A/N#1: Hugs and kisses to all the readers who put this story on alert! It makes me feel so alive to know that you are anticipating the continuation of this story! To Oyaji Murakami, throwerpro, akirepisceserika, irey11, X5-721, g3orgiap3ach3s, cassiopeia2003, thanks for the PMs/Reviews/Story Alert and everything! I hope this chapter won't disappoint you and please, please REVIEW because I really want to know how you feel about the story's progress.

A/N#2: I'm going to be busy for a while so if I don't get to update this sorry sooner, I'm sorry. =(

DISCLAIMER: Dean's not mine, Sam's not mine, Max's not mine, Alec's not mine. I guess I could claim Marion as mine but other than her character, I do not own anything else.

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Alec loved his "girlfriend" with the same passion that Max loved his Ninja. But Max hated her, hated anything that had bullets on them and could kill in a split second change. She knew she needed a gun if she truly wanted to protect herself from White and his cronies, but she just couldn't bring herself to possess one, not when such weapon put an end to Eva's life when they were but little children back at Manticore, not when such evil made it possible for Zack to give his heart to save her life.

And yet here she was, strapping Alec's beloved girlfriend in the waistband of her black jeans, the cold metal making the skin of her back tingle at the slightest contact.

It's just for precaution. Max tried to convince herself. But then again, when did she ever result to such measures to save someone's life? The absence of a gun during the most perilous of missions never fazed her before. Yet, as she blurred farther away from Alec's apartment where she had come solely to retrieve his gun, she felt more and more convinced that she did the right thing and even looked forward to Alec's reaction should he find out that she accidentally scratched the flawless silver handle of the gun when it brushed against the metal clasps of her waistband.

The thought of Alec looking like a child having tantrums over his damaged favourite toy put a naughty smirk on Max's face. She'd rather get her ten fingers chopped first than admit this to herself, but she'd give everything now just to mince words with Alec again. The longer he remained out of sight, the greater Max's apprehensions and confusion grew.

Ever since that night when she opened herself up to Alec about what really happened to his twin, Ben, Max knew Alec hadn't been the same; she knew she hadn't been either. For some reason, Alec got on her nerves less and less and became more and more eager to help the people he had allowed himself to care about. Now that she let herself to really think about it, Alec had always been ready to help prior to their tiny "moment" in her apartment. And sure, he complained a lot, but she also knew he wasn't really complaining, was doing it for the sheer pleasure of pissing her off, was more willing than anyone else in the world to do the most dangerous works with her... probably even more than Logan. Alec had always said that he did what he did because safe and boring wasn't his style, but Max knew it was more than that.

And that's why Max thought she was starting to love –

"No! No! No! Get a grip, Max! "She yelled frustratingly at herself, spanking the side of her head with a gloved hand as she made a turn into a corner where she'd park her Ninja.

"I just don't want his blood in my hands. That' it! Not when I can stop it. And maybe I care about him too. After all, I inflicted him into this crap-hole of a world. He's my responsibility."

And with that, Max jumped hastily to her bike and brought it to life... all the while remembering with painful clarity the things she'd said to Alec not long ago.

I'm sorry I let you out of Manticore. I'm sorry I inflicted you on the world. Screw exposure. I'm leaving you here for White to deal with.

"I'm not sorry I let you out, Alec, really, I'm not. And I'm not going to let you get killed... not by White... not by anyone." Max said in a whisper as her bike accelerated in speed, not even aware that the thought actually escaped her lips.

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Dean let out a growl of exasperation as Sam's humongous paw landed on the back of his head. He shot him a glare so intense it could have melted anyone who was directed at it, but Sam didn't seem fazed and glared back at his brother with a ferocity that dwarfed whatever emotion Dean held in his.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Sammy?" Dean muttered as he broke eye-contact, having come face-to-face with the one thing that unnerved him more than Sam's puppy-dog-eyes look.

"I told you to quit shouting! You're alerting the Djinns that we're here!" Sam snarled in a hushed tone, mindful to rein in his temper before he could snap at his idiot brother.

"Hey, would you relax? Nobody's home. Family must've gone to a picnic."

"Dean, if the Djinns want to have a picnic, they'll do it here." Geez... you're the one who got screwed by a Djinn before!

