THE GALAXY TO CHOOSE FROM
Well, hello again, readers. Welcome back to my wacky Supernatural & Babylon 5 crossover. While I was writing Between the darkness and the light and Towards a New Age, I kept thinking about short snippets that could take place in this universe. This is the first of many such snippets. Most of them will deal with events in Sam and Dean's lives - both before my two previous stories as well as after - and their interactions with B5 characters. I have quite a few ideas in mind. Hope you'll enjoy Sam and Dean's adventures in the 23rd century ;)
Knowledge of the events in Between the darkness and the light and Towards a New Age is advisable as well as some general knowledge of both shows. I do not own anything that you might recognize from other sources.
Chapter summary: Months after Sam jumps into Lucifer's Cage Dean finds himself in some seedy bar on a random planet wondering what purpose he has now anyway, since Sam is gone. An encounter with someone who can understand his grief might just show him the way - and he is not the only one who will benefit from it.
Characters: Dean Winchester, Marcus Cole
Timeline: post S5 for Supernatural, post S1/early S2 for Babylon 5.
Chapter 1 Encounter of the lonely
Dean's eyes surveyed the small bar, more out of habit than anything. It was a typical bar on a typical backwater planet, the kind that he and Sam had frequented so many times, when they were trying to get information from locals or simply relaxing after a successful Hunt. It was the kind of place that belonged to a life Dean had left behind – because Sam had made him promise he would. And keeping that promise was the only thing Dean could still do for Sam.
Almost a year had passed since Sam….since Lucifer had been locked back into the Cage. Almost a year since Dean had gone to Lisa and Ben – as per Sam's request that he try to live a normal life. And Dean was doing just that. He had a home with Lisa and Ben and they were both good for him. He had a job at a shipyard and that was good too. Building new ships or getting broken ones to fly again gave Dean a feeling of fulfilment that at times he could almost mistake for happiness.
This was the first time he was on the road since going to Lisa. His boss had sent him on a small colony to buy some parts from another mechanic. Dean had taken a passenger liner to the planet – he could not bear being in the Impala, not with Sam gone like that. Even so, it was the first time in a long time he was in space without his brother. And the memory of Sam was more unbearable than he would have thought possible.
It was that constant reminder that Dean was alone, the last of the Winchesters, that prompted Dean to seek out that bar. It was not the place someone who was now respectable would go to – Lisa would frown and shake her head, if she knew – but Dean did not care. Lisa was back on Earth – somewhere Dean called home mostly just because he had promised his little brother he would find one.
The thing was, many times Dean thought he could not do it: could not keep on pretending everything was normal, forgetting his former life, letting go of Hunting, letting go of Sam. At times, he almost hated Sam for making him promise to quit Hunting, for making him promise not to try to get Sam out of the Cage, even if that might break the world and effectively make Sam's sacrifice pointless.
These were the thoughts Dean had as he sat in that bar, nursing hell knew what alien drink and watching other confused souls drown their sorrows in alcohol.
The door to the bar opened and another person strode in. He sat down on a stool near Dean and promptly ordered a drink in a strongly accented voice. Dean watched the newcomer curiously, taking in the slightly too long dark hair – like Sam's, a voice in his head unhelpfully supplied – the barely suppressed nervous energy, the typical look of someone used to being on the frontier. Dean had travelled the Galaxy enough to recognise the look of a colonist. No doubt, most colonists could probably recognise him for an Earth-born too.
But it was not the newcomer's origins that made Dean look at him like that. It was something about him, something in his eyes that told Dean he was lost, confused, in search of answers he would never get. Like called to like, it was said, and Dean knew the look of grief and guilt on the other man's face. He had seen it plenty of times of late, whenever he happened to glance in a mirror.
The man had taken out a green jewel from his pocket. He was handling it with care, and that told Dean that it was not actually his, but had to be a memento from someone else – someone who was no longer there. Dean watched as the man shook his head, his eyes fixed on the jewel, a faint look of irritation in them, as if he was expecting the thing to tell him where he was supposed to go next. When the bartender brought him his drink, he gulped it down and ordered one more.
"Rough day, huh?" Dean commented before he could stop himself.
Normally Dean didn't do this. Years of experience as a Hunter made him paranoid and wary of accosting strangers like that. But the other man did not seem threatening, just lost. And Dean knew what it was like to be lost.
The man cast Dean an assessing glance, then shrugged his shoulders, turning his attention back to the green jewel.
"That must be important," Dean remarked.
The other cleared his throat.
"It was to my younger brother," he said at length. "William thought this trinket was worth far more than it probably is."
Dean was tempted to back out then and there. He could not do this. He could not handle someone whose loss mirrored his own. He could not handle hearing a stranger talk about lost brothers, not when he knew too well what that meant.
"I'm sorry," he found himself saying instead. "I've...uhhh...I had a little brother myself...I know...well, I can't know how you feel, but I know it's rough."
The other man acknowledged Dean's words with a faint nod.
"It's not supposed to happen, you know," he said.
"What isn't?" Dean wanted to know.
"We're not supposed to outlive them. We shouldn't. If they're our younger brothers, we should be the one going first, right? In a fair Universe, that's how it should be, true?"
Dean did not say anything. The Universe was not fair – not to him and not to Sam. If it had been, the Winchesters would have been a normal family and Mary wouldn't have died and Sam would have finished college and gotten a degree and a wife and the puppy he had always wanted. He wouldn't be in Lucifer's Cage, undergoing who knew what tortures. Dean shook his head quickly, telling himself not to go there. Sam would not want him to go there.
