The Standford Years, Part Two, NC-17

[phantisma]

Fandom: Supernatural
Title: The Stanford Years (Part Two)
Characters/Pairings: OMCs/Sam, OFC/Sam, Dean, John, Jess, Brady
Word Count: 12522
Rating: VERY NC-17
Summary: When Sam gets a full ride scholarship to Stanford, he thinks all of his dreams are within reach, even if it means leaving his father and Dean on less than positive terms. They'll come around eventually. He sets off alone for California and freedom, but what he finds is anything but...

A/Ns & Warnings: Written for slaveexchange, so this is slave fic folks. Don't read it if you don't like it. WARNINGS: Non-Con, dub-con, brainwashing, BDSM, bondage, use of toys, multiple partners, whoring, hints of extreme violence.

Art provided by glasslogic, Master Art Post: http://glasslogic.livejournal.com/30271.html









“Good morning, Sam.”

Sam smiled as he nodded to the doctor. “I’ll take your word for it.”

There was very little sense of time with no windows and no set hours for working. It made him reliant on his handler, Doug to know when it was time to eat or shower or sleep. Or, in this case, visit the doctor.

“How are you feeling today, Sam?”

“Better, thanks.” He sat easily on the exam table. “Nothing hurts, even when I’m working Gray.”

The doctor nodded and moved behind him, fingers walking over the healing marks from his last Red job. “This looks much better.” He came back to the front of Sam and bent to look at the knee that had gotten pretty beat up. “Any residual pain?”

“No, it’s good too.”

The doctor smiled and made notes in Sam’s chart. “In that case, I can release you to full duty again.”

Sam did his best to keep the emotional response off his face, but he was sure it showed.

“You’ve had a longer break than most from Red jobs, Sam, seeing as you had two go so badly in a row.”

Sam made a face. “I know.”

“You’re all set here. I’ll notify the Dean.”

Sam nodded and slipped off the table, moving back to the blue door. Doug met him in the hall. “Time to eat Sam, then you have a sleep period. I’ll come get you when it’s time to work.”

Sam headed down the hall, through the open door into the cafeteria, where the walls were painted a soft yellow. He raised a hand in greeting at Jessica, a pretty blonde who slept in the bunk beside his in the dorm, before crossing to pick up his tray.

“So, I heard a rumor.” Jessica said as Sam took a seat at the table beside him.

“You and your gossip.” Sam shook his head and turned his attention to his food.

She rolled her eyes, but it didn’t stop her from leaning in and lowering her voice. “I heard that Tammy remembered something. From before.”

Sam squinted at her, then glanced around them to make sure no one was listening. “Like what?”

Jessica shrugged. “No one’s seen her since.”

He had known someone who remembered stuff from before he had come to be here. He had spoken of an amusement park and cotton candy, of a little sister…and then he had disappeared. Someone said he’d been “let go” of the program, but Sam wasn’t sure what that meant.

He ate his meal quickly. “I’ve got to sleep.” He stood and took his tray to the counter before heading toward the dorm. Sometimes, when he was asleep, he had memories…images mostly…of places, fire, a big man who made him feel safe, but it was all vague and random. He never told anyone though.

He didn’t want to be dropped from the program. He liked it here. Most of the time. He was clearly good at it too, judging by his popularity. He got more requests than the others in his dorm. Particularly for the gray and red room jobs.

He laid down on his bunk and closed his eyes, hoping for a good rest with no dreams so that he would be prepared for his job.



“Do you know why you are here, Sam?”

Sam shook his head and tried to focus on standing still and straight, hands behind his back, eyes forward. “No, sir.”

The man pacing around him was the Dean. He was in charge of everything. He was the man who controlled Sam’s life. “You seem nervous. Are you nervous, Sam?”

“Yes, sir.” Sam responded, swallowing.

“Why?”

Sam shifted a little on his feet. “I…I don’t want to be punished, sir.”

That earned him a small chuckle and the Dean stopped pacing, standing in front of Sam and looking over his naked body. “And why would you think that I was going to punish you? Have you done anything wrong?”

“Not that I am aware of, Sir.”

“Then relax.” The Dean ran a hand down Sam’s chest and smiled. “On the contrary, you’re here because I am most pleased with your performance.” He moved away, back to the desk in the room. “There has been a request for you. I am thinking that I will grant the request, even though we do not usually allow freshmen off campus.”

