Tears of a Clown (AWV #10)
Title: Tears of a Clown
Series: Alec Winchester ‘Verse
Author: Jinni (jinni.tth@gmail.com)
Rated: Pg13
Disclaimer: All things SPN belong to Eric Kripke, et al. All things Dark Angel belong to Fox, et al. Some of the dialogue is taken directly from the SPN episode “Everybody Loves a Clown”
Spoilers: Through “Everybody Loves a Clown”.
Notes: Next in the AW ‘Verse.
Summary:
PART ONE
A soft wind kicked up a cloud of dirt from the dry ground, blowing dust into the air in small puffs that drifted along before settling again. Alec wrinkled his nose, turning his head from the gritty particles that tumbled past him. It wasn’t a particularly hot day, but the sun was beating down pretty steadily, and sweat had started beading up on his back under the long-sleeved t-shirt he’d put on that morning before going out to find Dean.
He didn’t know what he’d hoped to do once he’d found his ‘older brother’, but it certainly didn’t involve sitting on his ass watching Dean work on the Impala for hours on end, not saying a word. The few times that Dean had looked his way, met his eyes, had been so tense that Alec didn’t want to repeat them if at all possible. On the other hand, he didn’t really want to go sit around with Sam, either, and being on his own right now held no appeal.
Years of looking out for himself, following orders, and not giving a shit about anyone or anything, and now he was fucking mourning for a guy that he’d only just barely been starting to get to know. Someone that had been, technically, his father. He wasn’t used to this, to feeling so goddamned depressed. It was almost enough to make him long for the days back ‘home’, with Max and the other freaks of the week. For all that she’d looked down on him like he was nothing more than garbage, he hadn’t given a fuck what she thought. For that matter, he hadn’t cared what any of them thought or what happened to them. Not really.
But instead of being back there where he was safe from emotional trauma, he was here with his ‘brothers’, mourning his ‘father’, and wondering when his life became so fucking movie of the week-ish.
Well, if movies of the week had a horror twist to them.
Alec smiled for half a moment at his own joke, then just as quickly it was gone, and he was feeling guilty because he was smiling and making cutesy jokes inside his head when Dad was dead and they had no fucking leads on the demon that they were damn sure had done it. Dean was alive, but Dad was gone.
He was sure that someone, somewhere, thought that it was a fair trade. Alec just wasn’t entirely positive that he was one of them. Not that he’d wanted to lose his brother, either, but who said he had to lose anyone? Who the hell made up dumbass rules like that? If that’s what this even was. Alec wasn’t fooling himself, though. He might not have said it out loud, but he was damned sure that Dad had died to save Dean. Made a trade. One life for another. Coincidences like that just didn’t happen. Not even to this screwed up family.
Everything had fallen apart. Sam had his nose shoved in a book ninety-percent of the time, Dean was always under the car, and Bobby just looked like he wanted to help but didn’t know how. Which left Alec on his own, more often than not. He didn’t want to say that was part of what had him feeling so shitty, but there was that possibility. Losing Dad, then sorta losing his brothers too? That sucked.
The cowardly part of him wanted to get out while he could. Before he fell further into this emotional train wreck of a family that he’d been saddled with through the grace of whatever fucked up god was out there watching out for all bad little transgenic brats. He could be back harassing Maxie in a few days’ time, if he really tried. It would be easy. Much easier than sticking around to see what heartache came next in this fucked up ride.
It was just too damn bad there was a bigger part of him that didn’t want to be that person anymore. The one that only looked out for himself and didn’t care about anyone or anything. Being with Dad, then Sam and Dean, had changed him. He wasn’t sure it was for the best, but he didn’t really have any say in the matter, either. One day he’d gone to bed the same guy he’d always been, the next he’d woken up with people that made him want to be better.
Alec frowned, glaring at the ground. Dean was banging on the car again. Short, quick strokes of the hammer against something on the underside of the body of the car. Damn shame about the Impala, but Alec guessed if anyone could fix her, Dean was the guy. The temptation to offer to help him had only been extended once, though. After a quick interrogation that proved that, right, Alec knew almost nothing that could be of any use to fixing Dean’s baby, he’d been sent away with a don’t touch anything.
A door opened behind him, but Dean didn’t notice. Hell, Alec doubted that Dean was noticing much of anything. He seemed to have zoned out to the steady repetitious banging he was doing to the underside of the Impala.
Alec felt a hand on his shoulder, long fingers squeezing gently, and glanced up at Sam. Arching an eyebrow in the direction of the car, he asked the silent question, You gonna brave that?
Sam looked over at the car, thinking on it so hard that any second now Alec was sure there was going to be smoke coming out of his ears. Opening his mouth to tell him not to break anything, Alec shut it again. This was the closest that he’d felt to ‘back to normal’ with either of them in days, and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to screw it up with a badly timed joke. After staring at Dean’s legs sticking out from under the car for another minute, Sam nodded. Slowly, Alec noted absently. Like he wasn’t too sure that what he had to say was worth disturbing Dean with. Given that Dean was, in Alec’s opinion, about two seconds away from snapping at any given moment of the day, Alec didn’t really blame Sam.
“Wish me luck,” Sam muttered in a dry tone, giving Alec a little wry smile before setting off through the dust of the junkyard to where Dean was still banging away at the car. Absently, Alec wondered if he was fixing anything under there or just hitting it for the sake of hitting something. Probably would be a good idea if he could get Dean to spar with him a little later. Try to work through some of that emotional blockage that was clogging him up worse than a lack of fiber at a seniors’ home.
Oh, wrong move, Alec thought, listening in as Sam offered to help Dean with the car. It wasn’t that surprising when Dean turned him down. Even if Sam knew the first thing about helping with the car, Alec got the feeling Dean wouldn’t want the help. The Impala was his. The one thing that he had that was his and his alone. He wanted to keep it that way. Alec got that. If he’d ever had any possessions that he cared about, then maybe he’d feel the same way about them.
In a move that took Alec a little by surprise, Dean slid out from under the car. He stood, brushing his hands off on his pants, looking at Sam with the saddest mix of determination, irritation, and depression that Alec had ever seen. Geez, when had he gotten such a Hallmark-y way of viewing things? They needed to get back on the road soon before he started talking about his feelings and watching daytime television.
“You know what? You're right,” Dean was saying as Alec stood up and brushed the dirt off his ass, “Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance.”
Seemed like Dean pretty much felt the same way Alec did. That was refreshing. Or it would have been if Alec hadn’t seen and understood the look in Dean’s eyes for what it was. The whole ‘I’m holding together as best as I can, please don’t push me’ look that Alec had seen more than one good little soldier try to hang onto while at Manticore. Those were the kids that usually left in the middle of the night with an armed escort and were never heard from again.
Alec shoved his hands down into the pockets of his faded blue jeans and walked slowly towards the two of them, body tense. Like he was expecting a fight, and maybe he was. The way that the two of them were looking at each other, like either one could go off like a powder keg at any second. That was the kind of crap that they needed to just deal with and move on from because it was going to end up getting someone hurt. Like him, or themselves. And fuck if he could handle losing anyone else anytime soon. Or maybe ever.
Sam huffed. “Don't patronize me, Dean. Dad is dead. The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing happened.”
And, wow, was this ever spiraling out of control. Just what they needed, a nice fight to liven the afternoon up. Because it had been so boring before.
“What do you want me to say?” Dean snapped, scowling.
To think, it had been such a good day. Maybe a little heavy in the angst, but still not bad as far as days went. Alec sighed, loudly, hoping it would derail the two of them from doing this here and now, when they were both still too fucked up in the head over it.
Sam shrugged, lifting his hands up. “Say something, all right? Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car.”
Right, because bringing the fucking Impala into it was a good way to make sure that things didn’t escalate to some kind of violence. Did Sammy want to get hit? Damn, maybe he did.
Alec knew before saying anything that he shouldn’t get in the middle of this. It was volatile enough without throwing him in there, reminding the brothers that they weren’t the only ones that were missing Dad. Topping it all off was the fact that Alec had spent was that one that had been with John for those months before he died. Not his sons. He’d had more time with Dad than Dean or Sam had gotten off of him in years.
Still, he opened his mouth and found himself saying, “Getting angry, getting worked up, it isn’t going to change anything. We don’t know where the demon is. We don’t even know where to start looking.”
