Dark Angel Stories
Hi, I'm going to be posting all of the stories I've written and posted elsewhere here. I should have done this earlier, like say two years ago (whoops), but I was lazy. As a result, I will probably end up flooding people's F-lists. Sorry!
Title: Take A Number - One
Author: poestheblackcat
Rating: PG
Fandom: Dark Angel
Characters/Pairings: Max/Alec
Warning/Spoilers: Season 2 or post-
Summary: There is only one. One that he watches, one that he admires, one that he stays for.
There is only one. One that he watches, one that he admires, one that he stays for.
He knows she has a clone, but then again, don’t they all? Same dark hair, same bee-stung lips, same curvy figure-hell, even the same bitchy attitude. Still, she and her twin are different. So, so very different.
453 doesn’t have the same warmth in her brown eyes. He decides they reminded him of coffee-bitter-tasting if taken without loads of cream and sugar, and bound to scald your tongue if you aren’t careful.
Max’s eyes are like chocolate-covered chili peppers-rich, sweet, and fiery-hot, all at the same time. (What, who doesn’t like chocolate-covered chili peppers? They’re smothered in chocolate. ‘Nuff said.)
Max cares. She cares about others, Ordinaries and Transgenics alike. She cares about her friends: Original Cindy, Logan, Joshua, Sketchy, and even him.
Sure, she smacks him around and calls him names, but that was just how they are. They show that they care about each other by squabbling like small children-what’s the harm in that? It makes him smile and his heart race. She makes him feel alive.
But she’s the only one he’d ever let treat him like that. Anyone else kicks him in the you-know-whats, and they’re down. Gone before they know what hit ‘em. But Max? She gets a pained grimace and a weak “I hate you.” All bark and no bite. Just for Max.
To Alec, there is only one.
One that he watches, one that he admires, one that he stays for. One that he…loves. Only one.
Max.
Title: Take A Number - Two
Author: poestheblackcat
Rating: PG
Fandom: Dark Angel
Characters/Pairings: Max/Alec
Warning/Spoilers: Season 2 or post-
Summary: Someone was watching her. Two eyes in a roomful of bustling people. Just two. Not more than that.
Max tensed.
Someone was watching her. Two eyes in a roomful of bustling people. Just two. Not more than that.
She could feel them on her, the intense stare boring laser-hot holes into her back. Watching her, and only her.
Her breath caught in her throat. Who…?
She turned around. Her brows met in the middle of her forehead as she scanned the crowd.
There. Vivid hazel-green eyes that startled wide open when they met hers. Heavily-lashed eyelids swooped down as he broke contact and looked down at his shoes. Twin spots of red appeared on his cheeks, totally obscuring the freckles she knew were there.
Alec? Why on earth was he acting like a love-struck puppy-er…kitten? Max blinked and continued looking at the blushing Transgenic standing halfway across the room.
And blushing? She had never seen Alec change colors like that, so much, so fast. Come to think of it, she’d never even seen him flustered. What the hell? Even his ears were red.
Was this a new way of annoying her? Max knew he could think of the most creative ways to do that-one word out of his smirking mouth and she was off. Well, if it was his grand master plan to annoy her, it was really working.
Max was contemplating going over there to knock an answer out of him when those ridiculously long eyelashes rose again, revealing…Oh.
Ohhh. Max had heard many a woman sigh over those eyes. Expressive beyond what words could convey, those sometimes-more-hazel, sometimes-more-green eyes held a look in them that she could only read as hunger, as longing, as…
Whoa. Wait a minute sista, back up.
Was he seriously looking at her like he saw only her in the room filled with over thirty Transgenic bodies? As if Mole wasn’t growling at Dix and the old television set in the corner wasn’t vomiting out decibels of noise pollution? As if there wasn’t anything else in the world that mattered besides the two of them?
Max looked again into the twin orbs shining at her (and only her) and got lost in their green depths. She saw…
Only them.
Title: Home Run
Author: poestheblackcat
Rating: PG
Fandoms: Dark Angel/Leverage
Characters/Pairings: Max, Alec, Parker
Warning/Spoilers: Set during Dark Angel episode "Two"
Summary: Parker steals a baseball.
Parker stood on the top of the roof, watching the two amateur thieves through the glass windows in the ceiling. One of the panes has been removed, allowing the two ziplines hang into the room below.
She’d watched the girl with the nice ass first, then the young man with the very pretty face, slide down their respective ropes to get to the famous baseball inside the museum. Her baseball.
She watched them bicker once they got there. Ha! Rivals. That never ends well. There was that time she and another thief, Carmen, had both gone after the Maupassant Necklace at the ACME Headquarters in San Francisco. Oh boy, did she hate that red-trenchcoated...person.
So she forgot all about her, the way she forgot about everything she didn’t care about. And the things she cared about were stealing, money, and shiny things. And money.
Money was what she would get if she stole Sammy Sosa’s 756th home-run ball tonight. Lots of money. She scoffed when the squabbling thieves managed to drop the ball and set off the alarms. Good going, guys. Amateurs.
The thieves (if they could be called that) rappelled up and ran. They were athletic, at least. But they were not expert thieves.
