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.
If there is anything I have left out or you are still unsure about, please feel free to message me. You never know, I may have left it unintentionally unresolved for a reason (possibly a sequel).
Special Note: Thanks to kandilyn and Guest for your kind words. 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. Thanks to everyone for their patience and continued interest.
DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Dean's eyebrows shot up into his hair-line at his friend's words and instinctively moved forward to steady Caelan when he stumbled.
What the fuck …
Callous laughter filled the air, and it didn't take Dean too long to discover that the source of that laughter was coming from none other than old man Stewart.
"What did you do to him?" Dean demanded, furious at himself for believing that Caelan would turn against them … against Sammy like that. He should have known that something was off with his friend. "Fix him!" Dean roared, his tone low and lethal. "Now!"
"Oh, relax young Winchester," Roger Stewart dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Your friend will be fine. The drug Elizabeth slipped him shouldn't wear off for another hour or so. I'm quite impressed with your resilience Caelan."
Both Caelan and Dean glared hatefully at Roger Stewart.
"'What drugs?' you ask. Well, it's just a little something that I cooked up in the lab, enhancing your more … primal and volatile emotions. Side effects are that it clouds all reasoning capabilities and makes you do things you wouldn't normally do, and … are you experiencing numbness Caelan? That might be something else to add to the side effects label when it's on the market." Old man Stewart mused thoughtfully before snarling brought him back to the present once more.
"I know what you're going to say," the old lunatic continued, deliberately ignoring the two growling Hunters before him. "And while it may have been wrong and … evil of me to use young Hagen as a guinea pig for this recently manufactured drug … I must say that I am pleased with the results and how it has performed to enhance the emotions I was aiming for.
Plus, it provided all of us here with some great entertainment from you boys. You guys have put on a fantastic show for us!" Roger grinned at the three Hunters before him, clapping his hands together gleefully.
"Of course, what I wanted it do was to cause Hagen to become so completely overwhelmed and lost in his own anger that he attacked you two head-on – Roger motioned to Dean and Caleb with his hand – knocking you both out so that we could take the Demon Spawn without any more ridiculous fuss; because I really don't want to hurt you three if I can help it. Oh well, a little bit more tweaking and I am sure to eventually get the reaction that I want." He shrugged casually, dismissively, while the three Hunters stared at him in stunned disbelief.
This guy deliberately concocted a drug this dangerous, reckless and volatile in a lab just so he could watch people turn on each other? What the fuck was wrong with him?
"Were you dropped on your head as a baby?" Dean blurted out before he could stop himself.
"Most probably," Roger smirked without any real humour, deliberately not rising to Dean's obvious bait. "Oh, before I go … just a little FYI; the night your father was mauled to death by the werewolf … the night he walked in on Marc's associate fully banging the shit out of the young Demon Spawn … was really just an excuse to get rid of your father.
You see Caelan, Connor was going to die – he was getting to damn inquisitive for his own good, mounting a good case against The Organisation and who some of the members were – it was only a matter of time.
So, when he … saw what he saw, we took it as a sign that the time had come for his imminent death. I drugged Connor up so badly that he couldn't even see straight – let alone think straight … curtsey to a couple of cocktails from my own personal collection – and dumped him right in front of the werewolf's hunting ground. Poor Connor didn't stand a chance!" Roger laughed, delighted when he saw the red, hot anger enter Caelan's eyes.
"You killed my Dad?" Caelan ground out of a clenched jaw, not wanting to give into his anger in case the drug that was still in his system decided to take control once more.
"Well … technically the werewolf killed your father. But I definitely helped in supplying your father with the drugs as well as a couple of other colleagues who were in on the plan."
"You sick son of a bitch!" Caelan lunged forward, attempting to rip the pompous man's head from his shoulders, but the wall of armed men halted him in his tracks.
"Hmm, maybe," Roger conceded with a smug smile. "But the reason I tell you this, not only because it amuses and delights me to witness your emotional pain, but because I'm not scared of you or the hunting community. Let them come after me and they will face the whole might of The Organisation's wrath!"
Roger paused a moment to let that sink into the three stunned Hunters minds before he motioned most of his armed soldiers back. "Well, it's been fun, but … a deal is a deal. So, true to my word … you three are free to go."
"Wait, what?" Dean's eyes moved to where his brother had been standing, only to find it empty. Frantically he searched the lobby until he came across four armed men surrounding a figure that Dean would recognize anywhere the two guarding the front and back raised their guns in warning as Dean automatically started forward to his brother's aid.
