It's in the Genes
Author: Cheryl W.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Dark Angel or Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.
Summary: Crossover with DA and Supernatural -AU– It's the Winchesters who break Alec from jail in Hello/Goodbye and then they start road tripping together. No slash.
Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay but I just kept rewriting this chapter…not sure if it's right yet …. And personally, I have no idea when this nice brotherly sap fic turned the corner into action but it has. But I can't leave poor Dean in the clutches of White, right? Let the action continue?
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Chapter 8
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Slowly bending down, Alec reverently picked up the silver .45 Magnum. Dropping to his knees, he rested Dean's gun on his lap and ran his shaking hand over the pearl handle, the engraved barrel. His worst nightmare was happening.
His ears still ringing some from the grenade blast, Sam, heart thundering in his chest, struggled to his feet, Alec's panicked voice muffled, the world around him surreal. Across the room's carnage there was no sight of Dean, only Alec running to where Sam had last pinpointed his brother's position. But as Alec skittered to a halt, when Sam noted the minute tremor that shook the younger man's back, he felt cold dread slice through him.
'No. It doesn't happen like this. It doesn't happen like this!' Sam denied as he stumbled forward, equally desperate and loath to see what Alec saw. When Alec slipped from his view, bent down to touch something or someone on the floor, Sam burst into a run, leapt over wrecked furniture strewed around the room, brutally shoved anything out of his path to Alec…to his brother. "Dean!?" burst from him, needing to hear Dean's grumbled 'I'm alright', to even hear his brother's groan of pain, to have some prove that Dean was there. "Alec, did you find him? Is he OK?" he frantically asked a moment before he came upon Alec, kneeling on the ground, head bowed forward.
Chest heaving, heart pounding, Sam's call of Alec's name was a whoosh of air. "Alec?"
At Sam's call, Alex opened his eyes, raised his head. Gripping so tightly onto Dean's gun that it was leaving an impression in his hand, he stood up, turned and faced Sam, could feel the panic, the fear rolling off of Sam. Knew that it was his fault, everything. "White has him," he quietly announced, fear and culpability shining in his eyes as he watched Sam's features tighten at the news. "Sam, I'm sorry," he choked out, "White's men thought he was me."
Digesting the news, Sam swallowed, tried to keep himself locked down, to not jump to conclusions. "What will White do with him?"
Unable to even let himself think about an answer, Alec stated instead, "White will know Dean's not me."
Terror coiling in his chest, Sam lowly asked, "Is that the good news or the bad?" his eyes searing into Alec's, demanding the truth.
With a grim set to his features, Alec tucked Dean's gun into his waistband and turned away from Sam, headed up the stairs to the second level of the command center. Without sparing a glance to Sam, he sharply returned, "We need to find Dean," his actions, his words an answer to Sam's question in and of itself.
"Ah..great plan. But if you didn't know how to find White before the attack, how are you going to find him now?" Sam bitterly accused, voice rising. Starting to cross the room toward the second level stairs, he watched Alec shove plaster off a computer.
"I couldn't find White but I can find Dean," Alec resolutely replied, focusing on the computer, his back now to Sam.
"How?!" Sam demanded, fear making his voice sharp, his nerves taut as he looked up to the second level, to Alec.
"I put a tracking device in Dean's boot…put one in yours too," Alec admitted nonchalantly, concentrating on the computer that wouldn't start up.
Stilling, Sam looked up at Alec as the transgenic bent over the computer. "Wait…you bugged us?"
Alec tore his attention from the computer to meet Sam's incredulous expression, gave a smug smile. "I never had any pets when I was kid, so this whole 'keeping things on leashes' ..it just sounded like fun."
Sam gave a short, bitter laugh. "Dean will be pissed when he finds out."
"Yeah, I know," Alec returned, smile still in place as he turned his attention back to the computer..the computer that wasn't coming online. "Start up already," he grumbled but then he saw it…the hole in the side of the hard drive. "No!" he growled, slicing his hand across the table of electronics, sending the computer to the ground.
Unprepared for Alec's actions, Sam flinched, found that watching the usually calm Alec explode in anger, frustration, fear only hitched those same emotions higher in himself. And he didn't know how it could be possible, but he understood that things had gotten worse, that whatever hope Alec had clung to was evaporating faster than the smoke in the room. "Alec?" he asked gently because, crap, Sam knew about disappointment, about fear, about foiled plans, about the screwed up luck of being a Winchester.