Parker grinned as the guards realized that the two thieves they’d seen had gone out the window and off the roof, and took a detour to chase after them, leaving the famous ball still rolling on the ground, right under Parker’s nose.
Making sure there weren’t any security guards still loitering around, she attached her line and let gravity do its job. Her blond hair fluttered in the breeze.
Once at the bottom, she detached the line and scampered after the baseball. She didn’t have to worry about setting off the alarm, as the two inexperienced thieves had already done it for her, and security had switched it off.
She grabbed the ball and zipped back up her line.
“Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!!!”
A few days later, she was walking through the drizzly streets of Seattle when she overheard a couple arguing.
“Did you go back?”
“Go where?”
“The baseball! My baseball!”
“No. Why?”
“Someone stole it and sold it. For three million.”
“No! It wasn’t me. Dammit. It wasn’t you?”
“No, would I be asking you if it was me? Dumbass.”
“Ow!”
Parker smiled beatifically as she passed by them. Ah, the euphoria of a job well done.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Story notes:
Sammy Sosa’s 756th home-run ball: What Max and Alec were stealing in the Dark Angel episode “Two,” obviously fictional, since such an event never happened.
Carmen, from the educational computer game series, Carmen Sandiego. She often stole objects from the ACME Headquarters, stationed in San Francisco.
Maupassant Necklace: The Necklace, written by Guy de Maupassant, featured a faux diamond necklace.
Yes, Max hit Alec at the end. She always does.
Title: Of the Same Cloth - Chapter 1
Author: poestheblackcat
Rating: PG
Crossover: Dark Angel/Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Alec, Sam
Warning/Spoilers: Season 2 of DA, future!fic for SPN
Summary: Sam and Alec, Alec and Sam. So different, yet still so much alike. Alec had never wondered why, until now. Sequel to "The Time Alec Got Hustled By An Ordinary Old Guy," but may stand alone.
Sam’s fought demons.
Alec’s killed terrorists and innocent piano teachers (and naive young girls too, but he’s not going to think about that).
Sam uses antiques - the older it is, the more power it has.
Alec likes everything high-tech and state-of-the-art, just like he is.
Sam takes things slow - the better to draw the enemy out.
Alec uses his enhanced speed to his advantage.
But for all these differences, they’ve got things alike about them that they can’t ignore. Like for example, they were both raised to be warriors. It’s impossible to escape the impact that’s had on their lives.
Sam invites the man who reminds him so much of his brother down to visit him at his tiny house filled with musty old books and bottles of alcohol all lined up like soldiers on the kitchen table. This is after their third annual pool game down at Crash on the anniversary of Dean Winchester’s birth.
Alec pops in unexpectedly whenever he feels like it. He likes it there. Cramped in a chair in the corner between the wall and a creaking bookshelf filled with musty old books, he finally feels like he…belongs. He doesn’t have to hide what he really is, his insecurities. He likes the old guy (late thirties, early forties, not really old, but hey, he’d gotten used to calling Sam ‘the old drunk guy’ that night he’d hustled Alec out of his few hard-stolen bucks). They kid around, kind of like the way Alec does with Joshua, but Sam, Sam can retaliate. He can slug a joking verbal punch just as well as Max without the physical bruises to go with the words. Not to say he’s a wuss when it comes to a fistfight. Because he’s not.
Sam’s not like Alec, and he sure doesn’t know everything to know about him, but then again, Sam isn’t Mr. Open Book himself.
Sure, the older man tells Alec great tales of monsters vanquished, rock salt, and unsung heroes, but sometimes he cuts himself off in the middle of a word and loses himself in his bottle, his scarred face unreadable. Those pauses speak of more than words can tell. They tell of deep devotion, lasting loyalty, and supreme suffering. All that, and love. All-encompassing love, enduring even after death (and resurrection and death again - Alec still isn’t sure if Sam was pulling his leg on that one. Because resurrection? Seriously?).
Alec doesn’t interrupt and instead reads between the lines. Max would be surprised at how long he refrained from speaking during those silences and just waited for Sam to find his way out of his memories on his own.
But he gets it.
Alec knows devotion. They drilled it into him long before he was out of his Manticore-issued diapers. Devotion to the military forces of the US of A. He knows about loyalty. He knew of nothing else but home and his unit for most of his life. Anything short of the utmost loyalty was severely punished. He knows suffering, too. Wounds garnered both in training and in battle have taught him pain. Months in Psy-Ops for something that was out of his control have taught him suffering.
Sam knows the love that comes from family. Alec…doesn’t. He’s never had a family. His unit was just that - his unit. They trained together, fought together, ate together, and slept together, but they weren’t a family. Not like Max’s unit at any rate. He envied her that. He envied Sam for what he’d had and lost. Sure, he’s got friends now, who love him as if he were family, part of their growing dysfunctional family, but it’s not the same as the bond that comes from shared blood, it seems.
Alec loves to listen to the older man talk. He tells a good story. He says his brother taught him how, taught him everything he knows. The retired hunter’s eyes are sad when he says that. Then he laughs at himself for being ‘emo.’ That’s a slang word common in the late 1990s and early 2000s that Alec didn’t learn in Common Verbal Usage. It means ‘one who emotes.’
