A/N: Yay! Internet's working at the moment =)

I'm not sure exactly when in '09 the infamous twelve escaped, only that it was still winter, so I made it up =)

If you don't know what a grimoire is, check wikipedia ;) I'd give you the link, but...

Also, I thought I made this clear in the beginning (what with Dean mistaking Alec for Ben Braeden, and all) this story is set somewhere in S3, logically after 'The Kids are Alright.' Hence, the demon is out of the picture (at least if you were thinking about yellow-eyes), Dean's throw-away line last chapter was refering to his deal (he didn't exactly expect to be resurrected), and, as far as I know, Sam didn't use his powers in that season. He didn't even get a vision. Anything else? Oh, yeah, I did refer to Alec and Dean as clone and template a couple of times, so it's a safe bet that that's what they are (use your own imagination as to how they got a hold of Dean's DNA; there are enough possibilities to choose from) ;) Let's not try and make things more complicated, ok? Sorry, but those questions just irked me a bit. I apologize if I hurt any feelings explaining myself as I did.

For the following chapters: this is a straight-out AU for SN from this point on. I don't know anything more about S4 than Dean coming back, Sam using his powers, Sam sleeping with Ruby (I miss her old skin, btw) and... no, that's basically it. I don't mind being spoilered, though, if you feel the need to.

And now without further rambling...

*typo edited. See any more mistakes , let me know!

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Part Three: In the Beginning

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Scene One

~On the back roads of Wyoming, February 2009~

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Wyoming in February 2009 was a cold, desolate place to be.

Or at least it was if your name was Dean Winchester and you were driving the back roads, through snow, woods and wilderness, stuck in the car arguing with your little brother. The old Chevy's heating was acting up, now producing only a lukewarm breath of filtered air, other times so hot Dean had to pull off his jacket and pullover to be comfortable which didn't help improve his mood.

After everything that they'd been through, everything they had survived during the past two years (he'd gotten out of hell, he still couldn't believe it, he wasn't damned to spent eternity down there; not yet anyway) there were even more unresolved issues between Sam and Dean than ever before.

Still, what Sam had told him back during those first few months on the road together, leaving behind Stanford and still mourning for the girl he had wanted to marry, held true even now: the only way this whole thing was going to end was together. They were brothers and they stuck with each other. They might argue, they might even try to walk away every now and again, but in the end it would always be Sam-and-Dean, Dean-and-Sam. Not even hell, not even interfering angels could change that. Dean wouldn't let them.

In all this time Dean hadn't forgotten the kid they'd met the summer of 2007. In fact, he remembered it as clear as if it had happened yesterday.

Alec. Alec McDowell. His clone with cat-genes. It was so out there and if Dean hadn't seen what the kid could do first hand, Alec could have been his little brother. Could have been his son (Jesus Christ!) since an unfortunate incident had landed Alec thirteen years back in the past with the Winchesters stumbling across him by yet another peculiar twist of fate. Someone up there sure had a strange sense of humor.

Alec was also currently the topic of another argument between Dean and his brother.

"You know, we made a promise, Dean!" Sam gritted his teeth in a futile effort to reign in his temper.

"What do you want me to do, Sam?" Punching the wheel since he was no less angry, Dean shot his brother a furious look. "He didn't tell us when it happens. He didn't even tell us where it happens!"

"There're ways we can find out where –"

"No!" Dean's denial was quick and forceful. "We made a promise to not go poking around either!"

Sam leveled another glare at him, then settled back against the passenger's door. The muscles in his cheek were clenching, his brows drawn down, and he was glaring into the distance as if he wanted to set the woods on fire. These days, Dean wasn't so sure that he couldn't do it, too, if he really set his mind to it.

It was times like these that Sam reminded Dean so much of their father it was downright scary. No wonder they never saw eye to eye once Sammy hit puberty. They were too much alike in character if not beliefs.

