Targeted
Title: Targeted
Fandom: Supernatural/La Femme Nikita
Pairing: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester
Summary: It was Dean, he couldn’t doubt it, not with the taste of him on his lips, the fact that only his brother would think to solve an identity dispute by kissing him senseless in the middle of a gun fight.
Author's Note: I had intended to make a full length story out of this but I don't see myself returning to it. I love this snippet of an AU that could have been though so I decided to post it. Dean as a Section One agent. And this is the old Le Femme Nikita... not the new one (though I do love Shane West's Michael, I have only watched some of the show so far.)
Sam stared across the dark night sky, the lights of traffic blinking in the distance as he emptied the Jack from his glass. He took a deep breath trying to remember a time when his life wasn’t so damn scheduled, so tightly organized he was being choked by it. Hell, he always figured he’d die by strangulation but the corporate tie wasn’t quite the way he thought it would go. A poltergeist and a lamp cord or maybe a demon holding him a little too long to lord him over his brother, maybe even just his brother strangling the shit out of him for taking all the hot water in the crappy motel rooms they’d shared as kids. But life by the books seemed far worse to his health in the long run.
He turned away from the skyline and the view from his corner office in the high rise. His desk was neatly organized, his notes for the morning’s trial typed and waiting, along with a pad of paper to make notes as things progressed. Sam mostly liked to doodle whenever the opposite side thought they had something on him that Sam knew was bogus and the simple trick worked every time. They’d focus in on his scribbling and think he was trying to work around whatever it was. The partners of the firm loved Sam’s bar-side psychology tricks and they continued to press more money at him to keep it up.
He dropped the glass, crystal of course, on the dark oak desk and turned away, moving to the round table on the other side. There were books open all over the space, handwritten notes and post-its and sticky pads decorated the surface. His trial in the morning was pretty cut and dry but his next case was gonna be a bitch. His bosses were pushing him to stop the pro-bono shit but it was in Sam’s contract and they weren’t about to mess with that. He wasn’t sure what he could do to help but he had the sneaking suspicion that even if Sam couldn’t get him out of prison that Daniel Elkins had other plans lined up. The vampire hunter had been around a long time and Sam was sure he was ready to call in some favors if Sam couldn’t find a way to turn a jury in his favor.
It had worked for John Winchester. Two years after Sam had gone to Stanford his father had been caught and tried for murder. The conviction was overturned by a good attorney who just happened to know what was out there. Another two years saw his estranged brother dead by lethal injection for the crimes of a shape shifter. Sam hadn’t even known his brother was on trial until after the fact. Their father had been dead a year and outside of the awkward few days they spent at Bobby Singer’s preparing their father’s funeral pyre, he hadn’t seen him since he first walked out.
It was too late to save Dean, but when it came time Sam was there in the audience where his brother could see him, witness to the death of the only person Sam had ever truly loved. When asked if he had any last words Dean had shrugged. When the priest asked if he had any remorse for the people he’d killed Dean had snorted. “Fuck you padre, I didn’t kill anyone.”
His antics didn’t make him popular with the audience that was there to witness it, but it made him a favorite for authors who dubbed him the “Everyman Killer” and wrote book after book about him as a serial killer.
They never wrote his actual last words. Not spoken, Dean’s lips moved as the injections began. Sam had walked to the glass, planting his hand there, pressing his face to it as he watched Dean’s life fading, as he whispered the words back, damning and too fucking true even after all the years apart.
Silent communication that closed the gap of years and let them both have a last moment of peace together.
“I love you, Sammy,” had been his brother’s dying words.
Sam pressed himself to the window and whispered back, “I love you, Dean.” It had been his brother’s last sight.
If Sam had known back then he’d have found a way but Dean had become reckless after their father’s death and Sam had no choice but to watch his brother die. After that, becoming a lawyer was the only thing that mattered to him. There were good people, good hunters, dying because no one believed they were innocent. He learned to hunt the papers and found new contacts in the hunting world and he became the lawyer of hunters across the country. Thankfully, hunters were good enough not to get caught most of the time. Sometimes Bobby would send him some information on a guy that needed a little help in the legal realm, but so far Sam had helped more hunters than he’d had to turn away. It made him feel stronger. It made him feel closer to his brother.
He looked at the case in front of him and sighed. It was almost like Dean’s and he still had no idea how he was gonna free a man who was seen at the crime with the knife in hand. Especially not when the police had come in and found him covered in blood.