He learns new things every time he visits. Silver, spells, rituals, creatures. They’re all fascinating to him. He laps it up eagerly, and laughs at Sam’s amazement at his Transgenic-powered memory.
Alec talks too. He talks about his friends. He talks about girls. Sometimes, he talks about his Manticore days, some of the missions he’s been on - the good ones. Like the one where the sexy redhead Lola featured prominently in his memory but was mysteriously absent from his report. That was a good one. Sam cackles and tells Alec that Dean would have loved him.
Sometimes when he’s feeling maudlin, because hey, even he can’t be a cocky sonofabitch 24-7, he talks about the other missions, the bad ones. He talks about the unit-mate he couldn’t save, the time he messed up and they hauled him off for punishment; the kind of stuff he could never tell Max. She was a Transgenic, sure, but she’d never fought real battles; the ones where friends fell and never got up again, where you did everything you could to just stay alive maybe one minute longer. She’d left long before that. He envied her that too.
Sam had fought in wars. They were real wars, even though they would never make the textbooks and their fallen soldiers would never be celebrated outside of the drunken talk of a handful of grim, grizzled hunters. Sam knew. They were the same there, for all their difference in ages and what they were fighting.
Title: Of the Same Cloth - Chapter 2
Author: poestheblackcat
Rating: PG
Crossover: Dark Angel/Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Alec, Sam, Jody
Warning/Spoilers: Season 5 of SPN, Season 2 of DA, future!fic for SPN
Summary: Sam and Alec, Alec and Sam. So different, yet still so much alike. Alec had never wondered why, until now. Sequel to "The Time Alec Got Hustled By An Ordinary Old Guy," but may stand alone.
Alec discovered another thing they had in common the night he got bored at Crash and sauntered into Sam’s house without knocking, uninvited, like always.
There was a low murmur of voices (Sam and a female - ho-ho, way to go, Sam!), a gasp, two chairs being scraped back, and the cock of a gun. Thankfully, his reflexes allowed him to disarm the petite brunette easily and unload the gun before Sam could even choke out, “Jody, stop!”
The woman, some years older than Sam and fairly attractive (though still armed to the gills, Alec’s trained eye informed him), continued to gape and him and look flustered. That was a pretty usual reaction around him, but the gun and the fighting stance? Unusual unless she’d known what he was, which she probably didn’t…which brings us back to what the brunette, Jody, was saying now.
“Sam, he’s…” She looked at Alec, then at Sam again.
Sam’s scars made his expression hard to make out, but Alec was pretty sure he was still on the tall human’s good side. Pretty sure. “Yeah, I know,” he said quietly.
Jody turned wide eyes to the insanely tall man. “Sam,” she said firmly. “What are you doing with that thing?” The last word was spit out.
Alec flinched. “I’m not a thing, lady. And I don’t exactly relish having weapons pointed at me, even nice ones like this piece.” He lifted the gun he’d confiscated from her. “Antique, right? Late 1960s. Nice.” He made a show of admiring it. It annoyed her. He smirked.
The woman bristled. Sam put a giant hand on her shoulder and pushed firmly. “Sit down, Jody. Alec. I can explain. I swear. No one is going to hurt anyone, not in my house. Are we clear?” He looked to both parties.
Alec shrugged and lowered himself down gracefully in a chair. “Hey, she’s the one who attacked me first. I’m game if she is, Sammy. Besides, I’m dying of curiosity here.”
A muscle in Sam’s uneven cheek moved. Alec had learned to recognize that as a smirk. “It’s Sam to you, kid. Jody?”
Jody had tracked the young man’s movements with a wary eye. “Fine.” She sat stiffly in her seat. “Talk.”
“Lemme get him a drink first, then we’ll talk. Okay?” Sam shuffled out of sight to the kitchen.
Alec nonchalantly watched Jody glare at him. In the other room, the ancient refrigerator’s door squeaked shut and Sam stumped back into the room, bearing a cold beer in the hand unencumbered by his cane.
“Wow, you didn’t kill each other while I was gone.” Sam’s voice was tinged with sarcastic amusement.
“Sam,” the brunette said dangerously. Alec raised an eyebrow at Sam and took a swig of his drink. He pushed out one of the empty chairs with his leg and plunked both boot-clad feet on the wobbly seat.
“He’s not a demon,” Sam began.
Alec’s other brow joined its brother high on his forehead. “Come again? You think I’m…” He scoffed. “You’re nuts.”
Sam was looking at Jody. “He passed the holy water test. He passes it every time he comes here. He passed the salt line and he’s not a shapeshifter.”
Jody’s face was troubled. “Then what…?”
The older man cut her off. “I’ll get there. I need to tell Alec what’s going on too.” He turned to the Transgenic who was still pondering what Sam meant when he said he passed the holy water test every time. Did that mean- ? He eyed his beer suspiciously. Then he glared at Sam.
Sam looked apologetic. He pulled the look off pretty well, considering all the ruts and marks on his face. Alec thought the look must have been close to a superpower before all the scars.
