Not the Golden Child - SPN/Dark Angel
Title: Not the Golden Child
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.
Notes: Someone on a group that I visit was looking for a fic where Alec gets mistaken for Dean, instead of the other way around. The plot bunny ran up, bit me in the ass, and said that I must write it. This is me doing the writing thing.
Summary: Whoever the hell this Dean Winchester guy was, he needed to chill the fuck out and not do things that could get either of them arrested.
PART ONE (of TWO)
The slide of a cell door opening down the narrow, dimly lit hall barely even fazed Alec after three days sitting here, just waiting. Waiting for what, he didn’t know, because he wasn’t even sure why he was here in the first place. He’d left Seattle, heading east with full intent to start the hell over in a new city, somewhere far from the drama of everything that was going on back ‘home’.
Somewhere he’d have a little easier time making a living, too. Where people weren’t already wise to him, where Max wasn’t looking over his shoulder with her reproving glances and pursed lips, like he fucking knew how to do anything other than be a soldier, for God’s sake! It wasn’t his fault that he had to resort to running contraband, hustling at pool, and being a petty thief. Besides, from what he had heard - stories that he was damn sure Maxie didn’t want him to know - she wasn’t that much better than him. Oh, she’d cleaned up her act a lot in recent months, but as her little boyfriend Logan told it, Max used to have sticky fingers all of her own.
Figured that she’d be a hypocrite, on top of her holier-than-thou attitude. Alec snorted and leaned back against the bare, concrete block wall of his cell. Truth be told, it was almost like home, this place; it certainly had the feel of a Manticore bunk - cold, uninviting, hard.
Still, he shouldn’t even be here. Wouldn’t be here, either, if it weren’t for a fluke. He sure as hell hoped it was a fluke, come to think of it. Having one twin was bad enough - but a second? He was 494, his twin 493 - from what Alec could remember 492 was a kid that died before he was ten and 495 was some chick that got herself whacked on her first solo mission. If he had anymore ‘twins’ running around, logic dictated they would have had one of those designations.
So who the hell was this Dean Winchester guy that had the same face as him? Well, maybe not quite as good-looking, Alec added with a mental snort. And how was it that they looked alike and, wait, here’s the clincher - had the same fingerprints?
He’d been cruising along, minding his own business in a car that he’d ‘borrowed’ a few states back, just trying to get to the East Coast and away from the transgenic drama going down in Seattle, when he’d gotten pulled over. Okay, yeah, his fault for speeding. Whatever, right? He had valid ID - some of the best that money could by and a get-the-hell-out-of-town-and-away-from-Max present from Logan - so it was no big.
What he hadn’t expected was that they’d run the plates. He should’ve thought of it. But by the time he realized that they were doing just that, there were two more cop cars coming up beside the first and, hell, six officers? What the --?
He could have taken them. Six humans versus one X-5? Yeah, they’d have gone down easy.
At least, he thought they would.
But with six guns pointing at him, telling him to get out of the car, he wasn’t about to take that chance. Manticore wasn’t around to patch him up if he got hurt and the last thing he wanted was to land in a hospital was some doctor could take too close a look at what he was. That’d bring White scurrying real quick. Last thing Alec wanted was to end up on the wrong side of one of White’s “interrogations” or, better yet, “autopsies”.
So he’d let them arrest him, assuming that he’d be taken to some sort of hick-town lock up that he could easily escape from the second he was left alone long enough to get the deed done. But booking at led to something he hadn’t expected. His fingerprints - his face - matched a guy that was already in the system for that area, wanted for various offenses ranging from assault, to a little B&E, to fraud.
Dean-fucking-Winchester. Whoever the fuck that was. The cops, understandably, hadn’t believed him when he said he didn’t know who that. How did he have that guys’ fingerprints, then, Officer Asshole had asked, shoving him into a cell that had bars he had no hope of breaking through and no window to get out of, either.
So here he was, stuck until they decided to ship him off to another jail or take him for a hearing or whatever. He’d make his move then and get the hell out of dodge. Maybe he’d try to track down this Dean guy and figure out why they were genetic doubles. It was possible that there was another X-5 with his face, after all; and, if so, they were practically related. He wanted to kick the guy’s ass like a big brother should and tell him not to go fucking up and landing either of them in jail anymore. He had no problems with his would-be twin’s life of crime, but damn if Alec wanted to be the one arrested for that kind of crap. He had his own life to lead, his own hell to raise, and damn if he wanted a dumbass clone ruining it for him.
The door at the end of the hall slammed open, metal banging against the stone wall behind it. Alec frowned. The jailors were in a fine mood today, apparently. Had Officer Asshole had a bad day? He pasted an uncaring, unworried smirk on his face just in case the Officer had to come down this far in the four-cell holding block, knowing that it pissed the burly piece of white-trash like nothing else.
The footsteps got closer. Closer, still. Alec turned his head, looking through the bars.
”Officer,” he greeted, the corner of his mouth moving upward as though he didn’t have a problem in the world with just sitting here, locked away. His gaze flickered to the man that was standing just behind him; at dark eyes that sparkled with anger, a stance that said he didn’t screw around, and lips that were pressed into a tight, thin line. Was this his new cell mate? Joy.
“Your daddy arranged bail,” Officer Asshole said. Alec’s eyebrows went up. Dad, then? “I still say it’s a mistake letting you out.”
“Officer Jamison,” his ‘Dad’ said tightly. “I believe I can handle things from here. I’ll make sure Dean shows up for his court date.”
This was his ticket out of here, so Alec wasn’t about to argue that he wasn’t Dean. Best of all, this was that Dean guy’s father! Which meant that, one, he could try to get down to the mystery of who the hell this other joker with his face was - obviously not a transgenic if he had a father, and two, he’d be in a good position to find Dean and lay things out for him. No more stupid shit. Either he was good enough not to get caught or he should just stop playing around entirely.
Alec wouldn’t mention, of course, that he’d found out about his clone’s criminal record because he had been, stupidly, speeding.
“You do that, Mr. Winchester,” the Officer sneered, looking both like didn’t believe for one second that ‘Dean’ would ever see the inside of a courtroom and like he couldn’t believe ‘Mr. Winchester’ had gotten the judge to set bail for such a delinquent.
He raised a brow at Officer Asshole as he pushed out of the cell and into the hall, but couldn’t bring himself to give more than a passing look at the man that was Dean’s father. Did they look enough alike that this guy wouldn’t be able to tell the difference? Alec certainly hoped so, he didn’t want to find himself shoved back in that cell with a ‘nevermind’ or ‘not mine’ as the only explanation.
If ‘Dad’ noticed something, he didn’t say a word, though.
”Let’s go.”
Alec followed him out of the cell area, grabbing up his things from the front desk on his way out the door.
Sunlight. Fresh air. He breathed it in, pausing for a minute to just enjoy it. Fuck, he’d thought he’d never get out -
“Dean! Truck! Now!”
“Sir,” Alec replied automatically, jumping to obey before he even realized what he was doing. By the time he did, he was in the truck, his door shutting in a weak echo of his Winchester’s own slam. There was something about this guy that screamed military, but Alec couldn’t place his finger on it. The tone of his voice, the way he issued orders in clipped, sure words - all spoke of someone that was used to being obeyed.
