather incredulous expression, as though convinced the college student had somehow known Pastor Jim would be unavailable at the exact moment the manager sought to speak with him.

Sam did his best to appear respectfully apologetic while Mr. Blores moved on to the third and final number.

As the ringing began Sam felt his heart rate kick up, because this was the moment of truth. Would Dean answer? Would he help? Sam also found himself silently praying that, if Mr. Blores got Dean's voicemail, then the elder Winchester would not have recorded himself singing a 'rockin' voicemail song' loosely resembling Zeppelin's classic "Ramble On", as he had once elected to do a few years back.

"Hello?"

Sam's heart skipped a beat when he heard Dean's voice. It had been over a month of not speaking to his older brother, and though this wasn't the context in which Sam would've wanted to remedy the lack of contact, he had to admit it was still incredibly good to hear his brother speak.

"Hello, is this Dean Winchester?" Mr. Blores inquired.

"Yeah, this is Dean. Who's this?" Dean replied, sounding confused and bordering on defensive.

"This is Mr. Blores with Stanford Steam coffee house. I'm interviewing a Samuel Winchester for a job, and he listed you as a reference. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about your…erm.. younger brother?" the manager asked, glancing down at the application to clarify Dean's relation to Sam as he did so.

"He listed me?" Dean asked, and Sam flinched involuntarily.

Dean's uncertainty couldn't have sounded too reassuring to Mr. Blores, but what bothered Sam the most about the question was that it clearly indicated Dean was surprised Sam cared to use his name for anything. Dean obviously felt that Sam had wanted to wipe his hands of him, and it made Sam feel infinitely smaller than Mr. Blores had the entire meeting.

"Should he not have?" Mr. Blores sneered.

"What? No! No, of course he should've," Dean quickly backtracked. "I just wondered because he's worked for a few places, you know, and all his bosses loved him. I didn't think I'd make the cut as a reference since I'm just family and all, but, uh, what do you want to know?"

Sam felt a wave of relief, realizing that Dean was prepared to help Sam however he could, even though he had no way of knowing Sam could hear him right then. It was… Well, it made Sam feel even more guilty, honestly, and he swore to himself that whether or not he got this job, he would call Dean that same day to thank him.

"Just a couple things. First, how would you describe your brother's personality?" Mr. Blores moved right along and Sam found himself curious about how Dean would answer the question.

"Well, um, I'd say he's smart. That might not sound like a personality trait, but let me explain. He's got the book smarts, sure. You know that already because he's going to Stanford. Did you know he got in on a full ride, by the way? Well he did, because the kid's basically a genius... But anyway, he's also people smart. You want someone who's gonna help you keep customers happy? Sam's your guy. He's got manners. He's all about kindness. He's great at calming people down when they're upset, too, so if you get one of those costumers who's having a really bad day, he'll keep them from taking it out on your coffee crew. So yeah, I'd say he's smart," Dean rattled off the speech so easily that Sam nearly wanted to cry.

He felt his chest tightening at the way Dean praised him so openly, and he fought to control his emotions so the manager wouldn't suspect something was off. Luckily, Mr. Blores was still focused on the phone as he continued with, "One other question for you. What would you say is your brother's greatest weakness?"

Sam's back stiffened slightly at that question. First, he felt it was a rude and unfair thing to ask Dean in the first place, let alone in front of Sam himself. But Sam was also somewhat afraid to hear what his brother might have to say.

There was a long pause in which Sam could perfectly picture Dean's face as he battled the desire to tell Mr. Blores off for being such a prick. Sam was thankful that Dean kept his cool as he finally responded in a rather tense voice, "You're gonna tell me this is clichéd, but I'd have to say it's that he works himself too hard sometimes. When the kid commits to something he gets it done. He won't quit, even if the process is rough on him."

Sam could read between the lines of that statement- could perfectly hear the reference to when Sam left for college- and his gratitude for Dean turning that into a positive thing in order to help Sam get a job, despite how much it had obviously hurt the elder Winchester, was almost overwhelming.

Mr. Blores nodded contemplatively while staring at the phone, behaving as though Dean could somehow see him even though Sam was the only pair of eyes there.

"Alright, thank you for your time. Your input helps," the manager asserted, and then promptly hung up.

Sam realized that hearing Dean's voice had been seriously comforting his nerves when the call ended and his anxiety piqued once more.

There was a moment of silence in which Mr. Blores looked deeply pensive.

"Well Samuel, I must admit that I was disappointed when one of your references was unavailable," the pudgy man finally began, and Sam's stomach did a little tumble. "But I think the two I did speak with sufficed, and so I'd like to offer you the position."

The manager held out a chubby hand for Sam to shake, which Sam accepted gratefully.

"Thank you sir. I look forward to working under you," Sam said with a smile, even though he suspected the man was going to be a nightmare to deal with regularly.

OoO

Several hours later, after a bit of paperwork and some scheduling at the coffee shop, Sam arrived back at his dorm with a job that would allow him to continue his education as he'd always dreamed. He sat on his bed, amazed at how lucky he'd been that day.

Then again, he knew it wasn't really luck.

He pulled out his cell and, after programming himself a reminder to call Bobby later as well, used his speed dial for Dean's phone.

"Sam?" Dean answered. His voice was laced with hesitation.

"Dean, hey! I- Look man, I'm really sorry I haven't called you in so long. I wasn't sure if you'd want to talk, and until now when I just..." Sam considered telling Dean that he had overheard the conversation earlier and it had made him realize how much Dean cared, but then stopped himself. It would probably just make Dean uncomfortable anyway. Instead, Sam took a different approach to thanking his older sibling. "I just got a job, and I wanted to tell you about it," he explained.

Dean huffed a laugh and said, "Please tell me the coffee place is the one who hired you, because if not, then that douchewagon 'Mr. Blores' wasted a good ten minutes of my life before making a big mistake by not taking you."

Sam laughed too and replied, "Yeah, I got the coffee job. And Mr. Blores is… Well, he's probably going to be the boss from Hell. But uh, now that you mention it, he did say something about having talked to you, and apparently you had good things to say, so, um…" Sam's voice trailed off as he once again struggled to control the rush of emotion he was feeling.

Dean paused before saying, "Yeah, he had a couple questions about you. I didn't do anything special, I just answered them."

Sam thought about the way Dean had talked him up, even twisting Mr. Blores' search for negativity into a way to be complimentary of Sam, and he was smiling as he replied, "Thanks, Dean. I really mean it."

Dean cleared his throat a little too forcefully, and Sam knew he'd pushed the boundaries of the levels of sentimentality Dean could tolerate in a talk. Then Dean finally said, "Yeah, yeah, whatever Samantha. So hey, how 'bout you tell me about Stanford? Met any hot sorority chicks yet?"

Soon Sam and his big brother were immersed in a conversation about college, life, and nothing of any importance.

But to Sam it was the most important conversation he'd had in a month.

Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I hope this helped combat some of the season 10 finale/Hellatus kick-off pain. ;) If you have a moment please do leave feedback. It is always sincerely appreciated! :)