SPN/DA Fic: The Wellspring (16/?)
Title: The Wellspring (16/?)
Author: scourgeofeurope
Fandoms: Supernatural, Dark Angel
Rating: R (gen)
Characters: Dean, Sam, Alec, Ben
Summary: Sam and Dean find a tiny smartass in a barn in Montana. What are they to do?
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Previous chapters can be found here.
__________________________________________________
“It’s clean,” Sam says, and Ben wonders how he knows. The apartment looks the same, with the same stained carpets and ripped-up sofas. And it’s still cold. They’re in mid-fall in Indiana, though, and this place has no heat. Of course it’s cold.
Dean relaxes. Sam relaxes. The guns they’ve been holding so fast are lowered and Ben and Alec look up at them as their eyes sweep the room. Dean looks down before he even seems satisfied, as if he can feel the touch of their eyeballs, and he half-smiles even though his face is tense and more serious than usual.
“Stay alert, little dudes.”
“We’re alert,” Alec replies quickly, and Ben nods in agreement before he even realizes that it’s not true.
“You’re lookin’ at us,” Dean counters. “You should be lookin’ around.”
“We have impeccable hearing,” Alec argues, and Ben notes how Dean’s eyes harden just a little. The man’s serious business when it comes to hunting. “We’re genetically superior to you and therefore-”
“Therefore,” Dean intercedes, mouth near-scowl, “you use what you have until we’re out of here. Eyes and ears. No relaxing.”
“You relaxed,” Alec points out.
“But I was alert.”
“You’re not alert right now. You’re too busy pointing out how we’re not alert.”
Dean’s jaw clenches and the “Alec” that comes out of his mouth is gruff and ominous. Alec’s not about to take heed, though, and Ben knows this so he quickly bumps into his twin’s side before stepping up to Dean and curling his hand around a few of the man’s unoccupied fingers.
“Sam said it was clean,” Ben explains. Because it’s true. Because Ben wondered how Sam knew, but the trust that the statement was fact was instantaneous. If Sam says it’s clean, then it’s clean. His stomach lurches a little at this revelation. No trust should be so complete on the battlefield. He feels a thumb brush a strand of hair from his forehead, and he looks up and Dean’s face is understanding, but kind of strained, and Sam’s looking down at him too, with a soft mouth and eyes trying to shutter his pride.
“He could be wrong.” Dean squeezes Ben’s hand with those few fingers for a second. “He could be wrong. I could be wrong. Anybody could be wrong. You always stay alert. No matter what.”
Ben swallows and nods and straightens. Always alert. Always ready. Constant vigilance. He should’ve known it would always be like this.
The apartment’s clean, spirit-free, and Sam clarifies this again. Dean nods and they back out of the room, shut the door and consider the job done. The old woman’s still in the hallway. It’s been weeks, but she’s still there and she’s still saying crazy things and Dean sweeps Alec up with one arm, carries him and steps over her in order to avoid another incident. Sam follows his lead with Ben, and Ben watches her over Sam’s shoulder. She’s looking in his general direction, but her eyes can’t seem to focus and her muttered ravings are starting to get louder as they reach the stairwell, louder and louder, like a crescendo and Ben realizes she’s going to explode right when she does.
“Bastards and deviants!” she screams and it hurts Ben’s ears and she’s getting to her feet. She doesn’t even stumble, just rises on unyielding legs with an unexpected and kind of frightening grace.
Sam and Dean freeze. Ben wants to tell them to keep going. He doesn’t understand why they’re not, because she’s walking towards them now with a raised hand that’s so old and frail it looks rotting, and Sam and Dean aren’t walking away, but turning towards her. Ben looks to Alec, who’s wrapped rigidly around Dean. Not much scares Alec, but apparently old ladies make the cut. There was one at Manticore, Ben remembers. Not horrendously old, like this one, but old enough, a nurse who administered shots with a surprisingly sturdy hand.
“Can we go?” Ben hears his twin whisper earnestly. “M’don’t like her. Dean, m’don’t like her.” Ben sees Alec’s fingers twine in Dean’s shirt, sees his brother take a breath and attempt to lose his earnest tone. “She’s some scary shit, you know? We should go. Going is a good plan, I promise you.”
“She’s just a person, buddy.” Dean’s trying to be reassuring, but it’s not really a reassuring statement. Ghosts aren’t half as scary as old women who say cruel things and touch you with clinical detachment.