“Alec,” he said in a voice to match the expression. “I’ve kind of been keeping something from you.”
“Uh-huh. That’s pretty obvious,” Alec said, deadpan. “You’ve been spiking my beers, for one thing.”
Apologetic turned into sheepish. “Yeah. Old dog with an old habit,” Sam hemmed. “What I meant was, I’ve been telling you about my brother Dean, right?”
Alec nodded. “Only since the first night I met you, yeah. What’s your point?”
Sam dug in his pocket for his wallet. He opened it and pulled out a ragged and creased piece of paperboard. He looked at it for a moment with heavy-lidded eyes and sighed. “Here.” He handed it over to Alec.
Alec took the crumbling photograph and froze. “What the- ?” He sputtered. “This? This is- this was Dean? Dean your dead brother?”
Steady hazel eyes gazed at him sadly. “When I told you that you reminded me of him, I meant it literally.”
The beer plunked down on the table as Alec stood. “I- You- Just stay away from me, okay?” His eyes were hard, angry.
Sam knew that look well. It was the way Dean had looked when he found out about what he’d been doing with Ruby all those years ago. Betrayed. Damn. He felt guilty. “Alec,” he started.
“No,” the younger man said. “Just- no. You lied- you- ” He took a deep breath and licked dry lips. “You didn’t tell me the reason you liked me coming over so much was because I look like him,” he snarled and threw the old yellowed photograph down on the table.
Alec couldn’t believe he’d been duped by this pathetic Ordinary. Here, he’d thought that the guy wanted him around for his own sake, but no, he just liked looking at the familiar face and remembering his brother. Dean. Dean and Ben. Two men whose shadows he’d never be able to step out of. He stormed out of the room, intending to go home and drink himself silly. Not like he’d damage his liver or anything.
Sam went still halfway through standing. “No,” he said softly, “Alec, stop. It’s not like that. You’re a great guy. You are. You.” He walked out into the hall, where Alec had stopped, rigid with tension.
“Alec,” Sam said to Alec’s back. “At first, yeah, it was because of that. But I get that you’re not him. And that’s okay.” He sighed. “This is why I didn’t tell you. I was afraid you’d think I was a creep or something.” “And not come back again,” ran silently through both their heads.
The Transgenic remained turned away from Sam, head bowed. The slight rise and fall of his back as he breathed was the only movement he made.
“Alec,” Sam tried again, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But it’s been so long since I’ve had family that I got kind of used to it and I didn’t want to scare you off.”
‘Family,’ Sam had said. Alec’s breath caught. Family. Was that how…? No, no, the tricky bastard was just trying to manipulate him into staying. But…no.
Alec’s silence was discouraging. Sam stared at the slim figure. The young man still carried less muscle mass than Dean had ended up having, but he was nevertheless just as (or maybe much more) lethal. He wondered if it would be unadvisable to reach out and touch him, just on his shoulder. With Dean, a simple shoulder pat would have sufficed, but this kid wasn’t Dean. He was a genetically-engineered killer. But he was also capable of feeling; guilt, love, anger, envy - he’d confessed that he’d felt them all. And now he was feeling betrayed.
Sam sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, really meaning it, and slowly limped back into the room so as to give the kid more time to get his feelings and thoughts straight and under control. Jody raised her brow from her position leaning against the wall, hand on her hip, listening to the exchange. Sam shook his head.
Alec heard the shuffling and taps of the cane that meant Sam was on the move. Moving away from him. He breathed and thought for a moment. “Sam?” he said, voice nearly breaking. He turned around. “You really mean that?”
This time it was Alec talking to Sam’s back.
Sam nodded and swallowed. “Yeah. I am sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
Alec huffed. “No, not that. That’s not what- ” he cut off. “You know what? Never mind. I’m outta here.”
“No,” Sam stopped him, turning to face the younger man. “No. What did you mean?” He looked into the green eyes trying so hard not to look vulnerable. “What did you mean, if not that? I do like having you around, just for you. Not because- ”
“You said ‘family,’ Sam,” Alec interrupted. “That. Did you mean that?” This was the moment. A ‘yes’ or ‘no’ could make or break him. “Or were you just trying to get me to stay?”
Sam stared at him, mouth hanging open. Did the kid really - shit. He’d always talked about friends, fellow soldiers, coworkers, but never had he described anything close to resembling a real family. Did he- ? “Yeah,” Sam said quickly, seeing Alec’s face fall at how long he’d paused. “Yeah, I meant it. I mean, for all we know, you could really be family, right?”
Alec heard Jody shift a little. She was hidden from his view by the edge of the wall, but he knew she was still there, listening. “I guess,” he shrugged, not wanting to seem too eager, too happy.
He cleared his throat and arranged his face back into a carefree expression. “So,” he began, “who’s the broad?”
Sam felt his eyes roll reflexively. This ‘broad’ could draw her weapon faster than most male hunters he’s seen. “This is Jody Mills. She’s a hunter.” He stepped away from the doorway to let the younger man pass into the room again. If he wanted to.
Alec hesitated for a moment before moving. His shoulder brushed Sam’s chest as he walked by him.
