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. Here's the first of many chapters that begin to explain why the duo Hunters of father and son have targeted Sammy for all of these years. I really struggled with this chapter and the next few chapters because of the information content. Hope I explained it so all of you can understand it too!
Special Note: Thanks to Isdugat for your review. Glad I could surprise you. 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 TWELEVE
Sam awoke some time later immediately sensing that the comforting presence from before had left and desperately needing to pee. Of course that had been a mirage, a hallucination conjured up by his extremely agitated and terrified mind in order to help calm him down and keep him somewhat same.
Feeling slightly calmer now, his thoughts slowly organising into rational – well as rational as they could be being stuck in this God forsaken box! – thoughts once more. He immediately knew where he was and what had happened, still feeling claustrophobic and scared of this insanely pitch-black darkness, but at least he wasn't in full-blown panic mode and could offer just a little bit of dignity back to himself.
Not even sure if his eyes were open or not and to combat the steadily increasing feeling of being squeezed in between the boxes confining walls, Sam decided to concentrate and focus on his physical body pains, which kept him in the here and now and not drifting off in a terrified panic within his own mind.
Sam raised his right hand to the top of his head and slowly worked his way down. Head felt fine; the cut above his right eye had stopped bleeding long ago, but Sam could feel the definite swelling of his right eye. There was a large gash to the left side of his forehead … any closer to his temple and Sam knew that he would have been a dead man a long time ago!
Sam moved his head experimentally from side to side, relieved at the lack of pain from that simple action. Good, no broken bones, although possible concussion, but not much he could do about that now and a killer headache that wanted to crack his skull open, but otherwise Sam's head felt intact and fine.
Working his hand down, Sam felt the indentation of the brand that Sicko had placed upon him and felt his blood freeze as he recalled that particular punishment that seemed so long ago now.
Dislocated left shoulder – yep, don't even bother moving that! – and mangled left wrist (possibly broken) because of the handcuff, numerous bruises upon his chest, cracked or broken ribs – which made breathing a little difficult – burn marks from the Taser on both sides of his hips.
Ah fuck! That's right, fucked right knee, don't move it … Don't fucking move it!
Sam bit upon his lower lip hard, his body tensing with pain, tears within his eyes as he waited for the intense pain of moving his right leg had caused him to ease to a more bearable level.
Chaffed ankles on both feet caused by … handcuffs again. Sam couldn't check his back, but he knew it would be a mess. Thankfully nothing seemed to be bleeding profusely so at least he wasn't going to bleed out in the near future … so that was something at least.
A persistent pain in his rear-end, becoming uncomfortable at first and then began to get more painful the longer Sam remained sitting in this awkward sitting position. Sam noticed that it was a lot more tender – fucking unbearable pain! – if he sat directly upon it, so Sam began to rock slowly, hoping to ease the pain somewhat, knowing why he was so sore there, but not wanting to think about it as tears pricked within his eyes, his checks reddening in both shame and humiliation.
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John gripped his beer so tightly that he almost broke the bottle. "What did you just say?" he demanded, his voice low, deadly, his dark eyes flashing with a fury, a burning need to slam his bottle into this self-righteous prick's face, filling him; his worst fears realised at this son of a bitch's words, his free hand moving on instinct as he want to grab Marc's shirt in his hands and pull him closer toward John, but Marc quickly leaned back again, out of John's reach, a pleased smirk upon his lips at John's reaction.
"Oh, I think you heard me." Marc said coyly. "But I'm getting ahead of myself here, let me back-track a bit … don't worry, I'll tell you all about that soon enough." He laughed softly before folding his hands together upon the table, a comfortable smile upon his features. "I had heard through the grape-vine while I was in the Army that Mary had settled down, had left the hunting life for good and I was … pleased that Mary was out of danger. I foolishly thought that you could look after her until I had finished up my training and returned to claim what rightfully belonged to me."
John's teeth grinded together almost painfully, pissed off that this crazy fuck thought that Mary belonged to anyone, let alone him!
"So when I returned eleven years later – 1984 – I was shocked … devastated … to discover that Mary had died and you had seemingly vanished off the face of the Earth with your two young sons. And right then … I hated you. It became my personal mission to track you down and make you suffer! I changed everything about myself in order to track you down!" Marc laughed bitterly. "I even changed my name in honour of my beautiful Mary. Marc Ley-Lamp is an anagram of Mary Campbell."
Marc paused to regather his thoughts and conceal his emotions once more. "When I eventually tracked you down in 1990, I had learned the truth about what had happened to my beautiful Mary. It hadn't been your fault at all.
Oh, I know that The Demon was ultimately the one who had murdered Mary, but it hadn't really been his fault either. No, the one who was truly responsible for Mary's death … he appeared to be human … but he wasn't human at all; only masquerading as one long enough to gain our trust and then … he would destroy us all. And I vowed to make that monster pay!"