“Abominations. That’s what they are.” She’s so close. Sam takes a step back. “Inferior and impure, and God shall smite them when He recovers His control.” She’s reaching out to touch Ben. Sam jerks away and sets Ben back on his feet, and then there are legs the size of trees and a broad back and Ben can’t see the scary lady anymore. He can’t see it when she starts to cry, but he hears it in her voice. “You took them away. It was you. You took them a...away from me and they’ll be taken away from you. Your little bastards. They’ll be ripped away from you like you ripped away mine from me.”
“O-kay,” Dean lets the word drag out as he shifts Alec. Alec might as well have claws, the way he’s digging his fingers into Dean’s shoulders. “I think she may have missed her ride to the laughing academy. Let’s just-”
“You. You took them. They were still here and you made them - you left and she was gone, but her bastard was still here and then she just...she dropped away, down into the floor, soaked into it like her blood and she was gone and you did this. You did this and someone will do it to you. They’ll take them away from you. Your bastards.”
Sam and Dean are looking at each other and Dean’s shrugging his eyebrows at Sam and Ben’s pretty sure Sam’s shrugging his eyebrows back and it hasn’t hit them, yet, what’s happening. Sometimes it takes them so long. Too long. She’s crazy, but Ben understands crazy.
He tugs on one of Sam’s belt loops. A comforting hand immediately comes to rest on the back of his neck and Sam looks down at him, assures him, “Don’t worry, kiddo. We’re leaving.” Sam thinks Ben’s terrified like Alec’s terrified.
“She’s the grandmother.”
“Huh?”
“The grandmother. She’s the grandmother. She killed them...”
Sam’s mouth drops a little, and his eyes go up and to the side, and the gears are turning in his head, Ben can tell, trying to process this information. And the lady’s looking at Ben and her eyes are everywhere, but then...then they start to focus. On Ben.
“They’ll tear you apart,” she says and tears are streaming down her face. She’s not dried up, like she looks, not so dry and withered that she can’t cry. “They’ll slice into your mask, they’ll cut out your eyes, because they know what you are. You’re worthless and grotesque and alone. God never loved you.” She comes forward with that rotting hand of hers and she’s reaching for Ben, but Sam’s reaching for his gun and then he’s pointing it at her head and telling her to back the fuck off.
They get the hell out of there.
Dean ushers Ben into the back of the Impala, tucks Alec in beside him, detaches the hands refusing to let go of his shirt. Ben hears him murmur something, but its too quiet to comprehend and Alec relaxes a little and nods and lets Dean run a hand over his light hair one last time before shutting the door and getting into the driver’s seat and sighing like he’s exhausted.
“Dude...I can’t even.”
“Just find a pay phone, Dean. I’ll call the police and inform them.”
Dean starts driving. Ben sees his eyes flash in the rearview, trying to look back at them, and then Sam’s turning around and telling them that some people are genuinely insane and nothing that woman said held any meaning, because she was one of these people.
“No shit, Samlock.” Alec quips, though his voice isn’t nearly as cheerful as it would ordinarily be while exercising a new pun.
Sam’s quiet. He doesn’t even look...bitchy, as Dean would say, and he’s not scolding. He just looks like he’s trying to figure something out.
“Was that a pun on Sherlock or Matlock?”
Alec shrugs. “Either, or.” Then, eagerly, “What do’ya think? Is it a keeper?”
“No,” Sam tells him. “It was totally lame.”
“I thought it was genius.”
“Dean.”
“Save it for special occasions, though, okay, kitten? It’s not so awesome that it won’t get tiring. I think girl jokes are still the way to go.”
“Dean.”
Dean reaches over and patronizingly pats his little brother on the head. “That’s right, Sam. That’s my name and it never gets tiring.”
“Dean, stop touching me. I will break your hand. I swear to God.”
“I’ll break your face.”
“I’ll break your...” Sam is quiet for too long.
“Lame.”
“Shut up-”
“Lame. You are so freaking lame.”
They go on and on. They’re always doing that. Ben’s not sure if it ever stops, because he stops listening to it. He leans his head against the window and it’s cold against his face because it’s cold outside and he closes his eyes and all he can see is that hand coming for him and all he can hear are those words. They know what you are.
_____________________________________
It’s ugly. It’s the ugliest goddamn thing Alec’s ever seen in his entire life. And he’s not wearing it.
“It’s the ugliest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” he informs Sam. “And I’m not wearing it.”
He’s not. Not ever. The Salvation Army sucks ass. It doesn’t even have light-up sneakers.
Sam’s giving him that look, that infuriating you’ll-do-what-I-tell-you look that Alec can’t help but feel a fond sort of disdain for. Dean’s turning away in order to laugh. Ben’s nodding in agreement.
