Return of the Sam 4/?
Chapter 4
I followed the voice but it took me a moment to figure out how to open the secret door.
Then I just stood there in the opening like an idiot, trying to make sense of the scene in front of me. The room behind the shelf was dim, the only light coming through the door which I was partly blocking.
There sat a man in the middle of the room.
"Who are you?" I asked in lack of a better question. Who was he, why was he here, hidden in a secret room, I wanted to ask all that but I had trouble forming the words.
"I asked first." He answered and leaned forward to have a better look at me.
With some delay I noticed that his hands were cuffed to the table in front of him, which didn't seem to bother him, though, and that there was a thick iron band around his neck. Chains rattled when he moved.
"Are you …?" I stepped closer, a wary eye on the room behind me without letting him out of my sight either. I was pretty sure that I wasn't meant to find this little secret and I half-expected to see Sam coming up behind me. But the storage room stayed empty and silent.
"… a prisoner?" I finished the question in a low whisper.
"No, Sam left me hanging in the middle of our little S/M session to get his stilettos and a leather bustier." Tone thick with sarcasm he lifted his hands so I had a clear view on the cuffs. "Of course I'm a prisoner."
"Okay, stupid question." I let out a nervous laugh, trying to get a very disturbing picture of Sam out of my head. I licked my lips. What should I do now? Sam was holding somebody prisoner here. Alone and in the dark. That wasn't the Sam I knew. Maybe it was Dean's doing and Sam had no idea.
Back to accusing, I thought and dismissed the idea. I couldn't picture Sam doing something like this but I couldn't see him not knowing either.
However, there was this man sitting right in front of me and no matter how often I blinked, he stayed there. Shackles included.
The more analytic part of my brain took over and told me that he couldn't have been there for long. The man had no way to call out to somebody if he needed the bathroom for example and he wasn't sitting in a puddle right now. I didn't need to have a closer look to know that, working in an ER I knew the smell of piss and it wasn't there. Neither was food or water for the prisoner.
Just a man on a chair and an empty table.
Maybe he was part or reason of the Winchesters' couple of rough days, I guessed. Was he the one who'd shot Dean?
He let out a sigh when I didn't do or say anything for too long.
"My name's Crowley." He offered. "And you are?"
"Luis Waiden." I answered without thinking.
"So, Luis Waiden." He let the name roll over his tongue. "Who are you?"
Guess my name didn't tell him much but I hesitated explaining myself. There was probably a very good reason behind all this. Sam wouldn't just kidnap somebody and stash him here.
Was he dangerous? Probably, why else the chains?
Then another thought occurred to me. Was he even human?
Now I stared openly at him, searching for a sign telling me if he was or wasn't human. I didn't find anything but to be honest, I'd no idea what I was looking for. He wasn't a ghost or a Manticore and with that my knowledge of the supernatural had reached its limits.
"I'm a friend of Sam." I answered as vaguely as possible. He had mentioned Sam earlier so it was a safe bet that he at least knew that Sam was involved in his current predicament. And with that he knew more than I did.
Now he narrowed his eyes on me.
"Moose's not exactly known for having friends." Crowley stated. "Friends who are still alive, that is." He finished his statement but I was still stuck on the first part.
"Moose?" I repeated. "Do you mean Sam?"
"You're not the brightest bulb around, aren't you?" He snapped back.
"I'm not the one sitting here in shackles." I countered. I couldn't help but wonder just how good he knew Sam to have a nickname for him. The Sam I knew had never been a big fan of nicknames. Except for Dean calling him Sammy.
"Touche." He leaned back in his chair. "So, Luis Waiden, friend of Sam. What are you going to do now?"
That was a good question. I couldn't just pretend I hadn't found this man.
"Why are you here?"
"Let's play a little round of quid pro quo, shall we?" He folded his hands in front of him. "I tell you why I'm here after you told me why you're here."
I shouldn't have found him in the first place, I knew that, and I got the feeling that talking to him was a bad idea. For all I knew I could be feeding information to the enemy without even realizing it.
"Forget it, I'll just ask Sam." I turned to leave but he called me back.
"You're going to just let me sit here?" He tucked at the chains, the rattling clearly for me to hear.
"I'll be back." I promised without looking at him.
"Sure you will, Arnie." He sank back, defeated.
"I'll leave the door open a crack." I offered helplessly. "So you don't have to sit in the dark."