"Sammy!"
Sam's mop of shaggy hair shot up, his hazel eyes connecting with his older brother's worried, anxious green eyes. Sam offered Dean a small shaky smile. "It's okay Dean. I've got this." He tried to reassure and soothe his brother, a look of sad acceptance upon his features.
"No! Sammy, no!" Dean screamed out, struggling to reach his brother as Sam was being led back toward old man Stewart and closer towards the dreaded hospital that they were all trying to escape.
DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW
Sam kept his head lowered, not wanting to see the triumphant, gleeful, gloating looks upon the enemy's faces, knowing that they had successfully bagged themselves a Demon Spawn who was offering up no resistance, allowing them to herd him wherever they wanted because they had the ultimate bargaining tools to gain his co-operation, his friends, his family. They knew that Sam wouldn't fight as long as they had the three Hunters to use as leverage.
A sense of shame coloured Sam's checks, knowing how vulnerable and pathetic he looked, but having no other choice if he wanted Dean and his friends to live. Regardless of what they now thought of him, even if they hated and despised him, disgusted that they had ever called him their own, Sam knew that he couldn't let them die here.
Not like this and definitely not because of him!
Silence filled the lobby so intense that you could hear a pin drop and Sam deducted that he must be close to his destination, everyone probably getting a good hard look at this young man – Demon Spawn – who had caused everyone so much trouble today.
Sam willed his body to stop shaking, no matter what happened now, he would not show one ounce of fear toward these bastards. He was still, in his heart, a proud Hunter and Winchester, both of those identities demanding Sam to conduct himself in a certain manner … even when he was in the enemy's grasp and there looked to be no escape.
He would not be an embarrassment to his beloved older brother's name. He would show these bastards that the name Winchester, was still a name to be feared … a name to be reckoned with.
A straggled cry of his dreaded nickname 'Sammy' had Sam whipping his head up to see his brother.
Sam was surprised to see no anger, disappointment or disgust within his brother's eyes. Instead, all Sam saw was immense worry and concern for him.
Sam smiled, his heart feeling lighter than it had since Sam had walked away from his family in order to protect them, suddenly realizing that maybe he had misread his brother's look earlier. Maybe Dean didn't blame him or hate him.
Still, none of that mattered if Dean was dead. So, Sam was only too willing to sacrifice his life in exchange for his brother's. Dean had protected him as much as he could for all of Sam's life. Now, Sam was going to protect Dean. Just this once, Sam was going to protect and save his big brother.
"It's okay Dean," Sam said with more confidence than he felt, the smile trembling upon his lips. "I've got this." He assured his brother, noticing the panic enter those familiar green eyes.
"No! Sammy, no!"
The alarm within Dean's voice had Sam automatically wanting to go to his brother's side. Without consciously aware of his actions, Sam jerked his body to the left, heading toward Dean's position, instinctively wanting to take away the fear and panic he could see radiating throughout Dean's body.
Dean's eyes widened, struggling to get through the wall of armed men, his shout of warning coming a split second too late as Sam felt intense pain at the back of his head before succumbing to the darkness of unconsciousness as he crumbled to the ground, defenceless, vulnerable and completely at the mercy of the enemy.
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John didn't even wait for Bobby to come to a complete stop before he had the door open and was practically running down the street toward the hospital, the recent stitches he'd received, pulling, a sharp pain running through his side; but John ignored it, too anxious to get to his boys to worry about pulling a few stitches.
"Damn it Johnny, wait for me!" Bobby cussed behind him, grabbing the weapons bag and locking up before he sprinted after the stubborn, fool Winchester who was going to get himself killed one of these days because of his damn fool reckless behaviour!
They had decided to park the truck a short distance from the hospital so as not to draw attention to themselves, but the way John was tearing through the streets like a mad man, as if he had the Devil himself chasing him, Bobby knew that their presence wouldn't be difficult to detect at all; especially if these people had look-outs, searching the area for intruders. If they were as good as Bobby heard they were, it wouldn't take them long to locate the two men.
Bobby eventually caught up to John before he rounded the corner which would bring them to the hospital's front doors. Bobby had to assume that he had only caught up to the ex-marine because of his injury that was obviously slowing him down greatly.
Bobby grabbed hold of John's arm and yanked him back behind the bushes, out of sight from enemy eyes and fire.