“M’don’t like it, either.”
“Guys.” Sam keeps dangling the pea-green monstrosity in front of them, like they’re dogs and this is a delicious treat. But it’s not delicious at all. It’s terrible. “It’s too cold for just hoodies. And you can’t keep on wearing our spares. They’re too big for you. This is filled with down.”
“It cinches at the waist,” Ben points out. “And it’s hideous. And there’s two of us.”
“Amen,” Alec chimes in.
Sam closes his eyes. Sam’s always closing his eyes and tilting his head like he’s trying to reign in his temper, even though he rarely displays any temper. Sam’s always been pretty controlled around them. Maybe one of these days, Alec muses, they can do something to alleviate this travesty.
“We’re gonna get two. But one of you has to wear this one.”
“We don’t like that one,” Alec replies. “It’s pouffy. Ben and I don’t do pouffy.”
“We don’t do pouffy,” Ben agrees.
“How ‘bout this?” Dean interjects. He’s got something in his hands, something brown and unassuming and not at all pouffy, something that looks strikingly similar to what Dean’s wearing right now.
“That’s good.” They both reach for the garment with quick and grabby hands.
Alec’s not at all sure how Sam gets there first, but the taller Winchester brother swipes that shit up before either of transgenics can so much as blink an eye.
“This isn’t warm enough.”
“Our body temperature’s higher than yours,” Ben immediately counters, arm stretching up to take the jacket back. Sam lifts it higher, dangles it just out of their reach, the infuriating bastard.
“I don’t care. It’s not warm enough, and appearance matters. We can’t have people think we’re freezing you, can we?”
“But that other one’s repugnant,” Alec interjects. “S’ugly. S’not good at all. S’bad. S’gruesome. S’horrifying-”
“Alec.” Sam closes his eyes and lets out a breath and opens his eyes again. “When did you two become fashion conscious?”
Alec shrugs. “I don’t know. But I do know I still want some light-up sneakers.” He does. He really does. Light-up sneakers are the shit. For real.
Dean snorts and snatches the jacket out of Sam’s hand. Alec bites the inside of his cheek, but it does nothing to restrain his wide smile and Sam scowls in return. “We’re at the Salvation Army, kitten. Light-up sneakers at the Salvation Army are a rare acquisition. ”
“Could’ve snuck out of a Walmart with ‘em. Easy as pie.”
“Mmm...pie,” Dean replies absently, and he kneels and pulls Alec forward, starts gently stuffing tiny arms into the jacket.
“What’re you doin’?”
“Seein’ if it fits over your hoodie. Maybe Sam won’t throw a bitchfit if we can layer you.”
Sam huffs, but the jacket fits over the hoodie. Ben bites his lip and looks down and shuffles his feet for a moment and Alec feels kind of bad until Sam assures him they’ll be taking turns with who wears what and the kid brightens, which is good, but then Alec feels a kind of dread. ‘Cause that means he’s gonna have to wear the ugly one sometimes.
“Can’t we find a better one?” he asks. “So Ben and I don’t have to suffer the humiliation of wearing that...thing?”
“No,” Sam replies instantly. “You’ll wear what we can give you.” Then he pauses and gets that pensive look on his face that hardly ever amounts to anything good. He bites his lip for a moment and turns to Dean before asking, “Dude, d’ya think we’ve spoiled the kids?”
Alec is confused about how a child can spoil, barring cancer or any other disease that tends to eat away at the body, or how Sam and Dean might bring on said spoilage. He looks to Ben, who is also visibly confused and shrugging.
“They’re not spoiled. They just don’t wanna look like geeks or douches.”
“They should be happy for a coat. Any coat.”
“Three words, Sammy. Calvin Klein underpants.”
That shuts Sam up. Dean peels the jacket off of Alec and throws it at his tall little brother before leading them all to checkout. Alec and Ben follow them, stifling their giggles because they might not understand the concept of spoiling children, but they totally understand the concept of Sam wearing designer underwear.
Alec hops on Dean’s back before they walk out the door and the man staggers a little, and then exaggerates his stagger, and makes jokes about Alec being too heavy. Alec hopes its a joke, anyway. He doesn’t want to be too heavy to ride on Dean’s back, not ever. And he’s never going to admit this and he’s gonna try his best not to look disappointed when it finally happens, but it’s the stone cold fucking truth. Sam and Dean make it kind of okay to be small.