"Oh yeah? Then what are they doing hiding while free lunch is prowling around in here? You sure that Marcus guy's right about this place?"

"For the last time Dean, I'm friggin' sure!" Sam shrieked loudly in annoyance, earning him an irritating smart-aleck smirk from Dean.

"Quit shouting! You're alerting the Djinns that we're here!" Dean mimicked.

"Jerk!"

"Bitch!"

The two "idjets" could have gone on forever with their stupid bickering if it wasn't for a low, guttural moan of pain that wafted inside the old, rickety rest house. Raising their guns slash flashlights at chest-level, the twosome slowly crept their way to the source of the agonizing sound.

"Man, we've been walking around this place for like, twenty minutes and we didn't even bother checking the closets," Dean berated himself as he and Sam stopped in front of a wooden cabinet big enough to contain a body.

"Sshhh..." Sam shushed as he placed a hand over one of the closet's handles. "On three..."

Dean nodded and placed his hand on the other handle as Sam mouthed the countdown. When at last "three" had been mouthed, the brothers hastily pulled at the handles and the closet swung fully open; giving them a dim but unobstructed view of a young man with bloodshot eyes and deathly-pale skin, his hands chained to a metal bar over his head. On his neck, a needle connected to a tube with a gory blood bag on the other end was embedded deep into his artery.

Although he thought he already knew what to expect from this hunt, Dean was taken aback, felt a shiver run up and down his spine as a sick sense of déjà vu overtook him; increasing the dread that had been nestling in his gut all day.

Dean nearly jumped in surprise as Sam started snapping his fingers in front of his face, brows knit in concern.

"You all right, Dean?" Sam asked, noting the sudden change in his brother's complexion.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm all right. You were saying something?"

"I said this guy's dead, but his skin is still a bit warm so I'm assuming he died just minutes ago. Maybe he's not the one making that noise."

Dean's fists clenched and unclenched at Sam's words, guilt overtaking his dread as he assumed that the guy could have been saved if he and Sam had stopped their useless prowling and yapping a little earlier.

"Go check the one under the portrait. I'll go check the other two in the basement." Sam ordered as he strode outside the room.

One by one, the closets in the abandoned rest house got opened. Sure enough, there were three more victims dangling helplessly inside the cabinets but none of them showed any sign of life, didn't as much flinch or bat an eyelash when Sam or Dean shook them or placed their fingers above their nostrils. The victims were all dead and they had been too late. Oddly enough, the corpses hadn't started to stink to the joint yet, which was another proof that they had died just recently. It was no wonder why Sam and Dean hadn't thought of opening the closets immediately.

"I'm gonna tear those Djinns heads off!" Dean growled as he strode furiously away from the cabinets, was about to shout 'COME AND GET US!' to the filthy monsters which he knew was lurking somewhere in the dark corners when his keen hearing picked up the same pained moan they'd heard awhile ago.

"Someone's still alive in here, Sam, let's go find him."

Sam stood up from where he was studying a dead girl's body and trailed behind Dean who kept his gun/flashlight trained to the direction where he believed the moaning was coming from. Minutes later, Sam could hear it too and the two of them were walking towards a room which they guessed was once used as a kitchenette.

When at last they stopped in front of a steel cabinet slightly narrower than the wooden ones they'd opened earlier but big enough for a person to hide in it, Dean immediately placed his hands on the handles and shot Sam a determined look.

"Keep shining the damn light," he told Sam before yanking the steel doors open.

Dean had been taken aback the first time he opened the wooden closet and discovered a grisly-looking young man hanging lifelessly inside it, but what he saw when he opened the steel doors made his heart jump to his throat and his legs wobble like jelly. For a second he thought he was going to collapse.

This was his nightmare...

This was a nightmare...

But just when he thought this nightmare couldn't get any uglier, a dark figure blurred out of nowhere and stopped a few steps behind Sam who was still keeping his light-equipped gun trained on what was inside the cabinet. Panicked, Dean attempted to warn his brother about the looming danger but was already too late – the blurring figure, which turned out to be a woman in black, produced a silver gun and smacked its butt at the back of Sam's head, sending the younger Winchester crumbling to his knees.

