*** My grateful thanks to my awesome beta Sam's Folly.***
Girl, you are amazing, and I have learned so much from you!
***Any mistakes are my own***
I do not own Supernatural. Anything you recognize belongs to its owner, SPN or the credited owners. No copywrite intended. I do not profit from my stories. They are purely for self exploration and entertainment,
This is a prequel to my previously published story "Family Secrets". You do not have to read that story first, and the prequel should flow nicely into "Family Secrets". This story, like "Family Secrets" is AU and a spoiler to anyone who has not seen season six.
Beginning immediately after "Swan Song" the ending of season six, Crowley puts his new plan into action and Sam finds himself back on earth with no idea how or why he is back. Dean is trying to make a life with Lisa while Samuel tries to get the Campbell clan together. Alta Campbell meets Sam for the first time and sparks fly.
Family Secrets: Prequel – The Beginning
Prologue
Samuel Campbell was one of Crowley's main hit men, but Samuel's gut wrenched every time he heard Crowley's voice. Samuel liked it much better when Crowley was off topside, playing out one of his schemes and leaving Samuel in charge of tormenting the poor souls in his chamber. It was never a good thing when Crowley came around.
Crowley was a hard master. One didn't become King of Hell by being easygoing or forgiving. In earth years, Samuel had been dead since 1973. That was thirty-eight years. In Hell years, it was more like thirty-eight hundred. Thanks to Crowley's 'attention,' Samuel barely had the capacity to reason anymore. He'd lost his humanity centuries ago and was already more demon than human.
The torments in Hell had a way of twisting and tearing at a soul until it was unrecognizable as human. It happened to every soul—ripped and torn and tormented until they began to do the tormenting themselves. And the change from tormented to tormenter had its own damaging effects on the souls, making them even more hideous. Samuel was no exception and he was accustomed to being twisted, scarred and deformed.
"You have a mission for me?" Samuel's bent and twisted frame kept him well below eye level to the demon before him and he had to twist even more to be able to look up into Crowley's eyes. But he twisted himself through the pain anyway because he thought it pissed Crowley off when Samuel made him look into his eyes. It seemed the only thing to do in Hell, besides torturing souls, was to find ways to piss each other off. After a few thousand years of torturing, the routine was mind-numbingly boring.
"What do you want?"
"I'm prepared to give you a gift." Crowley's voice was soft, almost soothing.
"A gift?" Samuel sneered. A gift from Crowley wasn't usually a good thing. "And what do you want in return for this... gift?"
Crowley smiled. "I have a job for you on earth."
"You're going to send me to the surface? What kind of new torture is this?" Samuel dropped his head and looked at his mutilated hand, burned and twisted, its claws digging into the charred floor of Hell. The hand was thick and calloused from years of use as a third foot. Samuel had not walked on two legs for two thousand years. He knew his misshapen body, knew its twisted form and the scars left from years of torture. He knew his eyes were the same black, dead eyes as every other demon in Hell. He was feared by most of Crowley's underlings. But on earth, on the surface, this body would be insufferable.
"No." Samuel cringed as the word came out of his mouth, and he waited for Crowley's wrath.
"No?"
"Don't want to go to the surface." Samuel whined like a child.
"What's the matter?" taunted Crowley. "Afraid you won't make any friends in your new school? Don't be a baby."
Samuel hated Crowley's smug little comments. Crowley liked to think he was funny, but Samuel didn't find it funny at all.
Samuel especially hated it when Crowley came up with his schemes. They always went well for Crowley but they rarely went well for Samuel.
Crowley shrugged, his hands held out at his sides in a dramatic pose. "I'll fix you up so you'll be just as pretty as you were before you died."
Samuel grimaced as he watched Crowley's feet slowly circle around his crouched form.
"You'll be able to stand on your own two feet." Crowley did a little jig, shuffling his feet in Samuel's face. "All your pretty scars will be gone. You'll be just like a shiny new penny."
Samuel asked Crowley again. "What do you want from me?"