"I'm Dean, by the way," he said, more to get his mind away from the Cage and Sam and get back into the present.
"Marcus Cole," the other replied. "Last of my family. And that's irony for you right there. Shouldn't complain, though. It was my fault after all. William tried to warn me. I didn't listen. Not until it was too late."
Dean did not ask for more details. He did not need to know. He just wondered if there was a reason why he met this stranger now, when he was beginning to have doubts about the normal life Sam had asked him to start living.
"What are you gonna do now?" he asked instead.
Marcus looked again at the jewel in his hand.
"I suppose I should do what William asked me," he said doubtfully. "He wants me to...to finish what he started."
"Live the life he couldn't," Dean completed. "I know how that goes. I've been trying to do that for a year."
Marcus cast Dean an assessing stare, then he looked pointedly at their surroundings.
"Not going too well, is it?" he asked knowingly.
Dean did not know how to answer that. It was not that he disliked being with Lisa and Ben and living the normal life. At some level he thought he fit in there. But he knew that the only reason he was trying so hard to make it work was because Sam had asked him to.
"You know," Marcus went on, "I never really believed in the cause Will chose to follow. But he believed in it. He fought for it – died for it. And I think that should be enough for me to follow this road."
Dean nodded. Again, he did not ask what William's cause had been. It did not matter.
"I don't know if it will stop the guilt though," Marcus added.
It didn't. Dean knew that quite well. The guilt, the pain, the loss, that never went away. At times, recently, Dean thought he was starting to be able to live with it. At times he thought he was starting to forget its presence. But it was still there. It would always be there.
"I think, if you're looking to make yourself feel better by following this cause, then don't bother," he said bluntly. "It doesn't work like that. But ask yourself one thing: your brother – would it have made him feel better? Would you picking up where he left off mean something to him?"
Marcus shook his head, a trace of fond irritation on his face.
"I'm past believing in miracles," he confessed. "But William did – he was the one with the faith. He was the one who was always looking for daring quests and exciting adventures – the whole saving the galaxy and standing against the darkness thing. I suppose – I suppose I could continue his work, though, even if I don't have much faith in it. Maybe that's how I'm supposed to make it up to him. Maybe, if I manage to do enough good, he'd be pleased with his older brother again."
"Yeah," Dean agreed hoarsely. "Maybe. And you're still a big brother – you can't switch that off, not ever. And if the only thing you can do for him now is keep your promise and follow his last request – well, that's what you do. Not for yourself. Not for your own peace of mind. But for his."
Marcus did not answer for a while. He looked at Dean, and wondered briefly what his story was, how he had lost his brother and if it had been because Dean had made a mess of things – just like Marcus had. One thing was certain, though. Dean was a man crushed by grief, but he was holding on, because his brother had apparently asked him too. It told a lot about his brother as much as about Dean. Dean's brother must have been a lot like William, then. Or maybe all little brothers were like that, idealistic to the point of recklessness, endearingly impractical, born for the sole purpose to drive you mad. They irritated you beyond reason when they were there, they left a void of loss and guilt when they were gone.
The barman approached them and refilled their drinks. Marcus took his glass, but did not down it like the first time. He glanced at Dean.
"What was his name, then?" he asked. "Your brother, I mean – what was his name?"
Dean cleared his throat.
"Sam," he replied hoarsely.
He had almost said Sammy, but stopped himself at the last moment. After what happened at the cemetery, that name was only between Sam and himself and not to be shared with strangers, however sympathetic.
Marcus raised his glass, looking Dean in the eye.
"To Sam, then," he toasted.
Dean raised his glass as well, echoing Marcus' toast.
"To Sam," he echoed, "And to William."
"May we finally live up to their expectations," Marcus added, finally drinking.
They did not speak much afterwards. They finished their drinks in silence and then Marcus got up to go. Dean glanced at him.
"You made up your mind, then?" he asked.
"I'll follow William's footsteps," Marcus announced. "I'll try to be as keen on his mission as he obviously was – serve with the same devotion he would have served."
Dean nodded.
"Good luck," he said.
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Dean returned to Earth the next day with a new energy and the determination to make things work with Lisa and Ben. He might have succeeded, too. But then things took a different turning. Sam returned, only it was not entirely Sam, and Dean was pushed back into Hunting and the chance to live the life Sam had wanted for him – for both of them, really – was gone. In the months to come Dean had almost forgotten the stranger from that pub and the bond they had shared over a similar loss.
Only some time later, when Sam already had his soul back, did Dean remember Marcus Cole. He felt slightly sorry for him, because quite likely he would never get the second chance Dean had. He would never get his brother back. Sometimes, Dean thought grudgingly, there were certain benefits to being a Winchester.
He wondered where Marcus was now, if he had managed to follow in his brother's footsteps as he had vowed to do in that seedy bar, when he had shared his grief with a total stranger – because that stranger was one of the few people who could understand. Wherever Marcus was, Dean hoped that he at least had a purpose to keep him going.
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That night, after the bar, Marcus went straight to the spaceport and found a ship to Minbar. He requested an audience with Ambassador Jeffrey Sinclair as soon as he got there.
"Ambassador Sinclair," he announced, "I'm William Cole's brother. I'm here to join the Anla'shok."
AN: I've got the name of Marcus' brother from Babylon 5 Wikia (I really can't remember now if it was ever mentioned in the show) as well as the fact that Marcus was the oldest (although I always suspected that).