Summary: AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

Warnings: Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

Disclaimer: I don't own the supernatural characters.

Author's Note: Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Introducing new character, Caelan Hagan. Hope you enjoy.

Special Note: Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL

CHAPTER SIX

Dean's adrenaline rush since finding out Sam was missing and in trouble just barely an hour ago had worn off completely but was now replaced with his big brother protective instincts; to find Sammy and take down the son of a bitch who had hurt him. Protecting Sammy and looking out for him was all Dean had ever known, and regardless of the animosity that lay between them, Dean would always be there to protect and watch out for his pain the ass little brother.

"I'm sorry Dean," Caelan said quietly beside him, bringing Dean out of his own thoughts as Caelan lowered a guilty gaze to his hands.

Dean raised a quizzical eyebrow at his friend. "Sorry? For what man?" Dean asked, genuinely surprised and confused by Caelan's statement. If anyone should be sorry, it was him … especially after all of the things he had said to Caelan in the heat of the moment.

"I should have insisted that Sam maintain a check-in routine with me. I should have called him, at least once a week, to make sure he was okay, happy, safe." Caelan's eyes met Dean's, a smile wobbling upon his lips before it was gone. "Your job may be to protect and look out for Sammy, but … my job is to protect and look out for the both of you."

Caelan sighed heavily, running an anxious hand through his hair. "I just assumed that once Sam left us for a normal life that he'd be safe, there'd be no need for anything to go after him because he was out of the life. But … I didn't take into account how … crazy people can be. I only thought of the supernatural as being a threat … not actual people …"

Dean could sympathize with the older man's words. He too had grown complacent since Sam had moved onto his life of normal two years ago. "Hey dude, this isn't your fault, okay?" Dean clapped a hand upon the older Hunter's shoulder and squeezed in a comforting, reassuring manner before letting go. "If anyone's at fault, it's me. I shouldn't have let Sam manage to push us away like that. But I was …" hurt, angry, disappointed, resentful, jealous? Yes, all of those, Dean thought ruefully. He had felt all of those feelings when his baby brother had just up and walked out on his family.

He had allowed Sam to push them away because Dean had been too damn stubborn to swallow his pride and beg Sam to contact them. Hell, he could have driven to Stanford to see Sam and confront him face to face. But he had been too stubborn, too proud; too much of a coward to really find out what was going on with his younger brother. And now … now it looked like Sammy was paying the price for his stupid, stubborn Winchester pride! Now it looked as if his baby brother had been bullied and manipulated into leaving the safety of his family behind, vulnerable and alone, while his father and brother left him alone to deal with this shit all by himself!

Dean could have kicked himself for not realising sooner that something had been off about the whole Stanford thing. It had seemingly come out of the blue (after Sam's eighteenth birthday) surprising both Dean and their father at the suddenness of it all. Dean should have known that something wasn't right then but …

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, abruptly cutting off his thoughts. He'd be no use to Sam if he was drowning in remorse and regret. He had to concentrate on the here and now. "So, any luck with the location of Sam's phone so that we've got some fucking idea of where to go when we get to Palo Alto?" Dean asked gruffly, his mind firmly focused on the mission at hand. Later, when it was all over, he might find the time to wallow in his guilt, but for now … his thoughts and mind hardened into his Hunter's personality, the priority of the mission clear within his mind.

Caelan's slumped posture seemed to straighten up at Dean's question as he too suddenly only just realised the true purpose of their mission. Caelan took out his phone and brought up the tracking program that he had installed on it. He may have left Sam alone at Stanford, not fully aware of the danger the youngest Winchester was in, but that didn't mean he had left the kid totally vulnerable, without a way for Caelan, Dean or John to be able to track the kid down if they had to.

Before Sam had left, Caelan had installed a tracking device within Sam's phone and thankfully for him, Sam hadn't changed his phone since he had left, so Caelan had always been able to keep track of Sam's whereabouts if he had to.

Caelan brought up the information he was after and couldn't help the long sigh of disappointment that escaped him when Sam's phone didn't appear on his device at all. "Sorry Dean, looks like Sam's phone may have been damaged somehow … I'm not getting a signal … I don't know where to even begin to look. If Sam was here … he'd probably be able to recover that information in a flash, but I'm nowhere near the computer geek that he is."

Dean nodded tightly, refusing to give into despair just yet. There may not be hope, but Dean was damn certain that he would be bringing his brother back with him, no matter what! "True … but since we haven't got our trustee geek boy by our side, what about the GPS on his phone?" Dean said, trying to keep his tone light, but professional at the same time.

