AN- Good day, my noble comrades. Here you have it- my first Teenchesters story. Sam is 14 and Dean is 18. John is…I really don't know. And I don't own Supernatural. I want to. (Hello, nice to meet you Mr. Kripke….)

Chapter-1

Genesis 4: 8-11 "And Cain talked with Abel his brother: and it came to pass, when they were in the field, that Cain rose up against Abel his brother, and slew him. And the Lord said unto Cain, 'Where is Abel thy brother?' And he said, 'I know not: Am I my brother's keeper?' And he said, 'What hast thou done? The voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground.And now art thou cursed from the earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy hand;"

And so it was destined, that as it began, so it shall end- a brother betrayed his other, fighting one another, till death reaped their souls. Fall when they shall, the world will with them.

It was dark and there were no lights, save the headlights of the black '67 Impala cruising through the deserted highway. It was November and there was an unnatural chill outside. Inside the car, at the back, sat Sam Winchester, his face pressed against the cold window, his floppy brown bangs framing the world as he saw it through his green eyes. John was driving and Dean was asleep in the passenger seat. There was a kind of serene silence broken only by the car's powerful engine purring and the rattling of the Lego block Dean had jammed into one of the heating vents. Neither John nor his youngest wanted to disturb that.

The meagre family of three was on its way Vioux Falls, South Dakota, to Bobby Singer's place. Once there, if all went according to plan, Sam and Dean would stay there for a week or two while John and Bobby would go to a couple of nearby towns to check a sudden increase in werewolf attacks.

Sam's breath, despite the best efforts of the heater, condensed on the window forming a mist. With his index finger he drew a random symbol. He didn't know what it was, it was just something that had been haunting his dreams for the past month. He looked at it again. It was nothing he'd seen before. He was too scared ask his father if he had seen it before. He knew Dean would laugh at him if he asked him. So he just stared at it; and through the translucent mist, at the world outside.

The stars were all out tonight but the moon had denied to show its face. The symbol which Sam had drawn was slowly fading into oblivion just as Sam was falling into the comforting arms of sleep.

As Sam lay asleep, unknown to him, angels of the highest ranks in Host of Heaven watched. He would be perfect. So innocent, so clueless, yet he held so much power.

"You know, he will be wanted by the other side too, Zachariah."

"Ah, yes, I'm well aware of that Nazriel," replied the angel to his subordinate. Zachariah's vessel was a man in his mid-thirties. He was, as expected, wearing a black suit. He was of a medium build with crew cut black hair. There was a three-day-old stubble on his chin. Nazriel, on the other hand, was 'occupying' a young woman. She had sleek red hair that fell till her shoulders like a sheet. She too was dressed in the usual black, which stood in stark contrast with her ivory skin.

"Do you have a plan? To secure the vessel," asked Nazriel.

"I have planned it all out. You'll see my plan unfold beautifully."

"And the demons? How can you know if they come with a plan of their own? What if they're already carrying it out?"

"Are you questioning my abilities?" asked Zachariah in a menacing tone. "Have you no faith in me?"

Nazriel did not like being spoken to like that. He was the head of the cherubs. Not the birthday-suit monkeys flying around making couples, not the pudgy little children with hearts and arrows (who are actually a different class known as Putti). He was the head of them all, all the four winged angels, the whole of the cherubim.

Zachariah, Balthazar and their brothers were of the Onaphim. They were headed by Zachariah himself and were often depicted as burning wheels. Castiel, Uriel, Shamziel, Abdiel and all of that kind were Seraphs. All the 'els'. The Seraphim had six wings, they were the warriors. They were headed by the Arch Angels themselves, proud and fierce, religion and lore painting terrifying images of them. But Nazriel saw them as plain cocky. They got all the glory, while he and his kind, through the years, got pushed aside to mushy little plump mosaics that 'spread the love'. He was angry right now. And he had a point. The demons were cunning. They never played fair. For all Zachariah knew, which was a lot, they could have already pulled off something sordid yet ingenious, securing Sam Winchester for the Devil.

And they had indeed. While the angels began making plans to secure Michael's vessel for the big showdown, the demons were one step ahead. They were, for the past thirteen and a half years. When the child was only six months old, Azazel himself had poisoned him, tainted him with his unholy blood.

Canyon Pass, Texas.

The horses were restless. In the middle of the night they had all awoken, God knew why, and started neighing and shuffling about. The stableboy, who wasn't exactly a boy, but a rather a man of twenty eight years, stepped out of his tiny room and headed towards the horses. He noticed that all the twelve horses were outside the stable. He muttered something unintelligible, took a deep breath and started comforting the horses. Once he had them calmed down, but still watchful, he starting leading each resisting horse back into its place. They horses were all scared of something, but the stableboy saw nothing around, so he just led them in. Each horse took ten minutes. By the time he reached the eleventh horse, all his sleep was gone.

Singing El Diablo loud enough for only himself and the last horse, he led it to its place. Still singing, he locked up all the horses and was about to leave. He gave one last look at all the horses, wondering how they'd managed to get out, and headed back to his room.

Just then he heard something and turned around. The hair at the back of his neck was standing up. Suddenly, with an unnatural piercing sound, something black and viscous found its way down his throat. The stableboy thought he was dying and screamed out till he could taste coppery blood in his mouth. But still the black smoke, which smelt of acrid sulphur, had gotten into him.

The horses, all awake and in chaos, saw the horrified eyes of the stableboy. An instant later, they were no longer so. They were taking in what was around them and the stableboy was smiling with contentment. He continued singing El Diablo, louder and more out of tune this time and turned his fingers. At the same instant, all the horses died. Everything was suddenly quite now. The silence was intimidating, interrupted only by the tone-deaf singing, which rang out in the night, amplified by the nothingness of the moonless night.

AN-1. No animals were harmed in the making of this chapter (except maybe me, I don't think my fingers will be the same because I typed and re-typed the beginning quite a few times)

2. Sorry for the lack of the standard amounts of Sam and Dean. I promise there will be more in the coming chapters.

3. If you think this chapter it too short, then too bad because all my chapters will be about zis long.

4. I know the show doesn't classify angels, but I did. If you want to see what a seraph looks like, check my profile picture. There are supposedly 15 classes of angels. For more info, check Wikipedia (what, did you think I'd give a link to a very informative website on lore?)

TBC

R&R

psychoticpsychic