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. Hope you enjoy. I have no knowledge or training in medical areas. I have tried to keep everything as realistic as possible, but, as medical knowledge is not my area of expertise, just beware that there may be some mistakes in the next few chapters.
Special Note: Thanks to Mimmi85 for your kind words. Sorry it's taken a while for an update, but had a bit of writers block and with the holiday season … hope everyone had an awesome Christmas! 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 TWENTY-SEVEN
Caelan blinked, confused by what Peter Stewart was telling him. As soon as Stewart had told Caelan that Sam was "fair game" in that condescending self-satisfied, smug way that was unique to Peter Stewart, Caelan had felt his protective instincts flaring brightly within him, realising those words for what they were … Stewart was threatening his brother!
Caelan's body tensed, anger and then rage making him tremble the more that Stewart threw out his "warnings" and gloated that Sammy basically belonged to this fucking organisation now and there wasn't a damn thing that any of them could do to stop them.
Caelan snorted at this pompous ass' threats. As if any of them – John, Dean or himself – would ever agree to those terms and let these arrogant SOBS get their hands on Sammy again! Of course they were going to stop them if they came after one of their own? Did Stewart fucking forget who the hell he was talking to?!
Caelan growled deeply within his throat, wanting nothing more than to attack this self-righteous, smug, arrogant … ass clown, and teach him what it meant to threaten his family, and it was only Caleb's hand upon his arm in warning that stilled his actions.
Caelan had been so focused upon Stewart and trying to break his attitude with his death-glare alone, that Caelan had failed to notice the group of men who surrounded Peter Stewart in a protective barrier, their guns raised toward Caelan and Caleb in warning.
"Easy," Caleb murmured from beside him. "We can't fight six armed men Hags. We'll get him next time." Caleb promised. "When he hasn't got his body guards with him, okay?"
Caelan grunted in reply, pulling his arm free from Caleb's hand, fuming with rage, aching to pound some flesh … because how dare they think that … Hang on … what was that?
"What did you just say?" Caelan demanded, not sure if he had heard Stewart correctly. "Did you just threaten to kill both Dean and Sam?"
Stewart shrugged, unconcerned. "Better hurry," he called out, smirking with satisfaction before his armed guard escorted him away.
"You fucking son of a bitch!" Caelan screamed. "I will fucking kill you if you hurt either of them … do you hear me, you selfish bastard?!"
Before Caelan was even consciously aware of it, his body was moving forward to follow and confront Stewart … armed guards be damned … when he felt someone grab his shoulder and jerk him to a stop before he could carry out his plan.
"Caelan, stop!"
Caelan whirled around, snarling, almost completely overcome by rage now at this fucker threatening his family!
"Stop this!" Caleb hissed, violently shaking Caelan's shoulders in an attempt to bring some common sense back into his friend. Caleb hadn't seen Caelan loose himself to his emotions like this since his father's death eleven years ago. And just like it had been then, seeing his friend so distraught and … raw … caused Caleb to fear for his friend's sanity.
He didn't care if Caelan decided to hit him; hell, the two of them had gotten into numerous fist fights over the years, Caleb could hold his own, but seeing Caelan like this … Caleb knew he had to get Caelan's mind grounded. The last thing he needed to deal with right now was Caelan's spiral into self-destruct mode.
"Damn it Hags, listen to me!" Caleb pushed Caelan back forcefully when Caelan tried to stand over Caleb, trying to intimidate him into submission. "We need to get to the hospital right now! Sam and Dean are in trouble! Hags … for fuck sake, I've had enough of this shit!"
Caelan felt a stinging sensation upon his check, the pain snapping him back to himself as he stared at Caleb incredulously. "Hawkes … did you just slap me?! What are you? Some kind of fucking girl now?"
Caleb rolled his eyes and laughed in relief when he heard his friend's playful teasing. "Got you back, didn't it?" Caleb retorted with a grin. "Come on man, we've got to get to the hospital ASAP … before Dean decides to play the bloody hero all by himself!"