"You're a tough negotiator. I like that." Crowley stooped down to be at eye level with his slave. "I want you to lead the Campbell Clan of hunters." Crowley paused as Samuel thought about the possibilities. "And I want you to bring Sam Winchester into the clan."
"That'll never happen. He's not a Campbell."
"His mother was a Campbell and he's your grandson." As Crowley stood, he pointed two fingers at Samuel's crouching form and raised him up, straightening his limbs and his twisted form so that the two of them stood side by side. Samuel looked out at Hell and then down at Crowley—a view he'd not seen in two thousand years.
"Now, I have business at Lucifer's cage. Sam Winchester is bringing him back and I have to be there when it happens." Crowley started toward the deep center of Hell. He turned back, motioning for Samuel. "Come on. You need to be there too."
The two of them raced through the dark halls of Hell, past the wandering, crying souls. They weaved through snarling demons and Samuel dodged the passes the demons made while Crowley sped ahead. When they arrived at the empty cage, Samuel stood in awe while Crowley was busy setting up for his spell.
A bright light beamed down from far above. Samuel assumed it was from the surface, that somehow Sam would throw Lucifer back down into the cage, and Samuel expected to see the angel falling down through that light.
Crowley hurried around gathering herbs and various objects and piling them next to the cage in a large stone container. He quickly grabbed Samuel's arm and held it over the container, slicing into him. Samuel winced and glanced down to see his blood dripping onto the herbs. But he was drawn back to the light, held by its beauty.
Two tiny dark specks came into view against the light, falling together. Samuel wondered who the two were. He had expected only Lucifer.
Crowley muttered something but Samuel couldn't hear what he said. Samuel glanced back long enough to see Crowley slice across his own arm, letting his blood fall to mingle with the herbs and Samuel's blood.
"As soon as Sam hits, get some of his blood and bring it to me." Crowley shoved the knife and a small vial into Samuel's hands. "Quickly!"
Crowley began chanting the ritual as the two specks fell closer to the bottom of the cage. Samuel's jaw dropped in wonder. They were close enough now that he could see two men, each possessed by an angel. He knew one of them had to be his grandson, a man who was able to force Lucifer back into his cage, and Samuel was a little in awe.
"Which one's Sam?" Samuel called back to Crowley, just as the two hit the cage floor.
"The big dumb-looking giraffe over there." Crowley pointed toward Sam. "Meet your namesake."
Sam lay motionless, sprawled across the floor. Samuel could see why Crowley called him a giraffe. He was tall. His body seemed to stretch on forever across the floor. His long arms were spread wide—the wind knocked out of him. Samuel reached into the cage, stretching toward Sam's lifeless hand. He barely touched the tips of Sam's fingers.
Crowley screamed to Samuel, "Hurry!"
Samuel pushed hard against the cage, his face jammed into the hot metal bars. He was able to get enough of Sam's hand into his grip to pull hard and slide Sam's body closer to him, close enough to slice across the side of Sam's hand and catch droplets of blood in the vial he held against the cut. Sam hissed and jerked his hand away. His questioning eyes pierced deep into Samuel's soul, and for a moment, he saw Lucifer's angry red eyes flash at him, threatening him.
Samuel tore his eyes away from Sam, then turned and ran to Crowley. Crowley snatched the vial and poured Sam's blood onto the herbs just as he finished the incantation.
"Adam!" Sam screamed.
Samuel turned to see Sam running toward the other man as the angel Michael began to pull out of his vessel, but the bright explosion from the stone container and Crowley's spell blocked anything else from Samuel's sight.
The blinding light from Crowley's spell was nothing compared to Lucifer's rage. Sam Winchester had ruined all of Lucifer's plans—dragged him back into that damned cage that took thousands of years to escape—and Lucifer hated Sam with a passion that could not be equaled. Now, Crowley had managed to steal Sam's body, leaving only Sam's soul behind, and Lucifer knew hatred and rage beyond anything he'd felt in all of his countless years in the cage.
Lucifer paced and snarled and spit and raged. His fists clenched. Even though he wanted to get his claws into Crowley (and he hated that crafty little demon with an evil passion), he hated Sam more. His evil gaze moved to the soul left behind, Sam Winchester's soul. And—damn it!—Sam Winchester's soul was stunning. It shone like a star—brighter than The Day Star, brighter than Lucifer when he was young and new and full of Grace.
