A/N: Hello my dear readers. Are you ready for another journey with the Winchester brothers? This is an AU I have created to go in a different direction than cannon. This AU will span three stories. There will be familiar faces throughout. It will be a roller coaster ride so buckle up and hang on. The journey is about to being. I do like to know your thoughts; reviews would be great. NC

Disclaimer: I do not own SPN and this story is my own creation. Any errors are my own.

Chapter 1

Sam could feel the rage boiling off his father as he shoved his meager belongings into his duffle. He had just had a massive fight with him about leaving for college. He had worked hard in school and won a scholarship to Stanford University in California. Most fathers would be proud of this achievement, but all John could see was he was abandoning his family. He was giving up on their mission to avenge their mother's death.

John was so obsessed with finding the yellow eyed demon that killed Mary, that he never saw how it affected either of his sons. Dean, the oldest, followed in his father's footsteps and was becoming a damn good hunter. It was in his blood and genes. Unlike Sam, who wanted more out of life than hunting. He wanted to have a normal life outside of hunting and had worked hard on achieving that. He was always a good student in school even though they moved around all the time chasing one hunt after another or a lead on the demon. Sam had always made it work somehow. He stayed up late at night doing homework in the bathroom or in the car, wherever he could. All his hard work had paid off in the end, and he wasn't going to pass this once in a lifetime opportunity by.

"I can't believe you're leaving me; you're leaving your brother," John growled at him as he fisted his hands trying to control his temper and hoping by adding Dean into the mix Sam would come to his senses.

Sam bowed his head with his last words and felt the anguish and pain of them. He was leaving Dean and now he wished he had told him about his plans. Maybe he could have convinced Dean to come with him? But he dropped that thought knowing Dean was loyal to their father and wouldn't leave him.

"Can't you be proud of me for once? I tried so hard over the years to make you proud of me, but it was never enough. I never could live up to your expectations!" Sam spouted. "Not many people can get a free ride at a college like Stanford. I worked my ass off getting this scholarship. I'm not giving this up."

"You know you're abandoning your family here Sam," John said anger flashing in his eyes that his youngest would do something like this. "How's going to college going to help us find the demon that killed your mother? Or have you forgot about that?"

"No, I've not Dad. I'm just going to college," Sam tried to explain. "That is your mission, not mine. Hell, I wouldn't even know what Mom looked like if it wasn't for the few photos you have. Neither of you will talk about her. She's a stranger to me since I was so young when she died. I don't have a connection to her like you and Dean. She's gone and she's not coming back, no matter what you do."

John couldn't help himself as he slapped his youngest son's face, already regretting it as he saw the red mark begin to appear, marring his cheek. "Don't talk about your mother like that," he hissed.

Sam looked to his brother who was sitting on his bed remaining silent during the fight and still didn't say anything even after John slapped him. He could see the hurt in his eyes before he looked away and knew it was because he never told him about applying to college. There was a strong bond between them that had been there all their lives. Dean had pretty much raised him when their mother was killed by the demon. He was more of a father to him that their own father had been. His gut clenched knowing how much he had hurt and wounded his brother. "You never listened to me growing up. You never understood that I didn't want to hunt for the rest of my life. I want more, I want to make something of myself. I can still help others, just in a different way," Sam tried to explain.

"If you walk out that door…Don't ever bother coming back," John sneered. "You're not part of this family anymore." He turned his back on his youngest son, not able to look at him anymore.

Sam stiffened with those words, and he couldn't stop his eyes filling with tears. He squared his shoulders and grabbed his duffle and computer bag before heading for the door. He only paused for a moment thinking Dean would say something, but when he didn't; Sam opened the door and left without a backwards glance. If he had looked back, he would have seen the tears that trickled down Dean's face when he got up to follow but stopped at the door. His legs were weak and barely supporting him as he gazed into the darkness watching his brother walk away from them.

John swore loudly before grabbing up a glass and throwing it at the wall, to splinter and fall to the floor. He wiped a hand down his face but didn't allow the tears to fall before snagging a bottle of whiskey and dropping into a chair at the table. He didn't bother with a glass as he downed several large swallows before stopping to get a breath. He never even looked to his eldest as he stumbled to the bathroom to be alone with his grief.

Once the bathroom door closed, Dean leaned back against it as his chest ached because he was holding in his emotions. He pulled a towel down and pressed it to his face to muffle the sobs that came out. Seeing his little brother walk out that door tore a hole in his soul that he didn't think would ever heal. His breathing was coming in short, sharp gasps while he bit down on the towel as he slid down to the floor to sit. Dean wanted to say something. He wanted to tell him not to go or at least to be careful and stay in touch, but none of those words came out. It was like his mind froze and wouldn't cooperate with what he needed to say.