"Yeah … that's a no go as well." Caelan sighed, frustration clearly evident within his voice. "Dean, you know I hate to even suggest this …" Caelan said after a while. "But if we are dealing with Hunters … if they don't want us to find Sam …"

Dean's hands upon the steering wheel tightened at Caelan's words, his jaw clenching and unclenching in both anger and fear. "Yeah, I know," Dean replied softly, the same dark thoughts running through his own mind. If Hunters had Sam and they didn't want him to be found … There was no way that Dean and Caelan would be able to track Sam down. Dean just had to hope that they had been careless in their abduction of his brother. If they had wanted Sam dead, they would have killed him long before now. Dean prayed that Sam was more useful to these Hunters alive rather than dead.

"Let's not worry about that right now," Dean said, trying to stay calm and level headed. "Okay, let's stick to the basics. What do we know?"

"Not much," Caelan reluctantly admitted. "Sam didn't even know where he was except in an abandoned warehouse. But … there are dozens of likely areas of where that might be."

"Okay. Well, let's start there. Why don't you pull up a map of the area and check it out? I don't care how many abandoned warehouses there are Caelan; I will search every damn one of them until I get my brother back!"

Caelan nodded, agreeing with Dean's sentiment whole heartedly. No matter what, they would find Sam, even if the odds were against them right now. Caelan had no doubt that the two of them would succeed in their new mission.

New mission? Shit. They were supposed to be meeting John for a new hunt in the next – Caelan checked his watch – six hours at the latest. They didn't have enough time to drive to Palo Alto and back to where John was waiting for them in six hours, let alone look for Sam. "Dean,"

"You find something?" Dean frowned when he realised Caelan hadn't even pulled out the map yet. "What's up dude?"

Caelan let out a long sigh, already knowing what Dean's response to his suggestion would be. Ever since Sam had left for Stanford, Dean and John's relationship had become more strained, Dean questioning John's orders now if he didn't agree with his Dad, stubbornly trying to prove to John that he was an adult now and could investigate and organise his own hunts and choosing his own Hunting partners. Which Daddy Winchester strongly disagreed with, saying that Dean had no instincts when it came to other Hunters. Dean would trust other Hunters more than he would his own instincts, which could wind Dean in deep trouble if the Hunter was careless or useless. That was John's fault; always insisting that Dean follow his orders without question. So, when it came to other, more experienced Hunters, Dean couldn't help but trust what they said and would always follow their lead.

"What dude?" Dean asked, becoming slightly concerned now at his friend's continued silence.

"Maybe … we should call John," Caelan said and braced himself for the incoming string of curses and verbal assault to come since Caelan had mentioned Daddy Winchester.

Dean merely blinked at Caelan in surprise before he shook his head in irritation. "Not yet," he told Caelan firmly. "Dad is finishing off his hunt. When we know more … if we can't locate Sam ourselves, then I'll call Dad, okay? Until then … Dad doesn't need to worry about this while he's on a hunt. He has to keep his head in the game. Don't worry Cal … I will let Dad know that it was my decision to wait to get him involved. You won't get in any trouble," Dean smirked.

"Yeah right! As if John Winchester would ever let me get off that easy!" He murmured sarcastically to himself as he pulled the map from out of the glove compartment to look up possible areas on where these bastards had taken the youngest Winchester.

DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW

Sam held his breath, eyes closed and waited for the furious beating that he knew was to come from his sick sadistic kidnapper, but the attack never came. Sam opened his eyes, letting out his breath in a rush, seeing an evil glint come into Sicko's eyes before he turned away from Sam and quickly bent to pick up Sam's discarded phone.

"What are you doing?" Sam demanded, blinking in confusion as Sicko stood before Sam once more and pulled Sam to his feet by his hair, causing Sam to cry out in surprise as Sicko cruelly pulled Sam's head back, and exposing his vulnerable neck.

"I'm going to do you a favour little Demon Spawn," Sicko whispered in Sam's ear, seeing shudders of revolution ripple down the length of Sam's body. "I'm going to call your big brother. And then, while your precious Dean Winchester is on the phone, I'm going to break you!" Sicko said in a low threatening voice, bitting upon Sam's ear hard enough to draw blood, making his intentions clear to Sam.

Sam gasped tears of pain in his eyes as he bit upon his bottom lip to keep his cries from escaping. This pervert obviously got off on the agonized screams that Sam hadn't been able but to release before now. Now Sam was determined to not give this nutter anymore ammunition or … pleasure that Sam's tortured wails had provided for him. Nope. Sicko was going to have to get his sick thrills from someone else!

"I'm going to tell your brother exactly where we are," Sicko continued taunting Sam, knowing that nothing would terrify Sam more than to threaten his brother. "And then, when Dean gets here … I'm going to have the greatest pleasure in breaking him too!"