“Off campus, Sir?” Sam dared a look at the Dean, who was busy looking at the file on his desk.

“Yes, you see, one of our alumni is having a big party and he wishes to provide entertainment for his guests. He has requested you.” The Dean put the file down and looked up at Sam. "Now, normally, I would not even consider sending a Freshman out there, however, you have exceeded expectations in all of your classes and your skills are impressive."

"Thank you, Sir." Sam felt himself flush a little, the confused pride at compliments for doing what he'd been trained to do and a nagging idea in the back of his head that it was wrong leaving him a little off balance.

"This will be a test for you Sam. Don't let me down."

"No, Sir. I won't."

"Good. Doug will explain everything to you. You may go."

Sam nodded. "Thank you, Sir." He withdrew back toward the door he came in. Doug was waiting for him in the hallway.

"Follow."

Not that Sam needed the instruction. He followed Doug down a long white corridor, and into a room Sam had never been in before. A blond woman with her hair pulled back came through a red door and smiled. "He needs clothes and shoes."

"Fair enough." She looked Sam over, pulled a measuring tape out of her pocket and held it up to him in various places. "Give me a minute."

She disappeared back through the red door and when she returned, she had a small pile of cloth and a pair of shoes. "These should fit." She handed them to Sam and Doug headed for the door.

He led Sam to the room of his dorm. "You have ten minutes to get dressed. Wait for me at the white door. I will come and get you and explain the rules."




The rules were pretty simple. It wasn't much different than working on campus, except that he saw multiple clients in the same room. Doug took him from the garage, into the house, through the kitchen and downstairs. There was a blue door that opened into a gray room with no windows. There was a bed with restraints built in, a padded bench he knew was built for bending him over so that two men could use him at once, and on the wall there was an array of toys, from floggers to dildos.

Sam licked his lips and stepped into the room.

"Remove your clothes." Doug said, standing in the door.

Sam stripped and handed everything to Doug, then looked up expectantly. "Wait here. I'm sure your first guest will be along shortly."

Doug left, the door shutting behind him. On this side, the door was white. So he was left waiting. He circled the room, inspecting the implements on the wall. It wasn't as extensive a collection as he'd seen. The red rooms on campus were filled with…things Sam hoped would never be used on him. It wasn't that he didn't like the pain that came with his job, in fact, certain amounts of pain aroused him. Which is why the Dean gave him so many Gray jobs anyway, or so he'd been told. And these tools were the kind Sam liked, no canes or whips that would draw blood. No blades to cut him open.

In fact, as his fingers trailed over a leather paddle, his cock hardened and he imagined it coming down on his ass while he stroked his cock slowly. Not enough to come. He was better trained than that.

He only came when the client demanded it.

The door behind him opened and he turned to find a vaguely familiar face, someone he maybe serviced before. "Hello, slave."

"Sir." Sam bowed his head and went to his knees.

"Such a good boy. I am so glad my father agreed to request you. He'll be along later, but I thought I'd come first, inspect you before our guests arrive."

Sam bowed his head as the man approached. Fingers threaded through his hair, tugging his face up. "Suck me, Boy, and make it good."

He lifted his hands, easing open the man's pants and stroking his cock as he pulled it out. It hardened fast, and Sam licked at the tip while his hand worked the shaft, making the tip all wet before he moved his hand and took the cock into his mouth.

The fingers tightened in his hair as he bobbed up and down the length, pulling as he hissed when Sam sucked hard on just the head. He took the full length, the head in his throat gagging him and held it as long as he could before pulling off to catch his breath.

"Oh, that's it Boy, I like that."

Sam did it again, panting when he'd pulled off, licking and sucking at the tip to give himself time to catch his breath. It wasn't long before the man was thrusting his hips forward, his hand holding Sam in place while he fucked into Sam's mouth.

When he came, he smeared it over Sam's face. "By the time the night is over, I hope I find you covered in come and worn out…like the whore you are."

He tucked himself back in and left the room.

Sam got up from his knees and looked for something to clean up with, but there wasn't anything. He wiped the come from his face with his hands and paced the room.

He didn't have to wait long, and the next client was an older man with graying hair and a deceptively gentle smile. His hands were far from gentle though as he bent Sam over his knee and paddled Sam's ass until the skin was red and hot. The fucking that followed was a little easier, and when it was done, Sam was hard and wanting, cradling his cock in one hand as he was once again left alone.

