Give A Name Ch 02

Chapter 2: To the Road Less Traveled

While, they were driving in the car, Sam was flipping through Stacy's file, before heading to the mother office, iStahar Clinic, in La Crosse, Wisconsin. Sam knew already what he would find.

It was the same with the other victim's. All seven were women, who had difficulties with getting or staying pregnant, and were either alone or had little or no relatives or friends. They were able to get pregnant through the clinic and during their third trimester, they were murdered. Somehow, their children were removed from their stomach.

Their deaths were all the same: blood drained, stomach sliced opened, baby removed, but womb was still intact. No signs of struggle or trauma besides the obvious gaping hole in their middle and their organs arrange in a neat pile beside the body.

Police reports say the crime scene had no other suspicious traces of blood except for the victim's and was clear of any incriminating evidence. Their blood was found on their hands and under the pile of organs. It brought about the assumption that the victims were, either, alive during the draining of their blood or the dissection, to remove the baby.

If so then why hadn't the mothers called out for help or at least cried out from the pain?

Damn it if it didn't hurt, because there weren't any toxins found, in the little blood that was left. Their blood was cleaned of any anesthetics or paralysis. Also, there was no bruising on their hands, feet or mouth to say the victims were restrained.

So, why hadn't they called out for help or at least fought their attackers?

This all caught Bobby's attention. There wasn't much blood in the body or around the body to imply a struggle or that the body was brought back to where the victims where found. The women were always placed out in the open where they could easily be found. The last time anyone ever saw them was when they came out of the clinic to visit friends and families. They were murdered before or after the appointed times.

Witnesses remembered, Stacy leaving the restaurant and heading into the alley. They didn't hear Stacy screamed or cried out for help. Only, Stacy's friend, Hennessey, scream was heard, when she came out looking for Stacy and found her dead.

Three nights ago they had interviewed the friend, but she refused to talk or she couldn't. Hennessey (Dean grinning at the name) hadn't seen Stacy, since she started going to the clinic and had gotten pregnant. Stacy would call from the clinic, but it was only after her eight month, was she allowed to leave. The clinic was afraid that something might happen to her and her baby.

Sam had felt fed up and frustrated, after. There was nothing, much to go on and it left the trail cold.

There was no reason, to take these women? So, why even take their babies?

The crime photos were always the same. The women were fully dressed with the pile of organs beside them, starting from big too small. It reminded him, sickly of the toy pyramid, with its rainbow colored circles stacked on top of each other.

Who could have done such a thing? Who was capable of pulling it off?

Bobby made an interesting speculation, surrounding the blood on the hands, that the women did it to themselves. That was impossible because of the 'no-blood' factor. They had to be already dead because of the blood loss or at least in pain.

If she was possessed then it would make sense, because of the disposition of the cut on the torso. Like the others, Stacy was right handed. The cut was made by someone, who was left handed.

The police believed a serial killer(s) or an organization, which either killed pregnant women and their babies, or they killed pregnant women for their babies, that were the culprits behind the murders.

The frequency of the murders was what tipped Bobby off to the case. It was the fourth time that a series of these deaths occurred. Each time, it would happen in a different city and state within the last two months.

It was hard to keep track of the murders. They hardly made head line news and after eight pregnant women were killed. The culprit skipped town to move on to another. All murders were in connection to the iStahar Clinic.

When, they started to happen in South Dakota (Bobby's backyard) and Wisconsin, Bobby had already begun looking into all the cults and supernatural beings. Looking up on anything that has to do with child abduction from the womb or child sacrifice and it didn't look good.

All the text and references were over whelming. Starting, from modern day occult to ancient historical text; all screamed that this wasn't looking good and 'fuck' if it wasn't going good, either.

Sam worked his tie open to get a bit of air down his lungs. His right elbow was propped up against the door, his hand to his mouth and staring out the window. His earlier vexation at his brother was long forgotten. Sam tried to relax, but he started to feel something else, like a pair of familiar green eyes on him.

Sam turned to glance at his brother and caught Dean adverting eyes. As if Sam had the time to tear into his brother's ass, because Dean was soft on some female tail.

Sam hated it when his brother was flirtatious. He would have been complaining about his brother's action by now, but this case had him feeling on edge.

The thought of someone committing crimes against mothers and their babies for supernatural purposes, reminded him of Azazel and Lilith. Azazel, who had gone around offing the mother's of the children, who had drank his demon blood. Lilith, for when she had worn a child meat-suite. Sam still remembers offing the bitch, who used to feed on them. A secret smile spread across his face.

Those were some good times!

But still, it took one heck of strong demonic power to possess a child. Since, children carried little sin. As for an unborn child, it carried almost no sin at all, until it was born. But the best way to gain power was through children, especially babies. The younger they were; the more potent their pure souls were.

