A/n: Alright everyone, here it is, my first ever long story! I don't want to bore you, but there are some things I want to make sure I bring your attention. Also, SPOILER ALERT FOR SEASONS 1-5.

1) This is an AU! The boys live normal lives, completely unaware of anything and all things supernatural. Mary didn't go into Sam's nursery the night Azael came for him which means she's alive(which all of that still happens which you all know what that means for Sam and his abilities). However, she was still a hunter back in the day, like in the show, she's retired. The boys are still part of that strong Campbell/Winchester bloodline. John passed away due to natural causes, like "What Is and What Should Never Be." That all being said, and super important to keep in mind as you read, the brothers don't have the same relationship with each other as they do in the show (at least not yet). There are some similarities however with the show as well and some characters we have seen on the show will be popping up throughout. Including ones that have already surprised myself lol.

2) I have up to chapter 10 already done, and I plan to try as hard as I can to post every other Wednesday. Sorry it's not every, but there's a lot going on for me right now. Should anything change, I'll keep you all updated.

3) I'm thinking this will be rated T, but I will let you know if I have to change it.

4) I don't ownSPN or any of its characters.

He's My Brother

Chapter 1

Liz had seen it so many times before. The red swollen teary eyes accompanied by heavy lids. The sound of sniffs every so often followed by an arm or a sleeve that they would wipe across their nose and then return to their lap or cross across their chest, was the only sound in the small room. Some would slouch in their seat, while others sank further down like they were some bored high schooler waiting for class to start. They had their own little gestures they would repeat while they waited anxiously. Most sat with their arms crossed and bounced their knee as a tic of some sort, nerves or boredom, anyone's guess. Others still stared at their hands as they twirled their thumbs together.

The young man who occupied the interrogation room currently, didn't seem any different, with exception that he didn't show any signs of any nervous tics. He simply sat staring at the empty desk with eyes that reminded Liz of her dog back when she had been a puppy and Liz had reprimand her for having chewed up her youngest son's soccer cleats. His cheeks were stained with tears and she could see he was fighting back fresh ones. The young man was sitting at the table with his hands clasped together almost as if in a prayer. He was handsome, early twenties, and tall.

She didn't think the poor young thing was the one responsible, but then, there were some really convincing actors out there. She had learned her lesson years ago. Just because they look innocent and heartbroken, didn't mean they were.

When Liz opened the door to join him, he made an attempt to look up at her. It was as though his head was too heavy to lift completely, but his watery hazel gaze met hers still. She took a seat opposite him and gave a small smile before clearing her throat. The sooner they got this started, the sooner he could hopefully go home, or at least not be at the station.

"My name is Liz Bromman," she introduced herself. She felt that in doing so, she eased the tension. "Now, I'm going to explain the interview process to you. I'm going to start with some simple questions and get some background information, then we will move into the details about the night of November 2nd." The young man flinched slightly at the mention of the date, but nodded his head to show he understood. "I'm not here to judge you and I don't have any authority over what happens. My job is just to talk with you and collect information that's provided to me, as well as analyze it and any evidence. If at any time I ask you something you don't understand, please ask me to clarify. It's also very important that you are truthful with your answers. Do you understand?"

"Yes ma'am," he responded in a small voice with another nod.

"Alright, let's start off with you telling me how to spell your first and last name." Liz had a pad of paper and a pen at the ready as she waited for him to speak.

"S-a-m. W-i-n-c-h-e-s-t-e-r."

"Good. What is your occupation?"

"I'm a full time student at Stanford and work part time at a coffee shop. Wanda Cuppa."

"And what are you studying to be?"

"Law. I want to be a lawyer." Sam's eyes seemed to be focused on Liz the entire time they spoke.

"Where do you take up residence?"

"J-we had an apartment not far from the college."

"How many members in your immediate family?"

"Two, not including me. My mom and my older brother."

Liz scribbled down everything the young man said, trying to keep her face neutral.

"What was your relation to Jessica Lee Moore?"

"Winchester," he corrected her.

No sooner had the words left his mouth, when tears rolled down his already tear stained face.

"Beg your paradon?"

She hated this part. This is where the acting really started and lies rolled off the tongues, or they broke down into tears. Sometimes both. It took a few minutes for him to speak again. Liz got up and grabbed a box of Kleenex, holding it out towards the broken down man sympathetically which he kindly declined, waving a hand and shaking his head.

"It was Jessica Lee Winchester. She was my wife," he explained when he finally spoke again. Liz wished she could stop there and let the poor thing go, but she went on.

"Mr. Winchester, what happened the night Jessica Mo-Winchester, died?"

Finally his hazel hold on Liz faltered and fell to his hands in his lap, his head bowed slightly as yet more tears trickled down his cheeks.

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Two months earlier (Palo Alto, CA)

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Sam closed his eyes and sighed with content as he lay on his and Jessica's bed. Just as he felt himself completely relax, something dripped onto his face. He flinched with surprise, but ignored it. Then another landed on his forehead. Slowly Sam cracked open his eyes and when he did, he wished he hadn't. They grew wide in shock and fear as he stared up at the ceiling where his beloved Jessica was laying. A cut that ran the length of her stomach was an angry red and the expression on her face mirrored his.

"Jess?! NO!"

Sam's eyes flew open and he catapulted himself up from his bed. His face was drenched in sweat as he struggled to calm his breathing.

"Sam? A feminine voice asked to his left. A young blonde woman rose up to match him, firmly cupping his head in her hands and bringing his gaze to meet hers. "What's wrong baby?" Sam looked into his finace's eyes still trying to slow his breathing and swallowed.

"I-nothing," he panted. "Just a bad dream. I'm fine Jess, go back to sleep."

"Again? Do you wanna talk about about it?" She asked. He smiled and placed his hand on hers, rubbing his thumb affectionately on her wrist.

"I'm sure." Jessica nodded and kissed Sam softly on the lips before laying down again. With Sam's breath restored to normal, he lowered himself back down as well. His eyes were fixed on the empty ceiling above him as he lay thinking. The nightmare was one of the worse he had ever had, but what really concerned him was that this hadn't been the first time he had had it. In fact, it wasn't even the second time, it was the third. The first had been the morning of his twenty-second birthday. He had woken up much like he just had, covered in sweat, out of breath, and terrified. The second had been the night after he had proposed. Each time, Jessica had been there to help calm him or at the very least try to sooth him. Reoccurring dreams weren't unheard of, but why did his have to be watching his beloved fiance die in an unnatural way? But then that was just it, it wasn't natural, therefore it shouldn't bother him. People can't be found dead on the ceiling, this wasn't a horror movie, this was reality. Dreams can be as out there as they want because that's all they are, dreams.

Sam suddenly felt something slide onto his chest and rest there. When he looked down he realized it was Jessica's hand. He could feel her shifting in the bed closer to him until her head rested on his shoulder. Sam smiled and gently rested his own hand on hers. A few minutes later, he fell back asleep and this time, he didn't remember what he dreamt about.

A/n: Sorry the first chapter is kinda short.

I hope you enjoyed the start of what will likely be the biggest story I write. It's going to be a journey, but I'm committed to seeing this through and I thank anyone who patiently joins me on this adventure.

Any reviews and/or thoughts are welcomed.

Thank you for reading!