The look Sam shot him was one of those why-are-you-siding-with-him moments that usually made Alec smile or smirk or something to do with amusement, anyway. Right then, though, he only felt a little sick to his stomach. Choosing sides was not the way that he wanted to play this. It wasn’t him and Dean versus Sam. It was the three of them, together, figuring out what the fuck was going on and then getting a little get-back of their own. Their fucking Dad had been killed. They sure as hell weren’t going to let that just go.
Silence pulsed there in the middle of them, as they stood in the dusty, dirty junkyard with the Impala all too close by and wounded beyond recognition. It hurt to be here right now, with them. Hurt like a bitch. But he wasn’t going to run.
He didn’t really have anywhere to run to, anyway. Not unless he was dead set on heading back to the northeast, which sounded less and less like a good idea the more he thought about it.
Sam kicked at the dirt, head down, face intense. Then he sighed and fished in his pocket, coming up with a cell phone. “Well, we do have something, all right? I was able to crack the pin number on one of dad’s phones. He had a voicemail from someone named Ellen. Said she could help him.”
“When was that?” Dean asked.
“Four months ago,” Sam shrugged. “Figure it must be important if he kept it that long, right?” He held out the cell phone to Dean. “Go on, listen.”
Dean looked at the cell phone as if he expected it to lunge out and bite him. For all Alec knew, there’d been a hunt involving a possessed cell phone somewhere in Dean’s past. Doubtful, and not something he would ever have even thought of as possible before meeting up with the Winchesters, but there really was no telling when it came to these guys.
When he finally took it and started the voicemail, Alec had no trouble hearing the woman’s whisky-burned voice even though the was a few feet away.
John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me.
“I did a trace on the number,” Sam offered. “Got an address.”
Alec didn’t even realize he’d been holding his breath, waiting to see if Dean was really ready to get back on the road, until his brother sighed and said -
“Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars.”
PART TWO
Alec would have liked to have been able to say, when everything was all said and done, that he'd seen it coming and it had just happened too fast for him to do anything to diffuse the situation, work it to his advantage, and get his fucking family out of harm's way. Later, when he looked back on it all, he wished he could claim that there was no way he could have done a damn thing, even with transgenic super speed on his side, to stop what had occurred.
Maybe he'd even been distracted by the guy with what had to be the worst haircut Alec was sure he'd ever seen, sleeping on the pool table like it was the most normal thing in the world.
In hindsight, though, he realized that it had more to do with the fact that he hadn't seen it coming at all. Wasn't as if they'd walked into that rundown little hole in the wall expecting to have guns pulled on them. And he sort of was too far from Sam and Dean to try to make a play for the guns without getting both of them shot. Didn't matter if he could move quick as hell, there were two guns, one of him, and the crazy bitches holding the guns were just too damn close to his brothers.
Alec centered himself as he stood off to one side, watching the two women with the guns, finding that calm place inside that he'd learned to tap into over the years, running ops for Manticore. Getting nervous about those things being pointed at people he cared about wasn't going to help him any. Cool heads prevailed. Hot heads got killed. He'd be damned if either of them was going to get killed today. Not by some nut with a gun. All he needed was an opportunity, one little opening where he was sure that he wasn't going to get Dean or Sam shot, and he'd take it. 'Course, all that depended on the two chicks not getting trigger happy in the meantime.
Goddamnit, why was nothing ever easy in his life?
Like the gods were listening, the showdown broke. "Dean? Sam? Winchester? Son-of-a-bitch." Her gaze flicked over at him, and Alec did his best not to sneer though he wasn't going to apologize for the glare he gave her, either. "But who the hell are you?" She frowned. "Last time I checked, your daddy," and she looked back at first Dean, then Sam, "didn't have any other sons. And I know for a fact you were never a twin, Dean."
"He's our brother and let's just leave it at that," Sam surprised Alec by answering, voice completely devoid of warmth. Like this wasn't a subject that was up for discussion. And, hey, that was fine by Alec, he'd just never really heard Sam lay it on the line like that. Then Sam asked, "You Ellen?"
He tried not to sigh with relief when it turned out that, yes, she was Ellen. Though, if he could figure out a reason why those two getting the upper hand on the three of them wasn't something he could have personally avoided, Alec planned on never letting his brothers forget about how they'd gotten jumped by two chicks.
And that was how they met Ellen, Ash, and Jo, Alec thought with some small measure of bemusement as they piled back into the banged-up piece of shit soccer-mom van that Bobby had loaned them to drive. The car was an embarrassment, but he supposed it could be worse. For instance - it could have been a station wagon.
Alec took the backseat and glanced back over his shoulder at the Roadhouse. Jo had come outside to see them off, standing in the halo of light from the sign on the front of the building, her arms crossed over her chest, and Alec found himself half-smiling and winking, giving her a little wave, before he even thought twice about it, slipping into the role of flirt as easily as he ever had. She was pretty enough and, despite the fact that she still seemed to be hanging from her mother's apron strings, she was old enough. And, man, had she seemed interested. In him and Dean. Like she didn't know which one of them to make a move on and had decided just to try both. Flirting with him, then Dean, then him again. Poor girl didn't even realize that Dean wasn't really noticing her - and when he did, he wasn't caring - and Alec? Well, he'd play that game if she wanted to; it'd been too long since he'd had someone warm in his arms, but when all was said and done he wasn't looking for a girl to call his own.
An image of Ellen and her gun flashed through Alec's mind, like a glaring warning sign. Right. Maybe he wouldn't be making any moves to get in her pants for even one night, either. Not with her sort-of scary mother lurking around. He'd have to be stupid to miss the glares she'd given him each time he'd played along with Jo's flirting.
The radio was on as they drove, fuzzy static signaling that they really were in the ass end of nowhere, no question about it. Alec didn't think he'd ever miss the worn, old cassettes that Dean had kept in the Impala - the hours upon hours of music that was older than they were in some cases - but he did. Something buzzed against his hip, and Alec reached for his cell phone without thinking, looking down at the little display.
Max?
What the hell was Maxie doing calling him? They didn't have anything to say to one another, and it wasn't like she'd been heartbroken to see him leave Seattle. His thumb hovered over the button as he wavered back and forth between answering and not answering. Pretty safe to say that whatever she wanted, she could find someone else that could help her because the only reason she'd be calling him was if she needed something and he damn well wasn't going to play slave-boy for her. The phone clicked over to voicemail before he could decide whether or not to pick it up and tell her to go fuck herself, and he waited for a minute to see if she was going to leave a message.
She didn't.
Oh well. Couldn't have been too important then, could it?
"You've gotta be kidding me. A killer clown?"
Alec's head snapped up, muttering a 'huh' as he shoved the cell phone back in his pocket. He had to have heard that wrong. "A killer clown?"
"Yeah. He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Ripped them to pieces, actually," Sam continued.
"This happened at what? A carnival? A circus?" Alec asked, still trying to wrap his mind around the whole killer clown thing. Every time he thought he had a handle on the weird ass shit in this world, there it was - something new and unexpected. Not to mention - clowns? So he wasn't about to say it out loud - to anyone, ever - but clowns sort of gave him the creeps. What with their makeup and their grinning. Alec shivered, disturbed by the thought of a clown that was extra-creepy with a side of homicidal.
Sam flipped through the limited research he had and answered, "The, uh, Cooper Carnival."
A whole frickin' carnival full of the pasty-faced, red-nosed, bastards. Alec wasn't ready to admit he had a phobia or anything, but damn if this didn't sound like a fucking nightmare.
"So how do you know we're not dealing with some psycho carnie in a clown suit?" Dean changed lanes, passing a slower moving car in front of them. Pretty sad, Alec thought distractedly, that they were going slower than a beat-up old minivan.
"Well, the cops have no viable leads, and all the employees were tearing down shop. Alibis all around. Plus this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course."
The more they talked about this, the more Alec started to wonder why the hell they just had to take this gig.
Dean chuckled under his breath, suddenly, then turned to Sam with the most evil grin Alec thought he'd ever seen on his not-quite-brother. "Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam. Why did it have to be clowns?"
Sam went stiff, then glared. "Oh, give me a break."
"What?" Alec asked, looking between the two of them with a little confusion. He'd missed something. Somewhere.
"Man," Dean laughed with a glance at Alec in the rearview mirror. "Little Sammy here used to cry when he saw fucking Ronald McDonald on tv. He's afraid of clowns." Dean snorted as if it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard, and suddenly Alec was very glad he hadn't made any comments about how he thought the damn things were creepy.
Huffing, Sam ground out, "Well, at least I'm not afraid of flying."