"How generous of you."
I ran out of the room before I could do something stupid. I needed to talk to Sam first.
When I finally found my way back to the kitchen, Sam was up and making breakfast.
"Hey, I was just about to come looking for you." He greeted me with a smile which I couldn't return. "How's Dean?"
For a second I'd completely forgotten about my patient and I just mumbled a "Fine." as an answer.
"Good. Bacon and eggs?" Sam asked while he turned back to the stove.
"Just coffee." I answered and not only because of the burned smell coming from the pan.
"Sorry, cooking is Dean's job." Sam apologized but loaded his plate with the contents of the pan.
"Are you going to make breakfast for the man in the basement as well?" I asked, voice as neutral as I could manage. He froze, pan still in hand and a suddenly haunted look in his eyes.
"I got lost." I shrugged and focused on my coffee. "Found some interesting things."
With a sigh Sam set the pan and his plate back on the stove and then took a chair across from me at the table.
"There is a lot you don't know." He started.
"You have a man chained up in your fucking basement." I yelled at him.
"He's not exactly a man." Sam raked his fingers through his hair and I wasn't sure if he was embarrassed or feeling guilty.
"What's with the yelling?" Suddenly Kevin stood in the door, empty coffee mug in hand, ready for a refill. That kid was drinking way too much coffee if you'd ask me.
"Luis found Crowley." Sam waved in my direction and Kevin just made an ohh sound before he went for the coffee maker.
"Yeah, ohh." Sam mocked him. "How do I explain this one?"
I fought the urge to wave my hands and yell "I'm right here!" at him. Over the pouring of the coffee Kevin shrugged and said: "He's your friend."
Of course the teenager didn't return to whatever work he was doing like he'd probably planned and took a seat right next to me instead.
Sam glared at him but didn't say anything.
"I'm giving you the benefit of a doubt here." I spoke up. "But I really need an explanation for this one."
I could live with vague to no information to this place and with angels and teleportation and all that, but chaining someone up and leaving him alone in the dark was just wrong. There was something about that in the Geneva Conventions, I was pretty sure.
"His name is Crowley." Sam finally started to talk.
"I already know that." I made an impatient gesture for him to continue.
"Did you talk to him?" Sam asked and I nodded.
"Better don't listen to him at all." Kevin added in a bitter tone which spoke of some history with that guy.
"Anyway." Sam continued. "He's not a man, he's a demon. A very powerful demon."
"A demon." I let that one sink in. Demons were real? But then, so were angels apparently. If one existed so why not the other. "Why do you have a demon trapped in your basement?"
"Long story." Suddenly Sam looked really tired and I wondered how much sleep he'd gotten last night. "Demons are sneaky bastards, they lie. Don't go back to him, leave him alone."
"Demon or not, you can't just keep him down there." That was the part of me talking that became a doctor to help people. Knowing that we sat here at the table with coffee and burned breakfast was just wrong while this Crowley sat in that dark room all by himself.
"Why not?" Kevin asked. He was the last one I'd expected this coldness coming from. "The only reason he's still alive is because he could give us some useful information."
"And then what? You'll kill him when he isn't useful anymore?" I couldn't believe it. That would be cold-blooded murder.
Now Kevin stood up, his eyes cold on me.
"He killed my mom." He said in a dead voice. "He kidnapped and tortured me. So yeah, I would kill him."
He grabbed his mug, almost spilling coffee all over the table, and stormed out.
For a second it looked like Sam wanted to follow him or at least say something to him but in the end he slumped back in his chair without a word.
"Crowley." Sam said after a long moment. "He's not just a demon, he's the King of Hell."
"He's the devil?"
"No." That thought seemed to amuse him. In a bitter way. "He just took over after Lucifer was gone."
Okay, apparently it was a well-known fact, that Lucifer was gone. Somebody should probably inform the church. I was about to say that but one look at Sam's face stopped me. I didn't know how he knew that the devil was gone in the first place but whatever story was behind this, it still haunted him, that much was obvious.
"Just don't go back there." He turned abruptly and grabbed his plate again but it was more for turning from me than anything else. "He is a manipulative bastard and the less he knows about you the better."
Before I could respond to that, Castiel suddenly stood in the middle of the room. He turned his unblinking eyes on me.
"You should have a look at Dean."
Chapter 5
Masterpost