He pushed away from the desk violently, ready for another drink when someone yelled “Get down!” and he found himself being thrown to the ground under the desk.
Overhead he heard the telltale zing of bullets. “Jesus Christ!” It’d been six years since his brother’s death, ten years since he’d left the hunting life behind him but he remembered that sound. A gun went off beside him and Sam turned to see a man dressed all in black standing over him, opening fire on the doorway that led to the hall.
He started to scramble away, to try to escape but then the dark figure dropped to one knee and looked at him. Green eyes stared at him and his mask was pulled up to reveal a face he’d never thought to see again. “Are you trying to get yourself killed there Sammy? When I say get down I mean it.”
Sam stopped crawling but he was looking for a weapon of some kind. A shapeshifter maybe? Or a skinwalker? Some kind of glamour or illusion that made the guy look like Dean? “What the hell are you?” he demanded.
Dean fired into the doorway again before moving to stand over Sam. He jerked him up off the floor and pushed him against the side wall, his body shielding Sam. “I don’t have time to shut you up properly Sam. You gotta trust me.”
He was about to say hell no, but then Dean’s mouth was on his and the words were stolen from his mouth by his brother’s tongue. It was Dean, he couldn’t doubt it, not with the taste of him on his lips, the fact that only his brother would think to solve an identity dispute by kissing him senseless in the middle of a gun fight.
“Dean?” he panted as his brother pulled back slightly.
“Let’s get you out of here alive and then we’ll pull out the silver and holy water, shall we?” He reached into a side pocket on his vest and pulled out a handgun. “Remember how to use one?”
Sam snorted. “Better than you.”
Dean laughed and Sam laughed with him. Jesus it was good to hear his brother’s voice again. “Nice thought Sammy, but it’s time to get out of your hallucination and into the real world. We have an elevator to catch.”
A moment later Dean had the explosives set and the wall behind them blew. Just as they were about to walk through a figure walked into the debris, “Dean!”
Dean and Sam stopped just long enough for Dean to smile as he offered a salute. “Maybe next time Michael.”
With that, Dean opened fire and he and Sam ran for the exit.
Fandom: Supernatural/La Femme Nikita
Pairing: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester
Summary: It was Dean, he couldn’t doubt it, not with the taste of him on his lips, the fact that only his brother would think to solve an identity dispute by kissing him senseless in the middle of a gun fight.
Author's Note: I had intended to make a full length story out of this but I don't see myself returning to it. I love this snippet of an AU that could have been though so I decided to post it. Dean as a Section One agent. And this is the old Le Femme Nikita... not the new one (though I do love Shane West's Michael, I have only watched some of the show so far.)
Sam stared across the dark night sky, the lights of traffic blinking in the distance as he emptied the Jack from his glass. He took a deep breath trying to remember a time when his life wasn’t so damn scheduled, so tightly organized he was being choked by it. Hell, he always figured he’d die by strangulation but the corporate tie wasn’t quite the way he thought it would go. A poltergeist and a lamp cord or maybe a demon holding him a little too long to lord him over his brother, maybe even just his brother strangling the shit out of him for taking all the hot water in the crappy motel rooms they’d shared as kids. But life by the books seemed far worse to his health in the long run.
He turned away from the skyline and the view from his corner office in the high rise. His desk was neatly organized, his notes for the morning’s trial typed and waiting, along with a pad of paper to make notes as things progressed. Sam mostly liked to doodle whenever the opposite side thought they had something on him that Sam knew was bogus and the simple trick worked every time. They’d focus in on his scribbling and think he was trying to work around whatever it was. The partners of the firm loved Sam’s bar-side psychology tricks and they continued to press more money at him to keep it up.
He dropped the glass, crystal of course, on the dark oak desk and turned away, moving to the round table on the other side. There were books open all over the space, handwritten notes and post-its and sticky pads decorated the surface. His trial in the morning was pretty cut and dry but his next case was gonna be a bitch. His bosses were pushing him to stop the pro-bono shit but it was in Sam’s contract and they weren’t about to mess with that. He wasn’t sure what he could do to help but he had the sneaking suspicion that even if Sam couldn’t get him out of prison that Daniel Elkins had other plans lined up. The vampire hunter had been around a long time and Sam was sure he was ready to call in some favors if Sam couldn’t find a way to turn a jury in his favor.