As Lucifer looked at Sam's sparkling bright soul, he compared it to his own visage. He had seen his own body, his hands and arms charred black from the immeasurable time spent in the heat and smoke of Hellfire. He felt the drying of his skin—the drawing of his face into a ragged and scarred mask. His face, once the most beautiful in all of heaven, was twisted and hideous. He lapped his tongue across his broken teeth, honed sharp from gnawing on the luckless souls who came into his kingdom.
The time Lucifer spent in Hell changed him from a bright, shining creature to a gruesome beast. Sam Winchester was supposed to be Lucifer's 'meat suit' as he defeated Michael and ruled the earth. Lucifer had worn Sam's body for only a brief time, a fleeting moment. And in that fleeting moment he was tall and lean, muscular and beautiful—but Sam ruined that plan. So, Lucifer intended to make Sam as ugly as all the rest of the souls in Hell. Lucifer would use every torturous thing he learned during his time in the cage. He would invent new ways to make Sam suffer.
Chapter One
And everything I can't remember
As fucked up as it all may seem
The consequences that I've rendered
I've stretched myself beyond my means
.
Stained—It's Been Awhile
A bright light burst behind Sam's eyes, and he raised his hands to cradle his aching head. He heard a shriek and opened his eyes, turning his head to see a Raven perched on the ground next to him. It seemed to glare at him for just an instant before it shrieked again. It was so close to him that its shiny, blue-black wings lightly brushed across his face as they flapped furiously, slowly lifting the bird into the air. Sam watched stunned as the Raven became airborne and flew up into the sky, leaving him on the cold wet ground.
He was flat on his back, staring up into the gray haze of dawn. The dew on the grass soaked into his skin through his well-worn jeans. The dull green jacket over his plaid shirt offered little protection for his back, and his long dark hair was as wet with dew as the grass. He shivered against the cold morning.
Where am I? His mind raced, trying to piece together what happened. How did I get here? Questions flooded his mind, and—damn—his head hurt. He felt weak, beaten, as if he'd ridden here on a tornado. Okay, Dorothy. Where the hell is here?
Sam crawled to his hands and knees. A sudden memory brought a bright flash that tore through his brain like a knife. He held his head in his hands to try and keep it from exploding and rocked on his knees slowly, back and forth. He remembered falling, remembered the struggle with Lucifer. It was painful when Lucifer took control of his body and Sam was overwhelmed by the memory of that dreadful feeling. Pure evil had possessed him. He fell forward and retched, convulsing, as if he could puke the memory out of his body.
Silence fell around Sam like a black shroud. He was alone and it made him feel uneasy. Where's Dean? He thought of his brother and glanced around in search of him. There were rows of crosses—crumbling wooden ones and leaning stone ones—all lined up like weary, wounded soldiers. Sam looked at the rusted iron gate and he knew where he was—Stull Cemetery, the old bone yard outside of Lawrence.
The memory of a song came to him... "Gunter glieben glauchen globen. All right, I got something to say..." the strains of the Def Leopard song floated across the silent graves and the two angels facing each other. Sam turned to see Dean, cocky and full of bravado, just like he always was when he was terrified. Sam knew the look.
Suddenly Dean's face turned—bloody and beaten. Sam stared down at his hands and he could feel his brother's flesh beneath his pounding fists. He could feel Lucifer's delight with each punishing blow.
"Dean." Sam's voice was a ragged whisper and he dropped his head into his hands—those hands. "No! Not me. It was Lucifer. Lucifer beat Dean. It wasn't me."
Pieces of memories flashed across his mind like previews of a movie—a snap of his fingers—a million tiny, bloody pieces, and Castiel was dead. Lucifer killed him. He killed Bobby too. With a twist of Sam's wrist, and Lucifer snapped Bobby's neck.
They were all dead. All of his family. There was no one for him to go to. There was only him. This could be a problem, he thought. He would need someone to hunt with. He couldn't hunt by himself, could he? Sam thought about that for a moment. Maybe he could. Maybe he'd have to.