They walked. The motel’s several blocks away, but they didn’t want to waste gas, and it’s about a block down the sidewalk, a block away from the thrift store, when he sees her. She sees him, too, and she smiles with her mouth, but Alec can’t see her eyes because they’re hidden behind those glasses which are just as dark in the daytime as they are at night.
He doesn’t realize how tight his fingers have gone until Dean stops and asks him if he’s okay. It’s taken a long time for him to hear the inquiry, Alec’s pretty sure, because Dean sounds really earnest by the time Alec catches the words and the man crouches a little, slides Alec off of his back, puts two steadying hands onto trembling shoulders.
Trembling. Alec’s shaking. Alec doesn’t know when that started happening.
“Alec? What’s going on?”
She’s still there, still smiling, but Dean’s got his back turned to her now and so does Sam and she’s getting up and waving her hand and turning and...Ben sees her. Ben sees her, too, and he’s looking from her now retreating back to Alec with wide eyes. Her hair is long, but pinned up, and Alec’s eyesight is excellent. Really, really excellent. Better than Sam’s, or Dean’s, or anyone who wasn’t engineered by a government facility. His eyesight’s excellent, like Ben’s, and they both see it when she walks in that graceful and feminine fashion, hips rocking, collar of her coat inching up and down with each step, exposing the branded skin, the barcode.
“Alec? Alec, what?” Dean’s looking back. She’s far enough away now that she wouldn’t be relevant to his eyes. “What happened. What are you-?”
“They’re here,” Alec cuts him off. “Manticore. They sent...” She’s too old. She’s gotta be almost as old as Sam. How is she so old? “Something.” An early prototype? Didn’t they...
“They eliminated those,” Ben mumbles. He’s numb. Alec knows he’s numb because Alec’s numb. “They eliminated them, didn’t they? Is she...what is she...”
Alec and Ben are off the ground and they’re traveling as fast as adult legs can discretely carry them. They’ve gotta go back to the motel, their stuff is there, the car is there, but they’re getting the hell out of here. They’re only staying as long as it takes to throw their shit in a bag and then they’re getting the hell out of town. Sam and Dean are mumbling these promises and not expecting responses, which Alec is glad for because he doesn’t think he can form a sentence right now, he’s so fucking...
Jesus fuck.
The motel parking lot is abandoned except for the Impala and the large van with the blacked out windows and there’s so many of them and they have guns and there are people dressed as police, but they’re not police, Alec knows. There’s too much coherence in their eyes. They know this situation.
“I see you found my kids.”
Alec’s stomach drops at the voice and the tone and he squeezes Dean with his legs and arms as hard as he can without breaking the guy.
“Who in the holy fuck are you?” If Alec didn’t know him so well, didn’t know the own blood in his veins, he wouldn’t think Dean was scared. Dean is visceral and harsh and barely restraining his rage, but Alec can feel it, can smell it. There are guns. There are lots of guns and lots of people, and some of them are decked out in costumed authority and Dean...Dean smells like fear.
“My name is Colonel Donald Lydecker. And like I just said, you found my kids.”
Alec leans in, leans so close to the hunter’s ear his lips are almost brushing the cartilage when he says, “M’gonna go with them. Dean, m’gonna...you have to go. They’ll kill you. They’ll kill you and Sam. Me and Ben’ll go with ‘em.”
Dean’s arms are almost crushing him, they’re so tight.
Alec swallows. “Dean...Dean...you gotta. They’ll...I won’t let them. You have to.”
“No.” The growl is fierce and unrelenting and so is Dean’s embrace, but Alec’s strong. Alec can take Dean down now just as easily as he could the day he met him.
“M’sorry. M’so sorry. I...you’re so awesome. You’re awesome and m’not gonna let them, Dean. M’not gonna let them hurt you. You have to let me-”
Hands. Hands coming from everywhere. Ben’s kicking. Ben’s fighting. Alec can hear him. Alec can hear Sam and Sam’s threats of bodily harm and he’s never heard the guy sound so crude before. Sam’s tough shit, Alec realizes. Sam’s some of the toughest and coolest shit ever ‘cause he’s talking about slicing people open and leaving them on the concrete to bleed out and die unless they get their fucking hands off Ben right the fuck now. And Ben’s fighting. And they’re stunning him.
And Alec’s fighting.
And they’re stunning Alec.
And it hurts. And the van they’re thrown into is cold and without any of the comforts of the Impala. This is a van for hauling prisoners and the only thing that’s the same about this, that’s the same as the way Alec and Ben have been traveling for the past few months is that Sam and Dean are here, too, thrown alongside the children they’ve been trying so hard to protect, groaning in pain from blows dealt without sympathy like a couple of castoff soldiers.