Sam's breath caught in his throat as sudden understanding hit him at Sicko's words, his eyes widening in alarm before a cold wrath filled him. Sam's eyes narrowed, his body shaking with hatred now instead of revolution as he glared over at Sicko's twisted smile of satisfaction, thinking that Sam was quaking with terror, before Sam's own lips turned up into a dangerous half-smile, his body tensing before Sam ripped his hair free from Sicko's hold (it didn't matter that whole chucks of Sam's hair came out in Sicko's hands) as Sam pulled back his head, and with pin-point accuracy, head-butted the sick fuck, pleased when Sicko staggered back from Sam, blood leaking from his – hopefully broken – nose, shocked by Sam's sudden vicious attack upon him.

"You can be pissed at me all you want, play your little mind games, torture me until I fall unconscious or die … that's fine," Sam took a step closer to Sicko, reached out with his right hand and pulled Sicko up by his shirt, Sicko's feet dangling in the air. "But the one thing you don't ever do … the one thing I will never tolerate from you or anyone … you don't ever threaten my big brother!" Sam declared, his voice low, his hazel eyes flashing with outrage before he threw Sicko half-way across the floor. "Do I make myself clear you sick fucktard?!"

Sicko lay upon the ground, stunned into silence for only a few moments before he jumped to his feet, marching over to Sam, while pulling something out from behind his back, his lips pursed into lines of irritation and humiliation before he thrust the object into Sam's left side – Taser, Sam's mind supplied – before Sam felt the intense burn discharge before he found himself on the ground, his body writhing and twitching in both shock and pain, completely defenceless, unable to control his body at all as spasms shot through him.

Sicko smiled in a deranged, gleeful manner before he spit into Sam's face. "Who the fuck do you think you are to spill my blood?!" Sicko roared, his icy pale blue eyes no longer calm, collected or calculating; now they showed madness and wrathful fury. "You are nothing but Demon Spawn scum! And I will show you … teach you what happens to useless, pathetic pieces of crap that are beneath me who think that they can threaten me. You will learn little Demon Spawn to never … ever … make … a … Levi … angry!"

With every word that Sicko spoke, he kicked Sam's defenceless body with his steel-toed boots; ribs, chest, back, shoulders, legs … over and over until Sam could feel wounds that had previously stopped bleeding begin to bleed again as well as creating new bruises to form on the existing bruises – fuck, there went his knee! Hopefully just dislocated and not broken – until Sicko placed a well-aimed kick at Sam's head and Sam knew no more as the darkness raced to gather him into its arms.

"Night, night little Demon Spawn," Sicko said, regaining his composure now that little Sammy Winchester was bleeding and unconscious on the ground. "When you wake up my little Sammy, Demon Spawn, you are going to wish that I had killed you out right."

Sicko stood to his feet, a sinister grin settling over his lips. "Boys! Come and help me with this … piece of crap … and then we can begin to have some fun." Sicko's smile grew as two other men – long-time Hunters and friends who belonged to the same cause and organisation he did – came out into the open and stood beside Sicko, grinning with cruel sadistic pleasure as they anticipated the fun they would all be having very soon.

SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW

John Winchester couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him as he picked up his bag and prepared to put it in his truck, anxious to meet up with Dean and Caelan and put this hunt and the Hunter who had called him in to assist, behind him.

The whole hunt had left John with a bitter taste in his mouth and a bad, gnawing pang in his gut at how wrong this all seemed. Not only was he forced to partner up with Hunters that he didn't even like – hell, despise would be a better word to describe how he felt about these guys – but to be called in on this particular hunt when there were already three other Hunters on the job seemed a bit of an overkill to be hunting restless spirits.

Granted, there had been at least three ghosts that they had to deal with, but it still seemed a little … odd. It wasn't as if these spirits were particularly violent or vengeful and John knew that he would have had no problem with taking them out with just himself and another Hunter as back-up.

If John didn't know any better, he'd swear that this hunt was organised just to get him out of the way … or to cover up a nasty "accident" by a hunt gone wrong. It wouldn't be the first time John had been set up and he knew that it wouldn't be the last time either.

But as much as he despised these other Hunters, John honestly couldn't see any of them pulling any stunts like that. At least two of them had come from a long line of Hunters, valuing the nonverbal agreement and code that Hunters had between them in honouring debts that they owed to others. They respected and admired other Hunters work without over stepping the boundary of another Hunter or their hunt, unless specifically asked to help. And they knew that if they went gunning for another Hunter without probably cause or reason that they would only be provoking the wrath of other Hunters.

Stewart and Adams were two of these rare breed of Hunters who had lived the life and valued the code of the verbal, common sense rules that most Hunters born into the profession honoured and lived by.

But for people like John and Marc Ley-Lamp who had been thrust into this world because of a big supernatural fugly who had destroyed their lives, sometimes those time honoured values didn't come into play. John was a man of his word and he always repaid his debts. He didn't have trouble converting to the unspoken rules of the Hunters community (although sometimes he didn't play well with others). But Marc, on the other hand … if John didn't know him and hadn't worked with the guy previously, John wouldn't trust him as far as he could throw him.