What kind of Dad was this?
Alec glanced around the truck, suddenly very wary. Had he just been sprung by one of White’s people, tricked into going along with things?
But there was nothing except the interior of an old truck, as far as Alec could tell. Oh, it was well taken care of, but it was still older-model. He relaxed slightly. Maybe Dean’s dad had been military at some point; or maybe he was just an asshole and a mean, cranky old man.
They left the city behind before another word was spoken, buildings giving way to fields of corn that were already going golden under the sun.
“I thought you and Sammy were working a job in Mississippi.”
Alec cleared his throat, unsure what to say to that statement. He didn’t have a single clue who this Sammy person was or what the hell him and Dean were doing in Mississippi.
“So, imagine my surprise when I get a call from Bobby, says he heard on the police scanner two cops boasting that they’d picked up someone for speeding that turned out to be Dean Winchester.”
There had to be a way that Dean would react to that, Alec knew. But he was lost as lost could be. There was nothing about this guy that gave him any clues how to play this.
“How in the hell did that happen?”
And this, ‘Dad’ apparently did expect an answer to. Alec licked his lips and opened his mouth, shutting it again when nothing came to him. Maybe if Dean’s ‘mom’ had been the one to bust him out, Alec could have worked some of that charm of his. He didn’t think that Dean’s dad was going to fall for that sort of thing, though.
“And where the hell is your brother?”
“Brother?” Alec asked before he could stop himself, wincing when he realized what he’d done.
’Dad’ glanced his way and Alec saw a glimmer in his eyes that he didn’t like. It made him feel naked, bare. Uncomfortable. Then it was gone and the other man’s eyes narrowed to thin slits, gaze going back to the road.
”Yeah - you remember your brother, Tim, right?”
“Right,” Alec nodded along. “Sorry - I’m a little tired. Couldn’t sleep much in there. Tim is… fine.”
“Right,” ‘Dad’ drawled. “And your sister?”
“She’s good, too,” Alec replied back automatically.
The truck slammed to a stop. Alec put his hands out in front of him, stopping his forward momentum with a hand to the dash.
“What the fuck?” he snapped, turning in his seat.
There was a gun in his face. A gun in his face held by a very pissed looking man. At this close of a range, there was no way he could grab it away before the other man could squeeze off a shot.
“Um, Dad?” he tried.
“Cristo.”
“What?” Alec said, blinking in surprised confusion. When the hell had this conversation strayed into - what was that? - Spanish or something?
”Cristo." 'Dad' said a little louder, frowning. It was like he was looking for a reaction of some sort. Did this family have secret passwords or something? "Huh. You say it."
Well, fuck, he wasn’t going to tell the the guy that had a gun shoved practically up his nose that he was nuts. Too bad his mouth wasn't on the same wavelength as his brain. “What is your problem? Cristo. Happy now?”
“No. Not nearly. You’re not Dean, so who are you and where’s my son?”
Alec sighed. “Don’t know. Never met the guy, but when you see him could you tell him that I don’t fucking appreciate getting arrested for his crimes? Seriously! My name is Alec and I don’t know who the hell your son is, who you are, et-fucking-cetera. Got it, tough guy?”
“Are you a shapeshifter?”
“A what?!?” Alec’s eyes rolled. “I can tell your family is a barrel full of fun. Is my look alike a psycho like you?”
Wait, 493 had been psychotic, delusional. Had Manticore gotten their DNA from this Dean guy, who apparently came from a family full of mental patients? It all made sense, the more he thought about it. The fact that they shared the same fingerprint, for instance. He was this Dean guy’s clone.
“You… don’t have a clue what I’m talking about.” The gun lowered, but the wariness remained. “Do you?”
“Oh, I got the part where you’re crazy - and I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out why I share your son’s face. Oh, and I’m really grateful that you bailed me out. I’ll repay the money,” he added the last part, having no intention of repaying a dime to this nut.
“Don’t worry about it. Was a faked court order anyway and someone else’s credit card,” ‘Dad’ said, twisting in his seat to stare at him. Alec tried not to flinch under that gaze. “You’re too young to be Dean,” he finally muttered. “And you’re missing the scar he has at his hairline.”
Alec sighed. “Stay with me - I. Am. Not. Your. Son. Don’t know where he is or what he’s doing. Does he have a phone you can call or something, just to get this paranoia out of your system?”
‘Dad’s’ eyes narrowed. “I want to know who you are. You said you have a theory?”
This day was just getting better and better. Alec didn’t know why he wasn’t grabbing the gun. It would be easy now, with it not in his face. Or, hell, he could just jump out of the truck and run. No way in hell this old man would be able to catch up with him if he did that.
Maybe it was curiosity that kept him sitting there; a sick desire to see how this would all play out.
And, if he wanted to get technical, this guy was his father.
Then there was that little part of him that said to do the right thing and tell this guy that his son might one day end up in danger because of his face. All White would have to do was get a tip off about 494 and they’d be all over him. Somehow Alec didn’t think that they’d stop long enough to figure out that Dean was just a regular old human before killing him.
“Can we get a little further away from that shithole back there, just in case they figure out you weren’t on the up and up?” Was what he ended up deciding on, feeling unease creep up his back. This wasn’t the place for this kind of conversation and he wasn’t just trying to sway this guy with the subtle threat, either. The cops really could figure it out and be hot on their ass at any second. Officer Asshole would probably enjoy tracking them down.
“Talk.”
“Drive,” Alec countered, voice steely. “Or I’m not saying anything.”
END 1 of 2
PART TWO
The truck rumbled to a stop outside of yet another Midwest motel. To Alec, they’d all started looking the same. Two weeks with John Winchester and he’d seen more of these places than he could count on one hand. Not the life of shameless luxury that he’d been hoping to start for himself, but he was dealing.
Actually, the truth was that he was having a blast.
That first night had been interesting, with John driving them far enough from Officer Asshole and his cronies that Alec didn’t worry that they’d be found. Only then had he stopped. They’d grabbed something quick to eat, gotten a motel room, and Alec had started telling him all about those things that he’d just as soon have never told another person about. But this guy? Well, he seemed like he had a sort of right to know, almost.
“That story’s so out there that it must be true,” John had said finally, shaking his head and looking so goddamned thunderstruck that Alec almost felt bad for him. Almost. Alec generally did his best not to feel too sorry for anyone other than himself. You lived longer not pitying other people - at least then you didn’t try to do stupid things like risk your health and safety for theirs. “So somehow these guys got their hands on my son’s DNA.”
“I guess so,” Alec had responded back with a shrug. “Can’t think of any other way we’d look the same, have the same fingerprints. I’m better, of course. Enhanced.”
Near as they could tell without having access to the necessary equipment to do a full DNA workup, Alec had gotten the human portion of his genetics solely from John’s son. Where, why, how - all those questions couldn’t be answered because the people that would have had those answers wouldn’t give them up even if they were still alive to give them in the first place. Maybe Manticore had only been creative when it comes to enhancing genetics, stealing things like looks and general body form from wherever they could.
Could have been worse, he supposed; Manticore had obviously chosen pretty children.