Next
Author: scourgeofeurope
Fandoms: Supernatural, Dark Angel
Rating: R (gen)
Characters: Dean, Sam, Alec, Ben
Summary: Sam and Dean find a tiny smartass in a barn in Montana. What are they to do?
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Previous chapters can be found here.
__________________________________________________
“It’s clean,” Sam says, and Ben wonders how he knows. The apartment looks the same, with the same stained carpets and ripped-up sofas. And it’s still cold. They’re in mid-fall in Indiana, though, and this place has no heat. Of course it’s cold.
Dean relaxes. Sam relaxes. The guns they’ve been holding so fast are lowered and Ben and Alec look up at them as their eyes sweep the room. Dean looks down before he even seems satisfied, as if he can feel the touch of their eyeballs, and he half-smiles even though his face is tense and more serious than usual.
“Stay alert, little dudes.”
“We’re alert,” Alec replies quickly, and Ben nods in agreement before he even realizes that it’s not true.
“You’re lookin’ at us,” Dean counters. “You should be lookin’ around.”
“We have impeccable hearing,” Alec argues, and Ben notes how Dean’s eyes harden just a little. The man’s serious business when it comes to hunting. “We’re genetically superior to you and therefore-”
“Therefore,” Dean intercedes, mouth near-scowl, “you use what you have until we’re out of here. Eyes and ears. No relaxing.”
“You relaxed,” Alec points out.
“But I was alert.”
“You’re not alert right now. You’re too busy pointing out how we’re not alert.”
Dean’s jaw clenches and the “Alec” that comes out of his mouth is gruff and ominous. Alec’s not about to take heed, though, and Ben knows this so he quickly bumps into his twin’s side before stepping up to Dean and curling his hand around a few of the man’s unoccupied fingers.
“Sam said it was clean,” Ben explains. Because it’s true. Because Ben wondered how Sam knew, but the trust that the statement was fact was instantaneous. If Sam says it’s clean, then it’s clean. His stomach lurches a little at this revelation. No trust should be so complete on the battlefield. He feels a thumb brush a strand of hair from his forehead, and he looks up and Dean’s face is understanding, but kind of strained, and Sam’s looking down at him too, with a soft mouth and eyes trying to shutter his pride.
“He could be wrong.” Dean squeezes Ben’s hand with those few fingers for a second. “He could be wrong. I could be wrong. Anybody could be wrong. You always stay alert. No matter what.”
Ben swallows and nods and straightens. Always alert. Always ready. Constant vigilance. He should’ve known it would always be like this.
The apartment’s clean, spirit-free, and Sam clarifies this again. Dean nods and they back out of the room, shut the door and consider the job done. The old woman’s still in the hallway. It’s been weeks, but she’s still there and she’s still saying crazy things and Dean sweeps Alec up with one arm, carries him and steps over her in order to avoid another incident. Sam follows his lead with Ben, and Ben watches her over Sam’s shoulder. She’s looking in his general direction, but her eyes can’t seem to focus and her muttered ravings are starting to get louder as they reach the stairwell, louder and louder, like a crescendo and Ben realizes she’s going to explode right when she does.
“Bastards and deviants!” she screams and it hurts Ben’s ears and she’s getting to her feet. She doesn’t even stumble, just rises on unyielding legs with an unexpected and kind of frightening grace.
Sam and Dean freeze. Ben wants to tell them to keep going. He doesn’t understand why they’re not, because she’s walking towards them now with a raised hand that’s so old and frail it looks rotting, and Sam and Dean aren’t walking away, but turning towards her. Ben looks to Alec, who’s wrapped rigidly around Dean. Not much scares Alec, but apparently old ladies make the cut. There was one at Manticore, Ben remembers. Not horrendously old, like this one, but old enough, a nurse who administered shots with a surprisingly sturdy hand.
“Can we go?” Ben hears his twin whisper earnestly. “M’don’t like her. Dean, m’don’t like her.” Ben sees Alec’s fingers twine in Dean’s shirt, sees his brother take a breath and attempt to lose his earnest tone. “She’s some scary shit, you know? We should go. Going is a good plan, I promise you.”
“She’s just a person, buddy.” Dean’s trying to be reassuring, but it’s not really a reassuring statement. Ghosts aren’t half as scary as old women who say cruel things and touch you with clinical detachment.