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Years of Hunter instincts to be aware of every noise within your surroundings, regardless of whether you were awake or asleep had made Dean a light sleeper. He was more attuned to his environment when his brother was with him – considering that his primary goal was to look out for and protect his pain the ass little brother – but he was especially more alert when Sam was sick or injured (more vulnerable than if he was well or healthy).
So when Dean heard a slight shuffling noise that didn't belong within the hospital room, his eyes snapped open, on full alert as he took in his surroundings, trying to determine what had roused him from his light slumber.
Within the low lighting of the room, Dean could vaguely make out a figure that was standing over his brother's bed, Sam's chart within their hands, and Dean felt himself relax slightly when he realised that it was obviously a nurse coming to see about his brother's comfort and well-being.
"Think you're a little early for the pain meds," Dean remarked, a smirk of amusement on his lips when he noticed how the person jumped at his soft voice. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," Dean began to apologize before the person turned to look at him in shocked surprise, a needle held above Sam's IV line, poised to administer the drug into his brother's system.
Dean's demeanour went from semi-relaxed to highly suspicious in five seconds flat when he realised that he didn't recognize this person at all.
The Doc – Doctor Elizabeth – had been really considerate in introducing Dean to the nurses who would be on rotation to help with Sam's medical needs. She had explained to Dean that she had only put on people she could trust one hundred percent to keep Sam and his various injuries strictly confidential.
The man staring back at Dean, like a deer who was caught in headlights was a complete stranger to Dean; and that had Dean's protective and Hunter instincts screaming at him that something was wrong with this picture.
Dean jumped to his feet, vaulted over his brother's bed, knocking the syringe out of this stranger's hand as Dean ruthlessly slammed the man up against the wall, using his weight to hold the man in place in a dominate manner, while not hard enough to hurt him in case this really was just a nurse attending to Sam's needs that he hadn't met yet.
"Who the hell are you?" Dean demanded in a low, threatening voice. "What the hell was in that syringe that you were just about to give my brother?"
"Dean Winchester," the man said, his voice velvety smooth, his shock replaced by a knowing grin, glancing almost casually into Dean's threatening, dark, protective glare. "It's nice to finally meet you in person. I've heard a lot about you. You're as sharp as they say you are." His grin stretched wider. "Unfortunately for you, my mission is to reacquire your brother for more reconditioning."
"Like hell you will!" Dean growled, his body coiled tight, getting ready to strike now that he knew this man was a viable threat. "You're not getting anywhere near my brother, you sick son of a bitch!"
The man tilted his head to the side, clearly more amused than intimidated by Dean's wrathful aurora. "Ah. So, it is true. You are this … Demon Spawn's protector!"
Dean bristled at this stranger's words. "Sammy's not a Demon Spawn!" Dean retorted vehemently. "And you're damn right I'm his protector! You will have to go through me to get to him."
"Really?" the man sighed softly in regret. "I was really hoping you wouldn't say that or make such a fuss about this. You are not supposed to be involved in this."
"Yeah, so I've been told." Dean spat out sarcastically. "If you've heard so much about me, then you should know what my number one rule is … no one hurts my little brother and gets away with it!" Dean's voice was so low that it was almost guttural in nature, his green eyes flashing with both a challenge and a declaration. "So, if you value your life … you should get out of here right now before you make me really angry!"
The man paused, as if considering Dean's ultimatum. "As much as your … generous offer intrigues me … I'm going to have to decline." He said, amused by Dean's look of astonishment. "Yeah, I bet when you use that low threatening voice and give you opponent that … deadly, evil looking glare, that most people would be backing down and giving into you right now."
He pursed his lips, a slow, deliberate smile falling upon his expression. "But I'm not most people, and to tell you the truth Mr Dean Winchester … your huff and puff attitude … is merely an illusion. You don't really want to fight me."