What? Afraid of flying? Alec looked at Dean, begging to hear that it wasn't so. Flying was one of the most awesome experiences ever.
"Planes crash!" Dean argued.
Sam snorted. "And apparently clowns kill!"
Alec rolled his eyes and settled back in the seat. He was just going to keep his mouth shut on this one. There was no way in hell he was admitting to having any kind of fear with these two around.
~*~*~
Well, so far there wasn't a single goddamned clown in sight, though lots of freaks bound for sideshow acts.
His cell phone buzzed in his pocket, and Alec slid it out just far enough to see that it was Max - again - as he followed Dean into one of the tents, Sam taking up the rear. They wanted to pose as carnival workers. That was just great. If anyone back home ever heard about this, he'd never live it down. Funny how Manticore had never thought to include classes on how to sweep up garbage or how to scrape chewing gum off of any available surface. Alec wrinkled his nose and fought to keep from gagging. Stale popcorn, spilt sodas, cotton candy, and stuff that wasn't as pleasant invaded his too-sensitive nose. Having super senses really sucked sometimes.
"Excuse me," Dean said, "we're looking for a Mr. Cooper, have you seen him around?"
There was something about the way the guy looked when he turned around that had Alec choking back a laugh, smothering it by coughing into his hand. Damn if older bro hadn't just walked into that one. Sam caught on pretty quick, too, and Alec was glad to see he wasn't the only one that was having trouble keeping it in.
"What is that, some kind of joke?" the carnival employee asked, taking off his glasses. And, right, just like he'd thought. Dude was blind. Alec snorted.
Dean stammered, "Oh. God, I'm, I'm sorry."
"You think I wouldn't give my eyeteeth to see Mr. Cooper? Or a sunset or anything at all?" the knife-thrower continued, glaring angrily with dead-looking eyes.
"You two wanna help me out here?" Dean asked over his shoulder.
"Not so much, no," Alec said with a grin, just as Sam offered up a "Not really."
See this? This wasn't that bad. This Alec could handle because he was damn sure he could get Dean out of the way quick enough if the knife-thrower got pissed off to the point that he started hurling actual knives.
It was probably picturing that hilarity in his head that kept Alec from realizing they'd been joined by someone else.
"Hey man, is there a problem?"
Alec absolutely did not laugh when he saw the little person glaring at Dean. He did not.
It was a close thing, though.
The knife-thrower gestured at Dean, "Yeah, this guy hates blind people."
This was where he and Sam should definitely step in and try to help, Alec told himself. He glanced at Sam to see if his brother looked like he was about to intercede. Nope. In fact, by the way Sam was grinning, cheeks pink, Alec was pretty damn sure Sam was on the same page as he was.
This was fucking funny.
"No, I don't, I..." Dean stammered, casting a look toward Alec that he steadfastly ignored. He wasn't getting involved in this. No way. Not unless there was a risk of violence.
Well, come to think of it, the little guy did sort of look like an ankle biter.
"Hey buddy, what's your problem?" the little guy demanded. And maybe it wouldn't have been so funny if it weren't for the damn red cape he was wearing. Alec smothered another laugh with a cough and wondered if Sam wasn't going to just explode from trying to hold it in.
"Nothing, it's just a little misunderstanding."
Oh. Oh, shit! Alec choked.
"Little?! You son of a bitch!"
Fifteen minutes later, when they'd saved Dean from the midget, found Mr. Cooper, and gotten hired on, Alec thought:
Well, even if this whole killer clown thing doesn't work out, we still had fun.
He just wished he'd gotten it all on videotape.
PART THREE
He must have given it away. Maybe a flinch when he saw one of the creepy ass mothers or maybe he’d shied away when one got too close, but Sam was giving Alec knowing looks. Something that was sort of like sympathy with a healthy dose of commiseration, followed with a little twist of the lips that was kind of like a smile, but more of a smirk. It said that he might understand the clown-fear - hell, he has it too - but that didn’t mean that Alec was going to just slide by with it. Not when Sam was teased by Dean.
Still, Sam was professional enough to not start in on him then and there while there was a job to finish. Which was good, because things were heating up. Quickly.
Alec didn’t know why clowns creeped him out so badly. Hell, the things he’d seen - done - there shouldn’t be any fears left in him. It could be Manticore’s fault, though. Wasn’t like he’d gotten a lot of quality kid time growing up. Never got to bond with those familiar icons of childhood, learn their good sides. The first time he’d ever seen a clown was when he was out on a mission, indulging in a little downtime before his target made an appearance. It had been in some sort of old movie, made back before the Pulse, about a monster that could turn into whatever kids were afraid of but always seemed to change back to a fucked up, psychotic clown, killing the kids.
This thing they were hunting - a Rakshasa - killed parents, just to be different. It seemed like a fucked up sort of reversal. Alec thought it was better the parents than the kids, to be honest. Kids dying was never an easy thing to cope with. Not even to murderous bastards like him.
Alec cast a glance over his shoulder. No clowns in sight. Not the normal kind or the kind that liked to kill people for fun and games. Or to eat. Alec really wasn’t sure which it was doing. That was probably something he should have paid more attention to when Sam was being research boy, but Alec had sort of zoned at the thought of killer clowns. That was the sort of rookie mistake that could get him killed. Or, worse, get one of his brothers killed. Pay attention. Stay alert. Don’t let your guard down. Retain. Remember. Weren’t those rules to live by?
Too late now, and it wasn’t like he could ask Sam to recap it for him because he was off scoping out Mr. Cooper to see if he was the son-of-a-bitch they were looking for. Dean, for his part, had taken off with an idea on where to get some brass blades, and Alec had volunteered just to stake things out, make sure nothing weird was going down. Which is what he was supposed to be doing. Not just standing there waxing poetic, trying to fucking psychoanalyze his stupid clown-phobia.
Alec palmed the gun concealed in the pocket of his jacket and took quick stock of where he was. Between a couple tents, near the wagons where the carnival staff made their homes. There really weren’t a lot of people around, which should have made things easier. Instead, it just made Alec feel exposed, like he was the one being hunted. He rolled his shoulders, forcing the muscles in his neck and back to relax. Being on the road with first John, now the brothers, had screwed with him in a lot of ways. Some good, some bad. On one hand, it felt nice to have a real family. The flip side was that he had people he cared about, people he didn’t want to see hurt. Not to mention that dialing down his natural instincts, the sheer deadliness of his existence, had softened him up some. He wasn’t the same carefree guy that had left Seattle, true, but that new weight on his shoulders hadn’t come with a sharper edge. He’d put on a mask for the Winchesters from day one, sure that they couldn’t handle what he was completely if they ever really knew what he’d done, what he was capable of doing. Wearing that kind of façade for so long took its toll.
His thoughts turned to the cell phone in the back pocket of his jeans, the calls that he’d deliberately not taken from Max. Speaking with her, for whatever reason, was like acknowledging a life he’d left behind.
That wasn’t something he was ready for.
As he turned to start poking his nose into the tents, one by one, Alec heard a gentle ‘thunk’ from somewhere behind him. It wasn’t an altogether dramatic sound. Over the other noises in the carnival, it was barely a whisper. At the same time, it was a sound that Alec knew. The sound of a blade wedging itself into wood. Whirling, Alec scanned. Where had it come from?
Then he heard it again, just as the door to one of the wagons burst open, Dean coming down the steps fast, breathing hard.
Sam was there suddenly, falling into step with him, and they met Dean together.
“It’s the blind guy,” Dean informed them, scowling. He waved a hand. “He’s around here somewhere.”
That definitely explained what Alec had heard: the knife hitting the wood. He’d bet anything that the old bastard had been throwing some of those deadly ass knives of his at Dean’s head.
Alec was so going to enjoy seeing this freak go down. “Did you get the -“
“Brass blades?” Dean finished, though the decidedly angry tilt of his mouth and flash in his eyes was all the answer Alec needed. “No, it’s been one of those days.”
Damn. Without a brass blade, they weren’t going to be able to kill the Rakshasa when they pinned it down. Hand-to-hand was all fine and good, but Alec didn’t like getting into fights he couldn’t win. That’s what it would be, too. Without a way to kill the son-of-a-bitch, Alec could punch and kick for as long as he wanted, and it wouldn’t make a difference.
Suddenly, Sam said, “I’ve got an idea. C’mon.”
Alec shared a look with Dean, who just lifted a brow as if to say ‘just follow him and ask questions later’, though it was clear that the eldest brother didn’t have a clue what little Sammy was up to, either.
