Author's Note: Hi! this is my first Supernatural fanfic so I hope you all enjoy. This takes place in season six before the brothers find out what Cas is up to. To anyone reading my Criminal Minds story... sorry for the long delay. My computer died a day after the last chapter posted and I just got a new one. I haven't forgotten about it though.

Chapter 1: The Adversary

The woman ducked down the dark alley, careful to make sure she was not seen. Any kind of interruption would only delay her and she could not allow that. He would not be happy if she was late and she could still remember what happened to the last demon who had upset him. She had never seen torture like that before or since, which was saying a lot since she had spent quite some time in Hell.

Shaking the images from her head, the woman pulled open an old door that was almost hidden due to poor lighting and excessive graffiti. She stepped through, pulling it shut behind her, and started down the stairs to her left, her high heel boots clicking loudly on the cement steps. At the bottom, she opened a rather rusty fire door, cringing at the loud screeching its hinges made. Then it was down the hall and to the right. Finally she reached the door she needed. She did not enter, though. Entering without permission would be just as bad, if not worse, as tardiness. He knew she was there. All she had to do was wait to be summoned.

Twelve minutes later she heard his voice. "Enter."

She walked into the large room and straight to the center where the one she had come to see stood. "It is all set." She announced, rather pleased that she had good news to deliver.

He spun to face her. His slightly longish hair was perfectly combed and his tailored clothes were immaculate. He could have been considered attractive if his skin wasn't pitch-black and his face not marred by a permanent sneer. She was still unsure what exactly he was, but she knew he was old and very powerful. And her ticket to greatness… if he didn't kill her first. "I do not remember granting you permission to speak, Linda."

Linda knew better than to say that she was sorry. She merely nodded and cast her eyes to the ground. After a moment he spoke again. "You may now beg forgiveness."

"I am not worthy of forgiveness as I have offended you greatly. I do still apologize though for my terrible disrespect."

"Very well, we may move on. I believe you were attempting to inform me that you have gathered and set up all that is necessary for the ritual, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Very well. I have news as well. I have determined the adversary. The one and only human that has a chance to stop me. After reviewing all the texts and torturing several seers, I now know that Dean Winchester is the one."

"Dean Winchester?" Linda gasped. "Oh, crap! He could ruin everything! He's killed so many…"

"I am quite aware of his reputation."

"But what are we gonna do about him? If he interferes it's all over. You even said he has a chance of ruining your plans."

"According to all the prophecies he is the one who can stop this, yes. But that does not mean I will allow it."

"Allow it! No one allows him to do anything. He does what ever he wants. And what he wants is to destroy all of us. And he's damn good at it. And…"

"You forget yourself."

Linda shut her mouth quickly at the quiet warning. She had forgotten. She forgot who she was speaking with and what he would do if he perceived her panicking as insolence.

"That's better. Now do you really believe I would not have a plan? Take this." He handed her a small, but sharp metal rod that looked almost like a knitting needle. There were tiny etchings all over it and the tip was stained with dried blood. "All you need do is stab him with it and he will be a threat no longer."

"It will kill him that easily?"

"No. The prophecy is clear that the adversary must not interfere but that he cannot be killed by myself or my followers."

"Then how…"

"Do not question."

"It will be done." Linda nodded once.

"You are dismissed. Hurry to carry out your mission as it will not be long before it is time."

Without a word, the woman turned and left. She first had to find the Winchesters. It would not be too difficult, what with the contacts she now had since she was working with him. Then came the scary part. Getting close enough to the hunter to stab him.

Two Weeks Later

Dean cursed himself for letting the spirit get so close to him as he felt the back of his head slam into the wall. He slid down to the floor as he heard a shot gun go off to his left. He struggled to his feet, ignoring the dizziness in favor of getting those damn bones burned. And really, what kind of psycho keeps their mother's bones in a trunk in their bedroom. No wonder she couldn't move on. But that was gonna change if he could just get close enough to use his lighter. Suddenly a lamp smacked him in the forehead with enough force to land him back on the ground. Now he felt blood trickling down both the front and back of his head. "That's it! That bitch is gonna burn." Not even bothering to get up, Dean crawled across the floor to the old, slightly moldy trunk that contained the already salted and fuel covered bones and lit his lighter. The injured hunter tossed it in, listening with a sense of complete satisfaction as the spirit roared in protest. Then it was silent.

"Dude, that sucked." Dean stood up, pointedly ignoring the helping hand his brother had extended.

"You're just pissed that she got the jump on you."

"Damn right I am! That bitch was ninety-eight when she died. Old, dead chicks have no right moving that fast. She should be using a ghost walker or some crap like that. Not moving faster than a freakin' bullet."

"Isn't it 'faster than a speeding bullet'?" Sam asked, looking far too smug for Dean's peace of mind.

"Whatever." He grumbled. His head was spinning far too much to keep any kind of intelligent banter going. "Grab the stuff and let's go."

Without waiting for a response, the older brother walked out of the room, leaving the other hunter to pack up their supplies. He stormed through the kitchen and out the door, then walked up the short front path. When Dean reached the gate, he stopped to unlatch it, although he was almost certain he'd left it open when they'd entered not that long ago. But hey, he'd gotten his head bashed in pretty good so maybe his brain got a little scrambled. It seemed very unlikely that anyone would go to the house of a recently deceased, mommy-obsessed jerk and close the gate at one in the freakin' morning.

As his fingers worked the rusty latch, a woman stepped out from behind the too high bushes that lined the sidewalk and jabbed a knitting needle into the back of his hand.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean pulled his hand back and glared at the woman. She looked to be about thirty or so, with long brown hair and too much make-up. Oh, and her eyes were black. The hunter looked down at his hand. It hurt like hell, but the damage didn't seem bad. He glared at the demon. "Dude, really? That's the best you got? Stab my hand with a crappy craft item. Am I supposed to be trembling in fear now or something? Cause I gotta tell you that…" he was cut off by an awful burning sensation in his hand. He glanced back down at his injury to see a soft glow start from the wound and work its way through his hand and up his arm. As the light traveled over his entire body he screamed in sheer agony and everything went dark.

Author's note part two: Sorry it's so short but this is just to get the story started. Besides, it seemed like a good place to stop. Please review so I know if it's any good and if I should continue. I will respond to all comments or questions.