Marc looked at John for a long heartbeat, seeing the simmering rage within his dark eyes, his body shaking with the effort it took for him to maintain self-control and not attack Marc like he so desperately wanted to do.
"I like you John," Marc admitted softly. "In fact … I'm being entirely honest … I even found him growing on me, but …" Marc let out an explosive sigh. "Even though I'm about to cross something off my to-do list, it hasn't gone down the exact way that I envisioned or I planned it would; but at the end of the day and at long last … I shall have my revenge."
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With a heavy sigh, Caelan decided to go with his gut instinct. In all honesty, Caelan had never trusted Peter or Hank as far as he could throw them, but he did trust Caleb, Bobby and Pastor Jim. When every other Hunter had turned against him, when he was investigating his father's death, these three, along with John Winchester had stood beside him and supported him throughout his suicide mission.
Dialling a number he knew by heart, he waited for the slightly older – by two years – Hunter to answer. The two of them had gone on many hunts together and he had saved Caelan's bacon on more than one occasion, not to mention the numerous drinks they'd had together. If there was anyone else Caelan could trust within the hunting community – apart from the Winchesters – then this man would be it.
"Caleb," Caelan greeted his friend, his voice grim and serious. "How do you feel about getting into something that could be extremely dangerous, possibly put you on the hit list of some infamous Hunters and will most probably have every other Hunter out there lining up for your blood?"
Caelan paused, listening to his friend's reply before he let out an insufferable sigh. "No Caleb, this isn't about Dad. This is … I think this is big and the Winchesters – especially Sammy – are stuck right in the middle of it."
Silence from the other end.
"What do you say Caleb? Want to live on the edge with me and possibly go out in a flame of glory?" Caelan grinned at his friend's response. "Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say. Meet me and I will explain everything in person."
After giving Caleb his location, Caelan decided to get Peter's ridiculous Ferrari 360, parking it up next to the Impala – Dean would have a heart attack if he could see that piece of crap sitting next to his baby – after locking both Peter and Hank inside of that stupid car and decided to wait outside for Caleb's arrival.
He knew that he had to get Peter and Hank out of here before Dean emerged with Sam otherwise Caelan feared he wouldn't be able to stop the oldest Winchester sibling from out-right killing them. And really, would it be such a shame if Dean did get rid of these fucking scumbags who were masquerading as Hunters?
Caelan blew out his breath and shook his head regretfully. Yes, it would be bad. Caelan decided sadly. Unfortunately these guys were witnesses to Sam's abduction – they could validate Caelan and Dean's story. Not that they would do that willingly, but if interrogated by other well respected and admired Hunters, they wouldn't have a choice but to tell the truth – or they could be used as bargaining tools.
For now, these guys were useful … but the minute they no longer served their purpose, Caelan would have no problem in allowing Dean to end their miserable lives. Hell, he'd probably join in and help Dean to end their lives!
After all, Sammy was his brother too. And Caelan vowed to help Dean track down every mother fucker who had been involved in this and to hurt them … a lot. Because nobody messed with the Hagen or Winchester family and expected to get away with it, not while Caelan was around anyway!
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Shivers of dread ran up and down John's spine, his body vibrating with rage and for one of the few times in his life, John was rendered speechless.
Marc met John's eyes; a flicker of remorse entered his eyes and then was gone as a forlorn sigh escaped him. "I tried Johnny; I really did try to save him. I know that you won't believe me … but if the organisation that I'm … involved with found out about him … they would have killed him on the spot. So even though it doesn't look like it … I kept him safe for all of these years. He was under my protection.
Of course, it didn't take them long to realise exactly who he was but I convinced them to let me try and save him; and they trusted me to do that. I know that some of my methods might have seemed cruel, heartless … a form of torture even, especially since he was just a mere child when I started out on this mission to save a young boy's life.
But after years and years of drugging and … reconditioning … I finally made progress and had a break through. I even managed to convince him to leave his family behind so that he wouldn't end up hurting his family someday and so that other Hunters wouldn't come after both the boy and his family. Don' you see Johnny? I was trying to help you, Dean and little Sammy … the Demon Spawn, your Demon Spawn."
A low growl started in the back of John's throat, continuing to grow louder as John's head snapped up and penetrated Marc's gaze, his eyes filled with rage, fury, hatred, feeling more than a tad foolish and betrayed by this … person that he had once called a friend. "I trusted you Marc." John spat out bitterly. "I trusted you with not only my life; but my children's lives as well. How could you do this to me?"
"I'm sorry Johnny, I really am. I wish things could have been different … and we did make one hell of a team hunting together but …" Marc shook his head sadly. "Once I got rid of Connor Hagen, getting you to trust me completely … it was like taking candy from a baby!