“Abominations. That’s what they are.” She’s so close. Sam takes a step back. “Inferior and impure, and God shall smite them when He recovers His control.” She’s reaching out to touch Ben. Sam jerks away and sets Ben back on his feet, and then there are legs the size of trees and a broad back and Ben can’t see the scary lady anymore. He can’t see it when she starts to cry, but he hears it in her voice. “You took them away. It was you. You took them a...away from me and they’ll be taken away from you. Your little bastards. They’ll be ripped away from you like you ripped away mine from me.”
“O-kay,” Dean lets the word drag out as he shifts Alec. Alec might as well have claws, the way he’s digging his fingers into Dean’s shoulders. “I think she may have missed her ride to the laughing academy. Let’s just-”
“You. You took them. They were still here and you made them - you left and she was gone, but her bastard was still here and then she just...she dropped away, down into the floor, soaked into it like her blood and she was gone and you did this. You did this and someone will do it to you. They’ll take them away from you. Your bastards.”
Sam and Dean are looking at each other and Dean’s shrugging his eyebrows at Sam and Ben’s pretty sure Sam’s shrugging his eyebrows back and it hasn’t hit them, yet, what’s happening. Sometimes it takes them so long. Too long. She’s crazy, but Ben understands crazy.
He tugs on one of Sam’s belt loops. A comforting hand immediately comes to rest on the back of his neck and Sam looks down at him, assures him, “Don’t worry, kiddo. We’re leaving.” Sam thinks Ben’s terrified like Alec’s terrified.
“She’s the grandmother.”
“Huh?”
“The grandmother. She’s the grandmother. She killed them...”
Sam’s mouth drops a little, and his eyes go up and to the side, and the gears are turning in his head, Ben can tell, trying to process this information. And the lady’s looking at Ben and her eyes are everywhere, but then...then they start to focus. On Ben.
“They’ll tear you apart,” she says and tears are streaming down her face. She’s not dried up, like she looks, not so dry and withered that she can’t cry. “They’ll slice into your mask, they’ll cut out your eyes, because they know what you are. You’re worthless and grotesque and alone. God never loved you.” She comes forward with that rotting hand of hers and she’s reaching for Ben, but Sam’s reaching for his gun and then he’s pointing it at her head and telling her to back the fuck off.
They get the hell out of there.
Dean ushers Ben into the back of the Impala, tucks Alec in beside him, detaches the hands refusing to let go of his shirt. Ben hears him murmur something, but its too quiet to comprehend and Alec relaxes a little and nods and lets Dean run a hand over his light hair one last time before shutting the door and getting into the driver’s seat and sighing like he’s exhausted.
“Dude...I can’t even.”
“Just find a pay phone, Dean. I’ll call the police and inform them.”
Dean starts driving. Ben sees his eyes flash in the rearview, trying to look back at them, and then Sam’s turning around and telling them that some people are genuinely insane and nothing that woman said held any meaning, because she was one of these people.
“No shit, Samlock.” Alec quips, though his voice isn’t nearly as cheerful as it would ordinarily be while exercising a new pun.
Sam’s quiet. He doesn’t even look...bitchy, as Dean would say, and he’s not scolding. He just looks like he’s trying to figure something out.
“Was that a pun on Sherlock or Matlock?”
Alec shrugs. “Either, or.” Then, eagerly, “What do’ya think? Is it a keeper?”
“No,” Sam tells him. “It was totally lame.”
“I thought it was genius.”
“Dean.”
“Save it for special occasions, though, okay, kitten? It’s not so awesome that it won’t get tiring. I think girl jokes are still the way to go.”
“Dean.”
Dean reaches over and patronizingly pats his little brother on the head. “That’s right, Sam. That’s my name and it never gets tiring.”
“Dean, stop touching me. I will break your hand. I swear to God.”
“I’ll break your face.”
“I’ll break your...” Sam is quiet for too long.
“Lame.”
“Shut up-”
“Lame. You are so freaking lame.”
They go on and on. They’re always doing that. Ben’s not sure if it ever stops, because he stops listening to it. He leans his head against the window and it’s cold against his face because it’s cold outside and he closes his eyes and all he can see is that hand coming for him and all he can hear are those words. They know what you are.
_____________________________________
It’s ugly. It’s the ugliest goddamn thing Alec’s ever seen in his entire life. And he’s not wearing it.
“It’s the ugliest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” he informs Sam. “And I’m not wearing it.”
He’s not. Not ever. The Salvation Army sucks ass. It doesn’t even have light-up sneakers.
Sam’s giving him that look, that infuriating you’ll-do-what-I-tell-you look that Alec can’t help but feel a fond sort of disdain for. Dean’s turning away in order to laugh. Ben’s nodding in agreement.