"Besides," Dean added, looking away from the road for a moment to look at his brother, "you said it yourself: the way we live, we can't take care of a kid." Not with demons still after Sam and freaking angels interfering left and right.

He truly hated playing devil's advocate. Deep down he wanted to find this child as well, Alec's twin who would run away from where ever those kids were held some time this year. Unfortunately, that didn't make his arguments any less valid.

Dean fully expected Sam to launch into another tirade but his younger brother (twenty-five already, where had the years gone?) suddenly straightened in his seat, eyes wide and yelled, "Dean!"

Dean slammed on the brakes even as his head whipped around onto the road again. His own eyes widened when he noticed what had Sam shouting, and he swerved the car, hoping, praying his baby wouldn't have to endure another crash.

The Impala skidded, fish-tailed and came to a shrieking halt partway on the opposite lane. Both brothers just sat and stared for a moment, adrenalin rushing through their blood. Sam's flat hands still pushed against the dashboard and Dean had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

"Holy shit!"

As one they turned around in their seats to look out of the rear windshield. There on the side of the road stood a child, shorn hair, dressed in nothing but a thin blue hospital nightdress, skin almost as white as the snow on the ground and on the crowns of the trees. Frozen just one step into the road, the kid stared at them like the proverbial deer in the headlights, white clouds of breath puffing into the air.

"Holy shit!" he cursed again and was out of the car, Sam not far behind him.

Crouching down in front of the child, Dean grabbed him by small shoulders, adrenalin still running high, and exclaimed, "Jesus Christ, kid! What the hell were you thinking? Are you hurt?"

Never mind the inappropriate gown, never mind the lack of shoes. He didn't wait for the boy to find his voice, just padded him down carefully, patently ignoring the sudden tensing of muscles, but other than the chilly skin and a few scrapes he didn't find any injuries.

"Dean."

Sam's voice sounded strange, strangled, and Dean turned around to figure out what was wrong. Sam, however, stared at the child who stared back, big eyes wide in alarm and Dean had seen enough fight-or-flight expressions in his life to recognize this one.

Eyes.

The kid's eyes were a cat-green that Dean had only ever seen once before on a person, reflecting the light of the Impala's headlights when Dean moved to face him again. Cat eyes. And in that moment it truly registered what he was seeing.

A young boy dressed in nothing but a hospital night shirt, his hair kept in a marine style boot cut, seemingly unaffected by the cold. A young boy whose face was captured in the few childhood photographs John Winchester had taken of his sons.

"Ben?"

Unconsciously holding his breath Dean watched as those wide eyes focused on him, suspicion warring with surprise and wonder. Finally, curiosity won out and the boy asked, "How do you know my name?"

Casting a glance back at Sam, Dean saw the slow smile blooming on his brother's face and knew he'd undoubtedly and irrevocably lost their argument from before. Now that they'd almost literally run into the very child they'd been discussing there was no way in hell Dean would turn his back on Alec's twin, and Sam knew it too. It had been hard enough saying goodbye to Alec, as annoying as the transgenic (their baby brother) had been more often than not.

Turning his attention to Ben once more, he replied warmly, "You've got someone watching out for you, kiddo!"

If he meant Alec who had been so adamant that the Winchesters look for his twin or some higher power that had the boy stumbling right into their path, Dean didn't know. Didn't matter either, he decided as he started shepherding Ben to the Impala.

Although someone up there really did have a strange sense of humor.

"Come on, kid. We need to get you warm again, you feel like a Popsicle. Need to get away from Manticore's hounds too," he added, figuring there'd still be a manhunt going on. Just one of their test-tube kids was worth millions of dollars in R & D, and Alec had told them that there'd been a whole group who got away.

Dean was a bit surprised that Ben followed so willingly without even trying to put up a fight. He couldn't imagine Alec ever being this... not trusting, exactly, but compliant. Then again, this boy looked exhausted and frightened even though he valiantly tried to hide it and he'd only just escaped the cage he grew up in whereas Alec, by the time he fell through that archway, had been an adult and outside for near on a year.

