I So here it is. Chapter 4. Finally. I do apologize for the ridiculously long wait. I'll try not to let that happen again. This chapter is a little short because I thought that people might prefer that to me beating my head against a wall for another week or so.

Oh, and the X5Rs? I totally didn't make them up. It's from the "Eye's Only Dossier". /I

Chapter 4

Several thoughts crossed 494's mind, one right after the other without time for pause or reflection. The first was that someone, he realized it was Sam as soon as he opened his eyes, was holding a knife to his throat. And Sam was doing it in a very professional manner. The edge was pressed to his skin without trembling, which was what you would get from an amateur. Sam was applying just enough force to make it a promise of injury, not a threat, but wasn't drawing any blood. Sam must have been damned comfortable with the weapon to balance on that fine line.

His second thought was to note that Sam also had a gun trained on him with the other hand. He clearly thought that 494 was too dangerous to trust to one weapon.

He was right, and that brought 494 up hard against his third thought of how the hell had Sam figured out that he was too dangerous for just one weapon? While he was on the topic of Sam figuring things out, how had he figured out that 494 wasn't Dean? Or at least with such certainty. He had figured that it would take Sam a few more days to really start to doubt and then maybe some more time on top of that before he started trying to bring anything to light.

It seemed like Sam was skipping that and heading right for 'kill the imposter.' This mission was going so far sideways that it was falling off the map.

"What the hell is wrong with you, dude?" 494 figured his best chance was to try to bluff. Maybe Sam had been hit on the head or something.

"What's wrong with me is that I am in a motel room with something that is claiming to be my brother, but isn't." Sam looked dead certain. 494 was pretty sure that there wasn't a doubt in his mind, but what choice did he have except to play on the fact that the kid might not be willing to risk actually killing Dean?

"Are you sure you didn't hit your head earlier?"

"Dude, you aren't Dean. I'm sure. You may have his walk and smirk, but you're not him. You aren't fooling me."

"Then why aren't you shooting me?"

"Because you also have his clothes and weapons. Hell, you have the Impala. That means you have Dean, and I can't find him if I've stabbed you in the heart. Not that you'd be walking away from a bullet either, though."

"What makes you so damned sure that I'm not him?" 494 let his voice sound irritated. It wasn't faked. He was pinned and that annoyed the hell out of him. He couldn't even make a move for the gun, because Sam had the pressure on the knife nice and steady.

"You want the fucking list?"

"You have a list?" 494 couldn't keep the incredulity from his voice.

"Yes."

"All right. Give me the list."

Sam was a little taken aback at this response. He blinked at 494 for a moment. "You actually want me to give you a list?" This was clearly not what he had been expecting. 494 would give him points, though; the damned knife at his throat never wavered. And the kid obviously thought the knife was the more deadly of the two weapons. 494 wondered why.

"Yeah, I want you to give me the damned list. Obviously you aren't going to stop acting like an idiot until we've worked through it point by point."

Sam shrugged a little, but didn't take his eyes off 494 at any point. "Fine. You're in the wrong bed."

494 just blinked at him. "I'm what?"

"You're not my brother, because he would have never slept in the bed farthest from the door. I'll work backwards from how I noticed things. You have his ring, which I'll want along with his pendant, but you don't have the bracelets."

"They got caught on something and broke. No biggie."

"Bullshit."

Okay, so there was clearly more to those than met the eye. Great. 494 just let it go. The kid had him and they both knew it. Now that he was getting a really good look, the kid was wearing a bracelet that could have come from the same place or been made the same way, so there was definitely something important about them. He wasn't surprised that he hadn't noticed before. Sam wore layers, usually at least three, and at least one was always long sleeved.

"You didn't understand the message Dad left for us. You should have gotten that before me. Fuck, you should have cared more than me. I was already suspicious anyway though, right from when we got into the car the first time."

"Why is that?"

"I wasn't dying and you let me pick the music."

"Maybe I was just being a considerate brother."

"Dean, music, and considerate don't go together unless I'm dying or at least feel like I'm dying. So what the fuck is this all about and where is Dean?"

"Are you obsessed?"

"What?"

"Seriously, do you know his every habit? Which foot he puts his first sock on?"