They came faster as the night went on, one after the other. Mostly men, but a few women who tied him on his back and shoved big dildos inside him before riding him to orgasm. There were spanking and paddlings, blow jobs and fuckings, one man used a heavy flogger over Sam's ass and thighs.

By the time the door opened and Doug was there, Sam wasn't sure which way was up, his whole body ached, fire covered his skin, come dripped from his ass, coated his face…it was even in his hair.

Doug chuckled and escorted him from the room and into another with a shower and his clothes. "Clean up and get dressed. You've got twenty minutes."

Sam climbed into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the dried come and sweat from his body. He closed his eyes and leaned against the tile until he realized he was going to fall asleep. Shaking his head, Sam rinsed off and stepped out, drying off quickly and dressing.

Doug led him back to the van they came in and back to his dorm once back to campus. He waited for Sam to undress and took the clothes with him, leaving Sam to sleep.

As jobs went, it wasn't bad. He'd gotten to come three times and there was no need to visit the doctor again. Sam laid on his cot and was asleep in moments.





“I hear you’re working off campus again.”

Sam looked up, grinning at Jess. “Yeah, some party in San Francisco. Me and Hal.”

“Lucky you.” She leaned against the bunk while he put shoes on. They always felt odd on his feet, but he’d only be wearing them until they were inside the party.

He wasn’t sure about the lucky part. He preferred to work in a familiar environment, going off campus made him feel insecure somehow. “You off now?”

She nodded, grabbing the towel off her bunk. “Headed for a nice long bath.”

“That sounds good. Enjoy it.”

He stood, fully dressed for the first time in longer than he could remember, and went to wait by the white door. It had been a while since he'd been requested for one of these jobs. Hal joined him a few minutes later. They didn't have to wait long before Doug opened the door and beckoned them through.

They were put in the back of a van, with no windows and dark gray walls and seats. As the van started moving, Doug cleared his throat. "Since this is Hal's first off campus job, I'm going to go over the rules and what to expect. You will be taken inside, and given a room. The door to that room will be locked and only those people your host has chosen to give a key to the door will have access."

Sam had been through this a few times. The host of these parties was usually some Stanford elite and the guests were often high society types, politicians, even celebrities sometimes. At least it was better than a red room party. The last one of those he had endured had put him in medical for two weeks. These were almost always green parties, sometimes gray.

"You will be entertaining couples as well as individuals. Any questions?"

Sam sat back and closed his eyes. It was easier to prepare himself if he didn't try to think about it too much. He didn't open his eyes until the van came to a stop, and even then he waited until he felt Doug stand first.

Sam could feel Hal fidgeting as they were lead through the kitchen. "Easy." Sam murmured. "It's easy. Most of these people just want something different."

Bored wives and men who got off on the power of buying someone like them were the usual customers, and at one of these parties that might include men curious about being with a man, or those who only ever cheated on their wives with men, all people who the host of the party liked well enough to gift them with the key to the room.

As they passed the stairs, Sam spotted the holiday decorations twining down the banister. It must be Christmas already. It was difficult to track the passing of time in the dorm. There were no windows, no clocks or calendars.

His first off campus job had been a Christmas party too. Idly he wondered how long ago that had been. He put it out of his mind as he got to the room though. He had to focus. The room was painted and decorated in shades of green, as he had expected. He began stripping as the door closed behind him. It should be an easy night.




Sam was still cleaning himself up from the last client when the door opened again. He turned, offering the new man a smile. "Give me just a minute, okay?" He dipped his washcloth back into the basin and squeezed it out.

"Sam?"

He looked back again, squinting at the guy. "I'm sorry. Have I serviced you before?"

"Serviced—No, Sam, it's me. Your brother."

From somewhere deep inside him he felt…something familiar…a name…"Dean?"

He nodded. "That's right, your brother Dean. Get dressed, we gotta go."

"Go?" Sam shook his head and went back to wiping the cooling sweat from his skin. "I am not allowed to leave the room."

"I'm not playing here. Get dressed." Dean huffed and took a step away from the door. "Look, you're supposed to do whatever the person that comes through that door tells you, right?"

"I am supposed to please you." Sam said, turning to face him now. "How can I please you?"

"By putting some freaking clothes on." Dean said.