With Ben walking in front of him, Dean had a clear view of a familiar bar code on the child's neck. Alec never explicitly told them what was up with that tattoo but the implications (which hadn't been hard to guess even back then) had Dean gritting his teeth in impotent anger.

By the car, Sam was already rummaging through the trunk looking for a blanket and, Dean guessed when he noticed the open bags, some clothes to put on the child until they could buy – or steal – actual children's wear. Until then, over-sized t-shirts and boxers would have to do.

Later that evening, in yet another run-down motel room Dean realized something while watching Ben feign sleep: the kid was waiting for a chance to get away.

The military training shone through right there. Even if Dean and his little brother had never actually been in the military themselves, their father sure had and he'd seen to it that his son's received the same training as John himself had with the Marines. One of the first lessons John Winchester had taught his sons was to keep moving in enemy territory. In their childhood days, that had mostly translated to staying one step ahead of child services, teachers and any other overly nosy individuals. Ben's first lesson wouldn't have been much different; although it would have been taken more literal.

The sudden need to hit or smash something rose up in Dean's blood, but he quelled the urge. As good as it would feel, it wouldn't help in the long run. If Sam and he wanted to keep that boy, they would have to give him a reason to stay.

Listening to the shower running and Sam bumping his freakish long limbs against the confines of the too small stall, an idea formed in Dean's mind.

His father's journal, one of the most complete modern day grimoires* Dean had ever come across – if one of the most cluttered ones as well – also held the few childhood pictures of Sam and himself that John had taken. There was one in particular that showed Dean at about eight years, pushing four year old Sammy on a swing. The picture showed one of the scarce carefree moments he was able to remember. It would also show Ben that the kid had actual family in the world outside Manticore.

"Hey, kiddo!" Dean called, grabbed the journal and took out the picture. On the little bunk in the corner of the room, Ben didn't move. "Come on, I know you're not sleeping. I wanna show you something."

There was something to be said for cat DNA. Curiosity was definitely one of the traits that had carried over in the X5 hybrids, Dean thought in amusement as he watched Ben's eyes snap open and settle on him unerringly, reluctant interest shining brightly in his eyes.

"Look at this picture!" he said, crossing the room and perching himself on Sam's bed across from the boy. He held up the photograph to Ben's questioning gaze. Those cat eyes widened in surprise when the boy realized what he was seeing. Turning his stare on Dean, Ben stated, confused, suspicious and amazed, "That's me!"

"No," Dean corrected gently. "That's me and Sam, about twenty years ago." Flipping the picture around, Dean studied it for a few seconds, before sighing. "If you wanna split, we won't stop you."

They might have to come back for Ben later, but Dean didn't want to think about that for the moment.

Noticing the child's confusion, it took Dean a moment to realize at what point he had lost Ben. "Run away," he then clarified. "If you want to run away, Sam and I won't be able to stop you. But you've got family out here, Ben, and we'd like you to stay."

Huffing a small laugh, he added, "You know, we're kind of on the run too. So what do you say? We'll be on the run together for a while and if it doesn't work out for you, you can still take off."

For a moment, Dean was afraid he had swamped the boy with speech patterns that had to be frighteningly unfamiliar, but if he had learned anything about X5s from Alec it was that they were astonishingly quick on the uptake. Ben was no exception. Although he didn't say anything, the hunter was sure he understood.

"Just think about it, okay?"

His hand twitched with the desire to ruffle the child's almost non-existent hair, a move that had been prone to provoke Sammy's temper whenever Dean had done it to his little brother back in their teens. At the last moment, however, he thought better of it.

When the sun rose and Ben was still there, watching the brothers with wary but curious eyes from where he sat cross-legged on his bunk, Dean breathed a silent sigh of relief.

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to be continued...