The year before, Sam had learned that he didn't have to knock on the door of Lex's study before he came in. No one did; Lex didn't seem to mind. But the doors were closed this time, and there was a certain solemnness in the whole mansion. Sam didn't feel right about barging in, so he knocked.

Of course, the solemnness might have been his own projection. Sam had spent the night shivering in a rented car—his credit card had worked when he'd gone to rent the car, but it had been cancelled by the time he needed to check in to a hotel for the night. He was exhausted and sore and more angry than he'd ever been in his entire life.

As a child, he'd occasionally suffered from nightmares. He knew what it was like to wake up with a shout, eyes watery, heart racing with fear, skin cold and clammy. But he'd never known the horror of waking up in a furious rage, shouting with anger and punching at nothing. When he was really little, it was Dad who calmed him back to sleep after a nightmare; in later years, it was Dean, until Sam grew out of nightmares altogether. Now, of course, there was no one.

He'd received two calls in the first hour of his drive, though, and they'd gotten him through that first day. One was from Aunt Martha, who just happened to be calling to check up on him. He told her about Stanford, and she invited him to visit the farm on his way over, if he could. Smallville, Kansas wasn't really on the way to California, but he decided to take a longer route to see them—it would be worth it. The other call was from Lex, who had heard about Stanford from Aunt Martha. He said he had a congratulatory gift for Sam, if Sam could drop by the mansion at some point—and if he couldn't, Lex offered to fly out to California to deliver the gift in person. Sam almost didn't want to accept a gift that Lex deemed so valuable as to be worth a plane flight halfway across the country, but Lex reminded Sam that he'd saved Lex's life at least once when they were teenagers, and that had to be worth something.

Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other as the door to the study opened. Lex looked terrible. His eyes were red and swollen—not from crying, as far as Sam could tell, but from stress and sleep deprivation—and his clothes were wrinkled, like he had slept in them for at least one night.

"Sam, you okay? You look awful," Lex said.

"Could say the same for you."

"Happy to let you use the shower, if you need it. I've got some extra clothes, too."

"Ah." Sam hadn't exactly expected to show up at the mansion only to immediately excuse himself to get cleaned up, but the night in the car hadn't exactly left him feeling his best; his skin crawled with the dirt and sweat. More importantly, though, it looked like Lex hadn't been taking care of himself either, and if Sam agreed to getting himself cleaned up, maybe Lex would do the same.

"There's a guest room ready for you down the hall, third door on your left."

"Oh, I—I'm staying with the Kents tonight."

"Well, you're here now. Room should be stocked with towels and soap, there's a mini fridge with some snacks and drinks, too. Let's meet back here in an hour."

"You'll go take care of yourself, too?"

"Yeah, I'll go run a comb through my hair." Lex smirked.

Sam felt a surge of relief rush through him. He hadn't really wanted to show up at the Kents looking like a mess. Aunt Martha had a tendency to worry.

They headed out together into the hallway before parting ways—Sam settled for a wave in lieu of a hug, like he would have given when they were younger. He let himself enjoy the hot water—the water pressure was amazing—for what must have been a full fifteen minutes. His dad had only ever allowed him five. The shampoo wasn't watered down, and the bottle had never even been opened; it took him a moment to realize why. Of course, most of the extra clothes in the closet looked a lot more like something Lex would wear than anything Sam had ever worn, but it appeared the clothes had never been worn—the tags hadn't even been removed—so he got changed before lying down on the bed to wait for Lex to be finished.

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He didn't even realize he'd drifted off when a knock came at the door.

Sam jumped up and smoothed out his clothes a little before opening the door. Lex looked a lot better than he had. "Sorry," Lex said. "Must have dozed off, it's been a couple of hours."

"Oh. Me too."

Lex smirked and clapped him on the shoulder, then led the way down the hall and back into his study. "You looked like hell when you came in," he said as he walked. "Mind telling me what's going on?"

"Well, you heard. I got into Stanford, full ride. I'm on my way over."

"Your dad must be thrilled."

It took Sam a half a second to realize he wasn't being sarcastic. "Ah. Not exactly."

Lex frowned, turning to face Sam as they entered the study. "Sorry to hear it."