John, surprisingly, had taken the news much better than Alec had thought he would - which wasn’t saying that he took it well at all. There’d been drinking involved. Two full bottles of cheap whiskey over the course of two days, during which he and Alec had traded stories back and forth.
At first, Alec had been pretty sure that John was just crazy when the stories of monsters and things in the darkness started spilling from his mouth. Would explain a lot - mental disorder could be linked to genetics and 493 certainly had been fucking nuts. Figures that Manticore wouldn’t have done a thorough job about checking out what DNA they were using when they played Frankenstein. Just whip together something that looked good - don’t check to make sure your creation isn’t going to have a complete and utter batshit meltdown years later.
Turned out that John wasn’t crazy, though. He’d taken him out on a job on day three of their get-to-know-each-other time. Handing him a gun, explaining as they wandered into the woods what they were going after, John had showed him just what the fuck lurked outside of both the realm of humanity and lab-created freaks. There were genuine monsters running around, imagine that.
Day five had been information gathering. Day six - another hunt. John hadn’t said anything about the two of them going their separate ways and Alec was having fun for the first time since he could remember. It was a match made in heaven, even when John would trip up and call him Dean before he remembered that he wasn’t with his real son. Alec didn’t really care. Wasn’t like he was looking for a dad anyway.
Alec suspected that he and John got along so well because he followed orders, something that John seemed to expect without question or thought. Since the orders made sense and meant that he had an actual fucking purpose, Alec didn’t mind in the least.
They’d spent every day since then hunting or traveling. It was going well and Alec was trying to figure out a roundabout way of asking if this temporary arrangement could be something of a more permanent nature. This hunting stuff was fun. He was good at it, he liked it. He liked having someone watching his back and watching that person’s back in return.
It was almost like being in a unit again, having missions.
It was what he’d been missing.
And then John had announced yesterday afternoon that it was time for Alec to meet his double.
”Now,” John said, turning off the truck. “The boys are more shoot first and ask questions later -“
“Obviously your sons, then,” Alec drawled with a roll of his eyes, earning a chuckle from John. He smirked.
“Right. So - just hang back and let me do a little explaining, assure them that you’re not something to worry about.”
Alec snorted, feeling a little offended at that assessment. Only the fact that he was pretty sure that John hadn’t meant it that way kept him from proving just how much of a threat he was capable of being. “Thanks, I guess.”
The look John gave him was one of good-natured amusement. “You and my boy are more alike than just looks, sometimes.”
From what he’d heard about Dean, that wasn’t something that Alec could get too upset about.
There was a sweet ride parked one spot over from the truck. A cherry black ’67 Impala that looked like someone cared about it a whole lot. He took a few steps towards it before John’s laugh stopped him. He threw a questioning look over his shoulder, stopping a foot from the car to just admire the sleek perfection of it.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” John said with another laugh. “Touch the car and Dean might kill you, though.”
“You serious? This is his car?” Alec’s fingers itched to reach out and run along the paint, caress the body of the car like a lover’s skin.
“Yes - and I wasn’t joking. Touch the car and Dean might - at the very least, take your hand off. That car’s his baby.”
Alec was liking his double more and more by the minute. He shoved his hands in his pockets, keeping them from wandering towards the car without his meaning them to. Touching a man’s car ranked right up there with touching a man’s piece to some guys. Last thing he wanted was to be pissing his double off before he even got a chance to meet the guy. Upsetting Dean might mean that John decided to ditch him and Alec, well, he wasn’t sure how much he’d like that at this point.
As in, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t like it at all.
Out of the corner of his eye, Alec saw John disappear into a motel room. He took a breath and began a slow count to one hundred, just like he’d told John he would. Enough time for them to quote-unquote, ‘warn them so they don’t try to shoot you’.
Apparently, John decided to give them the very abbreviated version of things, because Alec had just turned back to the car - not even halfway through his hundred-count - before that same door opened behind him. He tensed, unconsciously, preparing for whatever fight might crop up from this. The way John described his sons, they weren’t the most trusting people in the world.
He couldn’t say that he blamed them, though.
“You touch it, I kill you.”
It was a voice that Alec knew all too well. Hell, it was the same one that he heard every day of his life. He turned, hands still in his pockets, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. Inexplicably, there was some part of him that didn’t want this meeting to turn out badly.
The sight that greeted him was, well, shocking. He’d expected that Dean looked like him. Rather, that he looked like Dean, that was. He’d seen a picture of the other man, heard John talk about him and how similar they were.
Alec hadn’t been prepared to see it in person. Judging by the look on Dean’s face, he hadn’t thought too hard about it before rushing out here, either.
They gave each other a wary once over. Dean looked older than him by about five years or so. He was slightly more bulky - not overweight, just muscle. He was wearing a t-shirt that stretched tight over his chest, accentuating well-defined muscles that Alec, even with all of his training, didn’t have. Then again, his strength came naturally. He’d never tried to bulk up, look more fit than what he already was. He was slim, compact, and completely lethal. He didn’t need added musculature.
Or maybe that was just his rationale to make himself feel better about the fact that his - what was Dean to him exactly? - clone might just looked better than him.
Nah, Alec shrugs it off. He took a slow step forward, watching as someone else stepped out of the room to stand behind Dean. This would be the younger brother, Alec reminded himself. Sam. Not Sammy. Only Dean and John could call him Sammy and get away with it, according to John. Anyone else got grief for even trying.
Which meant that Alec fully planned on working that nickname into his repertoire if he had a chance to be around the brothers long enough to forge even a wary friendship. He was but an extension of Dean, after all - therefore, he was also sort of an older brother.
It was solid reasoning, so far as he was concerned; being a clone of the older brother automatically inferred having those same rights and privileges of said older brother.
Alec wasn’t so sure Sam would see it that way.
Sam, the one that was taking steps towards him, looking at him like he was some sort of science experiment. Which, okay, he technically was. Just not this kid’s experiment, which is the feeling Alec’s getting when Sam finally stops a few feet away with a look on his face that says he can’t quite wrap his mind around what he’s seeing.
”Dude,” Sam called out. “He looks just like you did a few years ago.”
Alec frowned. “He is standing right here, you know.”
Sam blushed, ducking his head. Alec got the feeling that Sam hadn’t even realized just how rude he was being. The ‘aw shucks’ good ole boy routine he had going for him, though? It worked, Alec had to hand it to him. He’d forgiven Sam long before he even opened his mouth to say, “Yeah, sorry about that. This is weird, even for us.”
“Ya think?”
Ah, Dean was joining the conversation. Alec shifted his attention to his double, not backing down from the confusion-slash-irritation - slash-anger? - that was showing in his eyes.
Alec didn’t even realize he was moving until he was standing right in front of Dean with not more than a foot of space between them. They had the same eyes, height, facial features. He had known all that and yet, seeing it up close like this, it was all so very fucking weird.
“Fuck,” he muttered with a shake of his head, taking a step backwards.
“Tell me about it,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “Dad says you guys think that you’re made from my DNA or something. So if you’re not even, I guess you’re sort of like family or some shit.”
