AN:

Phew! The hardest part of this was shortening the summary down! Here's the little longer version;

AU. I recommend you have watched seasons 1-5 if you don't want to be spoiled.

Sam was put up for adoption when he was just born, so he has no idea about the supernatural.

Dean however, is a brilliant hunter. He found out about his missing brother from his father, lying on his deathbed. Thanks to everybody's favorite angel of the lord, Castiel, Dean manages to find Sam just in time to save him from the clutches of two vicious demons. The boys has to leave as soon as they can, since Lucifer is doing all he can to get to his vessel. Tough mission, to avoid the devil's army at all costs while also trying to stop the apocalypse from happening. Good thing they have two angels to help!

Hope I didn't spoil my own story so much ;u; Anyways, this is my first fanfiction ever. I hope I can receive a little constructive critique along the way to help me improve!

Thanks a lot in beforehand, I hope you all will enjoy my story!

(Edit: Alright so Souless666 pointed out a mistake I made and I hope I fixed all of it now ÓwÒ thank you so much for telling me!)


Chapter 1: Pilot

Sam Powell was the guy who had it all.

A loving family, great friends, and a fantastic girlfriend(who was really beautiful too, mind you). He even had the perfect grades and a very promising future.

His life had been like a dream, there was not a single obstacle in his way to success. Not until the day when a certain FBI agent John Bonham, Dean Winchester or whatever, decided to knock on his door at least.

15/9-12, Saturday, 4:32 PM.

Sam sat in the corner of the old couch, holding the X-Box controller tight as he muttered curses at his girlfriend for being the better player. He could hear her laugh through the headphones and then tease him with that baby-voice he hated. But not really. It was silly how much he loved Jess, she was really one of a kind. She was always smiling, not afraid to show her adorably bucked teeth that went so well with her almost invisible freckles and blonde, wavy hair.

A couple of loud knocks tore him from his concentration on the game (or rather his daydreaming about Jessica) and he forced himself to pause.

"I'll be right back Jess, someone is at my door."

"Alright, but don't take too long! Our team is about to lose!"

Sam put away the headgear just in time to not be able to reply, but he did smile a little to himself as he walked over to the door. He opened it, giving the man standing outside a questioning look. It was a just slightly older guy than himself, wearing a suit and sunglasses. In Sam's opinion, he looked extremely misplaced in that outfit.

The man looked almost surprised for a couple of seconds, but he quickly gathered himself again and managed to put on a professional face.

"The name is John Bonham, special agent FBI. I have a few questions I hope I could ask you, Mr. Powell." The man said, holding up a fancy looking badge.

Sam raised his eyebrows and looked at the man closely. FBI, here? Wanting to ask him questions?

Realizing he had been drifting off, Sam shook his head lightly and stuttered out,

"Umm.. I mean, yeah of course. Come on in." Sam said as he opened up the door some more, turning around to walk into the small house. He gave the bat that stood resting against the closet a quick glance, he needed to have a way to protect himself in case this guy wanted something else instead of.. answers. Sam wasn't stupid, maybe paranoid was the right word but this whole situation just screamed weird!

He took a step out of the way so Mr. Bonham, John, whatever, could step inside. The agent turned around and smiled a friendly smile, taking off his sunglasses and revealed a pair of calm, green eyes. He looked tired though, Sam noted. Tired and worn out.

"So.. do you want anything to drink or.. do you wanna get straight to business?"

John chuckled a little at how Sam chose to state the question, then smirked a little before shrugging. "Do you have beer?"

Sam chuckled a little, at first believing it was a joke, but John looked almost confused and that made Sam stop smiling.

"I thought you agent people weren't allowed to drink on duty..?"

John made an expression as if someone had caught him with the hand in the cookie jar, then he tried to look innocent.

"Yeah that's right, but sometimes a man just needs his beer. But a soda will do just fine too, thanks." He said, following Sam into the kitchen and sat down by the table.

