Disclaimer: Supernatural is not mine, it belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW.
Warnings: Language, violence, sexual (non-explicit) activity, drug use, and addiction.
A/N: This story spans years, (both in the making and the storyline) and follows Dean and Sam Winchester. Includes much angst, hurt/comfort, adventure, drama, and rock music. I use the titles of Led Zeppelin songs for the chapter names, which is why some of them overlap the names of SPN episodes. The titles were carefully chosen and meant to reflect some of the chapter content, although I was somewhat limited in choice.
Reviews would be appreciated! Enjoy!

Chapter 1
Four Sticks
June, 1999

Sam was in the public library of Sparks, Nevada, researching the disappearance of a local banker, presumably at the hands of some type of vengeful spirit. The library was deserted save him and the librarian, the clock ticking towards closing time. Sam walked between the shelves, piling books into his arms.

"Hello Sammy-boy."

Sam jumped, almost dropping the heavy encyclopedia nestled in his arms. "Who are you?"

The man was tall with blond hair and yellow eyes like a cat's. Sam shifted the book in his arms so he had a hand free to grab the knife hidden up his sleeve. He frantically tried to remember what type of supernatural creature had eyes like that.

"My name is Azazel."

"What?"

"You wouldn't remember me of course, but let me tell you a little something about myself. I'm the one that killed your mother. I'm the one that made you."

Sam's breath hitched at the creature's words. The world spun. "You-you killed…What are you talking about, you made me?"

Azazel shook his head, eyes gleaming yellow. "So Sammy, I'm gonna tell you straight. You and your gifts would come in useful to me. Unfortunately, you're still too young; they haven't developed enough. But when you're ready Sammy, I'll be comin' for you. You're mine." Azazel smiled, then turned and disappeared behind the bookshelves.

Sam remained motionless, staring at the spot where Azazel had stood, attempting to comprehend what had just happened. Eventually, the young librarian ushered him out into the warm night air with a disapproving huff. Sam stared up at the stars and clutched the hilt of the knife still concealed up his sleeve.

What was he supposed to do now?