Marc was a strange man, with often weird and odd tendencies. Marc was a damned good Hunter and had military training just like John had before discovering the Hunter's life, but John always got a little unsettled if they had to interrogate a supernatural nasty – nine times out of ten it was a Demon – in gathering more information crucial to the hunt because Marc seemed to enjoy interrogating the captive a little too much.

Another thing that had irked him about this man was that Marc had the gift of the gab. No matter what situation they found themselves in, Marc had always been able to talk them out of trouble. And while that would generally be seen as a good thing, John always felt that the man was hiding his true self, his intentions not always for the common good but to deceive others about his true agenda.

But John did know Marc, had worked with the man on an almost constant basis after Connor – his previous partner – had died on a hunt helping out fellow Hunters Adams, Stewart and Williamson (another old school Hunter). Plus John had appreciated the extra help with Sammy during the anniversary of Mary's death, which had always been a particularly hard time of the year for John.

Normally, when that time of the year rolled around, John would take off for at least two weeks by himself – not wanting to inadvertently put either of his boys in danger because of his grief – venting as only John Winchester could, but trying to track down and find all of the information that he could on the son of a bitch Demon that had killed his beloved wife, killing everything evil that got in his way.

Not having to worry about Sammy during that time was a heavy burden lifted from him. And by that time, Dean either accompanied John with his hunt/investigation or he helped Caelan out on his quest to find out what had happened on the hunt that had gotten his father killed.

Connor had been John's best friend ever since they had met back in '83, Connor's thirteen-year old son Caelan looking after seven-year old Dean and three-year old Sammy while the two men hunted together, becoming fast and firm friends. Connor had kept John anchored when the anniversary of Mary's death approached them and John hadn't felt the need to venture off by himself because he always had Connor to vent his pent up feelings and emotions too. But when Connor died, John had spiralled down a dark and lonely path. And if it hadn't of been for Marc, who helped to pull John out of his suicidal dark path of grief, John knew that he would be dead by now; or worse … a drunken, abusive father to his two boys.

John owed Marc his life and his children. And so, whatever bad feelings or gut instincts he got from this guy, John had pushed them aside in favour of the old saying; actions speak louder than words. John didn't trust many people – especially Hunters, and he trusted them even less to look after his kids – but John had learned to trust and appreciate Marc because even though he would do some questionable things, the man had done right by him and his boys. And to John that meant everything in the world to him.

John was about to open the door and exit the motel room when he saw Marc pacing out front of the room, looking agitated. Instinctively John wanted to go and ask his friend if everything was okay, but something in the man's posture and demeanour made him hesitate. Instead, John hid behind the partially opened door and strained to hear the phone conversation that his friend was participating in.

"What do you mean you lost control?" Marc demanded, pacing furiously now. "No. I don't care! We had an agreement, and we honour our agreements boy!" Marc let out a long frustrated sigh as he ran a hand through his white/blonde hair. "Of course not! Did you ever stop to think that I had a plan all along? And now you have just ruined it!"

Marc paused to listen. "As if I would let that … monster off the hook after he caused the death of my beloved Mary."

John couldn't help but frown at his friend's words. Since when had Marc known anyone by the name of Mary? He wasn't … he couldn't be talking about his Mary, could he?

"You did what?!" Marc hissed in fury. "God damn it boy! Have you got a fucking death wish? The last thing we need is to have John or Dean on our asses …"

John's breath caught in his throat at those words, trying to make sense of the one sided phone conversation Marc was having. Was he talking about his Dean? Him? What the hell was going on here?

"I have spent too many years planning and put too much effort into this. Do you know how long it took me to track him down? How many years it took me to gain the trust of the great John Winchester so that I could finally get my hands on the Demon Spawn; his fucking offspring?"

John felt a cold dread of anger filling his heart. And it took every ounce of will power John possessed not to rip open this door and pound upon Marc's face until he got the answers he wanted.

"You called …" Marc let out an exasperated sigh. "Well then, you're time there is limited isn't it? You need to stop what you're doing and get out right now … you really think you can handle Dean Winchester?" Marc sneered before he sighed once more, all of the anger seeming to leave him. "Yes, I understand, but I'm initiating Protocol Four … Damn it boy! Just do what I tell you for once … you're the one who ruined this for us … just do what I say and let me handle the Winchesters."

John ducked his head behind the door as Marc ended his call and looked toward the motel room, John's heart pounding with fear and betrayal. None of what Marc said had made any sense … but at the same time, it all seemed to make perfect sense.

John quickly marched into the bathroom when he heard his phone ringing. John picked up his phone, his alarm increasing when he saw Dean's name displayed upon his screen.

Oh God no … please let Dean be all right …

"Dean," John answered his voice tight with apprehension. "What's going –"

"Dad … its Sammy … he's missing and in trouble … I need your help."

TBC