Alec nodded, not sure what else to say. All his witty comebacks and snappy bits of sarcasm had flown out the window sometime between when Dean had come out of the motel and when they had stepped up close to one another.
”But I’m older, right?”
He wasn’t sure where this was going, but Alec nodded and tossed out a ‘yeah’ anyway. Dean’s smile was a quick flash of teeth and then a short laugh.
”Great. Another younger brother.” Dean drawled, sharing a look with Sam that Alec couldn’t quite understand. It left him feeling like he was on the outside and he didn’t like it one bit. Then Dean was looking back at him. ”In fact, Dad says you’re about five years younger than me. Which means that not only are you the younger brother - but you’re the youngest brother.”
Sam’s lips curled into a smile. He was practically bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking entirely too much like a kid that had just gotten a new present. Alec frowned.
This couldn’t be good.
~*~*~
It wasn’t all that easy. In fact, both of John’s sons were suspicious and questioning to the point that Alec was about ready to tear out his hair by the time John finally decided to pack things up and get back on the road. Not to mention the way that Sam had been doing his best to take advantage of having a younger ‘sibling’ around.
Alec hung back, not sure if he was invited or not. This was all that he had said that he wanted from John after all, right there at the beginning when they’d first exchanged stories. He’d said he wanted to meet his look alike and, now, that had been accomplished.
John looked over at Alec, brow furrowing. “You gonna pack or just sit there?”
”I -“ Alec said, stopping. He shrugged and began shoving his things in his pack. Then he stopped again, drawing a look from John. “So - you don’t mind me hanging around?”
In retrospect, Alec would look back on that moment and wonder what the fuck had made him ask that question. When had he gotten to be so much of a chick that he felt the need to complicate things by asking questions that were just as well left unasked, yet answered just the same?
John sighed. “One of the most important rules about being a Winchester - we don’t do these big emotional speeches. But,” John held up a hand when Alec opened his mouth to blow the whole thing off with a sarcastic comment. “You are just as much mine and Mary’s son as the boys in the room next to us right now. And I’d no more feel right about letting you out there by yourself than I would letting those two.” He tilted his head at the wall that separated their room from Sam and Dean’s.
“Okay,” Alec said, ignoring that warm feeling in his chest right around where his heart was. He was raised in a lab, trained to be a soldier. The only family he had ever known was Manticore.
Scratch that, Alec amended, slinging his pack over his shoulder and following John out of the room to say goodbye to his ‘brothers’.
The only family he had known for most of his life was Manticore.
Now he had the Winchesters.
Out of the two, Alec was pretty sure that he was going to enjoy being a Winchester best of all.
END
Title: Brother Mine
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.
Notes: A follow-up to Not the Golden Child. Second ficlet in the Alec Winchester ‘verse.
Summary: It's not Alec's fault that their dad is so fucked up in the head and can't see that taking the new guy with him, leaving his two loyal sons behind when they want to be with him, is not the right thing to do.
~*~*~
Dean watches the truck pull away, a black hole in his chest where his heart used to be. He swallows and forces himself away from the window, back into the room, tries not to feel hurtbetrayedangryjealous, but somehow doesn’t manage it.
That guy’s one of them now and, yeah, Dean’s accepted it. Hard not to. It’s like - if he’s a Winchester and Dad’s son, then that guy sort of has to be, too; because he’s the same as Dean. Same hair and eyes and skin and, fuck, fingerprints! The same in every way. He’s got half John Winchester genes and half Mary Winchester genes and that makes him a fucking Winchester whether or not Dean likes it. Better than that, he’s a clone of Dean. Like an identical twin.
Oh, except better. Fucking super soldier.
And maybe that’s why Dad took him. Why he loaded him into the truck with wave and a promise that Dean and Sam would hear from him soon, Alec smirking and completely unaware that he was currently being hateddespisedloathed, because he doesn’t know what its like for Dean and Sam. Couldn’t know because he’s only heard Dad’s side of things and not theirs. It’s nothing they’d tell to someone they just met, anyway, even if Dad had left the three of them alone for long enough to give the new guy a head’s up.
Dad will leave you, he thinks. Dad will abandon you. He did it to us.
It’s not fair to hate Alec for this, because he not a damn part of it is his fault and fuck if Dean doesn’t recognize that look in Alec’s eyes when he was with them all. That look that says he’s found something he didn’t even know he was missing, because Dean feels the same way every time he sees his dad.
Doesn’t change the fact that right now Dean feels like he’s being eaten inside by a green-tinged monster.
And it’s the jealousy that makes it hard for him to breathe as he turns back to the dingy motel room that he and Sammy will be leaving so very shortly, heading out towards the east coast and some witch that’s making trouble up in some back woods part of New York.
What made that guy so special? Alec his almost-brother-clone? What the fuck made him so goddamned special that their dad, who wouldn’t stay near them for more than a day or two at a time, had chosen him to be his backup as he hunted for the demon?
What kind of messed up shit was that?
“You okay?”
Dean tries to brush Sam off with a “yeah, fine”, but it doesn’t work. He should’ve known it wouldn’t because Sam is too damn insightful, too fucking persistent. Can’t let good enough go when he should.
“What’s wrong?”
He frowns and starts shoving things in his bag, determined to get the hell away from this place as soon as humanly possible. Which will only work if Sam plays along, so he should have realized that he was going to have to own up to something just to get Sam off his back and packing.
Still, he tries to hold out for as long as possible, because goddamnit he doesn’t want to have a moment like this. He’d rather drill out his own eyes.
Oh, hey, was that a possibility? Maybe Sammy would think he was possessed and forget this line of questioning and just go straight for an exorcism?
Then again, Dean concedes, maybe drilling out his own eyeballs is a little extreme just to avoid one of those touchy-feely moments that Sammy seems to fucking need on a regular basis out of fear of withdrawal or some shit that Dean doesn’t understand and doesn’t want to.
”What’s. Wrong?” Sam repeats, closer now; crowding Dean’s personal space until Dean is left feeling like he needs to either own up to this or run, else he’s gonna get hugged.
He takes a deep breath and zips his bag up. “I don’t know, Sam - what could possibly be wrong about our Dad going off with … him and leaving us again?”
Sam frowns and Dean can almost see him wondering ‘isn’t this supposed to be my line’, but Dean doesn’t feel like giving this one over to Sam. If he’s going to feel this fucking mope-y and emo - and be forced to share it - then damnit, its gonna be his and his alone!
“At least he’s not alone.”
Dean’s breath catches and he feels like the air has just been knocked from his lungs. He expected Sam to understand, not to offer up a, yeah, perfectly valid reason for their dad having Alec.
”Would you rather he left him here with us and went off by himself again?”
“Of course not,” Dean says, rushed, still angry. But Sam’s point is hammered home in the silence that follows.
Dean doesn’t have to like it, though. In fact, he’s pretty sure that the point doesn’t make a damn thing better, doesn’t ease that fucking pit of jealous blackness that’s in his heart.
He smothers a growl and turns to Sam. “We done here? Can you pack now?”
Sam shrugs and gives him another look that says ‘yeah, man, I’m hurting, too’, but he starts packing anyway.
Dean shuts his eyes and tries to exorcise the jealousy like he’d exorcise a demon.
