Seeing Double

Chapter Four

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They were starting to attract attention.

"Look man, you're still really sick. Let's get off the main drag here and park up. When you feel up to it, maybe you can direct us to your place, or a friend's, get you some help, okay?" Sam's voice was quiet, instinctively pitched to be reassuring.

Alec didn't reply, but he folded his legs back into the Impala without protest.

Sam shut the door and after a moment's hesitation walked around and climbed in next to him. The younger man was making a visible effort to get himself together but seemed temporarily robbed of speech. Sam was willing to hazard a guess that 'speechless' and 'Alec' didn't usually go together in the same sentence.

No-one spoke until Dean pulled the Impala into the back end of a store parking lot. He turned in his seat, looking back at Alec.

"So you gonna tell us what's going on? I know you're sick, but back there, that was something else. What did you see?"

Alec swallowed convulsively. "You wouldn't believe me."

Sam peered at him from under his too-long bangs. "You might be surprised. We see some pretty strange things in our line of work."

Alec gritted his teeth. Manticore was gone, but somehow Psy-Ops must've gotten to him anyway. This couldn't be real. Whole cities didn't regenerate overnight. This entire situation must be an elaborate set-up. His mind was spinning. Nothing in his intense training programme had prepared him for the disappearance of his entire world.

Sam was persistant. "Come on Alec… you can tell us. Whatever it is, we might be able to help."

Alec squared his jaw. "I'm hallucinating. Someone's messed with my head. I gotta get back to my friends."

"Hallucinating. You been smokin' something buddy? Popping some pills there?"

"Dean!" Sam could feel his face twisting into the expression Dean loved to call his bitch face. He smoothed it out with an effort. "We'll drive you wherever you need to go, okay. Right Dean?"

Dean sighed. The last thing he needed now was someone else having some sort of visions. Maybe it wasn't a coincidence? He stared at Alec, wondering what to do. They had enough problems already.

Alec met his gaze; the defensive mask was entirely gone, ripped away by something that had clearly shaken him to the core. His expression of naked confusion and fear was one Dean had seen before, in his own mirrored reflection in the privacy of a locked bathroom.

"Yeah," he said eventually. "No problem dude. Where are we headed?"

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Alec directed them hesitantly through a maze of streets, occasionally winding down the window and peering up at the tops of the buildings as though something above street level could guide him.

"Pull over here," he said suddenly.

Dean swung into the nearest gap, nearly taking off the front end of a green Honda. "Friggin' cities," he returned the driver's gesture with vigor.

Alec was staring at a smart apartment block, his expression one of despair.

"You live here?" Sam was impressed.

The response was bleak. "Doesn't look like it."

"Well do you or not!" Frustration edged into Dean's voice.

"Funny, I've been asking myself the same question." The mask was slipping smoothly back into place. "Look, it's been great, but I'm gonna get going now. I'm sure you've got some place to be and… Where the hell are you going!"

The Impala was nosing back into the traffic. "Look kid, you seem a little confused. I'm not dumping you in the middle of this hell hole." Dean glowered at the fancy buildings and smartly dressed people. "Direct me someplace else."

Part of Alec wanted to leap out into the traffic, but the way his luck was turning he figured he'd probably end up underneath a truck. Reluctantly he navigated their way to Jam Pony.

"Well, that just sucks." The building that had housed Jam Pony was there, in the right place… but there was no Jam Pony. No angrily gesticulating Normal, no bikes sweeping in and out of the entrance, not a messenger or a parcel in sight.

Alec slammed his fist down on top of the bench seat in front of him. "Shit!"

"What's going on Alec?" Sam still somehow managed to sound calm. Alec stared at him in disbelief.

"I'm goin' crazy. Okay? Outta my skull crazy. 'Cause yesterday morning I came out of that apartment block back there, only it wasn't THAT apartment block… I came here to work, at Jam Pony, which isn't fucking here now!"

On a roll now, figuring he had nothing left to lose, Alec gestured wildly at the surrounding city.