"That's unusual." Sam scowled at him, but picked up the clothes he had left folded neatly on the chair in the corner.

"I'm just weird that way." Dean said, moving back to the door and peeking out into the hall. "Hurry up, would ya, we don't have all night."

Sam pulled the soft linen pants up and turned for the shirt. "We have as long as we need, there is no need to hurry." He was confused by this… Dean. It was clear he knew the man, but Sam had no memory of him, nothing he could put his finger on at least. There was a vague idea and the name. Nothing more.

"Shoes too." Dean said.

Sam sighed and pulled the shoes closer, putting his feet in and buckling them. He stood when he was done and crossed to where Dean was. "Okay, pay attention and stick close." Dean opened the door and eased out into the hallway. Sam stopped at the door. It wasn't blue. He wasn't supposed to go through it without a handler.

It wasn't red either though, which meant he was allowed to pass through it…just not alone.

"We don't have time for this Sam." Dean said, reaching through the door to grab Sam's arm and yank him into the hallway.

"I'm supposed to stay—"

"Not anymore." Dean countered, dragging him down the hall. Dean glanced around a corner, then shoved Sam around it. Sam turned to look at him, eyes widening as a silver gun appeared out from under the tux jacket Dean was wearing.

"Move." Dean pushed him down the hall and to a back staircase. At the bottom of those stairs was a door. A red door.

Sam stopped cold, shaking his head. He knew what punishment looked like for going through a red door. "No."

"Sam, so help me, you are going out that door." Dean opened it and shoved at Sam, but he dug his feet in. Somewhere behind him there was a commotion. "Now is not the time for your stubborn streak, Sam." Dean growled.

"I have to go back." Sam turned for the stairs, but Dean punched him. Hard. Sam staggered back, stumbling out the door and down the three stairs, sprawling on the concrete beside a black car.

Dean was beside him in seconds, pulling him toward the car. Sam struggled, but his head was ringing and he wasn't really sure which way was up. Before he'd recovered, he was shoved in the back seat and the doors were closed. Dean threw himself behind the wheel and they took off. "Keep your head down." Dean instructed as he wrenched the wheel and they pulled out onto the street.

Sam glanced out the window and he could see Doug running at them from the house. Shots rang out and Sam ducked down. Dean just kept driving.

Sam covered his head and closed his eyes. He was going to be in so much trouble. He would be punished severely. There would be beatings, and days without food. He shook his head. "Take me back. Take me back."

"Not a chance, Sammy. Not after what it took to find you. Trust me on this, you're better off with me."

"Please…." He sounded so small, even to himself. Dean wasn't listening anyway. Sam hugged his knees in to his chest. It wouldn't be the kind of beating you got in the red rooms. The kind that hurt and maybe made you need time to recover. It would be the kind that made you think you were going to die.

For all he knew, they would kill him. There were rumors in the dorms that the ones who disappeared, the ones who went away were actually killed. He was always good, followed the rules, did what he was told. The handlers had shown all of them what punishment looked like when he was first in the dorm. One of the older boys had broken the rules.

When the beating was over, Sam couldn't even recognize a face under the bruises and swelling. Some of the marks on his body never went away.

Sam was shaking when the car finally stopped and he looked up, startled at the sound of Dean's voice. "Okay, Sam. This is our stop for now."

"Where….are we?" Sam asked, looking around them. It was dark outside the car, and they didn't seem to be in the city anymore.

"Someplace safe. More or less. I'm going to get us a room. I need you to stay in the car. You hear me?"

Sam nodded his understanding. He gaped at the world outside the windows. It had been a long time since he had seen anything but the dorms and the service rooms and the occasional party. So long in fact, he didn't remember the last time. He moved so that he could look up. The skies were black with dots of light. Stars. He remembered that…though he couldn't place the memory.

He startled when Dean came back, opening the door and settling behind the wheel again. He looked at Sam like something was strange, but didn't say anything. "Okay, we're around back." The engine came to life and they were moving again, behind the building. Dean parked the car and opened his door. "Let's get you inside." He opened the door to the back seat and Sam climbed out cautiously. Sam was still eyeing the sky, the stars and the clouds when Dean guided him toward the door.

The room wasn't unlike one of the service rooms, though it was white like a medical room. Well, the walls were white. The floor was sort of beige and the beds were a bunch of colors. Sam wasn't sure what to do, so he stood just inside the door.