"His left. You don't know us very well, do you?" There was a pause as Sam's forehead furrowed, his eyebrows climbing a little in shock. "You don't know us very well. Who are you?"

494 instantly noticed the change in the question, from what are you to who are you. "You're insane. You know that, right? Do you stalk your brother? How the hell can you know his every damned habit so well?"

"In case you've missed the memo, I'm the one that has you pinned to the bed with a gun aimed at your left lung and a knife at your throat."

"I had caught on to that, yeah."

"Then you might want to start answering my questions. Where's my brother?"

"You're not going to kill me." And that 494 was sure of. He didn't know if Sam was a killer, if he would actually pull the trigger or slit his throat now that Sam didn't think he was some sort of thing anymore. Too bad Sam sort of had it right with the first guess, but his mistake was 494's gain. Regardless, he was sure that Sam wouldn't kill him until he knew about Dean. That gave 494 a pretty easy hand to play. "But if you let me sit up, I might be willing to answer your questions."

He watched as Sam clearly put thought into this and then nodded. He shifted his weight back and then pulled the knife away, immediately reversing his grip on it with an expert twist so that the back of the blade lay along his forearm, making it both nearly impossible to get away from him and ready for defensive use.

That split second was all 494 needed. His hands blurred as one swept out to yank the gun from Sam's grip and the other shot up and forward to slam into Sam's chest, knocking him back. Sam stumbled but kept his feet, and slid into a defensive stance. By then 494 had the gun reversed and pointing at him.

"Is this where you try to bluff me into thinking you'll kill me?" Sam asked.

"I could shoot to injure, you know."

"Not really with those bullets. If you're going to shoot me and don't mean to kill me, use a different gun."

"You were willing to try to wound me with it."

"If you had been a shifter, like I thought you were, you would have recovered quickly."

"You thought I was a what?"

"A shapeshifter."

"This is insane."

"No, what's insane is that it's one thirty in the morning and I'm having a Mexican Standoff in a motel called the 'Rise and Shine Motor Lodge.' With someone who looks frighteningly like my big brother and yet isn't a shapeshifter, but I know isn't human and sure as fuck isn't Dean. So what's the deal, because killing me isn't it. Why go through all of this just to do . . . what the hell are you doing?" Sam sounded frustrated and upset. He wasn't overly emotional, 494 noted; he was still thinking with his head, but this was clearly someone who was not used to being confused or in the dark. 494 suspected that Sam would pass from frustrated to pissed off pretty quickly. "And where's Dean? What have you done to him? If he's hurt, you'll wish you'd never met us."

"Look, kid, you aren't in a position to be making threats."

"It wasn't a threat; it was a promise."

494 reformulated. Sam was already pissed, but it was on behalf of his brother, not himself. The two must have been closer than Lydecker knew. 494 wanted to avoid all of this emotional crap. "Look, you want the truth?"

"Yes, I want the truth!"

"I'm kidnapping you. I'm not one of your supernatural monsters. This really is the way I look, the way I was born. I kidnapped your brother after stalking him across the country to learn how he acts and then took his place. Once we had him in custody, I took his clothes and his car and now I'm kidnapping you." 494 sat back with a slight smirk on his face, waiting to see what the kid was going to do with this. The worst he could do was bolt, and 494 knew he was faster.

"What's your name?" Sam asked, after watching him for a long moment. Sam didn't stare; he watched, and it was somehow very different.

"What?" That hadn't been what he had expected. In fact, it was about as far from it as you could get.

"What's your name? I'm not going to keep calling you Dean."

"My designation is X5-494." It was almost automatic.

"That's not a name."

"It's how I'm identified."

"That's great. That's just great." He clearly thought is was anything but. "So . . ." He ran a hand through his hair. 494 found it interesting that he seemed to be relaxing. "Why are you kidnapping me?"

"Because that's my assignment."

"Is that military idiot for, 'don't know, don't care'?"

494 sat up fully and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Are you always this obnoxious?"

"Look, I'm the one being kidnapped."

494 paused. "Fair enough."

Sam paused again, thinking, then abruptly stood, walked over to his bed, and pulled out the sheath for his hunting knife, then sheathed it. He grabbed his bag and started tugging his clothes on. "Are you taking me to the same place you're holding Dean?"

