Disclaimer: I don't own them. They're on loan to me and I'm just playing with them.

A/N: This is a S6 AU and this story is my re-interpretation of S6 Sam so I have changed things and they contradict what was established about Sam in canon. I wrote this for a LJ comm spn_gen_bigbang where there are lots of great Supernatural fanfiction for those of us who prefer their fanfiction without a pairing.

Part 1

Nothing penetrated the thick frozen heat of the darkness surrounding his prison aside from his own screams and the voices. Occasionally, one of the voices would sneer and pierce the silence with a loud laugh and say to him, "For such a peaky nuisance, you are way too easy to break."

After the haunting laughter, pain would come. He hated the boiling agony of the torture mostly due to The Voice singing and humming softly as disembodied hands tore at his flesh. He would try and untangle his aching limbs from their places tied to the posts he was always tied to. His throbbing muscles, already buckling under the strain of keeping him sustained in space, would send even more agonizing pain throughout his entire body. As he tried to free himself dislocating his shoulder in the process, he only made The Voice laugh with glee and say, "That pesky body part was the last thing to worry you, right, Sammy m'boy? We have such fun together don't you think?"

He assumed that he was this Sammy person, but sometimes he wished with all his being and sanity that he wasn't Sammy.

According to The Voice, Sammy was the root of all evil and he brought all of this on himself. Sometimes, The Voice would pat him on the head and say, "It wasn't your entire fault. I know that it was Dean who put you up to it. It is a shame—you and I could have been brilliant together ruling the world."

Those times were the worst since then The Voice would be exceptionally cruel in torturing him. It was probably The Voice's attempt at getting back at this Dean whoever he was. He wasn't afraid to admit to himself that yeah, sometimes he wished that it were Dean here instead of him.

When he thought that it couldn't get much worse than it already was, a second voice would join the first. This voice had a particular obsession—Dean. Voice #2 would insist that he answer to the name Dean. He especially hated this since once he played along, Voice #2 would delight in new kinds of torture just to see him break anew. As a result, he always tried to refuse to play along with Voice #2's game. On occasion, it occurred to him that maybe his refusal wasn't all self-preservation—at times he felt like he had to protect this Dean from Voice #2.

Nonetheless, Voice #2's favorite times were when he would break down, forgetting that he was supposed to be Dean and start begging for Dean to come and save him.

Dean never did.


Being suspended in the thick darkness with only the mocking voices and torture to keep him company, time seemed to crawl by slowly, for an eternity. At least, that's what it felt like to him.

So when light suddenly hit him, stabbing the darkness viciously, causing The Voices to shriek and stop the torture, he didn't know whether to be glad or nervous. This was something new, something that had never happened before. Could it be a new form of torture? Maybe to get his hopes up that everything would stop and then hit him with some new pain?

He didn't know and didn't care. It was nice to be out of the darkness and in the warm heat of the light, but it was…odd, somehow, without the torture. He had become so used to it by now.

Rough, careless hands grabbed him, and he didn't fight them. He was bone tired and weak from the constant torture. "Be a little more gentle with him. Who knows what Lucifer and Michael did to him," a soothing voice whispered.

It occurred to him that it was a weird sound. The previous voices had always seemed to be set on either loud or screaming. Whoever this voice belonged to must have been the one in charge since he immediately was handled a little more with care. Then, he was placed on to a soft cushiony surface, his arms by his side—a bed. It took him a few minutes to get used to it since he had completely forgotten what it was like to lay on a bed. He couldn't rest much since the hands quickly returned, along with some clean towels and water. They immediately started to wash him, getting off all the blood and sweat. It wasn't the most relaxing thing to endure, but it was very much preferred to the torture he went through for so long.

As the hands worked on cleaning him up, he tried to look beyond them to catch a glimpse of the people who had rescued him. The warm light shone brightly into his eyes blocking the figures from his gaze, all he saw were the hands.

"Um…ah…where…" He stammered. He couldn't get his tongue to obey his brain. He supposed that it was due to the fact that he hadn't uttered a word in who knows how long. The voices weren't the best of conversation companions, preferring to hear him scream instead of having a discussion with him.

