Sam Winchester.

Within a moment, like burning a phrase on a piece of jewelry, the boy's name had seared itself in Bellona's mind. She was certain that if someone were to peer inside the depths of her brain, Sam's name would lie somewhere between the twisting, interminable tangles that made up the inside of her head, because his name wasn't one she would easily forget.

She wasn't sure how she knew it, but there wasn't a doubt in her mind that the image of Sam Winchester was one that would live with her forever. Sure, in the years to come, he would fade into a hazy picture of who he once was. A blurry silhouette. After all, how often did a person remember the flecks in someone's eyes, the creases that lined the face of someone they'd just met?

But she would remember him, even if it was merely as a ghost of her past.

Bellona smiled, and she willed her hand to stop shaking as she wrapped it around his. "Bellona Wesson. It's nice to meet you, too."

Summer beckoned for Bellona to lean over, and as she did so, her eyes remained locked on the boy that stood in front of her. The blonde craned her neck to whisper, "Very nice."

Bellona laughed nervously, and her gaze flicked downwards as she felt heat begin to circulate in her cheeks. Summer was right, of course, but she only hoped Sam Winchester hadn't heard her comment. Among all her concerns about this tour, the possibility that Sam had overheard was the most worrisome - she'd just met him, and her cheeks were already as red as the paint on Summer's nails.

"We can start the tour now, if you want," Bellona announced after glaring briefly at her friend. She turned to look at Sam, who'd been smiling warily at Summer's hushed joke. She couldn't tell if he'd overheard it or not, but judging by the wide grin that enveloped his expression at Bellona's suggestion, she guessed he had.

'Great,' Bellona hissed inwardly. 'That's just what I needed.'

Sam nodded, a grin tugging at the ends of his mouth before he forced it away. His voice was light and carefree when he said, "Yeah. Yeah, that would be great actually."

Bellona smiled. "Great! Uh...follow me, then."

Her footfall was silent as she ambled across the library, but her train of thought created a ruckus of its own as it crashed through every worry and fear she possessed. Of all the people that could have requested a tour, it had to be Sam? Bellona's fingers began to curl and wring around each other. Her nerves were always set on edge around charismatic men, and Sam was no exception. In fact, she wouldn't have been surprised if he was the Prince Charming, transported directly from the stories she heard as a child.

As she exited the library, Sam at her side, the lighting in the building took on much deeper shades. Where the room full of books was decorated with a skylight, the sun's rays constantly shining through the panes of glass, the halls outside the library had no such pleasure. They were plagued with rows of dim artificial light, casting shadows throughout every corner.

"Oh!" Bellona exclaimed, skidding to a stop as she rounded the corner of the library's exit. Her hand dipped inside a plastic container that was nailed to the door, and when she pulled it out, a colorful brochure was gripped between her fingertips. She held it out to Sam.

"I'm supposed to give you this," she said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Personally, I think the map in there is more confusing than helpful, but..." She shrugged. "It's protocol, I guess."

A soft chuckle escaped Sam's lips and, as he accepted the map with a nod, he grinned and peered at Bellona from beneath his bent head. "Well, thanks anyway."

"Of course."

A blanket of silence fell over the two, causing Bellona to wring her hands together once more. The quietude was only broken when a frantic student slammed into Bell's side as they rushed to class, knocking her to the side and setting her wobbly legs on a path that ended in an inevitable collapse on the ground.

She threw her hands out to stop her fall, surprised when she felt a tightly woven chest instead of the tightly woven strands of the carpet beneath her. Large hands instantly wrapped around her upper arm, and her gaze drifted up to land on Sam's gentle features, the red in her cheeks deepening when a crooked grin floated onto his face.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Bellona jerkily nodded, straightening her legs and wincing as pain flared in her ankle. Maybe he was Prince Charming - he had saved her from falling, after all.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good," she stuttered, brushing off the area on Sam's chest where her head had just lied, as if that action alone could erase the embarrassment she'd just endured. As she did so, her fingers caught on a buckle that rested over his sternum. A smile crawled onto her lips - he'd buckled the straps of his bookbag together, like all the boys in her elementary school had done. But somehow, when Sam did it, it seemed less childish and more like a sign of innocence that he'd yet to shed.

Bellona took a step backwards, not wanting to stay in Sam's embrace for longer than was comfortable. "It's my fault, really. I knew heeled boots weren't a good choice for today, and I wore them anyway."

Sam laughed. "I guess that isn't too helpful when someone runs into you, huh?"

Bell shook her head and, before another wave of silence could take control, she began to lead Sam down the corridor and to the english department. They took a moment to peer inside the window of a classroom in the midst of a lecture, observing the teacher's behavior for a minute before she led him inside one of the empty classrooms, circling the room filled with abandoned tables and chairs.

Bellona watched as Sam ran his fingers along the books on one of the shelves, frowning when he paused to comment, "This professor has Harry Potter books on his shelf?"

"Is there a problem with that?" Bellona retorted. She winced. She'd meant for her reply to come out as a joke, but to her own ears at least, it had sounded rather blunt.

Sam whirled around to face her, the remnants of a laugh on his face morphing into a full-fledged smile as he saw the offended look she bore. "Not at all. It's just...uh...a little unorthodox for a professor at Stanford."

Bellona nodded. The teacher who often occupied this classroom - Professor Johnson - was an unorthodox professor, to say the least. His teaching methods were dramatic, complete with plays of every class reading and leaping on top of chairs for emphasis, but that was one of the reasons he was Bellona's favorite teacher. He had passion for what he taught, and that was something she couldn't help but appreciate. No matter how unusual his classroom procedures were.