Life just isn’t that simple, though.
END
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.
Notes: Someone on a group that I visit was looking for a fic where Alec gets mistaken for Dean, instead of the other way around. The plot bunny ran up, bit me in the ass, and said that I must write it. This is me doing the writing thing.
Summary: Whoever the hell this Dean Winchester guy was, he needed to chill the fuck out and not do things that could get either of them arrested.
PART ONE (of TWO)
The slide of a cell door opening down the narrow, dimly lit hall barely even fazed Alec after three days sitting here, just waiting. Waiting for what, he didn’t know, because he wasn’t even sure why he was here in the first place. He’d left Seattle, heading east with full intent to start the hell over in a new city, somewhere far from the drama of everything that was going on back ‘home’.
Somewhere he’d have a little easier time making a living, too. Where people weren’t already wise to him, where Max wasn’t looking over his shoulder with her reproving glances and pursed lips, like he fucking knew how to do anything other than be a soldier, for God’s sake! It wasn’t his fault that he had to resort to running contraband, hustling at pool, and being a petty thief. Besides, from what he had heard - stories that he was damn sure Maxie didn’t want him to know - she wasn’t that much better than him. Oh, she’d cleaned up her act a lot in recent months, but as her little boyfriend Logan told it, Max used to have sticky fingers all of her own.
Figured that she’d be a hypocrite, on top of her holier-than-thou attitude. Alec snorted and leaned back against the bare, concrete block wall of his cell. Truth be told, it was almost like home, this place; it certainly had the feel of a Manticore bunk - cold, uninviting, hard.
Still, he shouldn’t even be here. Wouldn’t be here, either, if it weren’t for a fluke. He sure as hell hoped it was a fluke, come to think of it. Having one twin was bad enough - but a second? He was 494, his twin 493 - from what Alec could remember 492 was a kid that died before he was ten and 495 was some chick that got herself whacked on her first solo mission. If he had anymore ‘twins’ running around, logic dictated they would have had one of those designations.
So who the hell was this Dean Winchester guy that had the same face as him? Well, maybe not quite as good-looking, Alec added with a mental snort. And how was it that they looked alike and, wait, here’s the clincher - had the same fingerprints?
He’d been cruising along, minding his own business in a car that he’d ‘borrowed’ a few states back, just trying to get to the East Coast and away from the transgenic drama going down in Seattle, when he’d gotten pulled over. Okay, yeah, his fault for speeding. Whatever, right? He had valid ID - some of the best that money could by and a get-the-hell-out-of-town-and-away-from-Max present from Logan - so it was no big.
What he hadn’t expected was that they’d run the plates. He should’ve thought of it. But by the time he realized that they were doing just that, there were two more cop cars coming up beside the first and, hell, six officers? What the --?
He could have taken them. Six humans versus one X-5? Yeah, they’d have gone down easy.
At least, he thought they would.
But with six guns pointing at him, telling him to get out of the car, he wasn’t about to take that chance. Manticore wasn’t around to patch him up if he got hurt and the last thing he wanted was to land in a hospital was some doctor could take too close a look at what he was. That’d bring White scurrying real quick. Last thing Alec wanted was to end up on the wrong side of one of White’s “interrogations” or, better yet, “autopsies”.
So he’d let them arrest him, assuming that he’d be taken to some sort of hick-town lock up that he could easily escape from the second he was left alone long enough to get the deed done. But booking at led to something he hadn’t expected. His fingerprints - his face - matched a guy that was already in the system for that area, wanted for various offenses ranging from assault, to a little B&E, to fraud.
Dean-fucking-Winchester. Whoever the fuck that was. The cops, understandably, hadn’t believed him when he said he didn’t know who that. How did he have that guys’ fingerprints, then, Officer Asshole had asked, shoving him into a cell that had bars he had no hope of breaking through and no window to get out of, either.
So here he was, stuck until they decided to ship him off to another jail or take him for a hearing or whatever. He’d make his move then and get the hell out of dodge. Maybe he’d try to track down this Dean guy and figure out why they were genetic doubles. It was possible that there was another X-5 with his face, after all; and, if so, they were practically related. He wanted to kick the guy’s ass like a big brother should and tell him not to go fucking up and landing either of them in jail anymore. He had no problems with his would-be twin’s life of crime, but damn if Alec wanted to be the one arrested for that kind of crap. He had his own life to lead, his own hell to raise, and damn if he wanted a dumbass clone ruining it for him.
The door at the end of the hall slammed open, metal banging against the stone wall behind it. Alec frowned. The jailors were in a fine mood today, apparently. Had Officer Asshole had a bad day? He pasted an uncaring, unworried smirk on his face just in case the Officer had to come down this far in the four-cell holding block, knowing that it pissed the burly piece of white-trash like nothing else.
The footsteps got closer. Closer, still. Alec turned his head, looking through the bars.
”Officer,” he greeted, the corner of his mouth moving upward as though he didn’t have a problem in the world with just sitting here, locked away. His gaze flickered to the man that was standing just behind him; at dark eyes that sparkled with anger, a stance that said he didn’t screw around, and lips that were pressed into a tight, thin line. Was this his new cell mate? Joy.
“Your daddy arranged bail,” Officer Asshole said. Alec’s eyebrows went up. Dad, then? “I still say it’s a mistake letting you out.”
“Officer Jamison,” his ‘Dad’ said tightly. “I believe I can handle things from here. I’ll make sure Dean shows up for his court date.”
This was his ticket out of here, so Alec wasn’t about to argue that he wasn’t Dean. Best of all, this was that Dean guy’s father! Which meant that, one, he could try to get down to the mystery of who the hell this other joker with his face was - obviously not a transgenic if he had a father, and two, he’d be in a good position to find Dean and lay things out for him. No more stupid shit. Either he was good enough not to get caught or he should just stop playing around entirely.
Alec wouldn’t mention, of course, that he’d found out about his clone’s criminal record because he had been, stupidly, speeding.
“You do that, Mr. Winchester,” the Officer sneered, looking both like didn’t believe for one second that ‘Dean’ would ever see the inside of a courtroom and like he couldn’t believe ‘Mr. Winchester’ had gotten the judge to set bail for such a delinquent.
He raised a brow at Officer Asshole as he pushed out of the cell and into the hall, but couldn’t bring himself to give more than a passing look at the man that was Dean’s father. Did they look enough alike that this guy wouldn’t be able to tell the difference? Alec certainly hoped so, he didn’t want to find himself shoved back in that cell with a ‘nevermind’ or ‘not mine’ as the only explanation.
If ‘Dad’ noticed something, he didn’t say a word, though.
”Let’s go.”
Alec followed him out of the cell area, grabbing up his things from the front desk on his way out the door.
Sunlight. Fresh air. He breathed it in, pausing for a minute to just enjoy it. Fuck, he’d thought he’d never get out -
“Dean! Truck! Now!”
“Sir,” Alec replied automatically, jumping to obey before he even realized what he was doing. By the time he did, he was in the truck, his door shutting in a weak echo of his Winchester’s own slam. There was something about this guy that screamed military, but Alec couldn’t place his finger on it. The tone of his voice, the way he issued orders in clipped, sure words - all spoke of someone that was used to being obeyed.