The second time he opened his mouth to speak, one of the hands presented a glass of water to him which he drank greedily. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was. As he finished the glass, his stomach grumbled angrily. He felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment, but within a few seconds, a plate of food was presented to him as well. After he was cleaned, watered, and fed to their satisfaction, the hands left him alone. He tried to look around him and get some clue where he was. All he could see surrounding his bed was a glowing light.

Could it be heaven? He wondered to himself. Almost immediately, he shook his head. No. This isn't heaven.How he knew that for a fact, he wasn't sure, but somehow he was certain about this. Deciding to go and explore, he swung his legs over to the side of the bed. As soon as his legs touched the glowing floor, a sharp pain ran up his body from his feet. He yelped in surprise. Whoever rescued him wasn't too friendly, he supposed.

"Who would stop someone from getting out of bed?" A thin and faint voice asked. He glanced around surprised. Who else was here with him? "Hello?" the same voice asked. Again, he looked around him and saw no one.

"Ah, son. I see that we rescued you just in time. You're starting to talk to yourself. Not the greatest sign of sanity." The same soothing voice from before replied.

Shaken, he tried to catch a glimpse of where the voice was coming from. It seemed like the voice was coming from everywhere.

"Who…are…you?" he croaked out softly.

"Who am I is not of any importance. What is important is that you pass your judgment test and get back to Earth."

As the voice spoke, the hands returned and none too gently pushed him back down onto the bed.

"What judgment test? What are you talking about?"

"Hush, now. It will be over in a few seconds," was all the warning he got before white-hot energy pieced his body, heading towards his mind and soul. All he saw were bright multi-colored lights fluttering across his vision. He lay unconscious while the light searched his soul.

Another man entered the room. He was dressed in robes along with a hood that covered his head. As he watched the light search the man's inner mind and soul, he knew that it was going to be a long time until this man could find some peace. People were simply judged in this place—judged whether they should go to Hell or Heaven—but this man was unique. His body was tainted with the blood of Hell while his soul sang of the purity of Heaven. This man was also the exception to the rule. He would be sent back to Earth, because he had no place as of yet in Heaven or Hell. What he had done to get to this place was not all of his doing and as such he didn't belong in either place.

Unfortunately, the soul was weak and unable to continue residing in the body. It was unprecedented to be sure, but something needed to be done so that this man could have a complete and total recovery from his ordeal. It was decided—separate between body and soul so that both could heal and eventually be joined again.


It smelled.

As he came to, the first thing that he was aware of-was the smell. It smelled of people, of living. It smelled of gun grease and aftershave.

He had forgotten about that smell. The one unique to humans. Neither the torture place nor the glowing place had this smell.

It made him feel safe. With that thought, he slowly opened his eyes.

He was lying on a mental bed with a thin mattress. He was covered with a thin gray blanket. The walls were made of iron as far as he could tell and on the ceiling there was an opening with a weird looking star-shaped fan gently spinning. Besides the bed he was currently lying on, there was a table with an assortment of medical supplies and a single chair. There was a door made of steel which presumably led outside from wherever he was.

He checked himself over. Gone were all the signs of torture, leaving smooth unblemished skin. He felt fine physically except for a hollow feeling in his mind, which he assumed was probably due to the fact that he didn't know who he was. He didn't know his name or why he was being kept here, amongst other things. He was alone in the room for now, but he had no idea what or who would come through that door, so he had to be prepared. He wouldn't let himself be tortured yet again like he was in that horrible place with The Voices, or submit to what he had in that glowing place.

He got up from the bed and walked to the door, but found it had nothing to open it with from the inside. As he was standing there, wondering how he would get the door open, it did just that as a young brunette stepped into the room. She was carrying a tray of food.

"Oh hello, Stranger. I was just coming to see if you needed anything," she greeted, smiling at him.

She didn't look threatening but then he wasn't going to take any chances.

"Who are you?" he asked.