"Yeah. What are you doing?" 494 asked, stymied by Sam's utterly irrational behavior.

"Getting dressed." He fastened his jeans and then slipped the knife into the back like it spent most of its time there. This was the first time 494 had actually watched him get dressed. He noticed a wide array of interesting scars mapping over the nineteen year old's body before he started layering on his shirts. "I'm not being kidnapped in boxers." He bent and tugged his socks and sneakers on. Then he started efficiently tossing his things back into his bag. "You might want to get dressed too, unless you like kidnapping people in your shorts. Please tell me those are yours, because it would be too weird if you stole his boxers too."

"Are you insane?" 494 couldn't think of any reason for Sam to be doing this.

"Possibly. But see, the way I figure it," he paused, facing 494 squarely, "is that I can't get to Dean unless I go with you, and the easier I do that, the faster I get to him. Unless you want to just tell me where he is?" When 494 didn't answer he went on. "I didn't think so."

"You're actually going to come along willingly?" 494 still had the gun trained on the kid, but he didn't seem all that concerned.

"Well, I have some conditions."

"And what are those?" 494 was lamenting the fact that his education had not included hostage negotiation. Though right now he wasn't quite sure which one of them was being held prisoner.

"I want his ring and pendant. They aren't meant for anyone but him, so I want those back now. And I drive. You can tell me where to go highway by highway for all I care, but I drive."

"No way am I giving up driving that thing." He could have sworn Sam suddenly looked almost pained.

"Dude, you don't get it, do you." Sam looked at him like he might be stupid.

"Ah, no, I guess I don't."

Sam turned away, gathering up the few things that had been left out, but he clearly did not want to have to say this to 494's face. "You driving the car. It's like . . . coming home and finding a complete stranger sleeping in your bed. It's . . . invasive. I mean, it's bad enough that you, whoever the hell you and your bosses are, have taken my brother and are taking me prisoner or some shit."

"It's a car. It's an awesome car, but it's just a car." 494 felt that he was defiantly missing something. He felt that a lot lately.

"No, it isn't. It's my home. I grew up in that car. It's the only permanent place I've ever had." He turned back around then and 494 got a look at his face, which was still stoic, but his eyes were different; 494 felt like he had just had the carpet taken out from under him. But he could stand firm. Or at least compromise. He took off the pendant and the ring and held them out to Sam. "You aren't driving, though. No way in hell." Sam snatched them from him and laced the ring onto the cord with the pendant, then put both in his pocket. 494 found it interesting that he didn't just put them on. "And you can't fricken be armed, either. You carry that thing all the time?"

"The way most people wear a watch." Sam waited impatiently for 494 to stand and dress. He was almost eager, it seemed. 494 was convinced that all the Winchesters were certifiable. It must be nice to have someone that devoted to you, he mused, and then shook the thought off. "What the hell are you still sitting there for?" Sam finally snapped.

"You to ditch the knife. And the car keys. You aren't driving." Sam glared at 494, but he wasn't about to budge. "Cough them up or I'll take them and tie you up in the backseat."

Sam's chin came up in what had to be one of the most stubborn and challenging expressions 494 had ever seen. He would have called it arrogance, but he had seen the kid move at this point, and knew how well he could handle his own body and a weapon. It wasn't arrogance, it was confidence, and against a human opponent, 494 was willing to bet that Sam would come out on top. He felt his own chin come up, matching the expression. Apparently it was in the genes, because he knew it was the same look. It was in the slight tilt of the head and the tightening of the jaw.

Then 494 was moving. Sam was fast but the X5 was faster. The fight was short, fast, and dirty. 494 would give him credit, though. He hit hard and mean. He went right for the vital spots and 494 would be sporting some deep bruises where he had either taken the shot or deflected. "You're good, kid. So was your brother. He did better, but I think that's only because he was willing to kill us."

"You can't tell me where he is if you're dead," Sam snarled, sounding, in 494's opinion, almost as feral as an X5. He was pressed face down on the floor with 494's knee and weight pressing into the small of his back, incidentally pressing the knife hilt into both Sam's back and 494's knee, his hands pinned by the wrists above his head.