It had worked for John Winchester. Two years after Sam had gone to Stanford his father had been caught and tried for murder. The conviction was overturned by a good attorney who just happened to know what was out there. Another two years saw his estranged brother dead by lethal injection for the crimes of a shape shifter. Sam hadn’t even known his brother was on trial until after the fact. Their father had been dead a year and outside of the awkward few days they spent at Bobby Singer’s preparing their father’s funeral pyre, he hadn’t seen him since he first walked out.
It was too late to save Dean, but when it came time Sam was there in the audience where his brother could see him, witness to the death of the only person Sam had ever truly loved. When asked if he had any last words Dean had shrugged. When the priest asked if he had any remorse for the people he’d killed Dean had snorted. “Fuck you padre, I didn’t kill anyone.”
His antics didn’t make him popular with the audience that was there to witness it, but it made him a favorite for authors who dubbed him the “Everyman Killer” and wrote book after book about him as a serial killer.
They never wrote his actual last words. Not spoken, Dean’s lips moved as the injections began. Sam had walked to the glass, planting his hand there, pressing his face to it as he watched Dean’s life fading, as he whispered the words back, damning and too fucking true even after all the years apart.
Silent communication that closed the gap of years and let them both have a last moment of peace together.
“I love you, Sammy,” had been his brother’s dying words.
Sam pressed himself to the window and whispered back, “I love you, Dean.” It had been his brother’s last sight.
If Sam had known back then he’d have found a way but Dean had become reckless after their father’s death and Sam had no choice but to watch his brother die. After that, becoming a lawyer was the only thing that mattered to him. There were good people, good hunters, dying because no one believed they were innocent. He learned to hunt the papers and found new contacts in the hunting world and he became the lawyer of hunters across the country. Thankfully, hunters were good enough not to get caught most of the time. Sometimes Bobby would send him some information on a guy that needed a little help in the legal realm, but so far Sam had helped more hunters than he’d had to turn away. It made him feel stronger. It made him feel closer to his brother.
He looked at the case in front of him and sighed. It was almost like Dean’s and he still had no idea how he was gonna free a man who was seen at the crime with the knife in hand. Especially not when the police had come in and found him covered in blood.
He pushed away from the desk violently, ready for another drink when someone yelled “Get down!” and he found himself being thrown to the ground under the desk.
Overhead he heard the telltale zing of bullets. “Jesus Christ!” It’d been six years since his brother’s death, ten years since he’d left the hunting life behind him but he remembered that sound. A gun went off beside him and Sam turned to see a man dressed all in black standing over him, opening fire on the doorway that led to the hall.
He started to scramble away, to try to escape but then the dark figure dropped to one knee and looked at him. Green eyes stared at him and his mask was pulled up to reveal a face he’d never thought to see again. “Are you trying to get yourself killed there Sammy? When I say get down I mean it.”
Sam stopped crawling but he was looking for a weapon of some kind. A shapeshifter maybe? Or a skinwalker? Some kind of glamour or illusion that made the guy look like Dean? “What the hell are you?” he demanded.
Dean fired into the doorway again before moving to stand over Sam. He jerked him up off the floor and pushed him against the side wall, his body shielding Sam. “I don’t have time to shut you up properly Sam. You gotta trust me.”
He was about to say hell no, but then Dean’s mouth was on his and the words were stolen from his mouth by his brother’s tongue. It was Dean, he couldn’t doubt it, not with the taste of him on his lips, the fact that only his brother would think to solve an identity dispute by kissing him senseless in the middle of a gun fight.
“Dean?” he panted as his brother pulled back slightly.
“Let’s get you out of here alive and then we’ll pull out the silver and holy water, shall we?” He reached into a side pocket on his vest and pulled out a handgun. “Remember how to use one?”
Sam snorted. “Better than you.”
Dean laughed and Sam laughed with him. Jesus it was good to hear his brother’s voice again. “Nice thought Sammy, but it’s time to get out of your hallucination and into the real world. We have an elevator to catch.”
A moment later Dean had the explosives set and the wall behind them blew. Just as they were about to walk through a figure walked into the debris, “Dean!”
Dean and Sam stopped just long enough for Dean to smile as he offered a salute. “Maybe next time Michael.”
With that, Dean opened fire and he and Sam ran for the exit.