"Yeah." Sam shoved his hands in his pockets. "Uh, how are things with you?"

Lex sighed. "I've been better."

"Everything alright? With the plant?"

"My father closed it down a couple of days ago."

"Wow." Sam grimaced. "So, what's next for you?"

"I'm not giving up easy. I'm going to try to rebuild, see if I can get my employees in on it."

"Is that worth it?"

Lex's expression hardened. "Twenty five hundred people lost their jobs this week. If I give up, that's on me."

"No, it's not."

Lex's eyebrows raised.

Sam took a step closer. "You can't control your father's actions, Lex, no matter how much you might like to. Dean and me, we've been keeping an eye on LuthorCorp in the news." Specifically, they'd been keeping an eye on Smallville, but the LuthorCorp plant was a big part of that, especially since people seemed to blame all of the supernatural and alien activity on its pollution. "We read between the lines in the news, and . . . you've done a lot of good here, you know?"

For just a second, Lex's shoulders seemed to relax a little. "I've got some work to wrap up here."

"Oh, right, sorry. I was supposed to be on my way over to the Kents."

"Of course. Before you go, I have something for you."

"Lex, you didn't have to do that." No wonder Lex was so exhausted—on top of trying to rescue the plant, he'd still probably been granting favors to anyone who asked, and he'd taken the time to put together a graduation gift for Sam.

"I wanted to." Lex started to leave the room again. Sam stayed behind, but Lex turned back and said, "Coming?"

Sam sighed and followed him out.

Lex took him down to the parking garage and over to one of the cars, a silver Ford Mustang. A good car, though maybe not quite as sporty as Lex's usual. Sam thought it was weird for a moment that Lex had left the gift in his car, but then he looked up at Lex who was just staring at him with an expectant look.

"Wait . . . you're not . . ."

"She's all yours." Lex tossed him a set of keys.

"I—I can't—"

"You gonna pull a Clark Kent on me and try to return the gift? I know you got a full ride, but I don't think that includes a free ride."

"It's just—"

"It's not too much. I want you to have it. It's the least I can do."

Sam felt his throat starting to choke up. "I don't know what to say."

"Pop the trunk."

Sam did, and his breath caught. It was an arsenal worthy of his dad's Impala. Knives, guns, rock salt, and everything else a hunter needed. "Lex, I'm not gonna be hunting."

"Then consider it a precaution. Your brother would want you to be safe."

Sam slammed the trunk. "Did Dean put you up to this?"

Lex was silent for a moment.

That answered Sam's question. He groaned and trudged away, putting his hands on the back of his head. He knew he shouldn't have expected anything different. There were always strings attached.

"So what if he did?" Lex asked.

Sam gritted his teeth. "You're confessing?"

"Why do you think he did it, Sam? He still cares about you."

"You know what my father told me when I left the motel?" Sam had begun to pace. "He told me, you walk out that door, you don't come back. And you know what Dean said?"

Lex just watched him. There was some concern in his eyes, but not quite sympathy—Sam wouldn't have wanted it, anyway.

"Nothing. He didn't say anything." Sam could feel his eyes starting to mist. Some part of him recognized the cruelty of the irony. He'd told Dean for so many years that he didn't need or want his protection; now he was angry that Dean hadn't protected him.

Lex still didn't speak.

Sam's cheeks felt warm. He had some idea of what Lionel Luthor was like; his own struggles were probably nothing compared to what Lex had faced on a daily basis. "I'm sorry," Sam said. "I, uh . . . I'm just not sure what to do now."

"Take the car, go to Stanford. Study hard," Lex said. "Right now? Go to the Kents, enjoy dinner."

"Any chance you could come, too? I'm sure they wouldn't mind."

"I've taken enough time away from work as it is." Lex walked over to the driver's side of the car, and Sam followed. "There's some cash in the glove box for a motel on your way over to California."

Sam had given up refusing favors at this point. "Thanks, Lex."

"Don't mention it."

Sam nodded. "I kind of figured Dean had given up on me."

"You've never been an older brother."

"Neither have you."

Lex's eyes flickered just for a second—with pain or anger or whatever else, Sam couldn't have said. Lex patted the roof of the car, said, "Drive safely," and walked away.