There was something to be said about finding comfort in the fact that he wasn’t the only one that didn’t have a firm grasp on whatever plan was being set in motion. Not a good something, but something nonetheless. Planning wasn’t exactly something these two were very good at, Alec had to be honest. Usually, however, it was Dean doing the rushing in.
Just another example of how everything had gotten thrown off its axis with John’s death. Alec forced down a lump of pain, hating how his eyes pricked with the hot sting of tears even now, thinking about a death that shouldn’t have happened. Eventually things would go back to what passed for normal. It had to. All he had to do was be patient and wait for things to sort themselves out.
The second they entered the funhouse, things started to quickly go to hell. In the blink of an eye, so fast that Alec didn’t even have time to think about it, the door slid shut, effectively cutting him and Dean off from Sam. He swore, kicked at it, but the damn thing wouldn’t budge.
“Dean! Alec! Just find the maze, okay?”
“Find the maze,” Alec muttered under his breath, taking off through the halls of the funhouse, Dean at his side. They fell into easy step with each other, like they’d done it forever. Easy, effective. Like soldiers in the same unit that had trained together for years. The kind of understanding and bond that went beyond words, required no speech. Neither of them was leading; as one they just moved together. Find Sam. Make sure Sam is okay. It was like a fucking biological imperative. Eat. Sleep. Drink. Make sure that Sam lived to see another day. No, he hadn’t forgotten John’s last words. Watch out for Sammy.
Oh, and after they found Sam they were going to kill the goddamned freaky-ass, invisible, knife-wielding psycho and then get the hell out of dodge. It was a good plan, a Dean kind of plan.
They rounded a corner in time to see Sam pull at a pipe. For a second, Alec was confused, glancing between the hot pipe and Sam. Then, “Brass?”
“Brass,” Sam confirmed. He grabbed at the pipe again, just as that dreaded, all-too-familiar sound of a knife being thrown came out of nowhere.
“What the fuck?” Alec snapped, looking around. There had to be a way to see the damn thing.
“Shouldn't we see its clothes walking around?” Dean asked just as Alec shut his eyes. Without sight, he could only rely on his other senses. Namely: hearing.
More knives flew through the air, and Alec barely managed to dodge one of the hurled, slashing missiles. It came so close to his cheek that he felt the air part as it passed, whistling over his skin.
“Where is it?” Sam was insisting, and Alec wished that he could answer. There was too much noise for him to get a pin on the thing’s footsteps or the telltale rustle of the clothes Alec knew it had to still be wearing.
Then. Brilliance. The hiss of escaping steam made Alec’s eyes snap open, and the words to congratulate Dean for his quick thinking were on his tongue just as Dean shouted, “Sam, behind you! Behind you!”
Just like that… it was over.
Alec resisted kicking the corpse.
It was a close thing.
~*~*~
A quick stopover at the Roadhouse led to more frustration than satisfaction. Ash hadn’t been able to trace the demon, but he’d keep searching. Looking for signs and clues and, fuck, if that didn’t just beat all. They wanted a piece of this bastard, and it was fucking hiding.
“Hey,” Jo murmured, sliding onto the stool next to his.
Alec lifted his glass to his mouth, the smooth glass hovering so close to his lips that he could feel it right there, waiting to be moved that last fraction of an inch and deliver the waiting beer to his thirsty body. He gave her a half smile and a slightly husky, “hey yourself” in return before he drained it. Ellen was glaring at him. Dean and Sam were ready to go. Places to go, monsters to kill, and getting involved with Jo would be a bad idea to end all bad ideas.
Which was why he wasn’t going to do it. Not that he wasn’t tempted, but while they needed Ellen, Ash, and the contacts they could get at the Roadhouse, he wasn’t about to fuck it up with what would be nothing more than a screw, which was all it could ever be. He’d have to be blind and deaf not to know that she wasn’t the kind of girl he’d ever have something meaningful with. She was still a little girl, playing in a big girl’s world. Naïve and innocent, no matter what she thought about herself. While they needed her mom and Ash, he wasn’t going to fuck around with her.
When all that was said and done, though. Well, then he’d see if he couldn’t rip away some of that innocence she still oozed.
He stood up, leaving his empty glass on the counter, and threw Jo a smirk. “See you around, sweetheart.”
~*~*~
Back at Bobby’s junkyard, and Alec groaned when his cell phone started to ring again. He was watching Dean beat the hell out of the Impala, out in the yard. A breakdown that Alec had known was coming sooner or later, though he’d sort of expected later the way that Dean repressed things. Alec could understand, though. Hell, he’d done something pretty damn similar the first time he’d been out of Manticore’s sight after Rachel’s death. Beat the hell out of some poor inanimate object, bloodied and bruised his knuckles until he almost botched the job he’d been sent to do because of the pain. Dean was using a crowbar, though, not his hands, and Alec thought that was a smart move on his part. Beating the shit out of something with your bare hands was stupid even on the best of days.
Unable to take anymore of it, not even with Sam standing there looking just as worried as he was, Alec made up his mind and answered the cell phone, turning his back on the window and the meltdown of Chernobyl proportions that Dean was having. Going out there wouldn’t do a damn thing to help Dean, a little voice in the back of his head whispered. He knew it. Sam knew it. That was why they were in here watching, and Dean was out there not-so-quietly coping with his grief.
Some things a guy just had to do in private. Apparently that included having a nervous breakdown.
“What the hell do you want, Maxie?” Alec growled into the phone without bothering to wait for her to say a thing. Best just get straight to the point since he wasn’t really interested in having a conversation with her. At all.
Sam turned, looking at him with barely concealed curiosity. Alec was struck with the realization that this was the first time he’d ever acknowledged having contact with anyone outside of their little family group. There’d be questions now, no matter what, and Alec resigned himself to having to answer them.
“Not Max, not Max.”
Alec paused in mid-pace, frowning. Talk about someone he’d never thought he’ed be speaking to ever again. Not that he had anything against the tall-ass genetic freak, but still. Write off one person back ‘home’, write them all off. “Joshua? Why do you have Max’s phone?”
“Max gone, Alec. Taken.” The words came out in a rush, heavy almost-pained breaths wheezing down the phone.
“Wait. Hold on. Taken by who?” Stupid question. White, of course. Who else would both want to take Max and have the resources to get it done? That man was a serious pain in the ass.
Joshua’s heavy breathing trailed through the phone. “Don’t know, Alec. Max take Joshua out. They jumped her. Knocked her out. Joshua got shot, got away.”
Alec swallowed, not liking what he was hearing at all. “Think, Joshua, was it White?”
“Maybe. Yes.” Short, clipped. Joshua was really worked up over this. Then again, Max was one of the only friends the big guy had. Alec sighed and rubbed at his forehead with his hand, digging the palm in before dropping it. And the pain from the gunshot wound probably wasn’t helping, either. For the first time, Alec felt bad about not answering his cell phone when the first call came.
There was no love lost between him and Max. He could barely stand her, even on the best of days and damn if she didn’t feel the same way about him.
But he wasn’t going to just let White have her, either. Fucker didn’t deserve the satisfaction of ever getting what he wanted in life.
Which meant he had to go back to Seattle, figure out what the fuck had happened, and save Maxie’s sorry ass. Again. If she didn’t quit letting herself get grabbed by White one of these days he was going to just leave her to it.
Not this time, though.
“I’ll be there within a day, Joshua,” Alec snapped, hanging up the phone. He sighed angrily. If there were more details about what had happened, they’d have to wait until he got there, when he could calm Joshua down enough to get a coherent sentence out of him. If he stole a car and got on the road now, drove straight through the night, he could be back in Seattle within eighteen hours, by his best guess.
It would have to be soon enough.
“So where are we going?”
Alec’s head snapped up so quick, shock overtaking him so lightning fast, that he almost dropped the phone. He’d forgotten Sam was there. Alec shook his head. “I can go by myself. This isn’t your fight.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed dryly. “Maybe it’s not my fight - but this whole demon thing wasn’t yours, and you stepped up to bat for us.” He frowned. “You want family, then you have to take us even when you’d rather not even know us.”
And wasn’t that just the crux of it? Because Alec felt something a little like fear. It wouldn’t be possible to keep hiding the darker parts of his past after this.
He could lose everything.
“Fine,” he muttered, staring Sam down even though he wasn’t at all sure this was what he wanted to do. It would all end badly. “Let’s just hope you still want to know me when this is over and done with.”
