Disclaimer: Supernatural does not belong to me. However, I had no beta for this prologue. So, any mistakes do. Happy reading!

Prologue: When Silence Dies

Silence filled the spaces between the trees. A light snow was dusting the ground, covering the footprints that had spattered the area. The bite and whistle of the wind remained the only indicating factors that sound still existed. For the crickets were not chirping their nightly chant. No owls hooted from the tops of the evergreens, and the fox that had made his home on the forest floor was shrewd enough to duck his nose back into the earth. The atmosphere was oppressive and suffocating.

From the depths of the darkness, a shrill scream pierced the air. Sam's eyes darted over to his brother's form resting heavily against a nearby tree. His eyes were closed as if he was sleeping, but the blood darkening his hair told another story. Sam contemplated his next move. If he left Dean behind, he would be unconscious and unprotected from the monster that was lurking in the darkness, but he could not stay here waiting to be found. Another blood-curdling scream seemed to make up Sam's mind for him. Knees bent so as to stay as silent as possible, and gun clutched tightly in his hands, Sam rushed toward the sound of the wail.

The shroud of night deepened as he drew closer to the noise. There was a point where no light seemed to touch, pointing him to his destination. He slowed. The yelling had ceased quite suddenly. That could be either very good, or very bad, but his upbringing had taught him caution above all else. A large oak served as a pivot point, as he tried to figure where his next move should bring him. The blackness had not changed position when he chanced a glance. Taking a steadying breath, he once again started traveling towards it, though his pace was diminished.

A startled call from behind stopped Sam once again. "Sam?" Dean's voice growled through the darkness. There was a hint of hysteria in his vocals that was only present when one of his siblings was missing. "Sammy!?" He called again, more vehemently. Sam cursed in his head. He should never have left Dean. His brother never stayed out for long. He doubled back, warier than ever. Dean's voice would surely draw what lay in the darkness. His eyes darted in as many ways as possible as he traveled as he tried to catch a glimpse of Dean. By the time Sam had backtracked nearly halfway, he spotted his brother following the tracks he had made only minutes before. They were already being erased by the wind and snow, but Dean's keen eyes had been trained to see the subtle signs that most missed.

Sam let out a low whistle. He was crouched by a tree facing Dean as he to hide his massive form from any enemies lurking nearby. Dean's head snapped to the side at the sound. He spotted his brother and the manic glint in his eyes lessened considerably. Sam made the hand signals for enemy and cover, and signaled toward where the blackness still pressed in on the forest. Dean nodded and crouched behind some nearby brambles, his eyes never leaving Sam's figure.

Both men took a minute to listen for any sound of impending creatures. Only the whistle of the wind greeted their ears. With a practiced synchronization born from a lifetime of collaboration, both Sam and Dean separated further and started moving towards the darkness at a steady pace. Another cry sounded, and the brothers quickened.

Sam clutched the knife tighter in his hand as he heard movement off to his left. The footfalls fell in conjunction with his own, and he feigned ignorance of their presence. It was better to draw the creature in closer. From the flicker of black he caught in his peripherals, Dean was being trailed as well. He dare not say anything. The creatures were too close, but Sam knew that Dean had his own knife gripped in his hand. That was better than nothing.

His shadow was closer now, maybe five feet behind. It was time to make a move. Midstride, Sam twisted on his right heel, bringing the knife sharply upwards in a wide arch, hoping he had correctly estimated the speed and distance of the creature. A warm spray of blood hit his hand but the knife pulled out into empty air. He had hit the monster, but not made solid purchase like he hoped. It made no sound as it launched itself at Sam. He stepped out of the way of the blow, and quickly turned as the creature tried again to attack his flank. Sam heard Dean let out a sharp exhale from behind, but was unable to investigate.