Dean came in behind him with a bag that he dropped on one of the beds. He pulled the gun out of his pants again and dropped it on the bed too. Sometime while Sam had been zoned out in the back seat of the car, Dean had taken off the bow tie and jacket of his tux.

He was already working on getting the shirt off too.

That was something Sam understood. He reached out a hand for the buttons, but Dean slapped his hands away. "What the hell?"

Sam felt his face heat up. "I…I can help…"

Dean sighed, his eyes closed and head bowed. "I can do it myself just fine, Sam."

Sam nodded and stepped away. Okay. He would undress himself. Then he would be prepared…for whatever he would be expected to do.

He was faster than Dean, sitting naked on the bed when Dean turned to sit and take off his shoes.

"Sam! What the hell?"

"I'm ready."

Dean shook his head. "Damn it. Put your clothes back on Sam."

"But I don't understand."

Dean exhaled. "I know you don't and I'm sorry. Just do what I'm telling you and put your clothes back on." Dean pulled a t-shirt out of his bag and pulled it on over his bare chest. "I need to call Dad."

He got up in his t-shirt and boxers and paced away, lifting his phone. He scratched at the back of his head as held the phone up. "It's me. Yeah I've got us holed up in a hotel outside of Sacramento." Dean paced, listening and nodding. "Yeah, we're okay. No he's…" Dean looked at him and gestured like Sam was supposed to be doing something.

Right. Clothes. Sam was supposed to be putting his clothes on. He lifted his shirt and pulled it on.

"I can get him to Bobby's." Dean nodded again. "Okay, fine. So far he's…obedient if nothing else."

Sam lost track of the conversation as he pulled his pants back on, but Dean was almost done talking anyway. "Okay, we'll see you then."

Dean didn't really look at him, just went to the phone between the beds and the book it was sitting on. "You hungry?"

"It isn't time to eat." Sam replied. "We aren't in the right room to eat."

"I'm hungry." Dean said, looking through the book. "How does pizza sound?"

He seemed to find what he was looking for in the book and picked up the phone, dialing the numbers and grinning at Sam. "I need a pizza delivered to Hanney's Hideaway Hotel, room 9."

Sam turned away from Dean, arms crossed across his stomach. He was hungry, but this wasn't how it was supposed to work. Food was only served in the cafeteria. This wasn't the cafeteria. This wasn't his dorm.

He was going to be in so much trouble. His heart was racing, and his hands shaking. This was worse than breaking the rules.

"Sam?"

A hand on his shoulder turned him. "Hey, are you crying?"

Sam lifted a shaking hand to wipe his face, surprised a little to find that he was indeed crying. "I'm going to be in trouble. I need to go back."

Dean shook his head and drew him back to the bed. "You're not going back, Sam. You're not in trouble."

"Broke the rules. Punishment is bad for breaking the rules."

"You didn't break any rules, Sam. I did." Dean countered, sitting next to Sam on the bed. "I got you out. You’re safe now."

"Safe?" Sam wasn't sure what he was safe from. "I wasn't safe before?"

Dean closed his eyes, but not before Sam could see the hurt in them. "No, Sam, you weren't safe. You were being used."

"I was of service." Sam said. "I helped people."

Dean snorted and stood. "No, you were a whore."

The word felt like a slap to the face. "Worse than that, you were a slave. They kidnapped you and broke you and programmed you to be a fucking sex slave."

Sam shook his head. That wasn't right. He was there because he was supposed to be there, because he chose to be there. That's what they told him. "No, I…I was…I went there…"

Dean nodded. "You did go there. You were told you had a scholarship, I took you to the bus station myself. You've been gone almost three years."

"Gone from where?" Sam asked, blinking up at him. None of this made any sense.

"From us, from me and Dad."

Sam shook his head. "I don't know you."

"Yes, you do. You just don't remember."

Sam could feel himself frowning.

"How did you know my name?" Dean asked, coming back to sit beside him. "Back there, when I came into the room. You remembered my name."

"Dean." Sam said it again, tasting the way it felt familiar. "I don't know." He shook his head.

"It's okay. We're going to help you get it back."

There was a knock on the door and Dean went to answer it, grabbing his wallet off the other bed. When he came back he had a box. The smell was familiar, and Sam's stomach rumbled.

"First, we're going to eat. And then we're going to get some sleep. Tomorrow we're going to meet up with Dad and see what we need to do to help you."