"Nope, and that works out pretty well for me," the X5 said as he shifted enough to use his free hand to take the knife and then fish through Sam's pockets for his keys to the Impala. "Now that we've both gotten this out of our systems, if I let you up, can we play nice?"

"Yeah." Sam sounded more tired than anything else. 494 shifted his weight off the younger man and let go of his wrists, and they both quickly rolled to their feet. 494 scooped the gun back up on his way.

"I still don't understand why you're just going along with this. Aside from that little display of machismo," the X5 asked.

"If I fought you, really fought you, would it get me anything besides hurt?"

"Well, no. At the moment, it would most likely get you shot."

Sam snorted. "If you shot me with that gun, it would get me dead. I'm too damned skinny to live through one of those bullets."

"What do you have in here?"

Sam smiled; it was very similar to Dean's. "Winchester Black Talons. If I have to shoot something from my bed, I want it to stay down while I get up and figure out how to kill it."

"And you were going to shoot me with them?" 494 asked, a little incredulous and suddenly glad that Sam wasn't prone to snap decisions. He knew what those bullets could and would do, and it wasn't pretty.

"If you had been a shifter, you would have lived through it."

"That's so comforting."

"Would you put some fucking clothes on? I want to at least see that Dean's okay." There was a slight pause, and Sam gave 494 a worried look. "He is okay, isn't he?"

"We didn't hurt him. The last time I saw him, he was just in a really bad mood." He pulled his pants on with one hand, the other still holding the gun.

XXXXX

The Demon loved humans. He loved nearly everything about them. They had ingenuity, and were damned fun to watch. But he hated wearing them. Ill-fitting meat suits. He didn't understand how his children did it for so long. One even seemed to enjoy it. She did pick attractive forms, it was true, but nonetheless they seemed constricting to him.

That was the other thing about the human form. It didn't stand up to power very well. It just burned them out, and he needed to keep this body. So he had kept his power mostly to himself for eighteen years as he worked on his agenda from a more Machiavellian angle. He had found this charming Manticore project and it hadn't taken much effort to possess a Committee member and angle things for his own gain. He needed psychics and these people were hand-building people, soldiers, to order. He used the Committee to submit a request. He had them build psychics.

Of course this hadn't worked out so well, but you couldn't fault a demon for trying. It wasn't like he had abandoned his other prospect in the mean time. He had been working on that one for nearly a thousand years. Humans were dedicated like that.

He and his children had kept an eye out for natural psychics as well. He had found a fair number over the years. Some much more promising than others. Those children he worked his own magic on. It wasn't all that hard, really. Some fire, some blood, a sacrificial mother or two, and he was in business.

Speaking of business, he figured that John Winchester's youngest would be here soon. If there was one thing that the Demon loved more than humans, and power, it was irony. John had helped create the perfect little soldier that was stealing his youngest from him. The Demon grinned, thinking that the warm fuzzy feeling must be satisfaction.

XXXXX

494 didn't know how Sam managed to be so irritating by doing nothing. The kid was just sitting there. He hadn't spoken a word. He had barely moved. He just sat slouched down there in the passenger seat, arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight, and stared out the passenger side window. 494 had always thought the phrase 'dark cloud' was metaphorical, but he was starting to rethink that. He could feel the one Sam was generating pressing down on him. It shouldn't be possible, but he swore he was about to be crushed. Sam wouldn't reply to anything he asked, even if it was 'Are you hungry?' or 'do we need to stop to use the bathroom?'. If he had waited for Sam's input, they both would have exploded. Maybe that was what Sam was hoping for.

"If I let you drive, will you stop trying to crush me under your angst?" He couldn't take it anymore. Sam must have been a terrible child to raise if he had always thrown fits like this. Then again, maybe that was normal. 494 had to admit to himself that he had no idea how normal children were raised. There were very few X5s aggressive enough to have any sort of temperamental fits when they were children. 494 had only done it once. The two days in solitary without food had left him feeling weak and even more cranky, but he knew better than to voice objections after that. He liked food.