Sam sauntered over to the table nearest Bellona and swung himself onto it. His legs dangled, the toes of his sneakers squeaking as they brushed against the glazed porcelain tile. "What's your Hogwarts house?"

Bellona pressed her lips together, repressing the smirk that fought so fervently to show itself. "Slytherin."

"Liar," Sam snapped back, his voice riddled with intermittent giggles. "I've only known you for thirty minutes and I'm sure that's not true."

The curly-haired girl laughed as she settled into a chair at Sam's table. It forced him to look sideways if he wanted to see her, as his legs were turned away from her, but it was something he did without complaint.

Bellona raised her hands in mock surrender. "Fine. You caught me. I'm a Ravenclaw. And you..."

Her eyes narrowed as she looked Sam up and down. Her gaze was scrutinizing, her caramel-colored eyes unwavering as she studied his body language. His hands were folded in front of him, lying on top of the pocket on his hoodie but not in it. His gangly legs, thin and protruding under his too-short jeans, swung where they hung off the table.

She almost deemed him a Hufflepuff - his bubbly and kind personality suggested as much - but he was far too comfortable in his own skin to be a part of that house. There was something about him...a chip on his shoulder, perhaps, or hidden determination that he kept contained for fear of showing all his cards at once.

"You're a Ravenclaw," she announced, her shoulders straightening. "You have to be."

Sam nodded, his curved lips effusing beams of gaiety and cheer. "Yep. How'd you know?"

Bellona shrugged. "It takes one to know one, I guess."

A knock at the door ripped Sam's eyes away from the girl that sat next to him, and Bell watched as his focus transferred to the classroom door. His brow furrowed.

The lights in the classroom suddenly flickered on, and Bellona froze, too frightened to turn around and face whoever had just walked in. She was supposed to be giving Sam a tour - how would she explain their reasoning for sitting, alone, in an abandoned classroom with the lights off? No administrator would believe that they simply wanted to discuss each other's Hogwarts house, of all things.

She took a deep breath, but it hitched in her throat as a hand wrapped around her shoulder. She bit her lip, too humiliated to look at Sam but too terrified to meet the gaze of whoever this hand belonged to, with its freshly-painted gray nails.

"Ms. Wesson?" a voice rang.

Bellona's shoulders fell. She knew that voice.

"Mrs. Darrow?" she guessed, finally standing and turning to face the woman. She nearly let out a sigh of relief when she saw that it was indeed Mrs. Darrow, head librarian and the personnel that had given her the task of tour-giving in the first place.

Bellona finally found herself able to breath. The librarian, an aged and wrinkled woman that Bellona spent most of her time with, trusted her interns deeply. She would believe that Bell and Sam's intentions of sitting in the darkened classroom had been innocent.

Mrs. Darrow gave a red-lipped smile of welcome before turning to face Sam. "And you are?"

"Sam Winchester," Sam answered, his voice significantly less confident as he slid off the table. Bellona winced. She hoped he didn't think he was in trouble for being caught in the classroom, though she'd thought the same thing mere moments before.

"Ah." Mrs. Darrow's eyebrows lifted in recognition of Sam. "I recognize your name...Aren't you the boy who requested a tour earlier this week?"

Sam nodded eagerly. "Yes, ma'am."

"You're a promising young man, Mr. Winchester. I've seen your application. It'll be the surprise of the century if Stanford doesn't let you in."

Sam tilted his head forward in an act of humility, muttering a "thank you" as the curves of his cheeks reddened. A smile laced itself on Bellona's lips. It was almost as if he didn't want to be recognized for his accomplishments, the way he was acting. As if he was embarrassed Mrs. Darrow had brought it up at all.

"I was just taking him on the tour, Mrs. Darrow," Bellona interrupted, her heart skipping a beat when she saw, along the edges of her line of sight, that Sam's eyes had turned to her.

Mrs. Darrow nodded, her red hair - that had been freckled, of course, with spots of gray as age began to torment her - shifting as she brushed it behind her shoulder. "I see that. You won't mind, of course, if I take over? That way you can go back to the library and help Summer with the rest of the tasks on the list."

Bellona hesitated. Her chest tightened, and her eyebrows had unwittingly furled themselves into a frown. She was astonished to find that she did mind. She wanted to spend more time with Sam, to finish giving him the tour of Stanford, because there was no guarantee that she would ever see him again, even if Stanford accepted him. Alas, she had no choice. What explanation would she have to offer if she said no? That she'd rather give him the tour herself. It was no secret that she despised giving tours, and Mrs. Darrow was bound to ask curious questions if she begged to finish leading one.

"I don't mind," Bellona finally responded, feeling her heart sink in her chest as she willed away what might very well be her last chance to talk to Sam Winchester. "I'll be in the library if you need me."

Just as she turned to leave, a hand brushed her fingers, pulling her back. When she turned, she found herself face-to-face with Sam.

The boy cleared his throat. "Thanks for giving me the first part of the tour...uh...Bellona, was it?"

Her heart dipped. She'd remembered his name without any effort at all. Had he really struggled to remember hers? Or was the pause in his sentence just an inconsequential quirk of his that she'd yet to discover? Oh, how she wished she knew Sam Winchester as more than strangers. Then, at least, she would know the difference between his forgetfulness and the delicate quirks of his personality, and she wouldn't lack the intimacy that gave the gift of discernment.

Mrs. Darrow hummed something of confirmation, about how Bellona's namesake was the Roman goddess of war herself, but Bell couldn't find it in herself to acknowledge the librarian's comments. She was too focused on how the almond shape of Sam's eyes, and how they crinkled at the ends when he smiled. Because when she walked away, she wanted to have memorized more about him than his name. That way, if she never saw him again, she would be able to remember him as more than a faded silhouette of the boy he was now.