There was something very familiar about the place where they stopped the next night. A house surrounded by a junkyard of sorts, cars and parts and junk in a maze of some design that seemed like Sam knew it.

The man who lived here hadn't wanted Sam to take off his clothes either, seemed flustered by the very thought of it.

He was outside, on the steps into the house, looking up at the night sky, wondering when he'd last been allowed outside. Dean had told him on the long drive about how they'd searched for him once they realized something was wrong. How it had taken them a long time to even start to find the trail to where Sam was being held.

Sam wasn't entirely sure he believed Dean. Stanford was where he belonged, where he'd tried so hard to get for so long, and he was good at what he did there. But Dean said that Sam wasn't really at Stanford. He was locked up inside some building on the campus, used and abused by the rich staff and alumni.

Brainwashed. That's what Dean told him.

Sam hugged himself and tried to think past the first memory he had at Stanford. There was a blur of fear and anger, with no real understanding of what caused it, and before that was sadness, relief…more anger. But none of it had any context. It was starting to make his head hurt.

He looked up as a dog somewhere barked and dust rose up off the drive in from the road. A truck came to a stop in a cloud of dust and Sam stood, uncertain, ready to run for the house, and the relative safety of the only person he sort of trusted.

A dark head appeared out of the cloud, followed by a big man and Sam couldn't move. The face, the set of his shoulders, the way he moved…he'd seen this man before, knew him…images flashed in his head, things from his dreams that had never made sense on waking. A big hand holding his, a voice that was gruff and yet warm, yelling…telling him not to come back.

"Sam?"

Dad. Never wanted Sam to go to Stanford. Wanted Sam to stay and….it slipped away as the big man came closer and Sam shook his head, darting away from big hands and ducking into the house, running straight into Dean.

"Dad." Sam said, as if that would explain it all. Maybe it did, because Dean let him go and Sam left him to hide in the living room. He could hear their voices, Dad's low and rumbling under Dean's and Bobby's when he joined in.

"I got the information I could." Dean was saying. "They use a form of brainwashing based on color. The color of the doors tells him whether or not he's allowed to go through them, the color of the walls tells him what he's expected to do. It's pretty thorough, even intensity of color feeds him information."

"What about memory, you said he didn't know you." That was Dad.

Dean sighed and Sam could hear him pacing. "He does and he doesn't. He recalled my name all on his own. But nothing since then. Until you showed up."

"So, have we figured out a game plan?"

"I have a friend I can call." Bobby said. "Specializes in deprogramming kids from cults."

"This wasn't a cult, Bobby." Dean responded, his pacing bringing him close to the archway. Sam felt his eyes and looked up. "We don't know how they did this."

"Human brain, there's only so many ways to do what's been done to Sam."

"Call." That was Dad again. "It's worth trying." He came to stand beside Dean, and Sam felt like he was on display. He turned away, but turned back almost instantly. It was wrong to turn his back. "Sam, do you know who I am?"

Sam licked his lips and nodded. "Dad." He cleared his throat. "My father."

"That's right." There was a soft smile that felt genuine to Sam. It made him feel a little braver. "You know we want to help you, right?"

Sam nodded again. "I'm…confused. And I'm scared. But Dean promised me it would get better." He looked to Dean who was still looking at their father. "You…you told me not to come back."

His father's face clouded over and Sam shrank bank into the corner.

"I did. I was angry." He took a step closer and Sam looked for a place to hide, but there wasn't one. "I didn't mean it."

"It felt like you did." Sam countered, the memory spilling into his head…voices raised, emotion hot, a door slammed.

"If I had known, Sam…if I had known what you were headed for, I would have found a way to make you stay."

"I wanted to go to school." Sam knew that for certain. "I wanted…" It slipped away and he nearly growled in frustration.

"I know you did." His father was closer now and Sam looked up at him, feeling small…like he was still a child. "I know what you wanted, Sam. I was just scared for you. I wanted to keep you safe. With us."

"I didn't feel safe…" Sam closed his eyes against tears he didn't understand. "I wanted to feel safe…and I thought…I was…there…at Stanford."

"I know." His father's voice rumbled through his as he was drawn into an embrace. A part of him knew this feeling, this embrace…it was warm and he wanted to crawl into those arms and hide. All too soon, his father let him go. "And no matter what it takes, we're going to get you through this."