She smiled in reply, "Hun, I'm your second cousin, Gwen. I know that you don't know me but I do hope that we become good friends in addition to us being family."

He looked at her, like she had seven heads.

"Hun, I need you to move back a step." Gwen said looking up at him, "I'm not going to bite you."

A little stunned to say the least by this woman who talked like she knew him, he stepped back and let her come further into the room.

She walked to the table and laid down the tray of food.

"I just made it. You should eat it while it's still hot."

He nodded as he turned to join her at the table. This was all very odd to him. He know about familial connections somehow, but him having a cousin seemed to be unusual. As if before losing his self, he didn't have a cousin to speak of.

"Gwen." Both of them turned around at the sound. Standing there was a tall, bald man. He stepped into the room and nodded at Gwen.

Taking that as her cue to leave, Gwen grinned at both men and left.

The man smiled and said, "Gwen takes some time to get used to. I guess that you're wondering why and what you're doing here."

He nodded.

"Well, let me start from the beginning. Your name is Samuel Winchester. You prefer to go by Sam."

Sam Winchester. The name felt right. He supposed that it was good a name as any. It was better than that, it was hisname. Something that belonged to him.

Still pondering the fact that he now had a name to call his own, he tuned back into the conversation, "…And I'm your namesake and grandfather, Samuel Campbell."

"You're my grandfather?" Sam asked puzzled. He might not know much about himself but something told him that having a grandfather was new to him. Not to mention the odd feeling he had that something was missing inside of him.

Samuel frowned, "You really don't know anything do you?"

Sam nodded.

"Well, son, you are family and there's nothing more than that we, Campbells, value more than family. You're safe with us. Is there anything else you'd like to know?" Samuel asked.

"Yeah, um, do I have any family besides you and Gwen?" Sam asked curiously.

Samuel hesitated, "Yes, there are your other cousins, Mark, Christian, and Johnny…"

"Johnny? Somehow I know that name. I don't know why though." Sam wondered out loud.

Samuel looked uncomfortable but replied, "Well, your daddy's name was John. Maybe you're remembering something."

Sam thought about it and he got a glimpse of blond hair and hazel green eyes.

"He has blond hair doesn't he?" He asked Samuel.

Samuel shook his head. "No, he had dark brown hair like yours. You're thinking of your brother, Dean."

"Dean." Sam whispered. Just saying that name brought a sense of peace to Sam. As if just uttering the name made him feel safe.

Sam was swept into a memory—He saw himself as a little boy with a chubby small body and tiny hands being lovingly tucked into bed by a older boy—Dean. Dean was not much older than Sam—maybe four or five years because he had to climb onto the bed just to be able to tuck Sam in properly. Sam heard his own childish voice beg for a bedtime story and insisting that he wasn't tired. Dean gently denied all of Sam's requests while picking up a children's book from the bedside table. He snuggled close to Sam and started to read out loud.

Sam came out of the memory, feeling that he wanted to see Dean now- he might not know who Dean was but he felt that he could be trusted. But before he could ask Samuel about where Dean was, a young man came down the stairs towards them.

"Samuel, we have got a sighting." The young man said to Samuel.

Samuel nodded and turned to head up back the stairs, but then he remembered that Sam was still standing there waiting. "Ah, Sam this is Christian. He'll get you settled in okay? I just have to go and deal with this right now." With that said, Samuel turned and headed up the stairs.

"That's the life of a hunter, right?" Christian said to Sam shrugging his shoulders. "Come on, I'll show you where you'll be staying."

As they started to head up the stairs, Sam asked, "Hunting? Aren't there seasons for that kind of thing?"

"Wow, Samuel wasn't kidding when he mentioned that you might not know stuff." Christian replied. "I'm not sure that I should be the one to tell you this, but you come from a family of hunters. We hunt supernatural creatures."