“Well, helloooo, Jody,” he purred. “We got off to a bad start. I’m Alec.”
Title: Take A Number - One
Author: poestheblackcat
Rating: PG
Fandom: Dark Angel
Characters/Pairings: Max/Alec
Warning/Spoilers: Season 2 or post-
Summary: There is only one. One that he watches, one that he admires, one that he stays for.
There is only one. One that he watches, one that he admires, one that he stays for.
He knows she has a clone, but then again, don’t they all? Same dark hair, same bee-stung lips, same curvy figure-hell, even the same bitchy attitude. Still, she and her twin are different. So, so very different.
453 doesn’t have the same warmth in her brown eyes. He decides they reminded him of coffee-bitter-tasting if taken without loads of cream and sugar, and bound to scald your tongue if you aren’t careful.
Max’s eyes are like chocolate-covered chili peppers-rich, sweet, and fiery-hot, all at the same time. (What, who doesn’t like chocolate-covered chili peppers? They’re smothered in chocolate. ‘Nuff said.)
Max cares. She cares about others, Ordinaries and Transgenics alike. She cares about her friends: Original Cindy, Logan, Joshua, Sketchy, and even him.
Sure, she smacks him around and calls him names, but that was just how they are. They show that they care about each other by squabbling like small children-what’s the harm in that? It makes him smile and his heart race. She makes him feel alive.
But she’s the only one he’d ever let treat him like that. Anyone else kicks him in the you-know-whats, and they’re down. Gone before they know what hit ‘em. But Max? She gets a pained grimace and a weak “I hate you.” All bark and no bite. Just for Max.
To Alec, there is only one.
One that he watches, one that he admires, one that he stays for. One that he…loves. Only one.
Max.
Title: Take A Number - Two
Author: poestheblackcat
Rating: PG
Fandom: Dark Angel
Characters/Pairings: Max/Alec
Warning/Spoilers: Season 2 or post-
Summary: Someone was watching her. Two eyes in a roomful of bustling people. Just two. Not more than that.
Max tensed.
Someone was watching her. Two eyes in a roomful of bustling people. Just two. Not more than that.
She could feel them on her, the intense stare boring laser-hot holes into her back. Watching her, and only her.
Her breath caught in her throat. Who…?
She turned around. Her brows met in the middle of her forehead as she scanned the crowd.
There. Vivid hazel-green eyes that startled wide open when they met hers. Heavily-lashed eyelids swooped down as he broke contact and looked down at his shoes. Twin spots of red appeared on his cheeks, totally obscuring the freckles she knew were there.
Alec? Why on earth was he acting like a love-struck puppy-er…kitten? Max blinked and continued looking at the blushing Transgenic standing halfway across the room.
And blushing? She had never seen Alec change colors like that, so much, so fast. Come to think of it, she’d never even seen him flustered. What the hell? Even his ears were red.
Was this a new way of annoying her? Max knew he could think of the most creative ways to do that-one word out of his smirking mouth and she was off. Well, if it was his grand master plan to annoy her, it was really working.
Max was contemplating going over there to knock an answer out of him when those ridiculously long eyelashes rose again, revealing…Oh.
Ohhh. Max had heard many a woman sigh over those eyes. Expressive beyond what words could convey, those sometimes-more-hazel, sometimes-more-green eyes held a look in them that she could only read as hunger, as longing, as…
Whoa. Wait a minute sista, back up.
Was he seriously looking at her like he saw only her in the room filled with over thirty Transgenic bodies? As if Mole wasn’t growling at Dix and the old television set in the corner wasn’t vomiting out decibels of noise pollution? As if there wasn’t anything else in the world that mattered besides the two of them?
Max looked again into the twin orbs shining at her (and only her) and got lost in their green depths. She saw…
Only them.
Title: Home Run
Author: poestheblackcat
Rating: PG
Fandoms: Dark Angel/Leverage
Characters/Pairings: Max, Alec, Parker
Warning/Spoilers: Set during Dark Angel episode "Two"
Summary: Parker steals a baseball.
Parker stood on the top of the roof, watching the two amateur thieves through the glass windows in the ceiling. One of the panes has been removed, allowing the two ziplines hang into the room below.
She’d watched the girl with the nice ass first, then the young man with the very pretty face, slide down their respective ropes to get to the famous baseball inside the museum. Her baseball.
She watched them bicker once they got there. Ha! Rivals. That never ends well. There was that time she and another thief, Carmen, had both gone after the Maupassant Necklace at the ACME Headquarters in San Francisco. Oh boy, did she hate that red-trenchcoated...person.
So she forgot all about her, the way she forgot about everything she didn’t care about. And the things she cared about were stealing, money, and shiny things. And money.
Money was what she would get if she stole Sammy Sosa’s 756th home-run ball tonight. Lots of money. She scoffed when the squabbling thieves managed to drop the ball and set off the alarms. Good going, guys. Amateurs.
The thieves (if they could be called that) rappelled up and ran. They were athletic, at least. But they were not expert thieves.