END
Series: Alec Winchester ‘Verse
Author: Jinni (jinni.tth@gmail.com)
Rated: Pg13
Disclaimer: All things SPN belong to Eric Kripke, et al. All things Dark Angel belong to Fox, et al. Some of the dialogue is taken directly from the SPN episode “Everybody Loves a Clown”
Spoilers: Through “Everybody Loves a Clown”.
Notes: Next in the AW ‘Verse.
Summary:
PART ONE
A soft wind kicked up a cloud of dirt from the dry ground, blowing dust into the air in small puffs that drifted along before settling again. Alec wrinkled his nose, turning his head from the gritty particles that tumbled past him. It wasn’t a particularly hot day, but the sun was beating down pretty steadily, and sweat had started beading up on his back under the long-sleeved t-shirt he’d put on that morning before going out to find Dean.
He didn’t know what he’d hoped to do once he’d found his ‘older brother’, but it certainly didn’t involve sitting on his ass watching Dean work on the Impala for hours on end, not saying a word. The few times that Dean had looked his way, met his eyes, had been so tense that Alec didn’t want to repeat them if at all possible. On the other hand, he didn’t really want to go sit around with Sam, either, and being on his own right now held no appeal.
Years of looking out for himself, following orders, and not giving a shit about anyone or anything, and now he was fucking mourning for a guy that he’d only just barely been starting to get to know. Someone that had been, technically, his father. He wasn’t used to this, to feeling so goddamned depressed. It was almost enough to make him long for the days back ‘home’, with Max and the other freaks of the week. For all that she’d looked down on him like he was nothing more than garbage, he hadn’t given a fuck what she thought. For that matter, he hadn’t cared what any of them thought or what happened to them. Not really.
But instead of being back there where he was safe from emotional trauma, he was here with his ‘brothers’, mourning his ‘father’, and wondering when his life became so fucking movie of the week-ish.
Well, if movies of the week had a horror twist to them.
Alec smiled for half a moment at his own joke, then just as quickly it was gone, and he was feeling guilty because he was smiling and making cutesy jokes inside his head when Dad was dead and they had no fucking leads on the demon that they were damn sure had done it. Dean was alive, but Dad was gone.
He was sure that someone, somewhere, thought that it was a fair trade. Alec just wasn’t entirely positive that he was one of them. Not that he’d wanted to lose his brother, either, but who said he had to lose anyone? Who the hell made up dumbass rules like that? If that’s what this even was. Alec wasn’t fooling himself, though. He might not have said it out loud, but he was damned sure that Dad had died to save Dean. Made a trade. One life for another. Coincidences like that just didn’t happen. Not even to this screwed up family.
Everything had fallen apart. Sam had his nose shoved in a book ninety-percent of the time, Dean was always under the car, and Bobby just looked like he wanted to help but didn’t know how. Which left Alec on his own, more often than not. He didn’t want to say that was part of what had him feeling so shitty, but there was that possibility. Losing Dad, then sorta losing his brothers too? That sucked.
The cowardly part of him wanted to get out while he could. Before he fell further into this emotional train wreck of a family that he’d been saddled with through the grace of whatever fucked up god was out there watching out for all bad little transgenic brats. He could be back harassing Maxie in a few days’ time, if he really tried. It would be easy. Much easier than sticking around to see what heartache came next in this fucked up ride.
It was just too damn bad there was a bigger part of him that didn’t want to be that person anymore. The one that only looked out for himself and didn’t care about anyone or anything. Being with Dad, then Sam and Dean, had changed him. He wasn’t sure it was for the best, but he didn’t really have any say in the matter, either. One day he’d gone to bed the same guy he’d always been, the next he’d woken up with people that made him want to be better.
Alec frowned, glaring at the ground. Dean was banging on the car again. Short, quick strokes of the hammer against something on the underside of the body of the car. Damn shame about the Impala, but Alec guessed if anyone could fix her, Dean was the guy. The temptation to offer to help him had only been extended once, though. After a quick interrogation that proved that, right, Alec knew almost nothing that could be of any use to fixing Dean’s baby, he’d been sent away with a don’t touch anything.
A door opened behind him, but Dean didn’t notice. Hell, Alec doubted that Dean was noticing much of anything. He seemed to have zoned out to the steady repetitious banging he was doing to the underside of the Impala.
Alec felt a hand on his shoulder, long fingers squeezing gently, and glanced up at Sam. Arching an eyebrow in the direction of the car, he asked the silent question, You gonna brave that?
Sam looked over at the car, thinking on it so hard that any second now Alec was sure there was going to be smoke coming out of his ears. Opening his mouth to tell him not to break anything, Alec shut it again. This was the closest that he’d felt to ‘back to normal’ with either of them in days, and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to screw it up with a badly timed joke. After staring at Dean’s legs sticking out from under the car for another minute, Sam nodded. Slowly, Alec noted absently. Like he wasn’t too sure that what he had to say was worth disturbing Dean with. Given that Dean was, in Alec’s opinion, about two seconds away from snapping at any given moment of the day, Alec didn’t really blame Sam.
“Wish me luck,” Sam muttered in a dry tone, giving Alec a little wry smile before setting off through the dust of the junkyard to where Dean was still banging away at the car. Absently, Alec wondered if he was fixing anything under there or just hitting it for the sake of hitting something. Probably would be a good idea if he could get Dean to spar with him a little later. Try to work through some of that emotional blockage that was clogging him up worse than a lack of fiber at a seniors’ home.
Oh, wrong move, Alec thought, listening in as Sam offered to help Dean with the car. It wasn’t that surprising when Dean turned him down. Even if Sam knew the first thing about helping with the car, Alec got the feeling Dean wouldn’t want the help. The Impala was his. The one thing that he had that was his and his alone. He wanted to keep it that way. Alec got that. If he’d ever had any possessions that he cared about, then maybe he’d feel the same way about them.
In a move that took Alec a little by surprise, Dean slid out from under the car. He stood, brushing his hands off on his pants, looking at Sam with the saddest mix of determination, irritation, and depression that Alec had ever seen. Geez, when had he gotten such a Hallmark-y way of viewing things? They needed to get back on the road soon before he started talking about his feelings and watching daytime television.
“You know what? You're right,” Dean was saying as Alec stood up and brushed the dirt off his ass, “Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance.”
Seemed like Dean pretty much felt the same way Alec did. That was refreshing. Or it would have been if Alec hadn’t seen and understood the look in Dean’s eyes for what it was. The whole ‘I’m holding together as best as I can, please don’t push me’ look that Alec had seen more than one good little soldier try to hang onto while at Manticore. Those were the kids that usually left in the middle of the night with an armed escort and were never heard from again.
Alec shoved his hands down into the pockets of his faded blue jeans and walked slowly towards the two of them, body tense. Like he was expecting a fight, and maybe he was. The way that the two of them were looking at each other, like either one could go off like a powder keg at any second. That was the kind of crap that they needed to just deal with and move on from because it was going to end up getting someone hurt. Like him, or themselves. And fuck if he could handle losing anyone else anytime soon. Or maybe ever.
Sam huffed. “Don't patronize me, Dean. Dad is dead. The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing happened.”
And, wow, was this ever spiraling out of control. Just what they needed, a nice fight to liven the afternoon up. Because it had been so boring before.
“What do you want me to say?” Dean snapped, scowling.
To think, it had been such a good day. Maybe a little heavy in the angst, but still not bad as far as days went. Alec sighed, loudly, hoping it would derail the two of them from doing this here and now, when they were both still too fucked up in the head over it.
Sam shrugged, lifting his hands up. “Say something, all right? Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car.”
Right, because bringing the fucking Impala into it was a good way to make sure that things didn’t escalate to some kind of violence. Did Sammy want to get hit? Damn, maybe he did.
Alec knew before saying anything that he shouldn’t get in the middle of this. It was volatile enough without throwing him in there, reminding the brothers that they weren’t the only ones that were missing Dad. Topping it all off was the fact that Alec had spent was that one that had been with John for those months before he died. Not his sons. He’d had more time with Dad than Dean or Sam had gotten off of him in years.
Still, he opened his mouth and found himself saying, “Getting angry, getting worked up, it isn’t going to change anything. We don’t know where the demon is. We don’t even know where to start looking.”