Standing on the second level, his back to Sam, Alec stood there, frozen, breathing hard, the gentle call of his name from Sam like a knife through his heart. He didn't deserve Sam's compassion, not when Dean was missing, was gone and he couldn't find him. Not when he was at fault, when he had failed again to protect the people he dared to love, the people who, against all better judgment, cared for him. "I should have never gotten you two involved in this!" he growled in anguish, swinging around, ready to face the condemnation in Sam's eyes that he knew he deserved. But understanding and mirrored anguish reflected up from Sam's gaze.
"Alec, Dean and I both made the decision to come back here with you. Dean even helped you plan this invitation for White," Sam quietly countered, knew that he couldn't dwell on his own regrets, could only deal with the here and now.
Eyes meeting Sam's, Alec snapped, his voice hard, bitter, "You going to feel this forgiving if Dean's dead?" And the accusation, the hatred wasn't for Sam, wasn't in condemnation for Sam's reaction, was for himself, was all for him. Because if Dean died, if White killed him….Alec knew it would break him worse than Rachel's death had. Knew just as certainty that Sam's sorrow, Sam's anger at losing Dean, it would be greater than Rachel's father even had the capacity to feel.
Stunned by Alec's question, Sam found he couldn't answer, didn't want to think about Dean being dead, about the blame that he would undoubtedly level at Alec…and himself if the worst happened. Without his notice, Alec had reached his side, was there watching him, was probably gauging the emotions flickering across his too open features. Lifting his eyes to Alec, he breathed out, "We can't let that happen, Alec. We have to save him."
Meeting Sam's eyes, hearing the desperation, the plea, the need, the faith in Sam's words, a weight settled on Alec, heavier than he had ever bore before. Sam was counting on him, Dean was counting on him. This wasn't just about completing a mission, about surviving, this was about loving someone more than he loved himself. This was about family, about what you were willing to do, to risk, to sacrifice for family.
Pulling a smile onto his lips, Alec drawled, "Alright, then," like it was that simple, that nothing would stop them now that the decision was made. "Boy are we going to have to taunt Dean about this, him needing us to save his butt," he said with a smile, like he relished the upcoming banter wit the older Winchester. "Now I know someone who can help us with the tracker," he said, was turning away to head from the room when Sam's hand latched onto his arm. Meeting Sam's eyes, Alec saw something shift in Sam's eyes, saw hope resurface, saw that more light was shining in Sam's eyes.
"Alec…thank you," Sam reverently said, feeling like, after months of despair, of fear, there was hope on the horizon. That while he had come to doubt that he could save Dean from the deal, he felt a flash of belief that they could, he and Alec, he and Alec and Dean. That Dean was right again: they were stronger as a family. But first things first: they needed to get Dean back from White.
And if White had hurt his brother…Sam's felt cold rage prick along his skin. Remembered the wash of emotions he had when he killed Jake, knowing in his heart what Jake's actions had led to, reading it in Dean's eyes before they dropped from his gaze. That Jake hadn't just killed him….he had killed Dean too.
Watching Sam, Alec fought down a shiver as Sam's expression hardened, became something lethal. Though he knew how to kill, Alec was just learning what it felt like to hate, to want revenge. But Sam, he knew those things intimately. Latching onto Sam's shoulder, Alec drew the older man's gaze to him. "Hey, if anyone can hold his own against a genetically enhanced bureaucrat, it's Dean. He'll buy us the time we need to get to him, Sam."
Sam gave a weak smile at Alec's encouragement. "He's also really good at pissing people off."
Alec gave a smirk, "I knew that trait of mine had to be hardwired in my DNA. Come on, we have a big brother to rescue," he bade, earning him a smile from Sam before they left the decimated room at a run.
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Having never been a fan of getting Tazzered, and that was before he had deep fried himself trying to take out that Rawhead nearly two years ago, Dean groaned as his pain receptors came back online and consciousness returned. Opening his eyes, he found his vision was all grey, tried to blink color back online. It took him several blinks to realize it was the wall in front of him that was grey. Pushing his hands under him, he sat up, winced as his muscles screamed in protest.
"Friggin' Tazzers. They should be outlawed," he grumbled as he got to his feet, steadied himself off..a grey wall. "Love what you've done with the décor!" he shouted inside his cement wall cell, the only light bulb overhead and the only break in the monotony a steel door…with no inside knob. He straightened to his full height as the door swung open and he faced the muzzle of two M16 rifles wielded by two soldiers in black body armor. "Hey I know you two…I think I saw you in that Ninja movie with Chuck Norris."
A black man dressed in a suit and tie stepped behind the two soldiers. "Move out of the cell," he ordered.
