A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first Supernatural fic, and it's completely unbeta'd, so go easy on me! If you see any glaring mistakes (be they grammatical or plot-based), feel free to drop me a review! This prologue is pretty short, but I wanted to post a little something to gauge interest. So let me know what you think! Thanks for reading! Xx

Sam Campbell pulled into the motel parking lot, flicking off the radio as he got out of his car. He rolled his shoulders, forcing the bunched muscles to shift and relax.

Sam was a hunter, one in a long line. The Campbell family was one of the oldest hunting families in America. They were the only family to survive the Croatoan blight in Roanoke. After barely making it out, they laid low, working with a small tribe of Native Americans that had been haunted by a vengeful spirit to fight ghosts and ward off demons. The tribes, happy to share their knowledge with the family, taught them a wealth of spells, concoctions, and lore. They taught the Campbells to hunt wendigos and lake monsters, as well as the deer and fish they would need to survive. They taught them which berries were poison and which were not. They taught them to survive.

Legend says that Wilhelmina Campbell fell in love with a Secotan chieftain, and birthed a son unlike any other. He was gifted with the sword, deadly with the bow, and brutal with the spear. He could recall lore he had heard in his youth, and he knew how to kill any creature that dared cross his path. He was, legend says, the best hunter that had ever lived, and from his seed descended every great hunter America had ever seen.

Sam doubted any of this was actually true, but the Campbells were a proud people that liked to believe that vanquishing evil was as much in their blood as in their hearts. And, hell, as long as it involved ganking an evil sonova bitch, Sam didn't much care.

Despite being "retired," Samuel Campbell, his father (and yes, they did have the same name. Did he mention that Campbells were proud?), had taught Sam everything he knew, from how to prepare a Djinn antidote to how to recognize and defeat at Rakshasa. Samuel had made it his job to prepare Sam for any and every hunt.

This hunt had been messy. Witches always were. This particular coven had been hexing men that cheated on their wives.

That reminded Sam, he had a "follow-up appointment" with one of the wives tomorrow. He smirked as he unlocked his motel room. Mrs. Evans was thrilled to see her husband go, a fact that she made sure to enthuse as she typed her number into Sam's phone. At least one good thing would come from this case.

Sam was still thinking about Mrs. Evans and her rather ample assets as he walked into his room. The buxom brunette quickly left his thoughts, however, when he saw the woman standing in his room.

Make that witch, Sam noted, as she began to chant.

"Semper ille maledictus, et qui condemnat justum, qui discipulos. Usque ad amorem perfidiae agnoscit esse peccatum mortale, ita damnabitur. Qui amat condemnandi nisi omnino remanebit, redimeret, ut illa virtus sit solum in anima."

Suddenly, his entire body began to itch. Actually, make that burn. "Who are youuu," Sam cried. He saw the witch smirk before the pain became too much, and the world faded to black.