John wrenched himself out of Bobby's grasp, glaring at the older Hunter so hard that if looks could have killed, Bobby would have been dead on the spot!
His dark eyes were blown wide with fear, anger and pain; his body language tense, silently communicating to Bobby to back off, and if he got in John's way, John wouldn't hesitate to forcibly remove him from the equation. Nothing and no one was going to stop him from getting to his boys … not when he was so close to them!
"Easy Johnny," Bobby held out his hands in a soothing, calming gesture. "You and I both want the same thing here; to get our boys back."
John raised his eyebrows at Bobby's use of the words 'our boys', but said nothing, impatiently waiting for his old friend to continue. He was the one who had dragged Bobby into this mess. The least he could do was to hear him out. But he better make it quick, because John had a sinking feeling in his gut that his boys were running out of time!
"Tearing in there, half-cocked isn't going to do you or those boys any good."
John grunted, reluctantly conceding that Bobby had a point. "What do you suggest then Singer?" John demanded, his voice gruff and tense, worry for his boys' safety causing him to become more irritated and short-tempered than usual. "Make it quick Bobby, because we're running out of time!" And John couldn't help but notice the desperate quality that had entered his tone.
"Well, for starters, how 'bout you take a damn weapon with you before you charge in there with nothing to defend yourself with!" Bobby snorted with more affection than actual heat, relaxing slightly now that he knew John was calmed down enough to listen to him.
Sheepishly, John took the gun from Bobby's hands. "That would be a good start," John grudgingly admitted, his checks colouring slightly at his impetuous and reckless behaviour.
This is what happened when you let your emotions cloud your judgement! John silently berated himself. You make one simple mistake and it could cost you not only your life but your loved ones as well. That's why logic and precision – no matter how cold it may seem – was a hell of a lot better than running on pure emotion. It was exactly the kind of thing he had warned his boys about repeatedly on numerous occasions; and now, here he was, doing the exact opposite of what he had told them. Rookie thinking like that was going to get them all killed!
John growled, annoyed with himself, quickly pushing his emotions to the side, his cool, logical Hunter persona taking over as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay Bobby, what's our plan?"
Bobby's lips twitched in approval when John's dark eyes cleared, a determined focus settling upon him. Good, now that John Winchester's head was back in the game, they could get back to business.
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Dean ceased his struggles momentarily, watching in horror as the rear guard to Sam's little posse raised his gun, slamming the butt of his rifle hard against the back of his head, causing Sam to instantly collapse in a heap on the ground, unconscious before he had even hit the floor.
Dean was livid as he glared up at the soon to be dead son of a bitch who was looking back at Dean, smirking smugly, knowing that Dean wasn't in any position to do anything to him or to stop him from hurting his precious little brother.
Dean's eyes narrowed, committing this guy's facial features to memory. Because once Dean got out of this – with Sam – the first thing he was going to do was to track this asshole down and beat the fucking shit out of him.
The asshole in question, gave Sam a swift, hard kick to the ribs, causing Sam to grunt, instinctively curling in on himself in protection, even while knocked out and Dean found himself wincing in sympathy before raising heated eyes to level at this guy's calm, almost bored expression.
Oh, this guy was so fucking dead!
"Darryl, that's enough." Old man Stewart told the soon to be dead asshole, and Dean couldn't help but smile at the annoyed look upon Darryl's face as he reluctantly stopped deliberately trying to antagonize the oldest Winchester sibling. And now that Dean had a name to go with the face, it would be a lot easier for him to track this bastard down.
"Bring him over to me Darryl; and you … Kyle." Old man Stewart ordered before sweeping his gaze around the lobby. "The rest of you can stand down and return to your previous assignments, except for you six up the front and the four of you with the Demon Spawn … I shall be requiring your assistance for just a little bit longer before we send our Hunter friends on their merry little way."
Dean tracked the two goons who supported his brother between them, and dragged him toward old man Stewart. Dean gritted his teeth, swallowing back the low growl of anger as he noticed how Sam's legs dragged upon the ground, the goons not having any consideration for Sam's previous injuries and obviously wasn't too fazed about whether Sam acquired more bruises from their rough treatment to his baby brother's already badly beaten and bruised body.
Dean was positive that they were deliberately trying to get a rise out of him at the reckless way they allowed Sam's lower legs to bounce upon the ground as well as knocking them into all of the waiting room chairs between them and old man Stewart.
