Dean went missing when he was eight years old. John raised Sam alone, both believing dean dead. Now, 18 years later, a new hunter with the name Dean Smith meets John and Sam, he too with a mission to kill the yellow eyed demon.

Then:

In the year of '87 John took Sam and Dean to Georgia for a hunt. It was meant to be a standard salt and burn, estimated to take no more than a couple days. John knew exactly where the ghost was – in Atkinson County- and he had a rough idea of who the ghost was. So, John rented a motel room for a week, a small run-down room with two beds – one for him, one for the boys. As usual, he left Dean with a shotgun, and the mantra of "shoot first, ask questions later" and "protect Sammy." Dean, the ever obedient and vigilant son would look at John with a raised eyebrow, silently communicating his thoughts: 'of course', 'when have I ever not looked after Sammy', 'yes sir'. So, john left, a small drive into town to assume his role of FBI Agent and question the residents. It should've been a standard hunt. It wasn't.

When john had gone to protect the residents from a tormenting ghost, his sons were in need of protection. With the money john had left, dean and Sam had gone shopping. They had, by Sam's words, left the shopping centre when a bunch of older boys had eyed up their groceries with a gleeful look. The four large boys jumped on Sam' and dean. With their quick reflexes, dean begun to kick and fight, pushing the boys off. He threw the bag to Sam, with the words "Go Sammy! Now! Get to our room, I'll follow you!" Now Sam, not always obedient, in this instance did everything dean said. He trusted dean. So, Sam ran as fast as his young legs would let him, all the way to the motel room, and locked himself in. there he sat, waiting for dean. Dean never came back.

When john arrived, he entered the room to see Sam curled in a ball, tears streaming down his little face.

"Sam! Sammy! What's wrong?" he yelled, dropping to his knees and shaking Sam's little frame.

"D-D-DEAN!" Sammy wailed, looking up at john with big weeping eyes. Then john froze. Dean. Where was dean?

"Sammy, where's your brother? Where's dean? Where's my son?" his voice broke, heart frozen at the thought of no dean.

"Dean told me- told me to come here! Some boys attacked him!" he cried, his sobs growing louder as he spoke.

"where?!" John yelled. "where is he Sammy?"

"I don't know!" Sam cried. John took slow breaths, trying to calm his anger and thumping heart.

"where was he last Sammy?" he asked in a gentler tone, taking his son in his arms.

"the- the supermarket. I saw him there"

"when Sammy? When? How long ago?"

"I- I don't know. It was still bright out." Johns heart sank. It was near eleven in the night, and dean had gone missing hours ago? Hours. His son could be – no. no, dean was strong. He wouldn't.

"c'mon! Get up Sammy, we're going to find him! C'mon!" he yelled, dragging Sam up. They both left the motel in a rush, jumping in the beloved '67 Chevy impala to drive to the last place dean was seen. When they reached the alley way where Sam last saw Dean, John was stunned. There was no sign of Dean, but there was a hell of a lot of blood on the floor. In the dark of the night, the alleyway was menacing and cold. The cement floor gleamed with dean's blood in the moonlight, looking almost black and sinister. John fell to his knees, gently touching the liquid substance with his fingers. Lifting it up to the sky, his body trembled. Was this all that was left of his son?

A week later, only two Winchesters left the state of Georgia – john the father, and Sam the son. Dean, the obedient son, the surrogate father to Sam, the protector and shield, was gone. After hours of searching, and a thorough enquiry of the boys who last saw Sam, nothing concludable was reached. It seemed dean fought the boys and lost. He was left knocked out on the cold hard cement floor in the alleyway, body smeared in blood. The boys knew for certain that Dean's bones were broken, that his head hit the hard brick wall before slumping to the ground. They did not know what happened to him after – only that he was left alone in that alleyway. The blood trails were no use - a few droplets of blood left the alleyway, around the corner to the carpark. It was there, they stopped immediately. The police concluded that dean was taken in a car – if he had continued walking, there would certainly be a trail to follow. And so, dean was deemed dead – after days of searching, nothing was found.

And so, john and Sam left, never again the Same after that. For years, they never again spoke the name 'Dean', never mentioned him in passing, and tried their best not to mention him in their thoughts. John was plagued with guilt, if he had been a better father, the father Mary expected him to be, dean would not be gone. Dean would never have to raise Sammy on his own, go grocery shopping at eight years old. With that though tormenting him, john vowed to be a better father. This was a vow he stayed to: he took Sam to a school, let him stay there permanently, taught Sam all he knew about hunting, and especially, protection. He spoke to Sam daily, never left him alone on a hunt – he always left him at pastor Jim's, Ellen's, or bobby's. Sam was raised to be the best hunter, a lifestyle he couldn't give up on. Any dreams he had of going to college were destroyed with the loss of dean. This was his life now.

As for dean?

Dean awoke in a bright hospital room, his body immobilised in pain. A doctor, a kind figure entered the room.

"hey there son, how we feeling?"

"like crap" he confessed groggily, aware of the throbbing pain in his ribs and his leg- which was placed in a cast.

"that's to be expected. Broken rib, broken leg, fractured arm, hit to the head" the man read off a chart, his blue eyes flickering up to dean's. "so, I just have a few questions if you feel up to it?"

"sure, thing doc"

"great. Now, what's your name?"

"Dean"

"Dean what?". Dean froze. Dean what? What was his name?

"I- I don't know. Dean…I don't know. I can't remember" the doctor stiffened slightly at that, taking out a pen and writing down on the chart he was holding.

"Do you know the year? The president? When you were born? What state you're in? anything we can use to identify you?" the doctor asked, kneeling slightly as to be more approachable.

"um…1987? Bill Clinton, the douchebag. I was born in 1979, January something. I think we're in Georgia. I think I have – a brother? I don't- I can't remember his name though"

"Okay Dean. I'll try and sort this out, you relax now." The doctor rose, patting dean slightly on his arm. He walked towards the door.

"hey uh doc?" dean called out.

"yes dean?"

"I never got your name"

"It's Mike. Mike smith"

"thanks doc"

Dean was pronounced an amnesiac by the doctors. As dean was unable to give a form of identification, the state could not find his family. After questioning the people who brought him in – a Mr and Mrs Jacobson, it was revealed that they didn't know dean was in their truck. He apparently climbed in the back of their truck, and passed out there. He was only found when they stopped to refuel, and from there they took him to the hospital. Because of this discrepancy, the authorities were unable to find where dean was initially hurt, and therefore had even more difficulties in locating dean's family.

Dean was left in the hospital for the two months it took his body to heal. He was meant to go into care until his family could be found, or he was adopted. But before he could be placed there, Doctor Mike Smith volunteered himself to adopt dean, having built a rapport and relationship with the young dean in the time he was put in hospital.

And so, dean was raised in the Smith household with Mike Smith, his wife Lucinda Smith, and their five-month-old son Joseph Smith. That became Dean's home. And for the next seven years, until Dean was fifteen, he lived a pretty normal life until he encountered his seemingly first encounter with the supernatural.