Sam took out two bottles of soda from the fridge and placed one in front of John along with a bottle opener, then sat down in front of him and opened his own soda. John cleared his throat as he opened the bottle, giving Sam a glance as he took a quick sip.

"So, Sam. You are aware of what happened to Mrs. Brown, who lived further down this street?"

"I am, yes.." Sam replied quietly, looking down at the table sadly. Mrs. Brown had been like a grandmother to him. Always caring and always offering cookies or fresh strawberries to him and his friends. Then she was murdered. No one knew what had happened, and who it was who had done it.

John nodded a little to acknowledge Sam's answer, then kept on with the questions.

"Me and my partner have been following up a couple of leads on that case. So I'm just wondering, have you noticed any cold spots in this house? Or anywhere else?"

"Excuse me? How is that relevant?"

"Just answer the question."

Sam raised his eyebrows in disbelief and John appeared to notice his doubt.

"Please trust me on this, kid. I've been an agent for a long time so I know what I'm doing."

"Fine, sir. No I haven't felt any cold spots around, why?"

"Have you noticed any strange smells, like sulfur or almost rotten flesh? Or seen any smoke in strange places?"

"What? No! Is this some kind of joke?

"Calm down Sam, please. Focus on what I'm asking. This is vital to the case." John said, looking as if it was a matter of life or death so Sam did as he was asked to.

But a crash from upstairs had Sam on his feet immediately.

"What was that?" He asked, not expecting anyone to answer though. The FBI agent put down the soda bottle as calmly as he could and pretended to not have heard anything.

"I didn't hear anything." He tried, hoping that the taller man wouldn't go and check what it was, but Sam had already fetched the bat from the hallway and was now on his way up the stairs.

John held out his hands in a gesture of hopelessness, but decided to follow Sam up the stairs in order to be able to clear the situation out.. properly.

Sam fumbled open the door to the room he believed the crash had come from, raising the bat lightly when he saw a shadow inside. He turned around towards John, who honestly looked more nervous than Sam felt. Sam nodded against the door and mouthed towards John that it was someone inside.

He flicked the door open, glaring at the man who currently stood crouched by Sam's cupboard with his back turned against the two.

"Alright, stop whatever you're doing and turn around. I hope you're aware that this is a break-in in a private household, and with me here stands an FBI agent so I suggest you give yourself up peacefully."

And that was a speech that had even 'John' impressed, but Sam didn't know how wrong he was about the situation.

The dark haired man turned rose up slowly, turning around without even hinting that he was about to hold up his hands or anything like that. He looked like a office worker or something, Sam noted. Or perhaps a mix between a office worker and a hobo. He wore a suit, but he had a trench coat over, or overcoat or whatever. It didn't matter. He also had a beard shade over his jaw, and a slightly confused expression. Then he turned to John.

"I'm guessing he heard. I.. I seem to have walked into the table, it wasn't on purpose. I apologize."

Sam looked more confused than he probably had ever been, and he looked as John rolled his eyes and seemed to hold back an annoyed sigh.

"Wait wait wait, you're with him?" Sam asked, feeling his irritation grow. He held his bat a little higher, but the man in trench coat did absolutely nothing that signaled that he was about to give himself up. John however, took a step away from Sam as he noticed that he was turning hostile to the both of them.

"Whoa, no. I'm taking this fellow out of here now, he's coming with me right to the station!" John said, smiling bright to Sam as he hurried over to the stranger and grabbed him by the coat, whispered something against his ear that made the mysterious man nod once.

Sam just looked as the odd people hurried out from the room, down the stairs, then out. Now he had the feeling that he had just been tricked. But nothing appeared to be gone..

He opened the bottom drawer and looked inside, taking out a small bag that was pressed inside the corner in the back. They must have.. Put it there? He threw it on the bed and put the drawer back into the cupboard then sat down on the bed and opened the bag up. His face twisted into disgust when he picked out bone after bone, along with other... satanic stuff. Fuck. What the fuck.