Parker grinned as the guards realized that the two thieves they’d seen had gone out the window and off the roof, and took a detour to chase after them, leaving the famous ball still rolling on the ground, right under Parker’s nose.
Making sure there weren’t any security guards still loitering around, she attached her line and let gravity do its job. Her blond hair fluttered in the breeze.
Once at the bottom, she detached the line and scampered after the baseball. She didn’t have to worry about setting off the alarm, as the two inexperienced thieves had already done it for her, and security had switched it off.
She grabbed the ball and zipped back up her line.
“Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!!!”
A few days later, she was walking through the drizzly streets of Seattle when she overheard a couple arguing.
“Did you go back?”
“Go where?”
“The baseball! My baseball!”
“No. Why?”
“Someone stole it and sold it. For three million.”
“No! It wasn’t me. Dammit. It wasn’t you?”
“No, would I be asking you if it was me? Dumbass.”
“Ow!”
Parker smiled beatifically as she passed by them. Ah, the euphoria of a job well done.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Story notes:
Sammy Sosa’s 756th home-run ball: What Max and Alec were stealing in the Dark Angel episode “Two,” obviously fictional, since such an event never happened.
Carmen, from the educational computer game series, Carmen Sandiego. She often stole objects from the ACME Headquarters, stationed in San Francisco.
Maupassant Necklace: The Necklace, written by Guy de Maupassant, featured a faux diamond necklace.
Yes, Max hit Alec at the end. She always does.
Title: Of the Same Cloth - Chapter 1
Author: poestheblackcat
Rating: PG
Crossover: Dark Angel/Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Alec, Sam
Warning/Spoilers: Season 2 of DA, future!fic for SPN
Summary: Sam and Alec, Alec and Sam. So different, yet still so much alike. Alec had never wondered why, until now. Sequel to "The Time Alec Got Hustled By An Ordinary Old Guy," but may stand alone.
Sam’s fought demons.
Alec’s killed terrorists and innocent piano teachers (and naive young girls too, but he’s not going to think about that).
Sam uses antiques - the older it is, the more power it has.
Alec likes everything high-tech and state-of-the-art, just like he is.
Sam takes things slow - the better to draw the enemy out.
Alec uses his enhanced speed to his advantage.
But for all these differences, they’ve got things alike about them that they can’t ignore. Like for example, they were both raised to be warriors. It’s impossible to escape the impact that’s had on their lives.
Sam invites the man who reminds him so much of his brother down to visit him at his tiny house filled with musty old books and bottles of alcohol all lined up like soldiers on the kitchen table. This is after their third annual pool game down at Crash on the anniversary of Dean Winchester’s birth.
Alec pops in unexpectedly whenever he feels like it. He likes it there. Cramped in a chair in the corner between the wall and a creaking bookshelf filled with musty old books, he finally feels like he…belongs. He doesn’t have to hide what he really is, his insecurities. He likes the old guy (late thirties, early forties, not really old, but hey, he’d gotten used to calling Sam ‘the old drunk guy’ that night he’d hustled Alec out of his few hard-stolen bucks). They kid around, kind of like the way Alec does with Joshua, but Sam, Sam can retaliate. He can slug a joking verbal punch just as well as Max without the physical bruises to go with the words. Not to say he’s a wuss when it comes to a fistfight. Because he’s not.
Sam’s not like Alec, and he sure doesn’t know everything to know about him, but then again, Sam isn’t Mr. Open Book himself.
Sure, the older man tells Alec great tales of monsters vanquished, rock salt, and unsung heroes, but sometimes he cuts himself off in the middle of a word and loses himself in his bottle, his scarred face unreadable. Those pauses speak of more than words can tell. They tell of deep devotion, lasting loyalty, and supreme suffering. All that, and love. All-encompassing love, enduring even after death (and resurrection and death again - Alec still isn’t sure if Sam was pulling his leg on that one. Because resurrection? Seriously?).
Alec doesn’t interrupt and instead reads between the lines. Max would be surprised at how long he refrained from speaking during those silences and just waited for Sam to find his way out of his memories on his own.
But he gets it.
Alec knows devotion. They drilled it into him long before he was out of his Manticore-issued diapers. Devotion to the military forces of the US of A. He knows about loyalty. He knew of nothing else but home and his unit for most of his life. Anything short of the utmost loyalty was severely punished. He knows suffering, too. Wounds garnered both in training and in battle have taught him pain. Months in Psy-Ops for something that was out of his control have taught him suffering.
Sam knows the love that comes from family. Alec…doesn’t. He’s never had a family. His unit was just that - his unit. They trained together, fought together, ate together, and slept together, but they weren’t a family. Not like Max’s unit at any rate. He envied her that. He envied Sam for what he’d had and lost. Sure, he’s got friends now, who love him as if he were family, part of their growing dysfunctional family, but it’s not the same as the bond that comes from shared blood, it seems.
Alec loves to listen to the older man talk. He tells a good story. He says his brother taught him how, taught him everything he knows. The retired hunter’s eyes are sad when he says that. Then he laughs at himself for being ‘emo.’ That’s a slang word common in the late 1990s and early 2000s that Alec didn’t learn in Common Verbal Usage. It means ‘one who emotes.’