"What?" It had taken a minute for 494's words to filter into Sam's worried brain. He couldn't figure a way out of this mess. He was pretty sure he could get away from the other man, but that wouldn't help him find Dean, and that was his primary goal. Hell, it was his only goal. Before, he had been worried about his father as well, but as soon as he had seen the journal, it had transmuted to anger. He was still worried about the man, but he was fucking pissed too. His dad had left. On purpose. Without Dean. He had left without Dean. How the fuck could the man do that to his oldest son? Being an ass to Sam was one thing. But Sam didn't live for his family the way Dean did. Well, Dean lived for his family and vanquishing of evil. And maybe sex.

"I said, if I let you drive, will you stop trying to crush me under your angst?" 494's tone was exasperated. This entire trip was trying his patience and too fucking weird by far.

"Give me the driver's seat and we'll find out."

X5-494 sighed and pulled the car over, pulling Dean's gun and pointing it at Sam. "We trade places, and if you try anything, I will shoot you. These bullets won't leave holes so big that it'll kill you. And I'm a trained field medic, so don't think I won't shoot."

He watched Sam, who was giving him an assessing look. "Fine." He opened the door and unfolded himself from the car. 494 matched him and they both moved forward to cross paths at the nose of the car. They got back in and Sam ran his hand over the wheel, then across the dashboard in greeting. Then he eased the car back onto the road. This time, 494 was almost positive the car purred in satisfaction.

After a few minutes, Sam reached into the back seat, and 494 brought the gun up. "Relax, I'm just getting the tape box." He brought it up into the front with him. He rifled through it while keeping an eye on the road, then put a tape in.

494 made a face at the Styx album falling from the speakers and reached toward the tape deck to end his misery. Sam sent him such a glare, he actually paused in his motion. "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole." He turned fully to the nearly empty road. "That was your first mistake. Driver picks the music." After that, Sam lapsed back into his determined silence.

It was going to be a long fricken drive.

XXXXX

Madame Renfro's nails tapped in irritation against the glass of her desk. Things had not been conforming to her careful plans of late. X5-494 was difficult enough to handle as it was, and now he had been deployed on a mission that Colonel Lydecker did not believe he was properly able to manage.

She and good old Deck may have mixed about as well oil and water, but she was willing to admit that he knew his business when it came to the X5s. Some of them were much more volatile than others. 494 had been a problem since he was old enough to know what the word 'disciplinary' meant, and X5s learned remarkably quickly, and young.

Across her desk she had 494's file spread out. It was without a doubt the thickest for any one X5. Something would have to be done, and soon. But she would have to arrange it very carefully. He was a unit commander and one of Lydecker's favorites. These were not obstacles to be taken lightly.

She flipped through his numerous notes from neuropsychology almost idly, fingers tapping again. Her eyes traveled over her cluttered desk. She had asked for all information pertaining to X5-494, and that was exactly what the archivist had delivered. Not only 494's personal file, but all the information on every assignment and mission he had ever participated in. Her eyes paused on the folder containing all information on one Dean Winchester, who was still in custody. She smiled as an idea started to unfold in her mind.

XXXXX

494 tapped along with the music, unintentionally doing a pretty good impression of Dean. He was not made to sit like this, unmoving for hours. And the silence, aside from the music, was starting to get to him. He figured he might as well start a conversation, because otherwise the trip from California to Wyoming was going to kill him. "So what the hell's with all the rock salt?"

Sam gave a small, mostly unhappy laugh, and waited for 494 to get on with his commentary. When he didn't, Sam looked at him for a very brief second before returning his gaze to the road. "You're serious, aren't you."

"Yeah, I'm serious. I'm surprised you guys haven't dried up from all the salt around you."

"You didn't do any research into the supernatural before impersonating my brother?"

"Until that ghost or whatever that thing was, I thought your brother was crazy."

Sam sighed. "Woman in White. Salt is a purifier. Unclean spirits and demons can't pass over it. You use it to seal them out of your room by lining the doors and windows. If you're nervous, circle the bed."

"Demons? Are you telling me that demons are real?"

"Yeah. Most things you can think of are."

"But salt keeps you safe from them." 494 sounded as skeptical as he felt. He was hoping that the salt did protect them, though. It would make him feel less vulnerable.

"Salt keeps you safe from spirits and demons. Not from everything." For the first time since they'd started driving, Sam didn't sound sullen to 494. He sounded like he was doing a guest lecture series.