What kind of Dad was this?
Alec glanced around the truck, suddenly very wary. Had he just been sprung by one of White’s people, tricked into going along with things?
But there was nothing except the interior of an old truck, as far as Alec could tell. Oh, it was well taken care of, but it was still older-model. He relaxed slightly. Maybe Dean’s dad had been military at some point; or maybe he was just an asshole and a mean, cranky old man.
They left the city behind before another word was spoken, buildings giving way to fields of corn that were already going golden under the sun.
“I thought you and Sammy were working a job in Mississippi.”
Alec cleared his throat, unsure what to say to that statement. He didn’t have a single clue who this Sammy person was or what the hell him and Dean were doing in Mississippi.
“So, imagine my surprise when I get a call from Bobby, says he heard on the police scanner two cops boasting that they’d picked up someone for speeding that turned out to be Dean Winchester.”
There had to be a way that Dean would react to that, Alec knew. But he was lost as lost could be. There was nothing about this guy that gave him any clues how to play this.
“How in the hell did that happen?”
And this, ‘Dad’ apparently did expect an answer to. Alec licked his lips and opened his mouth, shutting it again when nothing came to him. Maybe if Dean’s ‘mom’ had been the one to bust him out, Alec could have worked some of that charm of his. He didn’t think that Dean’s dad was going to fall for that sort of thing, though.
“And where the hell is your brother?”
“Brother?” Alec asked before he could stop himself, wincing when he realized what he’d done.
’Dad’ glanced his way and Alec saw a glimmer in his eyes that he didn’t like. It made him feel naked, bare. Uncomfortable. Then it was gone and the other man’s eyes narrowed to thin slits, gaze going back to the road.
”Yeah - you remember your brother, Tim, right?”
“Right,” Alec nodded along. “Sorry - I’m a little tired. Couldn’t sleep much in there. Tim is… fine.”
“Right,” ‘Dad’ drawled. “And your sister?”
“She’s good, too,” Alec replied back automatically.
The truck slammed to a stop. Alec put his hands out in front of him, stopping his forward momentum with a hand to the dash.
“What the fuck?” he snapped, turning in his seat.
There was a gun in his face. A gun in his face held by a very pissed looking man. At this close of a range, there was no way he could grab it away before the other man could squeeze off a shot.
“Um, Dad?” he tried.
“Cristo.”
“What?” Alec said, blinking in surprised confusion. When the hell had this conversation strayed into - what was that? - Spanish or something?
”Cristo." 'Dad' said a little louder, frowning. It was like he was looking for a reaction of some sort. Did this family have secret passwords or something? "Huh. You say it."
Well, fuck, he wasn’t going to tell the the guy that had a gun shoved practically up his nose that he was nuts. Too bad his mouth wasn't on the same wavelength as his brain. “What is your problem? Cristo. Happy now?”
“No. Not nearly. You’re not Dean, so who are you and where’s my son?”
Alec sighed. “Don’t know. Never met the guy, but when you see him could you tell him that I don’t fucking appreciate getting arrested for his crimes? Seriously! My name is Alec and I don’t know who the hell your son is, who you are, et-fucking-cetera. Got it, tough guy?”
“Are you a shapeshifter?”
“A what?!?” Alec’s eyes rolled. “I can tell your family is a barrel full of fun. Is my look alike a psycho like you?”
Wait, 493 had been psychotic, delusional. Had Manticore gotten their DNA from this Dean guy, who apparently came from a family full of mental patients? It all made sense, the more he thought about it. The fact that they shared the same fingerprint, for instance. He was this Dean guy’s clone.
“You… don’t have a clue what I’m talking about.” The gun lowered, but the wariness remained. “Do you?”
“Oh, I got the part where you’re crazy - and I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out why I share your son’s face. Oh, and I’m really grateful that you bailed me out. I’ll repay the money,” he added the last part, having no intention of repaying a dime to this nut.
“Don’t worry about it. Was a faked court order anyway and someone else’s credit card,” ‘Dad’ said, twisting in his seat to stare at him. Alec tried not to flinch under that gaze. “You’re too young to be Dean,” he finally muttered. “And you’re missing the scar he has at his hairline.”
Alec sighed. “Stay with me - I. Am. Not. Your. Son. Don’t know where he is or what he’s doing. Does he have a phone you can call or something, just to get this paranoia out of your system?”
‘Dad’s’ eyes narrowed. “I want to know who you are. You said you have a theory?”
This day was just getting better and better. Alec didn’t know why he wasn’t grabbing the gun. It would be easy now, with it not in his face. Or, hell, he could just jump out of the truck and run. No way in hell this old man would be able to catch up with him if he did that.
Maybe it was curiosity that kept him sitting there; a sick desire to see how this would all play out.
And, if he wanted to get technical, this guy was his father.
Then there was that little part of him that said to do the right thing and tell this guy that his son might one day end up in danger because of his face. All White would have to do was get a tip off about 494 and they’d be all over him. Somehow Alec didn’t think that they’d stop long enough to figure out that Dean was just a regular old human before killing him.
“Can we get a little further away from that shithole back there, just in case they figure out you weren’t on the up and up?” Was what he ended up deciding on, feeling unease creep up his back. This wasn’t the place for this kind of conversation and he wasn’t just trying to sway this guy with the subtle threat, either. The cops really could figure it out and be hot on their ass at any second. Officer Asshole would probably enjoy tracking them down.
“Talk.”
“Drive,” Alec countered, voice steely. “Or I’m not saying anything.”
END 1 of 2
PART TWO
The truck rumbled to a stop outside of yet another Midwest motel. To Alec, they’d all started looking the same. Two weeks with John Winchester and he’d seen more of these places than he could count on one hand. Not the life of shameless luxury that he’d been hoping to start for himself, but he was dealing.
Actually, the truth was that he was having a blast.
That first night had been interesting, with John driving them far enough from Officer Asshole and his cronies that Alec didn’t worry that they’d be found. Only then had he stopped. They’d grabbed something quick to eat, gotten a motel room, and Alec had started telling him all about those things that he’d just as soon have never told another person about. But this guy? Well, he seemed like he had a sort of right to know, almost.
“That story’s so out there that it must be true,” John had said finally, shaking his head and looking so goddamned thunderstruck that Alec almost felt bad for him. Almost. Alec generally did his best not to feel too sorry for anyone other than himself. You lived longer not pitying other people - at least then you didn’t try to do stupid things like risk your health and safety for theirs. “So somehow these guys got their hands on my son’s DNA.”
“I guess so,” Alec had responded back with a shrug. “Can’t think of any other way we’d look the same, have the same fingerprints. I’m better, of course. Enhanced.”
Near as they could tell without having access to the necessary equipment to do a full DNA workup, Alec had gotten the human portion of his genetics solely from John’s son. Where, why, how - all those questions couldn’t be answered because the people that would have had those answers wouldn’t give them up even if they were still alive to give them in the first place. Maybe Manticore had only been creative when it comes to enhancing genetics, stealing things like looks and general body form from wherever they could.
Could have been worse, he supposed; Manticore had obviously chosen pretty children.