Sam struggled to stand. I'm alone. The realization hit him. There's nobody left but me. Why? Why me? He stared at the place where he'd opened the earth with the horsemen's rings and then jumped into the cage, carrying Lucifer inside him. Sam's body shook with fear and he wrapped his long arms around himself, holding his shoulders tightly. He screamed as the pain flowed from his head, down through his body and was suddenly gone—just gone. It was the last echo of his soul, the last spark of soulful emotion draining away from him.
Sam's arms dropped to his side. He straightened and flexed his shoulders. He felt better. His headache was gone. He didn't feel guilty. He could live with those memories. It wasn't him that killed his family. It was Lucifer. Sam felt good, strong. He knew one thing. Somebody or something brought him back from the cage and he was going to find out who and why.
He heaved a deep sigh, then turned and walked out of Stull Cemetery dry-eyed and strangely numb.
For whatever reason, however it happened, Sam was here and alive and free of Lucifer. He needed to figure out his game plan, and Bobby's would be a good place to do it. It was a straight shot north to Sioux Falls, and Sam knew Bobby's house was a library of the supernatural. If he could find anything to explain his situation, he could find it there. The house would be empty now that Bobby was dead, a perfect place for Sam to hold up and do some research.
Sam had a long time to piece things together on his drive up to Sioux Falls. He stole an old Toyota Corolla outside of Lawrence, something inconspicuous.
He had memories—a lifetime full of them—but there was much that was missing. All of Hell was missing. All of it. And that gave him an uneasy feeling.
He remembered how Dean struggled with his memories of Hell. But whoever brought Sam back must have scrubbed his brain, erased his memories of Hell. That meant he owed somebody big time, and he dreaded to think who that somebody was or what they expected from him. One thing was for sure. If it was Lucifer or a demon, he would be sorely disappointed. If it was an angel? He would be sorely disappointed as well. Sam had no love for angels or demons, with one lone exception. That exception was Castiel, but he was dead.
After seven hours on the road, Sam pulled into the drive of Singer Salvage and parked in front of Bobby's house. He unfolded himself as he crawled out of the aged, blue Toyota. He stretched his long legs and glanced back at the car. I'm gonna have to change up my ride. He ran a firm hand along his thighs, trying to soothe the complaining muscles.
He didn't have any bags, just the clothes on his back, and he was hungry. Sam couldn't remember being so hungry, and he hoped there was food. He thought he could use a drink—or several—and he was pretty sure Bobby would have left a bottle or two around somewhere.
When Sam reached the front door of Bobby's house, his hand was almost wrapped around the knob when the door flew open. Bobby met him with hard, narrowed eyes and a loaded gun pointed at Sam's heart.
"Bobby?" Sam's dark, eyes drifted down to the barrel of the gun. At first, anger swelled deep inside Sam at the threat. Bobby was dead. This had to be a trick, a demon, maybe even the one who pulled him back. Sam knew he could have the barrel of that gun in his hands and turned on whatever was passing as Bobby in less than a beat of his heart, but caution prevailed in Sam's mind. Sam was back from the cage, so maybe Bobby was back from the dead, and the man was a wealth of knowledge. If it was Bobby, Sam could use his help.
Sam slowly raised his empty hands. "I thought you were dead. I saw you die. Lucifer snapped your neck."
"Well, I ain't dead." Bobby didn't lower his gun and his eyes kept Sam nailed, daring him to move. "How are you here? You fell. Dean said he watched you fall into the pit." Bobby shoved at Sam with the point of his gun. "What are you?"
"I'm me, Bobby." Sam kept his hands raised, his eyes narrowed. He could smell the fear rolling off the older man and Sam knew he was real. This was no demon. It was Bobby, and he was obviously suspicious. Sam didn't blame him for it. He thought it was smart to be cautious. And if he was anything, Bobby was smart.
"You got holy water? Salt? Silver?" Sam's eyes softened. "Let's go through all the tests. Whatever you need to convince you I'm me."