"SAM!" Dean shouted as he attempted to reach out for Sam but was stopped dead on his tracks as he heard the familiar sound of a gun being cocked.

"Step away from the cabinet, or I'll shoot!"

_o0o_

Alec swore that if he started seeing pigs flying from his hospital room's window right now, he wouldn't be surprised anymore. Ever since he had been freed, Alec used brief moments of his life not spent on stealing and mating and grating on Max's nerves cursing up and down the people who screwed him over back at Manticore. Yet, with this beautiful 2-year-old brunette sitting on his lap, all he could think about was Renfro was right, Renfro was brilliant, Renfro was a friggin' genius!

Apparently, the late Renfro had unknowingly made the "next turn of the century" in the world of genetics when she'd assigned Max and Alec as breeding partners.

Despite her age, Marion possessed a beauty that would no doubt have peoples' heads swivelling to her. She could easily be mistaken for a doll if she was inanimate with her ridiculously long eyelashes and crystal-clear, green-gold eyes. Her skin, although pale like Alec's, didn't have a single freckle on it. The shape of her face, which Alec thought was more or less similar to Max's, had a distinct edge to it that made each and every angle of her face gorgeous and stunning. And her lips, Max's full, bee-stung lips, had that glossy pink-red tint that stood out starkly against her flawless white face.

And yet, as beautiful little Marion wrapped her thin arms around his neck, all of Alec's thoughts about Renfro and everything else about his altered world went flying out the window. He felt incredibly warmed, protected, loved. And it was so weird and so amazing at the same time that such strong force emanated from such a tiny girl's body.

Tilting her head upward so she could meet Alec's gaze, Marion spoke softly: "Daddy's eyes hurt?"

Taken aback by the sweetness and genuine concern that can be heard from such a tiny voice, Alec croaked out a weak "what?" and stared at the green-gold orbs that he knew was his.

"Baby, why are you crying?" Alec heard Max say, her sweet, worry-filled voice sounding like the adult version of Marion's concerned inquiry.

He wouldn't have known what the two were talking about if Marion hadn't raised a hand to wipe away a bead of tear that slid down his right cheek, and then, ever so tenderly, placed a light kiss on the eyelid where the tear had sprung.

"Marion kiss make it better," the little girl said as she kissed Alec's tears away.

He was crying... Alec was crying for what he remembered clearly as the second time in his life. The first time he'd shed a tear, it had been for Rachel. He had betrayed her... had set a time bomb under her father's car... had been too late to save her. Rachel had suffered for two long years and died. Alec had killed the first and only woman who had shown him how it felt like to love and be loved and he had cried on her deathbed a single drop of tear – one perfect tear that almost drowned his will to live.

Now Alec was crying again and he didn't know why. For the first time in his life, he wondered if this was what it meant to be truly happy.

Shifting slightly from his position in the bed, Alec pulled Max closer to him and Marion and enveloped them in a tight embrace, trying to figure out for himself how a little girl's simple act of affection could make him feel like he had been resurrected from the dead.

"Baby, what's going on with you?" Max asked as she gently rubbed circles on Alec's back, worry creasing her forehead.

"Just... just let me do this, Max." Alec replied, unsure of what was going on with him either. All he knew was that he needed this - wanted this so bad.

"Mommy and Marion hug make Daddy better?"

Alec nodded gently and whispered "yes" to the little girl's ear.

As his wife and his daughter snuggled comfortably to the comfort of his embrace, Alec let his gaze wander around his room. And then he saw him... truly saw him for the first time – Ben, the twin brother who had left him at Manticore when they were 9, the brother who had made him pay for the consequences of his escape twice in the ultimate place of torment which was Psy-Ops, the brother who Max spoke fondly of knowing all the answers to life's questions when they were little.

Scrutinizing the look in Ben's eyes – a look which said that he was pleased for the warmth... the protection... the love that his twin brother had with his beloved family in his arms, Alec didn't even acknowledge the fact that having distorted answers to all the questions in life was what had eventually driven Ben into a downward spiral. Because the look in Ben's eyes now... the answer that glistened brightly in shades of green and gold, it was as close to "happiness" as Alec had ever seen a creation of Manticore get... and it was good enough an answer for him.

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