A/N: This is my first fanfic, so I hope you'll bear with me.

This will be a creature!Sam fic, probably a wingfic

The pairing in this story is still undetermined; it may eventually have a proper pairing, but for now it will remain gen.

This story is set after many events canon is the show, but with one major difference: Sam will not have been present in the referenced events from the show or the Winchester's lives.

Special thanks to the one who gives me advice and inspiration- thanks so much for all your support, you know who you are!

I have no beta, all mistakes are my own


Warnings: This story is rated T due to a smattering of strong language and bit of violence. Possible trigger warnings due to references to past torture and the after effects of the aforementioned.

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, nor am I making a profit from any of this. Hats off to Kripke and crew for giving us such a fantastic sandbox to fool around in.

~This will contain many references to Biblical events, particularly from the Old Testament. I have taken a heap of creative liberties and twisted things around to serve the story. This was not meant to be a tampering or desecration of scripture, simply as a backbone for some elements in my writing.


After the world's near-miss with the apocalypse, the supernatural has been publicly recognized, and hunting is now considered a legal profession. While on a hunt at the request of Castiel, Dean discovers something thought to have been hunted to extinction in the days of the Old Testament.


Prologue:

23 days, 12 hours. That was roughly how long it had been since Dean's last hunt. After day eight, he had taken to sleeping in the back seat of the impala; it may not be overly comfortable, but it was cheap. With hunts running low the past few months, he couldn't really afford much hotel time. Even being one of the best in the hunting network, Dean was still having a hard time. Usually the Administration or one of his contacts would have set him up with a gig by now, but there weren't many monsters to be heard of at this point.

During the time before he began hunting alone, his father had warned him multiple times about the fluctuations in the business. Sometimes, usually only once a decade or so, monsters would become more active, and provide a sudden influx of hunts. No one was sure why this cycle happened, they had begun around a hundred years ago; but the need for good hunters caused a welcome surge in business. However, after all those jobs were over and the monster population was beaten back, there was a period of stagnation.

For some reason, after these "bubbles" occurred, it was as if most of the supernatural entities left went into hiding. The lack of jobs made it difficult for many hunters to keep themselves afloat, and every time it happened a handful of Dean's fellow hunters would drop off the map. Some of the few names to disappear after the last fluctuation were people he recognized as contacts of his dad's.

The last time Dean had heard from his father, John had been closing in on the demon responsible for Mary Winchester's death. John Winchester didn't make it out of that confrontation, but the demon sure hadn't either. That had been nearly 4 years ago; he had time to adjust, but that road of thinking was still something of an open wound.

Now, Dean was 27 years old, on his own, with a long list of contacts and a very impressive résumé for a hunter his age. He ran a hand down his face, sighed, and sat up from his cramped position on the Impala's back seat. Opening the door of the sleek black classic, he got out and leaned against her side.

"Just you and me Baby," he muttered, stretching his neck, " just like always."


Several hundred miles of uneventful blacktop later, his phone rang.

"You got a minute?"

He immediately recognized the gruff voice on the other end of the call. "Bobby? Didn't expect to hear from you this soon."

"Yeah,well, I found you a gig."

"Really?" He asked, interested. Anything to get him out of bumfuck nowhere Wyoming would be fine by him.

Dean heard a huff on the other end of the line. "Would I be callin' you if I didn't?"

He grunted at that, adjusting his grip on the Impala's steering wheel. "So what's the job?"

"It wouldn't hurt to make contact other than gettin' jobs you know," Bobby groused, words running over Dean's question. " I don't think it'd kill you to check in every now and again."

Dean opened his mouth to reply with his usual excuses, but the older hunter just talked over him.

"Anyways, Cas showed up yesterday, said some important demon is stirring up the water, and he wants you to help him look into it."

Dean raised an eyebrow. Cas usually came straight to him with jobs. But then again, with the sigils on his ribs, angels couldn't find him without some serious overtime. Maybe the guy figured he needed whatever it was he needed sooner than later. "Cas showed up at your place? Did he forget how to use his cell phone?"

"He said this thing, whatever it is, is big. Told me he thought the demons may have had somebody watching him, and something about phones not being secure enough."

Dean responded with a sarcastic,"Aren't we using phones now?"

He could practically hear Bobby's eye roll.

"Yeah, well, I don't exactly have any other method of gettin' to ya, so I figured I'd just tell you something was up. So now that that information is passed, where the hell are you anyways?"

Glancing down the road for any signs, Dean took a moment to reply. "Somewhere in Wyoming. I think I'm a couple hours out of Casper. I could be at your place in maybe two days. Tomorrow night if I don't follow all the signs."

An answering grunt and a rough reminder to,"Haul ass," was all he got before the line went dead. Dean's mouth twitched upwards in a small smile as he tossed his phone into the passenger seat, settling in for another long day of driving.


Pulling into the salvage yard 48 hours later, Dean dragged himself out of the Impala and worked his stiff muscles. After grabbing his bag from the trunk, he strode to the porch and found Bobby waiting for him. Recognizing the small flask the older man held out, Dean immediately took it and swallowed a mouthful of holy water.

"Really Bobby," He said grouchily,"We still doin' this?" Despite his grumbling, he also took the small silver knife offered, making a small cut on the inside of his forearm. "We done with the formalities now?"

The older hunter adjusted his faded cap, a small,wry smile marking his weathered face. " 'Bout time you got your ass back here," he grumbled rather fondly, stepping aside and waving Dean into the house, "What took you so damn long?"

Dean laughed and shuffled his way inside. " It's nice to know you missed me."


"I would've thought Cas would be here by now,"Bobby muttered, appearing in the study with a cup of coffee in hand, "Hope he hasn't run into any problems."

Dean eyed the coffee, looking up from the leather-bound text he was going through as he lounged on the couch." Well, I've done the whole praying gig already, so other than actually doing a summons, which I don't think he'd appreciate, I think we're just gonna have to wait a bit for him to get his feathered ass down here...Oh, thanks." He took the mug Bobby held out to him with a nod. "I'll probably be needing this."

A snort came from the older man. "When do you ever not need it?"

"Very funny." Dean's eyes drifted back to the worn pages in front of him, and he heard Bobby begin rummaging around on his desk.

"Did Cas give you any information other than a demon getting rowdy?" he asked. "Any specifics? I think it would be helpful to actually know what we're dealing with, I mean-"

"Dean."

Both hunters turned around abruptly at the new voice.

"Cas," Dean greeted, " 'bout time you showed up."


Much of whether or not I will continue posting chapters of this story will be decided by feedback: I will definitely be posting several more chapters, and from there on we'll see how it goes. All feedback is appreciated, and I hope you'll drop me a line about how I'm doing.

~Thank you!~