John, surprisingly, had taken the news much better than Alec had thought he would - which wasn’t saying that he took it well at all. There’d been drinking involved. Two full bottles of cheap whiskey over the course of two days, during which he and Alec had traded stories back and forth.
At first, Alec had been pretty sure that John was just crazy when the stories of monsters and things in the darkness started spilling from his mouth. Would explain a lot - mental disorder could be linked to genetics and 493 certainly had been fucking nuts. Figures that Manticore wouldn’t have done a thorough job about checking out what DNA they were using when they played Frankenstein. Just whip together something that looked good - don’t check to make sure your creation isn’t going to have a complete and utter batshit meltdown years later.
Turned out that John wasn’t crazy, though. He’d taken him out on a job on day three of their get-to-know-each-other time. Handing him a gun, explaining as they wandered into the woods what they were going after, John had showed him just what the fuck lurked outside of both the realm of humanity and lab-created freaks. There were genuine monsters running around, imagine that.
Day five had been information gathering. Day six - another hunt. John hadn’t said anything about the two of them going their separate ways and Alec was having fun for the first time since he could remember. It was a match made in heaven, even when John would trip up and call him Dean before he remembered that he wasn’t with his real son. Alec didn’t really care. Wasn’t like he was looking for a dad anyway.
Alec suspected that he and John got along so well because he followed orders, something that John seemed to expect without question or thought. Since the orders made sense and meant that he had an actual fucking purpose, Alec didn’t mind in the least.
They’d spent every day since then hunting or traveling. It was going well and Alec was trying to figure out a roundabout way of asking if this temporary arrangement could be something of a more permanent nature. This hunting stuff was fun. He was good at it, he liked it. He liked having someone watching his back and watching that person’s back in return.
It was almost like being in a unit again, having missions.
It was what he’d been missing.
And then John had announced yesterday afternoon that it was time for Alec to meet his double.
”Now,” John said, turning off the truck. “The boys are more shoot first and ask questions later -“
“Obviously your sons, then,” Alec drawled with a roll of his eyes, earning a chuckle from John. He smirked.
“Right. So - just hang back and let me do a little explaining, assure them that you’re not something to worry about.”
Alec snorted, feeling a little offended at that assessment. Only the fact that he was pretty sure that John hadn’t meant it that way kept him from proving just how much of a threat he was capable of being. “Thanks, I guess.”
The look John gave him was one of good-natured amusement. “You and my boy are more alike than just looks, sometimes.”
From what he’d heard about Dean, that wasn’t something that Alec could get too upset about.
There was a sweet ride parked one spot over from the truck. A cherry black ’67 Impala that looked like someone cared about it a whole lot. He took a few steps towards it before John’s laugh stopped him. He threw a questioning look over his shoulder, stopping a foot from the car to just admire the sleek perfection of it.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” John said with another laugh. “Touch the car and Dean might kill you, though.”
“You serious? This is his car?” Alec’s fingers itched to reach out and run along the paint, caress the body of the car like a lover’s skin.
“Yes - and I wasn’t joking. Touch the car and Dean might - at the very least, take your hand off. That car’s his baby.”
Alec was liking his double more and more by the minute. He shoved his hands in his pockets, keeping them from wandering towards the car without his meaning them to. Touching a man’s car ranked right up there with touching a man’s piece to some guys. Last thing he wanted was to be pissing his double off before he even got a chance to meet the guy. Upsetting Dean might mean that John decided to ditch him and Alec, well, he wasn’t sure how much he’d like that at this point.
As in, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t like it at all.
Out of the corner of his eye, Alec saw John disappear into a motel room. He took a breath and began a slow count to one hundred, just like he’d told John he would. Enough time for them to quote-unquote, ‘warn them so they don’t try to shoot you’.
Apparently, John decided to give them the very abbreviated version of things, because Alec had just turned back to the car - not even halfway through his hundred-count - before that same door opened behind him. He tensed, unconsciously, preparing for whatever fight might crop up from this. The way John described his sons, they weren’t the most trusting people in the world.
He couldn’t say that he blamed them, though.
“You touch it, I kill you.”
It was a voice that Alec knew all too well. Hell, it was the same one that he heard every day of his life. He turned, hands still in his pockets, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. Inexplicably, there was some part of him that didn’t want this meeting to turn out badly.
The sight that greeted him was, well, shocking. He’d expected that Dean looked like him. Rather, that he looked like Dean, that was. He’d seen a picture of the other man, heard John talk about him and how similar they were.
Alec hadn’t been prepared to see it in person. Judging by the look on Dean’s face, he hadn’t thought too hard about it before rushing out here, either.
They gave each other a wary once over. Dean looked older than him by about five years or so. He was slightly more bulky - not overweight, just muscle. He was wearing a t-shirt that stretched tight over his chest, accentuating well-defined muscles that Alec, even with all of his training, didn’t have. Then again, his strength came naturally. He’d never tried to bulk up, look more fit than what he already was. He was slim, compact, and completely lethal. He didn’t need added musculature.
Or maybe that was just his rationale to make himself feel better about the fact that his - what was Dean to him exactly? - clone might just looked better than him.
Nah, Alec shrugs it off. He took a slow step forward, watching as someone else stepped out of the room to stand behind Dean. This would be the younger brother, Alec reminded himself. Sam. Not Sammy. Only Dean and John could call him Sammy and get away with it, according to John. Anyone else got grief for even trying.
Which meant that Alec fully planned on working that nickname into his repertoire if he had a chance to be around the brothers long enough to forge even a wary friendship. He was but an extension of Dean, after all - therefore, he was also sort of an older brother.
It was solid reasoning, so far as he was concerned; being a clone of the older brother automatically inferred having those same rights and privileges of said older brother.
Alec wasn’t so sure Sam would see it that way.
Sam, the one that was taking steps towards him, looking at him like he was some sort of science experiment. Which, okay, he technically was. Just not this kid’s experiment, which is the feeling Alec’s getting when Sam finally stops a few feet away with a look on his face that says he can’t quite wrap his mind around what he’s seeing.
”Dude,” Sam called out. “He looks just like you did a few years ago.”
Alec frowned. “He is standing right here, you know.”
Sam blushed, ducking his head. Alec got the feeling that Sam hadn’t even realized just how rude he was being. The ‘aw shucks’ good ole boy routine he had going for him, though? It worked, Alec had to hand it to him. He’d forgiven Sam long before he even opened his mouth to say, “Yeah, sorry about that. This is weird, even for us.”
“Ya think?”
Ah, Dean was joining the conversation. Alec shifted his attention to his double, not backing down from the confusion-slash-irritation - slash-anger? - that was showing in his eyes.
Alec didn’t even realize he was moving until he was standing right in front of Dean with not more than a foot of space between them. They had the same eyes, height, facial features. He had known all that and yet, seeing it up close like this, it was all so very fucking weird.
“Fuck,” he muttered with a shake of his head, taking a step backwards.
“Tell me about it,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “Dad says you guys think that you’re made from my DNA or something. So if you’re not even, I guess you’re sort of like family or some shit.”
Alec nodded, not sure what else to say. All his witty comebacks and snappy bits of sarcasm had flown out the window sometime between when Dean had come out of the motel and when they had stepped up close to one another.