Dean arched his eyebrows, almost laughing out loud at the ludicrous notion of this man's words. This guy was so dead wrong in his assumptions, it wasn't even funny! After everything that Dean had witnessed and been through today … he'd like nothing better than to use this guy's face as a punching bag!
"Really? Is that what you think?" Dean inquired innocently enough, deliberately fixing his expression into one of regret and remorse, lowering his eyes in an embarrassed way before he raised his eyes to the man once more.
Dean loved it when his opponent had fixed ideas and notions about him. And if Dean was in a particularly bad mood, he would do everything in his power to encourage their delusional thoughts. It made wiping the floor with their asses so much more satisfying. And the fact that this stupid moron had invaded a place where the brothers should feel safe and secure, threating to … take Sammy away … he had no idea of what Dean was capable of or how far he would go to protect his little brother!
But … this moron was about to find out!
Dean watched the man's attitude become more arrogant and cocky, completely buying into Dean's submissive, embarrassed act. He honestly thought he had won. He thought he had successfully managed to make Dean bow down to him, seeing the errors of his ways while Dean stood back and allowed this man to … reacquire his brother?!
Dean smirked in a predatory fashion, shoving the barrel of his gun against this stupid idiot's side, a satisfied gleam in his green eyes when he saw the man's eyes widen in shock and fear, realising that he had greatly underestimated Dean Winchester.
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Sam was extremely relieved that when he fell back to sleep, he didn't fall into the unremembered nightmare that he had awoken from, the constant pressure he could feel against his hand, keeping him anchored and safe as the pounding in his head began to slowly ease and die down, succumbing to the land of unconsciousness as Sam was pulled into another nightmare.
But this one … this was one Sam had lived through countless times before … one that had kept him awake when the memories of previous times would invade his sleep periodically over the years, keeping him from sleeping, not wanting to relive the previous torture sessions.
But, because of the pain medication that flooded throughout his body, Sam knew that he was effectively out for the count and there would be no way that he could wake himself up if he had to as he spiralled down into the memory of the very first time he had been punished, six months after his tenth birthday …
Sam shivered violently, tied to a revolving table – right side up this time, thank God! – the wet clothes clinging to his young body as he desperately pulled at the ropes that bound him, hoping that he could wrench himself free from the ropes; but all Sam succeeded in doing was causing the rope to bite further into his already tender, red raw flesh.
"Demon Spawn!" a voice snapped to Sam's right, causing Sam to jump and gulp nervously, his panic going up a notch when he noticed that he couldn't see anything because of the blindfold that was covering his eyes, water dripping from his hair and falling down in rivulets upon his already wet and soaking t-shirt, confused, terrified and not knowing what these people wanted from him.
The last thing Sam could vividly recall was his Dad dropping him off at his friend's house; a Hunter, who sometimes partnered up with John Winchester from time to time, Marc Ley-Lamp; as Sam's father and older brother – fourteen-year old Dean – chased down a hunt which may shed more light on The Demon that had killed his mother exactly ten years ago today.
Not only were the Winchesters dealing with the anniversary of Mary's death, but it had only been six months since Caelan's Dad – Connor Hagen, long-time friend and surrogate uncle to both boys – had died rather mysteriously six months ago … Connor had gone missing the night of Sam's tenth birthday and wasn't found until two days later, after a hunt he had gone on had ended in his untimely and traumatic death.
Sam didn't know why, but the thought of his birthday night made him feel very uneasy … actually terrified would be a better term to describe the feeling; and being only ten-years old, Sam was not willing to consciously delve too deeply into why he felt so uneasy and anxious about that particular night and why, when he thought about the beloved, late Connor Hagen, Sam always linked his disappearance and death to the night of his tenth birthday.
Now, Sam was staying with another Hunter while his Dad tracked down the monster that had destroyed their family all of those years ago and Dean helped both their Dad in his obsessive quest to find The Demon; and their friend Caelan in his obsessive desire to find out exactly what had happened to his Dad six months ago.