The look Sam shot him was one of those why-are-you-siding-with-him moments that usually made Alec smile or smirk or something to do with amusement, anyway. Right then, though, he only felt a little sick to his stomach. Choosing sides was not the way that he wanted to play this. It wasn’t him and Dean versus Sam. It was the three of them, together, figuring out what the fuck was going on and then getting a little get-back of their own. Their fucking Dad had been killed. They sure as hell weren’t going to let that just go.
Silence pulsed there in the middle of them, as they stood in the dusty, dirty junkyard with the Impala all too close by and wounded beyond recognition. It hurt to be here right now, with them. Hurt like a bitch. But he wasn’t going to run.
He didn’t really have anywhere to run to, anyway. Not unless he was dead set on heading back to the northeast, which sounded less and less like a good idea the more he thought about it.
Sam kicked at the dirt, head down, face intense. Then he sighed and fished in his pocket, coming up with a cell phone. “Well, we do have something, all right? I was able to crack the pin number on one of dad’s phones. He had a voicemail from someone named Ellen. Said she could help him.”
“When was that?” Dean asked.
“Four months ago,” Sam shrugged. “Figure it must be important if he kept it that long, right?” He held out the cell phone to Dean. “Go on, listen.”
Dean looked at the cell phone as if he expected it to lunge out and bite him. For all Alec knew, there’d been a hunt involving a possessed cell phone somewhere in Dean’s past. Doubtful, and not something he would ever have even thought of as possible before meeting up with the Winchesters, but there really was no telling when it came to these guys.
When he finally took it and started the voicemail, Alec had no trouble hearing the woman’s whisky-burned voice even though the was a few feet away.
John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me.
“I did a trace on the number,” Sam offered. “Got an address.”
Alec didn’t even realize he’d been holding his breath, waiting to see if Dean was really ready to get back on the road, until his brother sighed and said -
“Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars.”
PART TWO
Alec would have liked to have been able to say, when everything was all said and done, that he'd seen it coming and it had just happened too fast for him to do anything to diffuse the situation, work it to his advantage, and get his fucking family out of harm's way. Later, when he looked back on it all, he wished he could claim that there was no way he could have done a damn thing, even with transgenic super speed on his side, to stop what had occurred.
Maybe he'd even been distracted by the guy with what had to be the worst haircut Alec was sure he'd ever seen, sleeping on the pool table like it was the most normal thing in the world.
In hindsight, though, he realized that it had more to do with the fact that he hadn't seen it coming at all. Wasn't as if they'd walked into that rundown little hole in the wall expecting to have guns pulled on them. And he sort of was too far from Sam and Dean to try to make a play for the guns without getting both of them shot. Didn't matter if he could move quick as hell, there were two guns, one of him, and the crazy bitches holding the guns were just too damn close to his brothers.
Alec centered himself as he stood off to one side, watching the two women with the guns, finding that calm place inside that he'd learned to tap into over the years, running ops for Manticore. Getting nervous about those things being pointed at people he cared about wasn't going to help him any. Cool heads prevailed. Hot heads got killed. He'd be damned if either of them was going to get killed today. Not by some nut with a gun. All he needed was an opportunity, one little opening where he was sure that he wasn't going to get Dean or Sam shot, and he'd take it. 'Course, all that depended on the two chicks not getting trigger happy in the meantime.
Goddamnit, why was nothing ever easy in his life?
Like the gods were listening, the showdown broke. "Dean? Sam? Winchester? Son-of-a-bitch." Her gaze flicked over at him, and Alec did his best not to sneer though he wasn't going to apologize for the glare he gave her, either. "But who the hell are you?" She frowned. "Last time I checked, your daddy," and she looked back at first Dean, then Sam, "didn't have any other sons. And I know for a fact you were never a twin, Dean."
"He's our brother and let's just leave it at that," Sam surprised Alec by answering, voice completely devoid of warmth. Like this wasn't a subject that was up for discussion. And, hey, that was fine by Alec, he'd just never really heard Sam lay it on the line like that. Then Sam asked, "You Ellen?"
He tried not to sigh with relief when it turned out that, yes, she was Ellen. Though, if he could figure out a reason why those two getting the upper hand on the three of them wasn't something he could have personally avoided, Alec planned on never letting his brothers forget about how they'd gotten jumped by two chicks.
And that was how they met Ellen, Ash, and Jo, Alec thought with some small measure of bemusement as they piled back into the banged-up piece of shit soccer-mom van that Bobby had loaned them to drive. The car was an embarrassment, but he supposed it could be worse. For instance - it could have been a station wagon.
Alec took the backseat and glanced back over his shoulder at the Roadhouse. Jo had come outside to see them off, standing in the halo of light from the sign on the front of the building, her arms crossed over her chest, and Alec found himself half-smiling and winking, giving her a little wave, before he even thought twice about it, slipping into the role of flirt as easily as he ever had. She was pretty enough and, despite the fact that she still seemed to be hanging from her mother's apron strings, she was old enough. And, man, had she seemed interested. In him and Dean. Like she didn't know which one of them to make a move on and had decided just to try both. Flirting with him, then Dean, then him again. Poor girl didn't even realize that Dean wasn't really noticing her - and when he did, he wasn't caring - and Alec? Well, he'd play that game if she wanted to; it'd been too long since he'd had someone warm in his arms, but when all was said and done he wasn't looking for a girl to call his own.
An image of Ellen and her gun flashed through Alec's mind, like a glaring warning sign. Right. Maybe he wouldn't be making any moves to get in her pants for even one night, either. Not with her sort-of scary mother lurking around. He'd have to be stupid to miss the glares she'd given him each time he'd played along with Jo's flirting.
The radio was on as they drove, fuzzy static signaling that they really were in the ass end of nowhere, no question about it. Alec didn't think he'd ever miss the worn, old cassettes that Dean had kept in the Impala - the hours upon hours of music that was older than they were in some cases - but he did. Something buzzed against his hip, and Alec reached for his cell phone without thinking, looking down at the little display.
Max?
What the hell was Maxie doing calling him? They didn't have anything to say to one another, and it wasn't like she'd been heartbroken to see him leave Seattle. His thumb hovered over the button as he wavered back and forth between answering and not answering. Pretty safe to say that whatever she wanted, she could find someone else that could help her because the only reason she'd be calling him was if she needed something and he damn well wasn't going to play slave-boy for her. The phone clicked over to voicemail before he could decide whether or not to pick it up and tell her to go fuck herself, and he waited for a minute to see if she was going to leave a message.
She didn't.
Oh well. Couldn't have been too important then, could it?
"You've gotta be kidding me. A killer clown?"
Alec's head snapped up, muttering a 'huh' as he shoved the cell phone back in his pocket. He had to have heard that wrong. "A killer clown?"
"Yeah. He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Ripped them to pieces, actually," Sam continued.
"This happened at what? A carnival? A circus?" Alec asked, still trying to wrap his mind around the whole killer clown thing. Every time he thought he had a handle on the weird ass shit in this world, there it was - something new and unexpected. Not to mention - clowns? So he wasn't about to say it out loud - to anyone, ever - but clowns sort of gave him the creeps. What with their makeup and their grinning. Alec shivered, disturbed by the thought of a clown that was extra-creepy with a side of homicidal.
Sam flipped through the limited research he had and answered, "The, uh, Cooper Carnival."
A whole frickin' carnival full of the pasty-faced, red-nosed, bastards. Alec wasn't ready to admit he had a phobia or anything, but damn if this didn't sound like a fucking nightmare.
"So how do you know we're not dealing with some psycho carnie in a clown suit?" Dean changed lanes, passing a slower moving car in front of them. Pretty sad, Alec thought distractedly, that they were going slower than a beat-up old minivan.
"Well, the cops have no viable leads, and all the employees were tearing down shop. Alibis all around. Plus this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course."
The more they talked about this, the more Alec started to wonder why the hell they just had to take this gig.
Dean chuckled under his breath, suddenly, then turned to Sam with the most evil grin Alec thought he'd ever seen on his not-quite-brother. "Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam. Why did it have to be clowns?"
Sam went stiff, then glared. "Oh, give me a break."
"What?" Alec asked, looking between the two of them with a little confusion. He'd missed something. Somewhere.
"Man," Dean laughed with a glance at Alec in the rearview mirror. "Little Sammy here used to cry when he saw fucking Ronald McDonald on tv. He's afraid of clowns." Dean snorted as if it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard, and suddenly Alec was very glad he hadn't made any comments about how he thought the damn things were creepy.
Huffing, Sam ground out, "Well, at least I'm not afraid of flying."