”But I’m older, right?”
He wasn’t sure where this was going, but Alec nodded and tossed out a ‘yeah’ anyway. Dean’s smile was a quick flash of teeth and then a short laugh.
”Great. Another younger brother.” Dean drawled, sharing a look with Sam that Alec couldn’t quite understand. It left him feeling like he was on the outside and he didn’t like it one bit. Then Dean was looking back at him. ”In fact, Dad says you’re about five years younger than me. Which means that not only are you the younger brother - but you’re the youngest brother.”
Sam’s lips curled into a smile. He was practically bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking entirely too much like a kid that had just gotten a new present. Alec frowned.
This couldn’t be good.
~*~*~
It wasn’t all that easy. In fact, both of John’s sons were suspicious and questioning to the point that Alec was about ready to tear out his hair by the time John finally decided to pack things up and get back on the road. Not to mention the way that Sam had been doing his best to take advantage of having a younger ‘sibling’ around.
Alec hung back, not sure if he was invited or not. This was all that he had said that he wanted from John after all, right there at the beginning when they’d first exchanged stories. He’d said he wanted to meet his look alike and, now, that had been accomplished.
John looked over at Alec, brow furrowing. “You gonna pack or just sit there?”
”I -“ Alec said, stopping. He shrugged and began shoving his things in his pack. Then he stopped again, drawing a look from John. “So - you don’t mind me hanging around?”
In retrospect, Alec would look back on that moment and wonder what the fuck had made him ask that question. When had he gotten to be so much of a chick that he felt the need to complicate things by asking questions that were just as well left unasked, yet answered just the same?
John sighed. “One of the most important rules about being a Winchester - we don’t do these big emotional speeches. But,” John held up a hand when Alec opened his mouth to blow the whole thing off with a sarcastic comment. “You are just as much mine and Mary’s son as the boys in the room next to us right now. And I’d no more feel right about letting you out there by yourself than I would letting those two.” He tilted his head at the wall that separated their room from Sam and Dean’s.
“Okay,” Alec said, ignoring that warm feeling in his chest right around where his heart was. He was raised in a lab, trained to be a soldier. The only family he had ever known was Manticore.
Scratch that, Alec amended, slinging his pack over his shoulder and following John out of the room to say goodbye to his ‘brothers’.
The only family he had known for most of his life was Manticore.
Now he had the Winchesters.
Out of the two, Alec was pretty sure that he was going to enjoy being a Winchester best of all.
END
Title: Brother Mine
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.
Notes: A follow-up to Not the Golden Child. Second ficlet in the Alec Winchester ‘verse.
Summary: It's not Alec's fault that their dad is so fucked up in the head and can't see that taking the new guy with him, leaving his two loyal sons behind when they want to be with him, is not the right thing to do.
~*~*~
Dean watches the truck pull away, a black hole in his chest where his heart used to be. He swallows and forces himself away from the window, back into the room, tries not to feel hurtbetrayedangryjealous, but somehow doesn’t manage it.
That guy’s one of them now and, yeah, Dean’s accepted it. Hard not to. It’s like - if he’s a Winchester and Dad’s son, then that guy sort of has to be, too; because he’s the same as Dean. Same hair and eyes and skin and, fuck, fingerprints! The same in every way. He’s got half John Winchester genes and half Mary Winchester genes and that makes him a fucking Winchester whether or not Dean likes it. Better than that, he’s a clone of Dean. Like an identical twin.
Oh, except better. Fucking super soldier.
And maybe that’s why Dad took him. Why he loaded him into the truck with wave and a promise that Dean and Sam would hear from him soon, Alec smirking and completely unaware that he was currently being hateddespisedloathed, because he doesn’t know what its like for Dean and Sam. Couldn’t know because he’s only heard Dad’s side of things and not theirs. It’s nothing they’d tell to someone they just met, anyway, even if Dad had left the three of them alone for long enough to give the new guy a head’s up.
Dad will leave you, he thinks. Dad will abandon you. He did it to us.
It’s not fair to hate Alec for this, because he not a damn part of it is his fault and fuck if Dean doesn’t recognize that look in Alec’s eyes when he was with them all. That look that says he’s found something he didn’t even know he was missing, because Dean feels the same way every time he sees his dad.
Doesn’t change the fact that right now Dean feels like he’s being eaten inside by a green-tinged monster.
And it’s the jealousy that makes it hard for him to breathe as he turns back to the dingy motel room that he and Sammy will be leaving so very shortly, heading out towards the east coast and some witch that’s making trouble up in some back woods part of New York.
What made that guy so special? Alec his almost-brother-clone? What the fuck made him so goddamned special that their dad, who wouldn’t stay near them for more than a day or two at a time, had chosen him to be his backup as he hunted for the demon?
What kind of messed up shit was that?
“You okay?”
Dean tries to brush Sam off with a “yeah, fine”, but it doesn’t work. He should’ve known it wouldn’t because Sam is too damn insightful, too fucking persistent. Can’t let good enough go when he should.
“What’s wrong?”
He frowns and starts shoving things in his bag, determined to get the hell away from this place as soon as humanly possible. Which will only work if Sam plays along, so he should have realized that he was going to have to own up to something just to get Sam off his back and packing.
Still, he tries to hold out for as long as possible, because goddamnit he doesn’t want to have a moment like this. He’d rather drill out his own eyes.
Oh, hey, was that a possibility? Maybe Sammy would think he was possessed and forget this line of questioning and just go straight for an exorcism?
Then again, Dean concedes, maybe drilling out his own eyeballs is a little extreme just to avoid one of those touchy-feely moments that Sammy seems to fucking need on a regular basis out of fear of withdrawal or some shit that Dean doesn’t understand and doesn’t want to.
”What’s. Wrong?” Sam repeats, closer now; crowding Dean’s personal space until Dean is left feeling like he needs to either own up to this or run, else he’s gonna get hugged.
He takes a deep breath and zips his bag up. “I don’t know, Sam - what could possibly be wrong about our Dad going off with … him and leaving us again?”
Sam frowns and Dean can almost see him wondering ‘isn’t this supposed to be my line’, but Dean doesn’t feel like giving this one over to Sam. If he’s going to feel this fucking mope-y and emo - and be forced to share it - then damnit, its gonna be his and his alone!
“At least he’s not alone.”
Dean’s breath catches and he feels like the air has just been knocked from his lungs. He expected Sam to understand, not to offer up a, yeah, perfectly valid reason for their dad having Alec.
”Would you rather he left him here with us and went off by himself again?”
“Of course not,” Dean says, rushed, still angry. But Sam’s point is hammered home in the silence that follows.
Dean doesn’t have to like it, though. In fact, he’s pretty sure that the point doesn’t make a damn thing better, doesn’t ease that fucking pit of jealous blackness that’s in his heart.
He smothers a growl and turns to Sam. “We done here? Can you pack now?”
Sam shrugs and gives him another look that says ‘yeah, man, I’m hurting, too’, but he starts packing anyway.
Dean shuts his eyes and tries to exorcise the jealousy like he’d exorcise a demon.
Life just isn’t that simple, though.
END