Gunning Down Romance, Dean and Logankarrenia_runeAugust 8 2010, 17:35:42 UTC
That time-honored cliche about always wanting what you can't have, well, up until now Logan Cale had merely tossed it aside as exactly that; a cliche and not much more beyond that.
That is until Max Guevarra and through her, Alec McDowell and all the others, former test subjects of Manticore; and everything changed.
Looking back Logan realized that his rather arrogant attitudes and assumptions were no longer as iron-clad as he had once believed them to be.
On the surface a keen observer of human nature, would think that no two people could have had less in common than these two; but as time wore on, through shared dangers and through the intervention of a woman they had been loved and left in their own unique way; he and Alec had found something that try as he might refused to be classified as a relationship. "If we'd had a moment to ourselves," thought Logan, "We would be unstoppable."
He could not recall where he had heard that line, either from a song or line of half-forgotten poetery, but it seemed to fit his melancholy at the moment. Logan whirled in his set of his motorized chair and propped his elbows onto the sill of the open window and looked out onto the streets of Seattle. Dean Winchester trotted by, wondering where in hell his brother Sam had got to, when he paused to take a few deep breaths. He stole quick glances in the direction that he had come from, assuring himself that for a moment had shaken off any pursuit. Logan, lost in his own thoughts caught a chance glimpse of someone else who wore Alec's face and distinct features; the same cropped hair, the same snub nose that had that distinct cast of having been broken in a fight any number of times and never set quite right.
The hair was a bit shorter than Alec had customarily worn his; and the look in the eyes was a bit more cynical; and well; world-weary however, the resemblance was uncanny. Logan called out to the man. "You look to be man in a spot of trouble!
"Who wants to know?" demanded Dean, even as he dis so the distinct sound of tires from a car making a tight high-speed turn on wet pavement reached his ears.
He glanced in the direction the voice had come from and saw a brown-haired man in a hover chair with chiseled features calling to him from an open window of a old house.
"Do or don't," Logan replied. "It's entirely up to you."
Dean wavered, undecided, and then agreed, besides, even he could not evade pursuit forever; although it might be fun for a while until the odds caught up with him and the adrenaline rush wore off.
"Okay, you got it, just don't try anything funny, capiche?" Wondering, not for the first time since he and Sam had arrived in Seattle if someone had tipped off the local authorities to that friggin doppleganger case a while back that had caused Dean to make the FBI's red flag parnormal division.
Even so, they had assumed that given enough time it would be swept under the proverbial carpet and forgotten.
Logan nodded and said, "Come around to the other side, and I'll open the door for you." **
Dean came around to the side of the house and had to wait on the stoop for a bit until the man came around as he had said he would and unlocked the door.
"Why would you do this," Dean asked. "You don't even know me."
Logan smiled, this time with more wry amusement in it. "Let's just say, that it isn't entirely altruistic on part."
"Great, just great," Dean muttered. "Let's just say that you remind me of someone I was knew," Logan replied.
"Not you, too!" Dean exclaimed.
"I take it, this isn't the first time this has happened to you?" Logan asked.
"Yeah, and I get the funny feeling that it won't be the last." Dean sighed and realized that this was going to be a long night.
That is until Max Guevarra and through her, Alec McDowell and all the others, former test subjects of Manticore; and everything changed.
Looking back Logan realized that his rather arrogant attitudes and assumptions were no longer as iron-clad as he had once believed them to be.
On the surface a keen observer of human nature, would think that no two people could have had less in common than these two; but as time wore on,
through shared dangers and through the intervention of a woman they had been loved and left in their own unique way; he and Alec had found something that try as he might refused to be classified as a relationship. "If we'd had a moment to ourselves," thought Logan, "We would be unstoppable."
He could not recall where he had heard that line, either from a song or line of half-forgotten poetery, but it seemed to fit his melancholy at the moment. Logan whirled in his set of his motorized chair and propped his elbows onto the sill of the open window and looked out onto the streets of Seattle. Dean Winchester trotted by, wondering where in hell his brother Sam had got to, when he paused to take a few deep breaths. He stole quick glances in the direction that he had come from, assuring himself that for a moment had shaken off any pursuit. Logan, lost in his own thoughts caught a chance glimpse of someone else who wore Alec's face and distinct features; the same cropped hair, the same snub nose that had that distinct cast of having been broken in a fight any number of times and never set quite right.
The hair was a bit shorter than Alec had customarily worn his; and the look in the eyes was a bit more cynical; and well; world-weary however, the
resemblance was uncanny. Logan called out to the man. "You look to be man in a spot of trouble!
"Who wants to know?" demanded Dean, even as he dis so the distinct sound of tires from a car making a tight high-speed turn on wet pavement reached his
ears.
He glanced in the direction the voice had come from and saw a brown-haired man in a hover chair with chiseled features calling to him from an open window
of a old house.
"Do or don't," Logan replied. "It's entirely up to you."
Dean wavered, undecided, and then agreed, besides, even he could not evade pursuit forever; although it might be fun for a while until the odds caught up
with him and the adrenaline rush wore off.
"Okay, you got it, just don't try anything funny, capiche?" Wondering, not for the first time since he and Sam had arrived in Seattle if someone had
tipped off the local authorities to that friggin doppleganger case a while back that had caused Dean to make the FBI's red flag parnormal division.
Even so, they had assumed that given enough time it would be swept under the proverbial carpet and forgotten.
Logan nodded and said, "Come around to the other side, and I'll open the door for you." **
Dean came around to the side of the house and had to wait on the stoop for a bit until the man came around as he had said he would and unlocked the door.
"Why would you do this," Dean asked. "You don't even know me."
Logan smiled, this time with more wry amusement in it. "Let's just say, that it isn't entirely altruistic on part."
"Great, just great," Dean muttered. "Let's just say that you remind me of someone I was knew," Logan replied.
"Not you, too!" Dean exclaimed.
"I take it, this isn't the first time this has happened to you?" Logan asked.
"Yeah, and I get the funny feeling that it won't be the last." Dean sighed and realized that this was going to be a long night.
"Hey, you got any beer around this place?"
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