"This is Seattle, right? But it's not MY Seattle. Yesterday everything was all shot to hell, falling apart. You couldn't even have driven the route we just came without a sector pass! Where's all the graffiti, where's the sector police? How did everything get so goddamned clean all of a sudden…"

He could feel himself beginning to hyperventilate. "… who fixed the Space Needle! Who does that!"

"Whoa, Alec! Slow down. Calm down."

"CALM DOWN! My whole fucking world just disappeared man! This has gotta be that bastard White, or Manticore! They've brainwashed me! You're working for them!"

Images of his torture in Psy-Ops crashed into his mind. He had to get away. Alec launched himself at the door, kicking out in terror at the large figure looming next to him. His fingers were already pulling at the handle when Dean leaned over the front seat and slapped him hard across the face.

Alec stopped; his jaw dropping in shock as Dean moved his hand to the front of his jacket and shook him slightly.

The movement saved Dean's life. Alec was already blurring; his hand moving in an automatic lethal strike when his nostrils filled with Dean's scent. Somehow he managed to pull the blow, smashing the side of his hand onto the bench seat instead. The frame of the seat cracked loudly.

Two shocked pairs of green eyes stared at each other. Sam made a little noise of distress.

Dean spoke without releasing his grip. "You're no postman. What the hell are you?"

Alec realised that he was staring into the steady muzzle of a nickel plated colt, levelled at him over the top of the bench seat. He hadn't even seen Dean move. No Ordinary should be able to move that fast. He froze, the throb of the pulse in Dean's wrist audible to his sensitive hearing. There was no hesitation in the eyes boring into his.

Dean spoke without breaking eye contact.

"Sammy? Get out. Get in the front."

Sam obeyed without question. He settled in the passenger seat, the muzzle of a Taurus joining that of the Colt. The steadiness of his hand and the wounded expression on his face did not sit well together.

Dean's voice was pure gravel. "One wrong move, I put a bullet in you. Got it? You're about four seconds away from being put out on the sidewalk. Give me one good reason why you're not there already."

Alec could sense the white coats of Psy-Ops closing in on him, just out of sight. He was so confused. He'd made a mistake, turned on his own unit. He was going to be punished.

"No reason," he whispered, all the fight draining out of him. He needed to retreat.

"I'll go." He turned big eyes to Sam, careful not to move his body in any way.

"My bad… sorry. Thought you were someone else… "

Alec raised his hand very slowly, fumbled at the door handle and let himself out onto the sidewalk. Just before he broke eye contact with Dean he saw a shadow of something cross over his face; it was almost like regret.

He stumbled away from the car, swallowed almost immediately by the midday crowds.

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"Was that a flashback?" Sam still didn't sound angry.

The weapon in Dean's hand had vanished. He leant over the seat and pulled the rear door closed.

"Not our problem. Daylight is burning; we've only got a few hours 'til dark. This could be our last chance to catch this freakin' witch."

Dean swallowed his regret. Alec was dangerous. It was his job to keep dangerous things away from Sam.

He put the Impala in 'Drive' and pulled away. They needed to get parked up by the cemetery, have a look around in the light, get themselves in a good position for later on.

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Alec stumbled slowly along, his boots dragging and catching on the snags in the sidewalk. He seemed to be walking against the flow of people rushing about their everyday business. It wasn't a problem; they parted around him like river water around an obstruction. Most ignored him, just a few taking the time to send sly glances in his direction. He guessed that his white, sweating face and unsteady gait made him look drugged or drunk or both.

He knew he was close to passing out again. He needed to find somewhere quiet, out of sight. He slipped sideways into a maze of alleyways, heading towards the big cemetery.

After a while he saw a dark shadow between two dumpsters and crawled into the gap, curling up on his side against the wall. A piece of grit was digging into his cheek, but he didn't have the energy to move any more. He blinked lazily, slowly, watching a candy wrapper tremble and twitch in the icy draft funnelling underneath the dumpster. When a stronger gust flicked the wrapper away he just gave up and let his eyes close.

Continued in Chapter 5.

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