diclaimor: I'm pretty sure I've said no more times than there is languages in the world…

A/N: I'm going to pretend you're all applauding me right now, and give you a moment… thank you… thank you… thank you…
Haha, okay- I'm back! Obviously. Anyways, I decided I was bored one day and wanted to start a new chapter story. Yes, I'm still writing one shots, and actually could probably post one tonight but I am far too tired and lazy to, haha. There are a few… shall we say 'warnings' for this story. First one is that it's AU… alternate universe. At least I think it is. For one of the first times I'm writing a story in which I have no idea what the ending is going to be like, so knowing my twisting a turning ways it could turn out completely ass backwards than the way it's beginning! The second warning is that it may be slow to update. Not out of lack of writing it, more for lack of internet access. I will continue to write on this story, though it will probably only be updated every week or two. That's not to say if I get
amazing reviews (hint, hint) I won't make an effort to update anyways.
So yes- here is a new chapter story. In short, it is a story idea that has been done by other authors (though not amazing ME), where in Sam is taken as a young kid, and then turns up many years later. Who, what, where, when and why all ensue… haha- enjoy!

My Name is Sam Winchester

Dean sat on a small stool with a beer in one hand a worn picture in the other. He always avoided looking at the picture as long as possible; this time being no different as he let his eyes wander to the opened hood of his precious Impala. He had been hearing a bizarre rattling noise whenever he started up the car, and had decided to check it out. Next his eyes flickered to the darkening sky. A storm was coming in, and Dean knew he had at most a half hour to finish off the car, though also knew it would only take him five minutes at most.

Realizing his surrounding on a deserted back road were far from distracting Dean finally looked down at the picture. He remembered the moment it was taken like it had happened that morning, though it was fifteen years ago.

John Winchester loved his children dearly; they meant more to him than anything in the world. Though he could count on one hand how many times he had sat his boys down to take their picture. Aside from school photos, there was no real evidence of their growing, which was something that grew to be John's greatest regret. It was on a crisp autumn morning, however, that John decided to take Dean and Sam's picture…

"Daaad," ten year old Dean rolled his eyes and looked exasperated at John, "Why are you take'n a picture?"

"To annoy you," John smirked as he stared dumbfounded at the camera in his hand for a moment before turning behind him, "Bobby, how the hell do you turn this damn thing on?"

Bobby laughed and took a step forward, "The switch there turns it on, then point and shoot…" a small, subtle snicker escaped one Bobby Singer, "I assume you know how to do that?"


"Daddy, I'm gonna be laaate!"

The last whine of protest came from John's youngest, and at that he looked up, "Sammy, don't worry. You won't be late. And Dean, hold your horses. The longer you complain, the longer this is going to take."

"Sorry Dad," the brother's simultaneous reply was followed by sudden silence.

John knew he should savor the moment, and did so as he looked at his boys. Five year old Sam stood in new jeans and red jacket. His hair; for the first time in recent memory, was brushed, and he had a brand new book bag on his back filled with crayons and scribblers. It was Sam Winchester's first day of kindergarten, and he couldn't haven been more excited than if he had been told he was going to Disneyland. Thanks to recent sporadic moving, John wasn't able to enroll Sam until late October, and so it had been a long time coming for them. Dean, on the other hand, wasn't as enthusiastic. He, as well, wore new clothing, though added the 'cool' touch by putting on patches onto his backpack, and 'accidentally' ripping a hole in the knee of the jeans. Grade five just didn't seem to have the same excitement level as kindergarten. Currently the two Winchester brother's stood in front of the Impala which sat outside of the school.

"Alright, first," John paused with the camera in his hand, knowing both boys would run off the second he clicked the shutter, "Dean, keep an eye out for your brother."

"I will Dad."

"You both have a lunch so will be staying at the school all day, but after school I'll meet you guys here. Sammy, Dean will pick you up in your classroom after school, so just wait for him."

"I will Dad."

"And Sammy, do you know what to say when you meet your new teacher?"

This question got a proud smile out of the youngest, "My name is Sam Winchester."

"Perfect," satisfied, John lifted up the camera, "Alright guys. Pretend that you like each other."

The button was pressed as Dean had his arm swung around Sam's shoulder; a bored and forced smile plastered on his face. Sam was the opposite as he stood there in bubbled excitement; his smile radiating out even fifteen years later…

Dean slammed the empty beer bottle down on the stool as he stood up, "Damn it Sammy… what the hell happened to you?"

It was a question that had slowly changed throughout the years, and Dean hated that. At first it was 'Where are you?', then it changed to 'Are you alive?', and then finally it was summed up as simply 'What happened to you?'. It all began a week and two days after the picture was taken. Dean had gone to pick up Sam from his kindergarten class, and he wasn't there. Outraged, Dean asked where he went, and in puzzlement one Mrs. Duffle explained that Dean himself had come and pick him up five minutes earlier.

It was five minutes later that John was in the school…

"What do you mean Dean picked him up!" John's eyes were wide, and Mrs. Duffle jumped at his booming voice.

"He-he," she swallowed hard, glad now that the rest of the students had left the classroom, "Dean, I mean… came and got him about ten minutes ago."

"I didn-" Dean started, but was quickly interrupted by his Dad.

"How in the hell could Dean have come five minutes before he did?" John was shaking with anger, "He was in class himself!"