"You thought I was a shapeshifter, you said." 494 figured he would give the kid a chance to do something besides generate his own weather system. "What made you decide I wasn't? And how do you stop them from getting in?" Totally a plus, if he learned a few more survival skills.

"You didn't know us. A shifter takes the memories of the form it copies."

"Must be handy."

"That's one thing to call it."

"So what's the big deal? A little identity theft." He thought about how he had so easily slipped into the role of Simon Lehane, piano teacher, but nothing showed on his face besides mild interest.

"They're evil. At least any that we know about. They eventually kill the original. They often move in and steal everything about a person. Including their family. They're often untraceable serial killers. They pick a certain sort of victim and literally shed their skin between kills. It's pretty gross. Skin, hair, and teeth."

"Yeah. I get the idea." What really came to mind was the feel of Simon's neck snapping under his fingers, and the crime scene photos from 493's – Ben, his mind supplied automatically – murders. The missing teeth. He had the idea all right, and he wasn't liking it. "And they can't be killed by bullets?" That just didn't make any sense to him. He couldn't think of anything that he couldn't kill if he shot it enough.

"They can if it's a silver bullet." Sam shrugged. Like this was entirely logical.

"Silver." Call 494 a little skeptical. He'd back it up. "Why silver? It would make crappy bullets. Silver is too soft," he said, as if that was the only problem with this.

"Silver works on all shifters."

"There's more than one kind of shifter? I can't believe I'm having this conversation. Are they allergic to it?"

"Werewolves are shifters. They're the most common kind. And the silver isn't a chemical thing. It's what it means. It's a . . . a spiritual thing." Sam was keeping his eyes on the road, but his little black cloud was lightening a bit. 494 was grateful for it.

"Uh huh."

"Dude, silver represents the moon. Which shifts in phases." Sam snuck a look at 494, who just blinked at him, so he continued his dissertation. "Nothing can permanently hurt a shapeshifter because their bodies are constantly changing and reforming. Or that's the theory. The moon rules all shifters. Silver represents the moon. So, spiritually speaking, it shifts too. A shifter can't escape it."

494 amended his earlier assessment. It was going to be a long, weird ride.

XXXXX

Colonel Lydecker watched Bravo Unit work flawlessly through their morning drills. It was the smallest of the three regular Units, having lost so many to reindoctrination after the twelve from Alpha Unit escaped ten years ago. Most of the X5Rs had been reassigned outside of their previous units, no longer fit to mixing with the undamaged X5s.

This particular unit was under his direct command. He personally chose and commanded their missions and assignments. The Alpha and Charlie units had been delegated out to others, and many of the X5Rs were still under Parker's command. This was the unit that X5-494 belonged to and Lydecker couldn't help but think that things would not be going smoothly with his return.

This was a mission that he was both uniquely designed for, but the blade cut both ways, and after watching the Winchester they had in custody, Lydecker got the feeling that blood as well as genetics would tell.

XXXXX

494 slowed the Impala as he pulled up to the manned perimeter gate guarding Manticore's Gillette base and handed the guard, an Ordinary, his ID. He knew there was a list of all field trained operatives out on missions kept at each guard station, and after a moment the guard returned his ID with a respectful nod and opened the gate. Neither she, nor her fellow on the other side of his car made any comment on the young man slumped, clearly unconscious, in the passenger seat.

494 felt a little guilty over what he had done to Sam, which was essentially the same as he had done to Dean. He had palmed a tranquilizer dart days earlier and simply kept it on him because he didn't want to actually damage Sam if a fight should be necessary. He had waited until they were only an hour or so away from base and simply jammed it into Sam's shoulder when they were at a flat location in the road. Like with Dean, it had taken less than a minute to take effect. And just like Dean, Sam had sent a deadly glare at 494. But this time he could have sworn he actually felt his heart stutter for a brief second. He dismissed it, because there was no way that Sam's death glare, no matter how fierce, was actually effective.

He refused to think about the fact that Sam was a known psychic of unknown power. Just like he refused to think about the fact that he could see the techs from Psy-Ops standing behind Colonel Lydecker, already waiting to cart Sam Winchester away.

XXXXX