I mean, you practically threw little Sammy at me each and every year … how could I not take advantage of that?" Marc boasted, laughing gleefully. "It's like you were sending me a secret message saying that you wanted me to save Sammy, recondition him to our way of thinking … the human way and not The Demon's way."
Marc continued in triumph before his expression sobered. "Because you know what's in store for Sammy, don't you? You do know what The Demon has planned for him and children like him, don't you?" This psychotic asked, completely serious now. "That's why it's imperative to either turn these children to our way of thinking or to eliminate them. Because we're in a war right now Johnny and if we do nothing about it now, before this kids become dangerous and a force to be reckoned with, then we lose. Game over; everyone is screwed!"
Marc declared passionately, his pale blue eyes willing John to see things from his point of view, to side with this crazy lunatic and allow him to … torture and punish innocent children's lives all because they were afraid of what these children would supposedly become someday.
John closed his eyes, taking a moment to process everything Marc had revealed to him. He hadn't known about Sammy or the other children who were apparently like him, but John was far from stupid. And he'd always assumed that there was a reason The Demon had visited them all of those years ago. And he'd by lying if he didn't say that he thought that The Demon had been there for Sammy that night hadn't entered his mind on more than one occasion.
But he had never blamed Sam for Mary's death. Whatever The Demon wanted or had … possibly done to his son … none of that mattered because Sammy was his son. He was just a baby … an innocent baby. He hadn't chosen this life; he hadn't summoned The Demon for crying out loud … that had been completely out of his control … and out of the other children's control.
Anyone who thought that innocent babies were to blame for The Demon visiting them and the consequences of someone dying or having their house burned down was a complete and utter moron and needed their heads examined for a psychological evaluation.
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Sam lowered his head on top of his knees, wrapping his right arm around the base of his legs, both as security and to help keep his right knee immobilized as he gently rocked back and forwards, trying to keep the stupid tears and fear at bay.
God, he was such a fucking loser! Why would his family ever want to save such a pathetic, weak person? He wasn't worth it. The best thing that they could do was to put him out of his fucking misery!
"Either they do it … or I'll do it myself!" Sam vowed to himself, knowing that this was one promise that he would be able to keep.
Trying one last time to reason with these people, Sam raised his head and made a desperate plea to them, knowing that they could hear him and see him – what would be the fun in torturing someone if you couldn't see it or hear it? – praying that they had a little bit of humanity within them as he begged for Dean and Caelan's safety, begged for his cooperation if only they would let him out and go home; no more fighting.
No response. Just as he thought, these people were heartless!
Sam put his head back down on his knees in defeat until the door suddenly swung open and he was blinking in the blinding glare of lights, not sure if this was his salvation or the beginning of another round of torture.
Slowly, Sam's eyes began to adjust to the light and he looked upon a face he hadn't see in two years and a face he thought he would never see again. "D-Dean?" he stammered, not sure if what he was seeing was real or not; instinctively shrinking away from the out-stretched arm, not wanting to fall victim to his own mind's cruel tricks; not really believing that he deserved to be free from this nightmare as he stared at this – possible – Dean out of wary and suspicious eyes.
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Dean's hands shook slightly – not in fear, but in anticipation – as he struggled to get the key in the lock and unlock this damn door so that he could get his brother out of this God damned box!
Finally, after what seemed like a life time, Dean managed to tear the padlock from the door, sliding back the heavy lock as he pulled open the door and almost burst into tears of relief when he saw his brother huddled in the corner of the box, blinking at him, disorientated.
He looked like hell, but at least he was alive. Any other injury they could deal with, he could patch Sammy up, but death … there was no way to bring his brother back from that!
"Sammy!" Dean gasped, automatically reaching out to help Sam from the box. Dean paused half-way through his action, taken completely by surprise when instead of Sam racing toward his out-stretched arm; he shrank away from Dean, cowering in the corner, watching Dean out of wary, suspicious eyes.
Slowly Dean pulled back his hand, shifting his body weight onto the heels of his feet, in a crouched position so that he could still see his brother's form from the open doorway. Irrationally Dean thought that if he took his eyes away from his brother for even a second, he would disappear.
Dean stared at Sam, dumbfounded and disheartened by Sam's violent rejection of him, a pang of hurt within his heart, causing his eyes to burn with unshed and unwanted tears.
After years of having Sammy trust him completely, without reservation or question, to now find that same little boy that he had raised, shying away from him and looking at him as if he expected Dean to hurt him in some way, caused Dean to falter, shocked and devastated by his little brother's refusal to accept his big brother's help and to trust him as he would have when a young child.
"Oh Sammy," Dean moaned brokenly. "What have they done to you little man?"
TBC