"I-" a silent tear crept down Mrs. Duffle's face, "…I don't know."

"I want to know where the hell my son is!" John burst.

"Maybe he realized it wasn't really Dean, and walked home?" Mrs. Duffle's eyes widened in hope, "Have you tried calling your house?"

"He's five years old!" John had to stop himself from violently shaking the teacher, "He's not allowed to cross the street by himself, never mind walk two miles home! He knows better."

"Dad…" Dean grabbed his Dad's arm, "Dad, maybe he was…"

John turned to his eldest, "I know…"

Dean signed and closed the hood to his car. The rattle sound would be gone, he knew, though he wished it had been more difficult to fix. Any excuse for him to delay getting to Rivers, Nebraska was a good one as the hunter knew that his Dad would be waiting for him there. John had called him two days earlier and said that there was a case in the remote farming town and that he needed help with it.

"Bull Dad," Dean turned onto the desolate highway just as fat raindrops began to splat onto his windshield, "The only reason you want me there is because of Sam."

In the years that passed after Sam's disappearance, the two remaining Winchester's stopped being father and son, and became hunters. Before the fateful day John would hunt evil, and would train Dean to do the same, however he also concentrated on making life as normal as possible for his sons. He sheltered Sam completely from the world of evil, and he made sure Dean went to school like a normal child, and would have fun with the other kids his age. However after November 2, 1987, everything changed. Dean was pulled out of school permanently, John hunted relentlessly for whatever it was that had taken Sam, and any paternal relationship John had with Dean was substituted by isolated anger.

Dean knew it was his fault that Sam was taken. When his little brother wasn't with their Dad, Dean was responsible for him. John wasn't shy about letting Dean know this, though seemed to flip back and forth between anger at Dean, and anger at himself. What time wasn't spent drinking and yelling during Dean's childhood was spent hunting for the piece of evil that destroyed what was already a broken family. By the time Dean turned sixteen, he got to the point where he had to leave, and did so the night after he was given the Impala. For three years he only kept in contact with Bobby until it was relayed to him that John Winchester had changed.

"Dean, he's not like he used to be," Bobby insisted on the phone.

"Like hell," nineteen year old Dean grumbled.

Bobby sighed, "He has. He stopped drinking, and he's come to realize that what happened is nobodies fault but the God damn piece of evil. And he thinks he has a lead on it Dean. He wants you to-"

"If he wants me to do anything, why doesn't he call me?" Dean interrupted; his voice filled with anger and hurt.

"Because of your attitude boy!" Bobby burst exasperated, "John may have gone off on a drunken stupor the past nine years, but you haven't exactly been a little flower girl yourself! Now why don't you two stop being such stubborn asses and put your heads together on this? Your Dad is making an effort and I think you should too."

Dean paused for a long moment before reluctantly speaking, "Fine. Where's he at?"

A smile almost broke Dean's lips as he drove to the memory. He wasn't aware of the date that year when he first saw John; the big lead he had being nothing but false hope. Dean had gone back on the road by himself soon after, and though he kept in contact with his Dad, he only ever saw him at that one time each year.

"November 2nd," Dean mused softly, the sign for Rivers reading a mere one hundred miles ahead of him.

Each year for seven years now John Winchester would beckon Dean from wherever he was on November 2nd. He would use some sort of feeble excuse to get his son to come; whether that he had an unsolvable case, a lead on the infamous yellow eyed demon, a clue to Sam's disappearance, or, Dean's personal favorite, a really bad cold. It only took two years for Dean to realize that John simply just wanted to see him, and just as long for Dean to realize it was mutual. It made it no easier, however, as each time the two got together the painful memories of Sam would come to play; something that Dean avoided the other 364 days of the year.

"One day," Dean told himself, "I'm going to stay for one day, then get back to Colorado."

The promise was made seemingly seconds before his phone rang from beside him. A quick glance down showed it being none other than John Winchester.

"Dad," Dean cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder.

"Dean, where are you?" John's voice crackled through the phone.

"About an hour out of Rivers, why?"

"I'm running late," John spoke, "But I'll meet you at Holland Hotel some time this evening. Is that okay?"

Dean sighed; so much for only one day, "Yeah Dad, I'll be there."

The rest of the trip into Rivers was accompanied by loud blasting of ACDC and Black Sabbath, and by the time Dean had checked into the hotel and wandered to the local bar his mood had lifted significantly. A small town equaled to small bar, though it held a fair amount of people as Dean walked over to the counter.

"Beer, please," Dean placed down his money and surveyed the people around him.

The ratio of cowboy hat wearing people to not was disturbing to Dean, and he frowned slightly as he took a long swig of his beer. All women in the place would need at least three beer before they became appeasing and Dean was just trying to mentally figure out if it was worth it when a voice spoke up behind him.

"Slim pickings huh?"

Dean turned around and smirked at the dark haired man, "Yeah. Probably for the best though. I'm thinking half these people are related."

The man laughed while drinking his own beer, "Trust me. I've seen worse."

Dean echoed the laugh, "Yeah, me too. You around from around here…"

"Sam," the man filled in, "My name is Sam Winchester."

to be continued…

A/N: There ya are! I hope you enjoyed it, and I really hope you'll review to let me know if you did… or didn't. Either way, lemme know!