What? Afraid of flying? Alec looked at Dean, begging to hear that it wasn't so. Flying was one of the most awesome experiences ever.
"Planes crash!" Dean argued.
Sam snorted. "And apparently clowns kill!"
Alec rolled his eyes and settled back in the seat. He was just going to keep his mouth shut on this one. There was no way in hell he was admitting to having any kind of fear with these two around.
~*~*~
Well, so far there wasn't a single goddamned clown in sight, though lots of freaks bound for sideshow acts.
His cell phone buzzed in his pocket, and Alec slid it out just far enough to see that it was Max - again - as he followed Dean into one of the tents, Sam taking up the rear. They wanted to pose as carnival workers. That was just great. If anyone back home ever heard about this, he'd never live it down. Funny how Manticore had never thought to include classes on how to sweep up garbage or how to scrape chewing gum off of any available surface. Alec wrinkled his nose and fought to keep from gagging. Stale popcorn, spilt sodas, cotton candy, and stuff that wasn't as pleasant invaded his too-sensitive nose. Having super senses really sucked sometimes.
"Excuse me," Dean said, "we're looking for a Mr. Cooper, have you seen him around?"
There was something about the way the guy looked when he turned around that had Alec choking back a laugh, smothering it by coughing into his hand. Damn if older bro hadn't just walked into that one. Sam caught on pretty quick, too, and Alec was glad to see he wasn't the only one that was having trouble keeping it in.
"What is that, some kind of joke?" the carnival employee asked, taking off his glasses. And, right, just like he'd thought. Dude was blind. Alec snorted.
Dean stammered, "Oh. God, I'm, I'm sorry."
"You think I wouldn't give my eyeteeth to see Mr. Cooper? Or a sunset or anything at all?" the knife-thrower continued, glaring angrily with dead-looking eyes.
"You two wanna help me out here?" Dean asked over his shoulder.
"Not so much, no," Alec said with a grin, just as Sam offered up a "Not really."
See this? This wasn't that bad. This Alec could handle because he was damn sure he could get Dean out of the way quick enough if the knife-thrower got pissed off to the point that he started hurling actual knives.
It was probably picturing that hilarity in his head that kept Alec from realizing they'd been joined by someone else.
"Hey man, is there a problem?"
Alec absolutely did not laugh when he saw the little person glaring at Dean. He did not.
It was a close thing, though.
The knife-thrower gestured at Dean, "Yeah, this guy hates blind people."
This was where he and Sam should definitely step in and try to help, Alec told himself. He glanced at Sam to see if his brother looked like he was about to intercede. Nope. In fact, by the way Sam was grinning, cheeks pink, Alec was pretty damn sure Sam was on the same page as he was.
This was fucking funny.
"No, I don't, I..." Dean stammered, casting a look toward Alec that he steadfastly ignored. He wasn't getting involved in this. No way. Not unless there was a risk of violence.
Well, come to think of it, the little guy did sort of look like an ankle biter.
"Hey buddy, what's your problem?" the little guy demanded. And maybe it wouldn't have been so funny if it weren't for the damn red cape he was wearing. Alec smothered another laugh with a cough and wondered if Sam wasn't going to just explode from trying to hold it in.
"Nothing, it's just a little misunderstanding."
Oh. Oh, shit! Alec choked.
"Little?! You son of a bitch!"
Fifteen minutes later, when they'd saved Dean from the midget, found Mr. Cooper, and gotten hired on, Alec thought:
Well, even if this whole killer clown thing doesn't work out, we still had fun.
He just wished he'd gotten it all on videotape.
PART THREE
He must have given it away. Maybe a flinch when he saw one of the creepy ass mothers or maybe he’d shied away when one got too close, but Sam was giving Alec knowing looks. Something that was sort of like sympathy with a healthy dose of commiseration, followed with a little twist of the lips that was kind of like a smile, but more of a smirk. It said that he might understand the clown-fear - hell, he has it too - but that didn’t mean that Alec was going to just slide by with it. Not when Sam was teased by Dean.
Still, Sam was professional enough to not start in on him then and there while there was a job to finish. Which was good, because things were heating up. Quickly.
Alec didn’t know why clowns creeped him out so badly. Hell, the things he’d seen - done - there shouldn’t be any fears left in him. It could be Manticore’s fault, though. Wasn’t like he’d gotten a lot of quality kid time growing up. Never got to bond with those familiar icons of childhood, learn their good sides. The first time he’d ever seen a clown was when he was out on a mission, indulging in a little downtime before his target made an appearance. It had been in some sort of old movie, made back before the Pulse, about a monster that could turn into whatever kids were afraid of but always seemed to change back to a fucked up, psychotic clown, killing the kids.
This thing they were hunting - a Rakshasa - killed parents, just to be different. It seemed like a fucked up sort of reversal. Alec thought it was better the parents than the kids, to be honest. Kids dying was never an easy thing to cope with. Not even to murderous bastards like him.
Alec cast a glance over his shoulder. No clowns in sight. Not the normal kind or the kind that liked to kill people for fun and games. Or to eat. Alec really wasn’t sure which it was doing. That was probably something he should have paid more attention to when Sam was being research boy, but Alec had sort of zoned at the thought of killer clowns. That was the sort of rookie mistake that could get him killed. Or, worse, get one of his brothers killed. Pay attention. Stay alert. Don’t let your guard down. Retain. Remember. Weren’t those rules to live by?
Too late now, and it wasn’t like he could ask Sam to recap it for him because he was off scoping out Mr. Cooper to see if he was the son-of-a-bitch they were looking for. Dean, for his part, had taken off with an idea on where to get some brass blades, and Alec had volunteered just to stake things out, make sure nothing weird was going down. Which is what he was supposed to be doing. Not just standing there waxing poetic, trying to fucking psychoanalyze his stupid clown-phobia.
Alec palmed the gun concealed in the pocket of his jacket and took quick stock of where he was. Between a couple tents, near the wagons where the carnival staff made their homes. There really weren’t a lot of people around, which should have made things easier. Instead, it just made Alec feel exposed, like he was the one being hunted. He rolled his shoulders, forcing the muscles in his neck and back to relax. Being on the road with first John, now the brothers, had screwed with him in a lot of ways. Some good, some bad. On one hand, it felt nice to have a real family. The flip side was that he had people he cared about, people he didn’t want to see hurt. Not to mention that dialing down his natural instincts, the sheer deadliness of his existence, had softened him up some. He wasn’t the same carefree guy that had left Seattle, true, but that new weight on his shoulders hadn’t come with a sharper edge. He’d put on a mask for the Winchesters from day one, sure that they couldn’t handle what he was completely if they ever really knew what he’d done, what he was capable of doing. Wearing that kind of façade for so long took its toll.
His thoughts turned to the cell phone in the back pocket of his jeans, the calls that he’d deliberately not taken from Max. Speaking with her, for whatever reason, was like acknowledging a life he’d left behind.
That wasn’t something he was ready for.
As he turned to start poking his nose into the tents, one by one, Alec heard a gentle ‘thunk’ from somewhere behind him. It wasn’t an altogether dramatic sound. Over the other noises in the carnival, it was barely a whisper. At the same time, it was a sound that Alec knew. The sound of a blade wedging itself into wood. Whirling, Alec scanned. Where had it come from?
Then he heard it again, just as the door to one of the wagons burst open, Dean coming down the steps fast, breathing hard.
Sam was there suddenly, falling into step with him, and they met Dean together.
“It’s the blind guy,” Dean informed them, scowling. He waved a hand. “He’s around here somewhere.”
That definitely explained what Alec had heard: the knife hitting the wood. He’d bet anything that the old bastard had been throwing some of those deadly ass knives of his at Dean’s head.
Alec was so going to enjoy seeing this freak go down. “Did you get the -“
“Brass blades?” Dean finished, though the decidedly angry tilt of his mouth and flash in his eyes was all the answer Alec needed. “No, it’s been one of those days.”
Damn. Without a brass blade, they weren’t going to be able to kill the Rakshasa when they pinned it down. Hand-to-hand was all fine and good, but Alec didn’t like getting into fights he couldn’t win. That’s what it would be, too. Without a way to kill the son-of-a-bitch, Alec could punch and kick for as long as he wanted, and it wouldn’t make a difference.
Suddenly, Sam said, “I’ve got an idea. C’mon.”
Alec shared a look with Dean, who just lifted a brow as if to say ‘just follow him and ask questions later’, though it was clear that the eldest brother didn’t have a clue what little Sammy was up to, either.