It was difficult to keep an eye on the creature. It was blacker than the night and seemed to slip seamlessly from shadow to shadow. It stood on two legs; its hunched back gave the impression of the posture of an elderly man. Though it's six and a half foot frame, and broad shoulders, were more than any old man could boast. Its hands, carving through the air, were elongated and ended in sharp razors. Sam jumped back at another vicious attack from the creature. His foot caught something on the ground and he fell backward catching himself with one hand, the other swiping out blindly with his knife. It hit nothing and the creature was able to go for the obvious opening in Sam's defenses. He fell fully onto his back with the weight of the creature. An oomph escaped his mouth as the air was knocked from his lungs. His legs bunched up and pressed out with a kick, at the same moment, a sharp sting pierced his left shoulder. The weight lifted from him momentarily and he was able to gain his feet. His breath was heavy and his eyes were slightly blurry. He could no long see the creature. He blinked his eyes and shook his head, hoping to shake the confusion from his brain.

No sound had come from Dean since the first, and Sam felt a momentary panic not only for himself, but for his brother somewhere behind him in the darkness. He bared his teeth and searched frantically around for any sign of movement. There! From just off to his right side, Sam spotted a change in the darkness. It swept closer quickly and Sam was able to sloppily lean away from the attack that was to come, but halfway through the creature flashed with a white light and fell to the ground. The fall of the corpse, made a heavy thud. Perhaps that was the loudest sound it had ever made. After all, noise is the sound of silence dying.

Sam exhaled as his brother was reveled from behind the creature. A small smile played on his lips briefly. "Thanks," he breathed. Dean looked mostly unharmed. His head still had some now dried blood on it, and there was a small rip in his shirt. Only a few drops of dark were visible in the dark on his shirt, but if Sam had to guess, he would say that the wound had already stopped bleeding.

Dean grunted in reply to Sam's thanks. "You ok?" he asked, gesturing to Sam's shoulder with the Angel blade in his hand. It was coated in dark blood. Sam nodded. It hurt like hell but he'd had worse, and somewhere in these woods, their sister was counting on them. They needed to hurry. As if in answer to his thoughts, the worst shriek yet leaked out into the night. They were much closer now. The sound sent a shot of adrenaline through Sam. That yell was so full of pain and tears. It practically stilled his heart to hear Skye's cries. He forgot his own injuries as he dashed towards the sound. Dean was hot on his heels.

They came upon a clearing. It was as if a spell had been cast over the area. One second it was as if they were walking into a black wall, and the next they could see clearly what was in front of them. They stilled.

Skye was strapped to a large redwood dominating the middle of a clearing. Her clothes were tatters, hanging from her frame by what could only be assumed as pure force of will. Her whole body looked like it was coated in blood. Sam couldn't tell where the exact injuries were, but he knew that he had to get her out of there now. A man stalked around the tree almost leisurely. He was speaking in low tones, which Sam couldn't make out. As he talked he waved around a knife in his hand like he was conducting a symphony of his own making. He had yet to notice the addition to the clearing or the death of his minions, but it was only a matter of time.

His tone changed slightly. It went deeper, and he enunciated each word with malice. Skye spit at him. Sam would have smiled, if it had not been for the way the man reacted. His knife tightened in his hand and he plunged it deeply in the top of her shoulder. She let out a howl of rage and agony. Sam fed off her howl. His vision turned red, whether it was from her rage or his own; her pain or his own, he did not know or care. He bolted forward toward the man his knife raised.

The man caught Sam's eyes as he neared. He had retrieved the knife from Skye. With a smile the man raised the knife, and, without taking his eyes from Sam, plunged it into the Winchester sister once again. She did not scream.


Hello readers (hopefully)! I can't say I know exactly where this idea came from, but it formed nearly fully in my head when I started thinking about it and I knew that I had to write it down. Yes, I know the Winchester sister story line has been done MANY times over. I hope to distinguish myself from the group, though. I know you probably have a few questions. The pace to this prologue was very fast. Don't worry though, it was meant to leave you with questions. This will eventually be a Castiel/OC. Yes, that is another question you should be asking yourself right now. Where is the angel up the Winchester sleeve?

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Please leave a review! Let me know if this is something I should continue.