After Bobby was satisfied that Sam was Sam and that Sam had no idea how he got back from the cage, they sat down to some food, sandwiches and beer, comparing notes.
"Cas came back out of nowhere," Bobby told Sam. "He said he believed God brought him back. Said it was the only explanation that made any sense to him."
"God?" Sam shook his head. "You think maybe…" Sam's finger pointed back to himself. "...God?" It was an idea that had played in the back of his mind. He'd dismissed the idea so many times, but it kept cropping up. It was a hope that clung tenaciously within him, a tiny thing, so foreign within the emotionally barren man that was Sam Winchester.
"I have no clue." Bobby scrubbed a hand across his face and sighed. "Likely it's something more sinister than God."
"Why do you say that?"
"Winchesters never get a break like that… no happy endings." Bobby sighed. "So, how much of it do you remember?"
"Of Hell?" Sam turned his face away, gazing out the window. "I don't want to talk about it, Bobby. I can't…" Sam let his voice trail off. He couldn't talk about it because he didn't remember any of it. The memories were just gone. And Sam knew that Bobby would find that fact very suspicious, so he acted as if it hurt too much. Bobby would buy that.
"I understand, boy." Bobby reached across the table and clapped Sam's shoulder. "S'ok."
"How about you, Bobby?" Sam's dark eyes focused on Bobby. "How are you here?"
"Cas brought me back to life, fixed me good as new—well, good as I was, anyway. Still got arthritis in my hands and m'knees creak. Acid reflux is as bad as ever." Bobby raised his eye brows with a quirk of his head and a small smile to Sam. "But I'm alive."
"And Dean...?"
"Cas healed him right up."
"Where is he, Bobby?"
"He's at Lisa's. Been there about a week. He came back here, stayed for a week or so, and then he just packed up and left."
"A couple of weeks?" Sam tried to reconcile the timeline in his mind. That must mean he was in Hell for a couple of weeks, but he didn't remember any of it. Maybe he lay unconscious in Stull Cemetery for a couple of weeks. Sam wondered if that was even possible.
Bobby sighed and gave Sam a strange look. "He's called a couple of times, Sam. He seems to be adjusting to the civilian life pretty good if you ask me."
"I have to see him." Sam stood. "I need him if I'm gonna hunt."
"I been thinking." Bobby's tone stopped Sam in his tracks. "Maybe the time for hunting's over. Maybe it's time to settle down and give all this up."
"Have you stopped hunting, Bobby?"
There was a long silence before Bobby answered Sam's question. "No."
"Then you mean for Dean—for Dean to give up the life, not for you or me." Sam's voice was neither hurt nor angry.
"Yeah, Sam, I do." Bobby's eyes darkened and he had a fierce look on his face. "Dean's got a chance for a happy life with a happy ending." He huffed at Sam as if he was daring Sam to argue with him. Sam knew this look. He'd seen this look on Bobby's face more than a few times over the years. It was usually aimed at Dean and was usually followed by 'idjit.' "He's got a woman and a kid and maybe it's time for a Winchester to have a life. Maybe he won't have to die young and bloody."
Sam wasn't sure what he felt about Bobby's speech but he knew Bobby's feelings were intense and he needed Bobby's help. "Okay. I won't ask Dean to hunt." Sam held his hands up as if in surrender. "But I need your help. I need to find out who pulled me back and what he wants from me."
"All right." Bobby looked relieved. "You can stay here. We'll hit the books and see what we can suss out."
Samuel stood at the place where he had died, the edge of Clinton Lake, his soul intact, his humanity restored. Samuel breathed deep the fresh air of earth and gazed out across the lake. It was a long way to Pennsylvania and the Campbell clan, but that was his assignment.
Would have been better if Crowley'd just brought me back up in Pennsylvania. Crowley's such an ass. Samuel huffed and started walking. I got to get me a car.
Crowley left Samuel with only a few memories of Hell—not enough to crush him, but enough to keep him in fear. He left him with enough memories to keep him under control and strong—strong enough to pull the Campbells together and control Crowley's new creation... his soulless hunter, Sam Winchester.
TBC
Comments and Reviews are welcomed.