Oh man, his brother's legs were going to be black and blue tomorrow … hopefully that's all Sam received from this inhuman treatment. Because if Sam got anything worse … Dean would have no problem in repaying the favour to these guys; in fact, he would have great pleasure in inflicting the injuries upon those SOBS that they now put upon his helpless baby brother.
Dean glared hard at old man Stewart, feeling a lot more at ease when the majority of the Armed Goon Patrol left the lobby, leaving only ten armed men, including the two idiots who held Sam between them, plus old man Stewart, who didn't pose much of a threat as far as Dean was concerned. Even though he was a Hunter; he was more of a Hunter who didn't like to dirty his own hands too much by being involved with the hunts of the monsters. And when he did go on actual hunts, Dean had heard that his entourage of body guards followed him every step of the way when he was in the field.
Dean had no doubt in his mind that he could take this plastic Hunter easily.
So, even though the ten armed goons, plus old man Stewart, made eleven … Dean completely disregarded old man Stewart as a threat and concentrated on coming up with a plan to defeat the ten armed goons. Once they were taken down, old man Stewart would be a piece of cake!
Dean had faced greater odds than this before and won. Between the three of them – Caelan, Caleb and himself – Dean had no doubt that they could take the Armed Goon Patrol down without anyone firing off a single shot. Now he just had to hope that Caelan and Caleb would back his play.
Dean felt Caelan tense beside him, while Caleb came to stand on Dean's other side, the Hunters beef with each other forgotten as they stood united against the common threat that they now faced.
And Dean knew that both men were ready to take down these Armed Goons as soon as Dean gave them the go ahead to do so.
A glimmer of a smile appeared upon Dean's lips, so damn proud to call these guys his friends … his family; who were willing to stand beside him and fight for his brother just as hard as he would.
The smile slid from his lips a moment later though once he spied old man Stewart holding his unconscious, vulnerable brother in his arms, a knife poised above his brother's chest, a cruel, sadistic smile upon his face when he realized he had captured Dean's complete attention.
"Really Darryl," old man Stewart clicked his tongue in a mock disapproving way, grabbing a hand full of Sam's hair and roughly yanking his head to the side. "Did you really have to use such violent extreme measures with the boy?"
"Sorry Sir," Darryl immediately responded, sounding anything but sorry. "But, unfortunately the … boy became dangerous. He was resisting … I had to defend myself against his unpredictable behaviour …"
Old man Stewart chortled at Darryl's explanation. "Self defence? Hmm … I like it. And very plausible since this feisty Demon Spawn has been known to cause a few broken noses in the past."
"That's my boy," Dean smiled proudly. "You think Sammy was a force to be reckoned with … just wait until I get out of here and you and I spend some … quality time together. Then you will know what acting in self-defence is all about!" Dean vowed, his penetrating gaze locked steadily upon the old man, promising lots of blood, carnage and mayhem to come.
Unlike most other opponents Dean had come up against, old man Stewart didn't back away or cower from Dean's intimidating glare. Instead, a malicious mischievousness entered his blue eyes, his lips curling into a sly, playful smirk, eyes kept firmly upon Dean, watching his reaction closely as his mouth hovered just inches above the Demon Spawn's exposed neck, inhaling deeply.
"You know, my son told me that your little brother is very responsive to certain … stimulus … " Roger cooed in a suggestive tone, his grip tightening in Sam's hair, forcing his head back even further.
Dean's breath caught in his throat, instant anger surfacing at the rough treatment of his vulnerable younger brother, Sam feeling the pain, even in his unconscious state, uttering a small moan in protest.
"You son of a – " Dean started forward, only to be slammed back into line by one of the Armed Goon Patrol, old man Stewart's delighted laughter echoing around the walls of the lobby.
Dean mentally cursed himself, knowing that he had just given this sadistic fuck the reaction he was looking for. But Dean couldn't control himself when his brother was in trouble or being hurt. The big brother in Dean reacted without thinking, consequences be damned when his Sammy was in trouble.
"I haven't had the pleasure in … playing with the Demon Spawn thus far; but … " Roger used his knife to pop open the top three buttons of Sam's shirt, bitting upon his bottom lip as if he was holding back his desire.
" … I could be persuaded to try a little … experiment or two before I hand him over to The Organisation." Roger's grip upon Sam's hair loosened, Sam's head flopping forward as Roger slipped his hand down the front of Sam's shirt, shaking with deranged gratification at the look of pure fury and rage enter the oldest Winchester sibling's green eyes.
Oh yes, this was going to be so much fun …
TBC