"Gladly," Dean drawled as if it were a relief. He had additional prodding to follow behind the suited man across the warehouse's expansion when two additional soldiers preceded him even as the two original soldiers trailing at his back, all four of their rifles trained on him.
Walking past a helicopter, he saw three suited men talking, one who had his back to him. Taking in his surroundings, Dean noted that this part of the warehouse was empty except for the helicopter and one lonely chair, which was bolted to the ground.
At Dean's approach, the man who had his back to him spoke even as he waved the other two men back. "494. You're harder to kill than I gave you credit for."
"Apparently he's harder to catch than you gave him credit for too," Dean drawled, defensive of Alec, felt a surge of relief that he was there instead of Alec. He saw the sudden hitch in the line of the man's back, the tension..the surprise. But there was no emotion on the man's face when he turned around, except in his eyes.
"You're not 494."
"But I know who you are. Mr. White. That sounds so cold war covert. Couldn't you come up with a better name or weren't you allowed to pick it for yourself?" Dean taunted with a smirk.
Stepping up to Dean, White growled in his face, "Who are you?"
"I'm the kind of results you got before everything went production line. When Manticore took pride in its work," Dean boasted with a wide smile.
"Check his barcode.." White barked but Dean laughed even as the black man roughly pushed his head forward.
"Sorry no bar code," Dean glibly announced, and when his head was brusquely released, he looked up at White. "See I'm a work of art. I'm a little older, a little wiser, can blend in with the Ordinaries and they will never know what I am. You know like the second Terminator. I mean Arnie did NOT blend in. Even on his own planet, am I right? Course maybe you weren't taught modern culture like I was, you know "to fit in". Dude, your snake cult should take some lessons from old Manticore about assimilating."
There was a flash of uncertainty in White's expression and it was enough. "Put him in the chair, test his blood," he ordered tersely.
Dean smirked as a rifle was shoved into his back. Almost lazily he crossed to the chair, sank down into it, watched without outward worry as his hands were handcuffed to the chair's back, the chair that was bolted to the ground. He didn't even wince when the black man sliced a knife across his arm, drawing blood which he gathered in a test tube. "Now don't go selling that on the black market, buddy boy," he sardonically threatened the suited man who held a vial of his blood.
Curtly ordering the four soldiers to return to their posts, White came to stand before Dean, a pensive look in his eyes. "You know I don't really care what you are or who you are."
"Ah, so you gave me this all expense paid trip for no reason. And I guess you just dropped in on Terminal City 'cause you had a desire to got your butt kicked to the curb," Dean taunted with a smile, watched as White's hand coiled into a fist and knew it was both a victory and a hazard sign. Because, though pissing off an opponent was always a goal with him, he honestly didn't know how long he would last under the assault of White's unleashed anger. He had a vague gauge of Alec's strength, but he had never had to defend himself against it. Alec had used his strength to save his life…not try and take it. White would not be such a humanitarian.
Suddenly Sam's words echoed through him, "I can't lose you…not in a few months and sure not now. Not yet, Dean. Not. Yet." It reminded him thatSam would be pissed if his mouth got him killed, if he didn't hang around and wait for Sam to come swinging in on a vine to rescue him. Was bombarded with Alec's words too. "Well you're not expendable either, Dean. Not to Sam and not to me."
Knowing that he owed it to Sam, and even to Alec to do whatever he could to survive, Dean forced himself to shrug, to sit back in the chair and cross his legs at the ankles. "But you're right. You got me. I'll just sit here while you decide my fate."
White's fist unclenched and a smile turned up one side of his mouth. "You're a cool one. I can see 494 was modeled after you."
"Perfection is always a breeding ground for imitation," Dean boasted with a smile. It was only when White turned around to confer with his two men that Dean's smile fell away, and he allowed a moment's tension to slip into his shoulders. 'One of your famous rescues would be great, Sammy or I'll be checking out sooner than either of us are prepared for. And bring Alec along…I really want to see him clean the floor up with White.'
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Logan was used to transgenics entering his penthouse unannounced, so it really shouldn't have surprised him when he looked up from his computer to see Alec and a brown haired, taller man standing in the living room of Joshua's house. "Alec," he greeted the MIA transgenic, surprising himself with the warmth in his tone.
"Logan, I need your help," Alec opened with, a need in his voice that had Logan looking at him intently. Holding out the tracking device which was a duplicate for Dean's, Alec watched as Logan's look shifted from the device and back to him. When the cyber journalist made no move to take the tracker, Alec sighed, "I know you and Max aren't…that maybe you think I had something to do with it. But I didn't. Max's feelings are..well Max makes up her own mind."