It seemed the past couple of years Sam and their father butted heads over nearly everything. He hated to admit it, but Dean could understand why Sam wanted to leave. His father could be stubborn and unyielding, and he knew that was what pushed Sam away. Sam didn't see the world like he did, or their father's need for revenge that he had been seeking all these years.

After his tears dried, Dean finally got up and went to the sink to wash his face and decide what to do. He wanted to go after his brother, but he felt an obligation to their father too. He knew he was getting drunk in the other room and was probably regretting the words he spewed at Sam. He dried his face and prepared himself to head back into the other room. Dean opened the door and stepped out to find John had finished most of the whiskey that was in the bottle and was slumped in the chair, barely conscious.

"C'mon Dad, let's get you to bed," Dean mumbled moving to help John up and steered him to a bed. He let him drop to the mattress and lifted his legs up as John's head fell to the pillow. "You shouldn't have said that to Sammy. He'll always be my little brother and part of this family." He was too drunk to argue and was almost asleep before Dean got his boots off and tossed a blanket over his body. "Sleep it off."

He left his father passed out in bed and went to the table and poured the last of the whiskey into a cup before downing it in one swallow. He winced as the amber liquid burned down his throat and thought of his brother. Dean wanted to go after him. He wanted to tell him he was proud of him for what he had accomplished with the way they had been raised. Hell, he would have taken him to Stanford, but didn't think Sam would allow it. He was breaking free of their father's obsession and trying to find normal. He would give him some time to settle and if Sam hadn't called him, he would take the first step and try and contact him. Dean wanted to be sure he had what he needed, and things were okay with him. With a heavy heart, Dean shuffled to the other bedroom and stretched out on his bed. He couldn't stop his eyes from wandering to the empty bed and fought the tears that filled his eyes.

spn

Sam waited until he was outside and walking across the parking lot before he let out the sobs he had been holding inside. His eyes blurred and he had to wipe them to see. He was going to head to the bus station and see when the next one heading west would be leaving. Sam had been saving all the money he could over the past few years and hoped he could get a few semesters finished before having to find a part time job. He knew the scholarship wasn't going to pay for everything he would need. He knew he would have to stay in the dorms on campus and he would have meal tickets for food, but there were other things that he would need for classes.

It was dark and the lights from the cars behind him lit his way as he started walking down the sidewalk. His heart was heavy, and he felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind because he wasn't only leaving his father, but he was leaving his big brother. That hurt more than anything John could have said to him and he hoped Dean would forgive him someday for this. Sam pulled his jacket tighter around his body and zipped it against the cool breeze hitting him in the face. He had made his decision and wasn't changing it.

The lights of the bus station loomed ahead of him after thirty minutes of walking. Sam quickened his steps, his eyes focused on the station and not on his surroundings. This was it; he would get a ticket on the first bus heading west and begin a new life without monsters and hunts and crummy, rundown, motel rooms. He could let himself be normal like all the other college students on campus.

Sam walked into the station and checked the schedule before going to the ticket booth to buy a ticket. He was going to have an hour wait before the bus arrived bound for California. There would be plenty of stops along the way, but he could handle that. He had learned patience growing up and to not fret the small things.

The night was filled with sounds of buses coming and going and people milling around waiting. He wandered down to the end of the boardwalk and found a seat away from the crowds. Now that the first step had been taken, Sam felt some relief, but he looked out into the night looking for the lights and listening for that familiar growl of the engine in hopes his brother would come after him; if only to say goodbye. He should have said goodbye at least, but now it was too late.

Sam decided to call Dean once he got to Stanford and registered. He wanted to let him know that he wasn't leaving him and hoped he would visit if he was close. Sam didn't want to lose touch with his brother over this and he hoped Dean felt the same way. He couldn't see a life without his brother in it. He was already missing him and his overbearing big brother ways. He had always looked out for him when they were growing up and kept him safe. Dean was what held their family together and was the mediator between him and their father.

He never saw the van that was driving slowly toward him and stopped at the end of the boardwalk. His senses suddenly began to throw red flags, but before he could turn and defend himself, someone stepped from the van and swung a club to knock Sam out. He was quickly thrown in the van through the side door and it drove off before anyone was the wiser.

The kidnappers quickly rifled through his pockets to remove his cell and any weapons he was carrying. His cell was destroyed, and his hands were zip tied behind his back. Sam's limp body rolled back and forth as the van took the curves heading out of the town. Silence filled the interior of the vehicle, none of the occupants seeing any need for small talk. They didn't want to anger their boss by being late to the rendezvous point. None were given more information than to nab Sam Winchester, and not to hurt him. He was someone their boss needed but none knew the details why and knew better than to question it. The kidnapping went smoother than expected since he was alone and not with his brother or father. They had been prepared to kill both of them to get Sam Winchester, but no blood had to be shed and that was a pity. The kidnappers wouldn't have minded a good fight.