He learns new things every time he visits. Silver, spells, rituals, creatures. They’re all fascinating to him. He laps it up eagerly, and laughs at Sam’s amazement at his Transgenic-powered memory.
Alec talks too. He talks about his friends. He talks about girls. Sometimes, he talks about his Manticore days, some of the missions he’s been on - the good ones. Like the one where the sexy redhead Lola featured prominently in his memory but was mysteriously absent from his report. That was a good one. Sam cackles and tells Alec that Dean would have loved him.
Sometimes when he’s feeling maudlin, because hey, even he can’t be a cocky sonofabitch 24-7, he talks about the other missions, the bad ones. He talks about the unit-mate he couldn’t save, the time he messed up and they hauled him off for punishment; the kind of stuff he could never tell Max. She was a Transgenic, sure, but she’d never fought real battles; the ones where friends fell and never got up again, where you did everything you could to just stay alive maybe one minute longer. She’d left long before that. He envied her that too.
Sam had fought in wars. They were real wars, even though they would never make the textbooks and their fallen soldiers would never be celebrated outside of the drunken talk of a handful of grim, grizzled hunters. Sam knew. They were the same there, for all their difference in ages and what they were fighting.
Title: Of the Same Cloth - Chapter 2
Author: poestheblackcat
Rating: PG
Crossover: Dark Angel/Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Alec, Sam, Jody
Warning/Spoilers: Season 5 of SPN, Season 2 of DA, future!fic for SPN
Summary: Sam and Alec, Alec and Sam. So different, yet still so much alike. Alec had never wondered why, until now. Sequel to "The Time Alec Got Hustled By An Ordinary Old Guy," but may stand alone.
Alec discovered another thing they had in common the night he got bored at Crash and sauntered into Sam’s house without knocking, uninvited, like always.
There was a low murmur of voices (Sam and a female - ho-ho, way to go, Sam!), a gasp, two chairs being scraped back, and the cock of a gun. Thankfully, his reflexes allowed him to disarm the petite brunette easily and unload the gun before Sam could even choke out, “Jody, stop!”
The woman, some years older than Sam and fairly attractive (though still armed to the gills, Alec’s trained eye informed him), continued to gape and him and look flustered. That was a pretty usual reaction around him, but the gun and the fighting stance? Unusual unless she’d known what he was, which she probably didn’t…which brings us back to what the brunette, Jody, was saying now.
“Sam, he’s…” She looked at Alec, then at Sam again.
Sam’s scars made his expression hard to make out, but Alec was pretty sure he was still on the tall human’s good side. Pretty sure. “Yeah, I know,” he said quietly.
Jody turned wide eyes to the insanely tall man. “Sam,” she said firmly. “What are you doing with that thing?” The last word was spit out.
Alec flinched. “I’m not a thing, lady. And I don’t exactly relish having weapons pointed at me, even nice ones like this piece.” He lifted the gun he’d confiscated from her. “Antique, right? Late 1960s. Nice.” He made a show of admiring it. It annoyed her. He smirked.
The woman bristled. Sam put a giant hand on her shoulder and pushed firmly. “Sit down, Jody. Alec. I can explain. I swear. No one is going to hurt anyone, not in my house. Are we clear?” He looked to both parties.
Alec shrugged and lowered himself down gracefully in a chair. “Hey, she’s the one who attacked me first. I’m game if she is, Sammy. Besides, I’m dying of curiosity here.”
A muscle in Sam’s uneven cheek moved. Alec had learned to recognize that as a smirk. “It’s Sam to you, kid. Jody?”
Jody had tracked the young man’s movements with a wary eye. “Fine.” She sat stiffly in her seat. “Talk.”
“Lemme get him a drink first, then we’ll talk. Okay?” Sam shuffled out of sight to the kitchen.
Alec nonchalantly watched Jody glare at him. In the other room, the ancient refrigerator’s door squeaked shut and Sam stumped back into the room, bearing a cold beer in the hand unencumbered by his cane.
“Wow, you didn’t kill each other while I was gone.” Sam’s voice was tinged with sarcastic amusement.
“Sam,” the brunette said dangerously. Alec raised an eyebrow at Sam and took a swig of his drink. He pushed out one of the empty chairs with his leg and plunked both boot-clad feet on the wobbly seat.
“He’s not a demon,” Sam began.
Alec’s other brow joined its brother high on his forehead. “Come again? You think I’m…” He scoffed. “You’re nuts.”
Sam was looking at Jody. “He passed the holy water test. He passes it every time he comes here. He passed the salt line and he’s not a shapeshifter.”
Jody’s face was troubled. “Then what…?”
The older man cut her off. “I’ll get there. I need to tell Alec what’s going on too.” He turned to the Transgenic who was still pondering what Sam meant when he said he passed the holy water test every time. Did that mean- ? He eyed his beer suspiciously. Then he glared at Sam.
Sam looked apologetic. He pulled the look off pretty well, considering all the ruts and marks on his face. Alec thought the look must have been close to a superpower before all the scars.
“Alec,” he said in a voice to match the expression. “I’ve kind of been keeping something from you.”
