...spn...
don't own any'tin
=spn drk angel=
Alec wasn't sure how exactly it happened, a blow to the head will do that to you, but between the green and black spots clouding his vision, there might have been a flash of light.
Then again his account might not be all that reliable.
The Nomalie which came with him might know (could this one even talk?) but it was on the other side of the clearing failing to recover from a bullet between the eyes.
The shooter lay nearby failing to recover from a crushed ribcage.
In retrospect, Alec would claim that he had some justification for what he did, but at the time it was impulsive.
The strange man had dark hair, a thick coat (which slid down Alec's shoulders when he tried it on), three IDs each with a different name (Donnavin, Smith, Winchester), fifty dollars and a credit card (under yet another name), and two sets of keys.
Alec examined the engraving on the bits of metal. One appeared to be for a car, several others might have been for safety deposit boxes or lockers, and the one separate from the rest of the bunch had the name of a motel and room number on the plastic top.
Kleptomania will be the end of him, but hopefully not today.
Spinning the key between his fingers the transgenic waltzed out of the woods. His day got better once he saw the car waiting for him beyond the trees.
=spndrkangel=
Alec didn't know what he was expecting when he opened the motel door with a key he pulled from a dead man's pocket, but it wasn't a shotgun pointed at his chest by a pint sized midget wearing his face.
"Who're you?" the kid demanded, his voice trying to growl, but coming out way too cute for Alec to take seriously.
Winchester, Alec could have hit himself. Of course the name was familiar, it was plastered across his file back at Manticore. Not that he was supposed to know anything in that file, but sticky fingers are good for more than just petty theft.
Winchester, Dean. Son of Winchester, John, former marine. Fraud, Extortion, Theft, Mass Murderer. Exemplifies high ranking escape and survival skills. Subjected to delusions held by Winchester, John. Thought to be functioning under standing orders from deceased father.
Transgenic donor compatible: Yes.
This ten year old pointing a shot gun at his head would one day play as a, most likely unwilling, DNA template for a batch of little super soldiers.
Originally, Manticore scouted out John Winchester himself as a donor, his record in the marines being what it was, but for some reason changed targets mid way through observation. Alec guessed they saw some flaw in the elder Winchester which did not translate to his progeny.
But that wouldn't happen for a long time. Right now, Winchester, Dean, was a tiny kid in a run down motel.
Seriously, less than an hour in the past and he already practically ensured that he would not be born, or grown, or whatever.
With his father dead, Manticore would not go looking for the Winchester family and discover Dean, who would grow up to be a normal boy without his father's crazed delusions and orders molding him into a serial killer.
Alec supposed that was a good thing, saving lives and all, but he needed that kid's little head full of unquestionable orders and tactics so secret government organizations would snatch his DNA some time in the future.
But wait, did Alec even want to be born? If Dean remained below the radar Alec, and 493 for that matter, would never exist. All those people he killed and missions he completed would vanish. Was non- existence worth taking the higher moral ground here?
Hell no. Despite how messed up his life was, he would prefer it to never having lived.
His eye rolled over the gun to rest on the glowering face behind it. Alec smirked.
"I'm your uncle Alec."
"Dad didn't have any brothers."
"I'm from your mom's side of the family."
"Dad said she was an only child."
"We were cousins."
The ten year old's gaze- and god didn't it look just like him?- bore into the transgenic's. The smaller one, peaked out from behind his brother's back eyes alight with curiously.
"He looks like you Dean," the kid whispered, so softly Alec wouldn't have been able to catch it if his hearing was on par with a humans. "Quiet Sammy!" Dean hissed. Alec's smirk widened; one down.
"Where's our dad?" Dean's grip tightened against the trigger, but didn't pull. Alec too that as a good sign. He didn't want the kid to be ill at ease, which was why he hadn't disarmed him immediately (a weapon on hand always made Alec calmer).
"He's," Alec paused. How does one deal with children? You know, the ones who aren't owned by the government. He met the kid's hazel eyes. "You know what your dad does, right?"
Dark head flickered in the barest of nods. "Dad hunts monsters."
"Well, he ran into something too big to handle this time and-"
The smaller kid, Sammy's, eyes went wide at the implications of Alec's words. "Daddy's hurt?"
"Yeah," Alec lowered his voice in what TV assured was a comforting way. "Yeah, he's hurt real bad, and he asked me to take care of you."
Sammy's grip tightened on his brother's back, and plump tears began to slide down his cheeks. "When's daddy coming back?"
"Not for a long time."
Dean's face contorted in an expression Alec knew was capable of folding tear ducts so they wouldn't leak. "Dad said we should go to Pastor Jim if he ever got hurt."
"Yeah, I'm here to take you." Alec squatted down, to be more at eye level with the boys. "I don't think you're tall enough to reach the gas pedals, no matter how well you carry that gun." He pulled the keys he filched off the corpse and dangled them tantalizingly in front of his mini-maker.
The kid blinked and lowered the gun. "Those are for the Impala."
"Yep, I got them from your daddy." Well, after he was sure the man was dead, but whatever.
Dean scrutinized the man's face, searching for... something. Truth maybe.
"Ok," he said at last, though his hands remained close to his weapon. Alec approved.
=spndrkangel=
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