As Christian talked, Sam vaguely recalled a journal filled of entries and pictures of creatures. It was an old and obviously well used journal. A thought occurred to him that the journal seemed to be very familiar and somehow connected to him. When they reached the top of the stairs, Sam could see that the walls were of a rusty brown color and the place had a feeling of being deserted. Whomever he had ended up with, they didn't clean up after themselves. The place felt very alien like it wasn't a home to anyone. Sam walked down the hall behind Christian. They passed one or two rooms which looked as if they were a weird combination between being a bedroom/a library office. Another room looked like a weapon room since it had weapons lying on every surface available and it strongly smelled of gun grease.

Christian stopped at the last door in the hallway. "Here's where you'll stay," he said, stepping back so that Sam could enter the room. It wasn't much—Sam had a bed and a dresser. Turning around to admire the room, Sam smiled at Christian. "It's okay."

Letting out a booming laugh, Christian replied, "It'll have to be! We don't cater to great luxuries in the Compound. Come on—I'll finish showing you around the place."

This place was interesting. Sam thought that whomever he had ended up with, they were very serious about what they did. He didn't know what they wanted with him, but it seemed like they were willing to help—God knew he needed all the help he could get.

Well, at least until he found out more about their intentions and definitely more about himself.


Since the day Sam woke up, the Campbells as a whole were determined to help and bring him up to speed on hunting and his life. He met his other cousins, Mark and Johnny, soon after Christian and Gwen. They were quiet and tended to blend into the background, letting the others take over and work with Sam, who spent his days training and studying.

From the moment he woke up until lunch time (not counting the 30 minute breaks for eating breakfast and lunch), Mark and Johnny would help Christian train him. He was required to do a 10 mile run every single morning and then they would spend the rest of the morning doing various sparring drills. Sam was surprised to find that he was excellent at the drills and that he didn't need much explaining to get things right on the first try. After lunch, Samuel and Gwen would both work on refreshing his memory in terms of doing research and Latin. Gwen was the designated researcher in the compound. She was an excellent researcher, but Sam found that he had quite the knack for it, too. Every other day, Christian was the one who helped him shoot guns as well as coach him in the art of deceiving the civilian population and the local authorities when they were working a case.

Even after a week or so of staying with the Campbells, Sam still felt more than overwhelmed with the onslaught of family relatives. He felt for sure that he had never known so many cousins and relatives in one place. He still didn't know much about himself except for the dreams he had that involved a younger him and an older boy with blond hair and green eyes. Dean.

His dreams were about a childhood—his own, Sam assumed. They involved normal childhood events such as being taught to ride a bike or getting a kiss on whichever body part of his got hurt.

Even without his memories, Sam knew that the memories were unusual not because they were of childhood that he couldn't remember when he was awake, but because of the fact that many of the events involved not one of his parents rather they involved an older boy: his brother as Samuel had informed him—Dean.

This made the dreams much more precious to Sam. His conscious mind couldn't remember who Dean was but apparently his unconscious mind and heart knew him.

In these dreams, Sam felt the safest he had ever felt and knew that he was loved.

There were two dreams that Sam could recall in vivid detail. Both involved him and Dean being alone together in a motel room. The first was when Sam's younger self was about four or five years old. He and a younger Dean were in a motel kitchen and Dean had just served the younger Sam the last bowl of cereal because Sam had asked him for more cereal and that was all they had left. The dream Sam realized that Dean was sad and had offered him the toy from the cereal box.

The second dream was when Sam's dream self was a few years older. It was Christmas and Sam's younger self had just discovered what his family did for a living—they hunted. Not just the usual animal hunting but rather they hunted supernatural beings. After learning this, Sam became disenchanted with his dad who had never been there for him—not like Dean. Therefore, Sam presented his sole present, an Egyptian amulet which he had originally planned to give his dad, to Dean instead. When Dean accepted it and immediately put it on, it made Sam feel really loved and accepted.

Waking up was always a disappointment since he would wake up to the gray walls of the compound and always felt a time of loss and longing as he got out of bed to start the day. Sam wished that he could remember all of the dreams except for the two really vivid dreams that he could recall but the dreams were like lovely hazy memories—he wished that he could grab on to them and keep them. All he could do try and find out more about his immediate family and in particular, Dean. Whenever he thought of Dean, Sam got a weird feeling that something that wasn't right. He didn't know what it was and somehow he knew that he had to keep it to himself. He didn't know exactly why he had to but he knew that he couldn't trust the Campbells despite their claim of being family.