“M’don’t like it, either.”
“Guys.” Sam keeps dangling the pea-green monstrosity in front of them, like they’re dogs and this is a delicious treat. But it’s not delicious at all. It’s terrible. “It’s too cold for just hoodies. And you can’t keep on wearing our spares. They’re too big for you. This is filled with down.”
“It cinches at the waist,” Ben points out. “And it’s hideous. And there’s two of us.”
“Amen,” Alec chimes in.
Sam closes his eyes. Sam’s always closing his eyes and tilting his head like he’s trying to reign in his temper, even though he rarely displays any temper. Sam’s always been pretty controlled around them. Maybe one of these days, Alec muses, they can do something to alleviate this travesty.
“We’re gonna get two. But one of you has to wear this one.”
“We don’t like that one,” Alec replies. “It’s pouffy. Ben and I don’t do pouffy.”
“We don’t do pouffy,” Ben agrees.
“How ‘bout this?” Dean interjects. He’s got something in his hands, something brown and unassuming and not at all pouffy, something that looks strikingly similar to what Dean’s wearing right now.
“That’s good.” They both reach for the garment with quick and grabby hands.
Alec’s not at all sure how Sam gets there first, but the taller Winchester brother swipes that shit up before either of transgenics can so much as blink an eye.
“This isn’t warm enough.”
“Our body temperature’s higher than yours,” Ben immediately counters, arm stretching up to take the jacket back. Sam lifts it higher, dangles it just out of their reach, the infuriating bastard.
“I don’t care. It’s not warm enough, and appearance matters. We can’t have people think we’re freezing you, can we?”
“But that other one’s repugnant,” Alec interjects. “S’ugly. S’not good at all. S’bad. S’gruesome. S’horrifying-”
“Alec.” Sam closes his eyes and lets out a breath and opens his eyes again. “When did you two become fashion conscious?”
Alec shrugs. “I don’t know. But I do know I still want some light-up sneakers.” He does. He really does. Light-up sneakers are the shit. For real.
Dean snorts and snatches the jacket out of Sam’s hand. Alec bites the inside of his cheek, but it does nothing to restrain his wide smile and Sam scowls in return. “We’re at the Salvation Army, kitten. Light-up sneakers at the Salvation Army are a rare acquisition. ”
“Could’ve snuck out of a Walmart with ‘em. Easy as pie.”
“Mmm...pie,” Dean replies absently, and he kneels and pulls Alec forward, starts gently stuffing tiny arms into the jacket.
“What’re you doin’?”
“Seein’ if it fits over your hoodie. Maybe Sam won’t throw a bitchfit if we can layer you.”
Sam huffs, but the jacket fits over the hoodie. Ben bites his lip and looks down and shuffles his feet for a moment and Alec feels kind of bad until Sam assures him they’ll be taking turns with who wears what and the kid brightens, which is good, but then Alec feels a kind of dread. ‘Cause that means he’s gonna have to wear the ugly one sometimes.
“Can’t we find a better one?” he asks. “So Ben and I don’t have to suffer the humiliation of wearing that...thing?”
“No,” Sam replies instantly. “You’ll wear what we can give you.” Then he pauses and gets that pensive look on his face that hardly ever amounts to anything good. He bites his lip for a moment and turns to Dean before asking, “Dude, d’ya think we’ve spoiled the kids?”
Alec is confused about how a child can spoil, barring cancer or any other disease that tends to eat away at the body, or how Sam and Dean might bring on said spoilage. He looks to Ben, who is also visibly confused and shrugging.
“They’re not spoiled. They just don’t wanna look like geeks or douches.”
“They should be happy for a coat. Any coat.”
“Three words, Sammy. Calvin Klein underpants.”
That shuts Sam up. Dean peels the jacket off of Alec and throws it at his tall little brother before leading them all to checkout. Alec and Ben follow them, stifling their giggles because they might not understand the concept of spoiling children, but they totally understand the concept of Sam wearing designer underwear.
Alec hops on Dean’s back before they walk out the door and the man staggers a little, and then exaggerates his stagger, and makes jokes about Alec being too heavy. Alec hopes its a joke, anyway. He doesn’t want to be too heavy to ride on Dean’s back, not ever. And he’s never going to admit this and he’s gonna try his best not to look disappointed when it finally happens, but it’s the stone cold fucking truth. Sam and Dean make it kind of okay to be small.
They walked. The motel’s several blocks away, but they didn’t want to waste gas, and it’s about a block down the sidewalk, a block away from the thrift store, when he sees her. She sees him, too, and she smiles with her mouth, but Alec can’t see her eyes because they’re hidden behind those glasses which are just as dark in the daytime as they are at night.