“Uh-huh. That’s pretty obvious,” Alec said, deadpan. “You’ve been spiking my beers, for one thing.”
Apologetic turned into sheepish. “Yeah. Old dog with an old habit,” Sam hemmed. “What I meant was, I’ve been telling you about my brother Dean, right?”
Alec nodded. “Only since the first night I met you, yeah. What’s your point?”
Sam dug in his pocket for his wallet. He opened it and pulled out a ragged and creased piece of paperboard. He looked at it for a moment with heavy-lidded eyes and sighed. “Here.” He handed it over to Alec.
Alec took the crumbling photograph and froze. “What the- ?” He sputtered. “This? This is- this was Dean? Dean your dead brother?”
Steady hazel eyes gazed at him sadly. “When I told you that you reminded me of him, I meant it literally.”
The beer plunked down on the table as Alec stood. “I- You- Just stay away from me, okay?” His eyes were hard, angry.
Sam knew that look well. It was the way Dean had looked when he found out about what he’d been doing with Ruby all those years ago. Betrayed. Damn. He felt guilty. “Alec,” he started.
“No,” the younger man said. “Just- no. You lied- you- ” He took a deep breath and licked dry lips. “You didn’t tell me the reason you liked me coming over so much was because I look like him,” he snarled and threw the old yellowed photograph down on the table.
Alec couldn’t believe he’d been duped by this pathetic Ordinary. Here, he’d thought that the guy wanted him around for his own sake, but no, he just liked looking at the familiar face and remembering his brother. Dean. Dean and Ben. Two men whose shadows he’d never be able to step out of. He stormed out of the room, intending to go home and drink himself silly. Not like he’d damage his liver or anything.
Sam went still halfway through standing. “No,” he said softly, “Alec, stop. It’s not like that. You’re a great guy. You are. You.” He walked out into the hall, where Alec had stopped, rigid with tension.
“Alec,” Sam said to Alec’s back. “At first, yeah, it was because of that. But I get that you’re not him. And that’s okay.” He sighed. “This is why I didn’t tell you. I was afraid you’d think I was a creep or something.” “And not come back again,” ran silently through both their heads.
The Transgenic remained turned away from Sam, head bowed. The slight rise and fall of his back as he breathed was the only movement he made.
“Alec,” Sam tried again, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But it’s been so long since I’ve had family that I got kind of used to it and I didn’t want to scare you off.”
‘Family,’ Sam had said. Alec’s breath caught. Family. Was that how…? No, no, the tricky bastard was just trying to manipulate him into staying. But…no.
Alec’s silence was discouraging. Sam stared at the slim figure. The young man still carried less muscle mass than Dean had ended up having, but he was nevertheless just as (or maybe much more) lethal. He wondered if it would be unadvisable to reach out and touch him, just on his shoulder. With Dean, a simple shoulder pat would have sufficed, but this kid wasn’t Dean. He was a genetically-engineered killer. But he was also capable of feeling; guilt, love, anger, envy - he’d confessed that he’d felt them all. And now he was feeling betrayed.
Sam sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, really meaning it, and slowly limped back into the room so as to give the kid more time to get his feelings and thoughts straight and under control. Jody raised her brow from her position leaning against the wall, hand on her hip, listening to the exchange. Sam shook his head.
Alec heard the shuffling and taps of the cane that meant Sam was on the move. Moving away from him. He breathed and thought for a moment. “Sam?” he said, voice nearly breaking. He turned around. “You really mean that?”
This time it was Alec talking to Sam’s back.
Sam nodded and swallowed. “Yeah. I am sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
Alec huffed. “No, not that. That’s not what- ” he cut off. “You know what? Never mind. I’m outta here.”
“No,” Sam stopped him, turning to face the younger man. “No. What did you mean?” He looked into the green eyes trying so hard not to look vulnerable. “What did you mean, if not that? I do like having you around, just for you. Not because- ”
“You said ‘family,’ Sam,” Alec interrupted. “That. Did you mean that?” This was the moment. A ‘yes’ or ‘no’ could make or break him. “Or were you just trying to get me to stay?”
Sam stared at him, mouth hanging open. Did the kid really - shit. He’d always talked about friends, fellow soldiers, coworkers, but never had he described anything close to resembling a real family. Did he- ? “Yeah,” Sam said quickly, seeing Alec’s face fall at how long he’d paused. “Yeah, I meant it. I mean, for all we know, you could really be family, right?”
Alec heard Jody shift a little. She was hidden from his view by the edge of the wall, but he knew she was still there, listening. “I guess,” he shrugged, not wanting to seem too eager, too happy.
He cleared his throat and arranged his face back into a carefree expression. “So,” he began, “who’s the broad?”
Sam felt his eyes roll reflexively. This ‘broad’ could draw her weapon faster than most male hunters he’s seen. “This is Jody Mills. She’s a hunter.” He stepped away from the doorway to let the younger man pass into the room again. If he wanted to.
Alec hesitated for a moment before moving. His shoulder brushed Sam’s chest as he walked by him.
“Well, helloooo, Jody,” he purred. “We got off to a bad start. I’m Alec.”