Sam decided that the best thing he could do in regards to finding out about his family was to ask his grandfather about them. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Every time he would bring up the subject of his parents and Dean or his other siblings—since he had no idea if he had one or more—Samuel would clam up and change the subject. It was like he thought getting to know his family would cause Sam harm or something. Sam knew that Samuel and the cousins were aware of his family's whereabouts and just didn't want Sam to know. Sam assumed that they thought that once he knew his family's whereabouts that he would just go to them and leave the Campbells behind. Sam knew that he wouldn't be able to do that very easily-they were family as well. He couldn't leave them. Not when they had helped him so much.

Trying to ask Gwen or any of the guys only produced a stiff, "You should ask Samuel about it."

After a few days of getting nowhere by just asking, Sam decided that he would search for his family himself.

One day, after he had completed his daily Latin session, he decided to use his free time to do some research on his family. He headed towards what was termed the library in the compound. Lots of old books were stored here, waiting for someone to come and browse through them for information. Sam didn't realize it but the trio of computers sitting on a narrow desk with chairs was the newest addition to the library. Samuel and the family found them to be extremely helpful in their search for supernatural information and sightings. It had taken them some time to learn how to use them, preferring at first to use the books they were used to.

So far, it was the younger Campbells, and Sam, who made extensive use of the machines. He couldn't explain why he knew how to use the computers, but as it turned out, he knew a lot about them.

He walked confidently towards the desk, because he knew that all the Campbells were off doing something else, but he didn't have much time. Someone could walk in and stop him, but he didn't care. He needed to do this—just having vague dreams to go on wasn't enough anymore.

He booted up one of the computers and waited impatiently as it started up. A minute later, he was clicking on the Internet and typing his name into the search engine. A page of suggested websites came up.

Sam clicked on one of the links and an article from the 'Lawrence Gazette' came on to the screen. It was dated November 3rd 1983. Since it was from more than twenty years ago, it really wasn't relevant to Sam's research but the names—Sam, John, and Dean—caught his eye. The article snippet described the sad event of the death of a woman named Mary Winchester in a house fire. She was survived by her husband, John and two little boys, Dean, 4 years old, and Sam, 6 months old.

Sam shook his head sadly—what a heartbreaking story. He tried searching for more about it, but besides the first site, there wasn't much about the incident; it was like the earth had swallowed up the family. He tried his luck with the other links offered, and he came across more recent articles involving fugitives from a few years ago. They discussed Dean Winchester, who was wanted for murder and attempted murder in St. Louis, as well as murder and robbing a bank in Milwaukee.

Sam couldn't be sure that this Dean was his brother, even though the description given of Dean in the articles did match what Samuel had told him and from what he had seen in his dreams. But how many Deans were out there that shared the same features and the name Winchester? It was a relatively uncommon surname, but surely there were other Dean Winchesters that weren't related to him?

The last article he found was really interesting. It was a snippet about an explosion in a police station where two fugitives—again, Sam and Dean Winchester—were being kept. All the people inside the station, including the infamous Winchesters, were killed in the explosion. That meant that couldn't have been his Dean, since he was killed alongside his brother, Sam.

How odd was it that there was another Sam Winchester who had a brother also named Dean? He thought to himself. Intrigued by the article, he quickly printed it out along with the other articles he found regarding the Winchesters. They finished without a moment to spare, because as the last document printed and Sam closed the web browser, the door to the library opened and Samuel walked in.

"Oh good, there you are! We were looking for you," Samuel said as he walked up to join Sam at the computer. "What were you looking at?"

"Um, Gwen told me about this new website she found that she thought was a great source for info. I just thought I'd check it out for myself." Sam looked down at the papers in his hand. "Yeah, so… I'm going to go and read through these now." He turned and headed out the door.