Sam didn't trust Marc; not in all of the years that the two Hunters had met during a hunt and became more than just an acquaintance but not quite a friend. It took a lot to gain John Winchester's trust … especially other Hunters.
But now it looked as if John trusted this man enough to look after Sam for two weeks – maybe longer depending on the hunt – not wanting the lecture from either Pastor Jim or Uncle Bobby, long time and firm friends of the Winchesters.
Sam though, he didn't trust this man as far as he could throw him. There was something in his shifty pale eyes which caused Sam's instincts to scream at him to run. But, even at ten-years old, Sam was not completely defenceless.
He had been taught self-defence by one of the best Hunters around; and if Sam got out of here in a hurry, he'd memorized both Pastor Jim's and Uncle Bobby's numbers, already knowing his brother's and father's numbers off by heart. Plus, he already had escape routes out of this place in case he needed an out.
John Winchester may have been a tyrant when it came to the training sessions he insisted both of his boys participate in, but in times like this, when Sam was in an unfamiliar environment, not entirely convinced he could trust the man his father had left him with, Sam was grateful for the training sessions.
At least, he knew that if he had to, he could survive out in the woods by himself until he managed to contact either his Dad or his brother. But, for now, Sam pushed his uneasiness to the side and decided to give this man the benefit of the doubt.
Sam was just a kid. John Winchester had years of experience judging people; and if he said that Marc was a trust worthy person, then who was Sam to say otherwise? And slowly, Sam began to let his guard down …
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"So, let's try this again, shall we?" Dean cocked his gun, purposely pushing the barrel of his gun harder into the man's side – enough to leave bruises and a mark in the morning. "Now that you realise how … serious I am here … I'm giving you one last chance to walk out of here with your life and your dignity intact."
The man swallowed hard, his calm composure being replaced by anxiety and fear. "I – I can't do that." He sighed almost regretfully. "If I leave here without the Demon Spawn … they will kill me."
Dean smacked the man in the jaw with his free hand, watching as his head jerked to the side and back at the force of Dean's punch. "Don't you ever call my brother that again!" Dean snarled, his green eyes deepening with barely controlled rage. "He is not a Demon Spawn! He is Sam Winchester, John Winchester's son and my little brother. If I hear one more person refer to Sammy as a Demon Spawn, I will cut them down where they stand."
Dean's eyes narrowed, watching the man's facial expressions closely, trying to get some idea on what his enemy would do now that he knew he wouldn't be able to complete his mission by kidnapping Sam once more.
The options this … fucking moron had were bleak and both ended the same way. He either left without fulfilling his mission and the people he was obviously working for, killed him; or he tried to somehow get around Dean to drug and cart Sam Winchester to God only knew where and Dean shot him dead before he had the chance to reach Sam's side.
Dean smirked as he saw the realisation of how hopeless and dire his situation was finally registering within the man's eyes.
"Come on man … you're a Hunter, right? And Hunters have a Code of Honour – or so I've been told," the man begged, his eyes wide with pleading as he tried to appeal to Dean's logical side. "You're not just going to kill me in cold blood … are you?" he licked his lips, giving Dean a hesitant smile. "We're both consenting adults here. I'm sure that between … Men of Honour … we can come up with some kind of arrangement that could suit both of our needs."
"Honour?" Dean snorted in disgust. "You don't know the meaning of the word. How honourable is it of you to come into a hospital and attack a defenceless man while he is obviously hurt and vulnerable?"
The man swallowed nervously. "Look man, I'm just doing what I'm told, all right?" he tried another approach in order to try and appease this crazy-eyed Hunter before him. "I'm not even a damn Hunter … I'm just a lackey they sent in, in order to complete this mission. I'm the muscle, meant to keep you distracted …"
Dean frowned, a shiver of dread running up and down his spine at the man's words. Not a Hunter … a lackey … muscle … to keep him distracted … oh shit! Sammy!
TBC