He doesn’t realize how tight his fingers have gone until Dean stops and asks him if he’s okay. It’s taken a long time for him to hear the inquiry, Alec’s pretty sure, because Dean sounds really earnest by the time Alec catches the words and the man crouches a little, slides Alec off of his back, puts two steadying hands onto trembling shoulders.
Trembling. Alec’s shaking. Alec doesn’t know when that started happening.
“Alec? What’s going on?”
She’s still there, still smiling, but Dean’s got his back turned to her now and so does Sam and she’s getting up and waving her hand and turning and...Ben sees her. Ben sees her, too, and he’s looking from her now retreating back to Alec with wide eyes. Her hair is long, but pinned up, and Alec’s eyesight is excellent. Really, really excellent. Better than Sam’s, or Dean’s, or anyone who wasn’t engineered by a government facility. His eyesight’s excellent, like Ben’s, and they both see it when she walks in that graceful and feminine fashion, hips rocking, collar of her coat inching up and down with each step, exposing the branded skin, the barcode.
“Alec? Alec, what?” Dean’s looking back. She’s far enough away now that she wouldn’t be relevant to his eyes. “What happened. What are you-?”
“They’re here,” Alec cuts him off. “Manticore. They sent...” She’s too old. She’s gotta be almost as old as Sam. How is she so old? “Something.” An early prototype? Didn’t they...
“They eliminated those,” Ben mumbles. He’s numb. Alec knows he’s numb because Alec’s numb. “They eliminated them, didn’t they? Is she...what is she...”
Alec and Ben are off the ground and they’re traveling as fast as adult legs can discretely carry them. They’ve gotta go back to the motel, their stuff is there, the car is there, but they’re getting the hell out of here. They’re only staying as long as it takes to throw their shit in a bag and then they’re getting the hell out of town. Sam and Dean are mumbling these promises and not expecting responses, which Alec is glad for because he doesn’t think he can form a sentence right now, he’s so fucking...
Jesus fuck.
The motel parking lot is abandoned except for the Impala and the large van with the blacked out windows and there’s so many of them and they have guns and there are people dressed as police, but they’re not police, Alec knows. There’s too much coherence in their eyes. They know this situation.
“I see you found my kids.”
Alec’s stomach drops at the voice and the tone and he squeezes Dean with his legs and arms as hard as he can without breaking the guy.
“Who in the holy fuck are you?” If Alec didn’t know him so well, didn’t know the own blood in his veins, he wouldn’t think Dean was scared. Dean is visceral and harsh and barely restraining his rage, but Alec can feel it, can smell it. There are guns. There are lots of guns and lots of people, and some of them are decked out in costumed authority and Dean...Dean smells like fear.
“My name is Colonel Donald Lydecker. And like I just said, you found my kids.”
Alec leans in, leans so close to the hunter’s ear his lips are almost brushing the cartilage when he says, “M’gonna go with them. Dean, m’gonna...you have to go. They’ll kill you. They’ll kill you and Sam. Me and Ben’ll go with ‘em.”
Dean’s arms are almost crushing him, they’re so tight.
Alec swallows. “Dean...Dean...you gotta. They’ll...I won’t let them. You have to.”
“No.” The growl is fierce and unrelenting and so is Dean’s embrace, but Alec’s strong. Alec can take Dean down now just as easily as he could the day he met him.
“M’sorry. M’so sorry. I...you’re so awesome. You’re awesome and m’not gonna let them, Dean. M’not gonna let them hurt you. You have to let me-”
Hands. Hands coming from everywhere. Ben’s kicking. Ben’s fighting. Alec can hear him. Alec can hear Sam and Sam’s threats of bodily harm and he’s never heard the guy sound so crude before. Sam’s tough shit, Alec realizes. Sam’s some of the toughest and coolest shit ever ‘cause he’s talking about slicing people open and leaving them on the concrete to bleed out and die unless they get their fucking hands off Ben right the fuck now. And Ben’s fighting. And they’re stunning him.
And Alec’s fighting.
And they’re stunning Alec.
And it hurts. And the van they’re thrown into is cold and without any of the comforts of the Impala. This is a van for hauling prisoners and the only thing that’s the same about this, that’s the same as the way Alec and Ben have been traveling for the past few months is that Sam and Dean are here, too, thrown alongside the children they’ve been trying so hard to protect, groaning in pain from blows dealt without sympathy like a couple of castoff soldiers.
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