Though, times have changed. People have invented trust-funds and social security for themselves. The gods weren't reliable sources and demons were unreliable paychecks. Child sacrifice is still a common practiced today. Not on such a scale, like the past two months.

In the last two weeks alone, seven pregnant women have been murdered and robbed of their babies. If it were a supernatural being, they would have covered their tracks by now, instead of leaving obvious breadcrumbs for a hunter to follow.

So, who could it be?

Sam closed the file shut and began to pinch the bridge of his nose. The case was bringing up some unsolved and untouched issues. Sam, who had heard the story behind his birth from Dean and his father, was feeling more emotionally involved and attached to this case than most.

For one: the murdering of pregnant women. Especially women, who were having a hard time getting pregnant to begin with. Then to finally have succeeded in having gotten with child, only to have their babies removed. Their dreams of joy were killed or stolen, by some unknown evil force or demon.

At least, my mom had six months with me....

Sam closed his eyes but he could still see the pictures of the murdered women in his mind. Who ever took those pictures, took them in an aerial view.

The women lying on the dirty floor, their eyes opened wide with a bloody gash across their stomachs. Legs and arms position in an uncompromising fashion. Their blond hair splayed out about their heads, fire bursting forth behind them, crawling along the ceiling and Sam stopped the images of Jess and his mother from entering his mind.

He exhaled loudly and brushed his hair from out of his face. Palms wet from sweat. He opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times. They faded to the back of his mind where they belonged. Hidden in the far depths of his heart where they enter the darkness of his past, tainted by a pair of yellow eyes.

Turning more to the window looking out, he wondered silently, if his mother was happy having him when he was a baby. If she cradled him with love, like she did with Dean.

If after giving birth to Sam, did his mom, dad and Dean celebrate his birth? Did she cry tears of joy, when Azazel had cut her open (like the other victims) and plastered her on the roof above his crib?

Shit!

Sam realized that he had stopped breathing and took a deep breath. Looking out the window again, trying desperately to focus on the passing cars, as they drove East on I-90 to Minnesota and then turning off to enter Wisconsin.

He vowed to put a stop to this. It wasn't fair for him to grow up without knowing his mother. No human-being should endure this kind of pain. Not knowing, if they were a joy to their mother. Being told so wasn't enough and it never will be.

Sam was an exception. He wasn't exactly a bundle of joy or even fully human. He was a living malediction and the reason for his mother's and Jess' death. Deaths, that took a toll on his father's life and were the reason behind their unusual upbringing and lifestyle. Deaths, that made him fled from his father and brought him back home, to Dean. All because Sam was born and was too young to kill himself.

Ha, talk about yourself loathing and atonement!

Sam chuckled and Dean looked at him, wearily. Of course, if Dean knew what he was thinking about, he would be pissed!

If his annoying brother found out, what he was thinking about or was willing to do, in order to save these women's lives and himself from his transgressions. Even, if it meant his death. Dean wouldn't find it so funny, at all!

Dean turned the volume up on the radio. Sam let Dean play his music loud. It helped to keep his mind off of his sordid past, but it wasn't helping him with the case. He couldn't think because Dean was playing Led Zeppelin again for the millionth time. This time it was that stupid 'Kashmir' song, not really one of Dean's favorites, to generic.

Sam chuckled again and Dean looked at him. Dean leaned over and turned the volume down, "You wanna share that with the rest of the class, Sammy!"

"Dude, Kashmir is in India." A moment pause, then Sam added to tease his brother, "You know where the Kama Sutra came from?"

Dean looked at him with an arched eye brow and said hurriedly: "Is that, where they filmed, that hot Bollywood movie with the two Indian chicks making out?"

What the hell has my brother been watching?

"No... The Indian Sanskrit about the art of love making and its various sexual positions." Sam said to his brother expectant face.

"You were looking at a sandskit..." -"Sanskrit!"- "...yeah that... for sexual positions?" Dean continued, with a knowing smile. His right eye brow arched high.

Leave it to his brother to think about sex and not the love making part or anything else for that matter.

"No, I became curious about this song and looked it up. I was wondering why you didn't like it much. So, uhm... I looked it up. Did you know they wrote this song while driving in Southern Morocco, from Goulimine to Tantan in the Sahara Desert?" Sam asked.

"Of course, I knew that!" Dean shrugged his shoulders, but gave Sam a fleeting look.

Sam just laughed.

He remembered about his younger years when he looked up everything on Dean's favorite rock bands. He was desperate to be accepted by his brother or to become just like him. Until, he began to grow sexual feelings for Dean and ran to Stanford to escape them.

Unfortunately or luckily for Sam, he could never escape from his feelings for Dean and neither from his brother. Dean always knows how to find him. Their life's roads intertwined and leaded back to one another, to merge and melt into one, never to part or escape the other.

Yep, Dean is one hell of a persistent and determined little bugger!