There was something to be said about finding comfort in the fact that he wasn’t the only one that didn’t have a firm grasp on whatever plan was being set in motion. Not a good something, but something nonetheless. Planning wasn’t exactly something these two were very good at, Alec had to be honest. Usually, however, it was Dean doing the rushing in.
Just another example of how everything had gotten thrown off its axis with John’s death. Alec forced down a lump of pain, hating how his eyes pricked with the hot sting of tears even now, thinking about a death that shouldn’t have happened. Eventually things would go back to what passed for normal. It had to. All he had to do was be patient and wait for things to sort themselves out.
The second they entered the funhouse, things started to quickly go to hell. In the blink of an eye, so fast that Alec didn’t even have time to think about it, the door slid shut, effectively cutting him and Dean off from Sam. He swore, kicked at it, but the damn thing wouldn’t budge.
“Dean! Alec! Just find the maze, okay?”
“Find the maze,” Alec muttered under his breath, taking off through the halls of the funhouse, Dean at his side. They fell into easy step with each other, like they’d done it forever. Easy, effective. Like soldiers in the same unit that had trained together for years. The kind of understanding and bond that went beyond words, required no speech. Neither of them was leading; as one they just moved together. Find Sam. Make sure Sam is okay. It was like a fucking biological imperative. Eat. Sleep. Drink. Make sure that Sam lived to see another day. No, he hadn’t forgotten John’s last words. Watch out for Sammy.
Oh, and after they found Sam they were going to kill the goddamned freaky-ass, invisible, knife-wielding psycho and then get the hell out of dodge. It was a good plan, a Dean kind of plan.
They rounded a corner in time to see Sam pull at a pipe. For a second, Alec was confused, glancing between the hot pipe and Sam. Then, “Brass?”
“Brass,” Sam confirmed. He grabbed at the pipe again, just as that dreaded, all-too-familiar sound of a knife being thrown came out of nowhere.
“What the fuck?” Alec snapped, looking around. There had to be a way to see the damn thing.
“Shouldn't we see its clothes walking around?” Dean asked just as Alec shut his eyes. Without sight, he could only rely on his other senses. Namely: hearing.
More knives flew through the air, and Alec barely managed to dodge one of the hurled, slashing missiles. It came so close to his cheek that he felt the air part as it passed, whistling over his skin.
“Where is it?” Sam was insisting, and Alec wished that he could answer. There was too much noise for him to get a pin on the thing’s footsteps or the telltale rustle of the clothes Alec knew it had to still be wearing.
Then. Brilliance. The hiss of escaping steam made Alec’s eyes snap open, and the words to congratulate Dean for his quick thinking were on his tongue just as Dean shouted, “Sam, behind you! Behind you!”
Just like that… it was over.
Alec resisted kicking the corpse.
It was a close thing.
~*~*~
A quick stopover at the Roadhouse led to more frustration than satisfaction. Ash hadn’t been able to trace the demon, but he’d keep searching. Looking for signs and clues and, fuck, if that didn’t just beat all. They wanted a piece of this bastard, and it was fucking hiding.
“Hey,” Jo murmured, sliding onto the stool next to his.
Alec lifted his glass to his mouth, the smooth glass hovering so close to his lips that he could feel it right there, waiting to be moved that last fraction of an inch and deliver the waiting beer to his thirsty body. He gave her a half smile and a slightly husky, “hey yourself” in return before he drained it. Ellen was glaring at him. Dean and Sam were ready to go. Places to go, monsters to kill, and getting involved with Jo would be a bad idea to end all bad ideas.
Which was why he wasn’t going to do it. Not that he wasn’t tempted, but while they needed Ellen, Ash, and the contacts they could get at the Roadhouse, he wasn’t about to fuck it up with what would be nothing more than a screw, which was all it could ever be. He’d have to be blind and deaf not to know that she wasn’t the kind of girl he’d ever have something meaningful with. She was still a little girl, playing in a big girl’s world. Naïve and innocent, no matter what she thought about herself. While they needed her mom and Ash, he wasn’t going to fuck around with her.
When all that was said and done, though. Well, then he’d see if he couldn’t rip away some of that innocence she still oozed.
He stood up, leaving his empty glass on the counter, and threw Jo a smirk. “See you around, sweetheart.”
~*~*~
Back at Bobby’s junkyard, and Alec groaned when his cell phone started to ring again. He was watching Dean beat the hell out of the Impala, out in the yard. A breakdown that Alec had known was coming sooner or later, though he’d sort of expected later the way that Dean repressed things. Alec could understand, though. Hell, he’d done something pretty damn similar the first time he’d been out of Manticore’s sight after Rachel’s death. Beat the hell out of some poor inanimate object, bloodied and bruised his knuckles until he almost botched the job he’d been sent to do because of the pain. Dean was using a crowbar, though, not his hands, and Alec thought that was a smart move on his part. Beating the shit out of something with your bare hands was stupid even on the best of days.
Unable to take anymore of it, not even with Sam standing there looking just as worried as he was, Alec made up his mind and answered the cell phone, turning his back on the window and the meltdown of Chernobyl proportions that Dean was having. Going out there wouldn’t do a damn thing to help Dean, a little voice in the back of his head whispered. He knew it. Sam knew it. That was why they were in here watching, and Dean was out there not-so-quietly coping with his grief.
Some things a guy just had to do in private. Apparently that included having a nervous breakdown.
“What the hell do you want, Maxie?” Alec growled into the phone without bothering to wait for her to say a thing. Best just get straight to the point since he wasn’t really interested in having a conversation with her. At all.
Sam turned, looking at him with barely concealed curiosity. Alec was struck with the realization that this was the first time he’d ever acknowledged having contact with anyone outside of their little family group. There’d be questions now, no matter what, and Alec resigned himself to having to answer them.
“Not Max, not Max.”
Alec paused in mid-pace, frowning. Talk about someone he’d never thought he’ed be speaking to ever again. Not that he had anything against the tall-ass genetic freak, but still. Write off one person back ‘home’, write them all off. “Joshua? Why do you have Max’s phone?”
“Max gone, Alec. Taken.” The words came out in a rush, heavy almost-pained breaths wheezing down the phone.
“Wait. Hold on. Taken by who?” Stupid question. White, of course. Who else would both want to take Max and have the resources to get it done? That man was a serious pain in the ass.
Joshua’s heavy breathing trailed through the phone. “Don’t know, Alec. Max take Joshua out. They jumped her. Knocked her out. Joshua got shot, got away.”
Alec swallowed, not liking what he was hearing at all. “Think, Joshua, was it White?”
“Maybe. Yes.” Short, clipped. Joshua was really worked up over this. Then again, Max was one of the only friends the big guy had. Alec sighed and rubbed at his forehead with his hand, digging the palm in before dropping it. And the pain from the gunshot wound probably wasn’t helping, either. For the first time, Alec felt bad about not answering his cell phone when the first call came.
There was no love lost between him and Max. He could barely stand her, even on the best of days and damn if she didn’t feel the same way about him.
But he wasn’t going to just let White have her, either. Fucker didn’t deserve the satisfaction of ever getting what he wanted in life.
Which meant he had to go back to Seattle, figure out what the fuck had happened, and save Maxie’s sorry ass. Again. If she didn’t quit letting herself get grabbed by White one of these days he was going to just leave her to it.
Not this time, though.
“I’ll be there within a day, Joshua,” Alec snapped, hanging up the phone. He sighed angrily. If there were more details about what had happened, they’d have to wait until he got there, when he could calm Joshua down enough to get a coherent sentence out of him. If he stole a car and got on the road now, drove straight through the night, he could be back in Seattle within eighteen hours, by his best guess.
It would have to be soon enough.
“So where are we going?”
Alec’s head snapped up so quick, shock overtaking him so lightning fast, that he almost dropped the phone. He’d forgotten Sam was there. Alec shook his head. “I can go by myself. This isn’t your fight.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed dryly. “Maybe it’s not my fight - but this whole demon thing wasn’t yours, and you stepped up to bat for us.” He frowned. “You want family, then you have to take us even when you’d rather not even know us.”
And wasn’t that just the crux of it? Because Alec felt something a little like fear. It wouldn’t be possible to keep hiding the darker parts of his past after this.
He could lose everything.
“Fine,” he muttered, staring Sam down even though he wasn’t at all sure this was what he wanted to do. It would all end badly. “Let’s just hope you still want to know me when this is over and done with.”
END