Logan looked down, shuffled some papers on his computer desk. "So she told you. Is that why you came back?"
"No. I saw the news reports on the transgenic lynch mobs…on the siege and I thought…" Alec, feeling Sam shift impatiently at his side, switched gears, remembered that he was a Manticore soldier, but more importantly, he was Dean's brother. Gruffly he cut off his own explanation, "Doesn't matter. Someone's life is at stake and I need you to trace a tracking device like this one." Laying the tracker down onto the table with a decisive snap, he bore his intense gaze into Logan.
"Alright," Logan said amicably, as he picked up the device, pulled out a magnifying glass and inspected the small chip. Having apparently gotten the information he needed, Logan put the tracker and the magnifying glass down and began typing in his computer. "I can set my computer to that general frequency and we just have to pray it's not too broad or we'll be picking up pace makers."
Leaning over Logan's shoulder to view the computer screen, Alec shot a look to the other man's profile. "Thanks Logan."
Logan continued to type in the information as he spoke. "Max and I, we've been through some rough times and I thought that meant we were supposed to be together. We had ourselves convinced that the only thing keeping us apart was the virus. That everything else that we disagreed on…that made us different would just magically go away." Logan broke off, gave Alec a quick, assessing look. "For what it's worth, I don't blame you, Alec."
But Alec's attention was caught by something on Logan's computer screen and he tapped the blinking cursor. "Is that the warehouse district off Mallard Drive?"
Turning his focus back to the computer, Logan leaned in close, "Yeah, looks like third…no, forth warehouse off Mallard. I could.." he began to offer but Alec was already stalking out of the living room with his tall friend. Simultaneously the two men called out "Thank you" before Logan heard the front door click shut.
"Your welcome," Logan said to the empty room. He nearly jumped when his phone rang. "Hello." He smiled at the voice on the line. "Asha," he greeted with intimate affection but his smile fell away as she spoke. "What? No, I haven't been watching the news…."
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Side by side, Alec and Sam exited Joshua's house, maneuvered down the stairs to the Impala sitting at the curb waiting for them. Already mapping out in his head the quickest way to White's warehouse, Alec was startled when Sam held out the car keys to him, the Impala's keys. His eyes flew up to Sam's in alarmed confusion.
"You know the way there, I don't," Sam explained, eyes imploring Alec to just take the keys, to get them to Dean as quickly as humanly…transgenically possible.
Reading the urgency in Sam's gaze, Alec snatched the keys from Sam's hand and slid behind the wheel of the Impala. Even as Sam dropped into the passenger seat, Alec was starting the engine, putting the car in gear. With the passenger door closed, the car bound forward, its tires screeching as Alec made the first of many turns as the Impala practically broke the sound barrier.
As much as driving the Impala had been a goal of his, Alec had never wanted to earn it this way, had never wanted to drive Dean's car without Dean there, without his blessing. 'Course things are really working out the way I planned them lately. Discover you have two older brothers, drag them into a government conspiracy, get your oldest brother kidnapped in your place. Oh yeah, all this, just like a dream come true, a warped -I've spent time in Psy-Ops- type of dream.' "How do you do this, Sam?" he asked with sharp, bitter wonder, shooting a look to Sam, who raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Care so much, risk so much. Face losing someone you love practically on a daily basis?"
Sam swallowed, looked down at his hands at Alec's questions, at his perceptiveness. "Honestly, I …I don't know. I just do it," he lowly answered though he knew it was so understated that it was practically a lie. How many times did he tell himself that the necessity of their job was the counter to his rabid fear? "It's how Dean and I were raised, to hunt, to protect others."
"To protect strangers above each other?!" Alec challenged, voice raised, hating that Dean's life was in jeopardy because of him, because Dean sought to protect him.
Sam's head snapped up, met Alec's quick glance, knew that Alec's statement was personal. "You're no stranger, Alec," he refuted, could see the self reproach in the younger man's green gaze. "And I know this isn't your fault." Sam gave a small, nervous smile, "Dean's a magnet for trouble.."
"Yeah, his bad luck mixed with mine, we should have seen this coming," Alec tried for lightness but Sam saw the clench in the younger man's jaw.
Silence fell in the car.
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When White came through the warehouse door, he minutely nodded his head, dispatched the three men from the room who had, in his absence, stood guard over Dean. Coming to a halt in front of his prisoner, White waited until he and Dean were alone in the warehouse before he spoke. "Test results are back," he lowly announced, waving a piece of paper in his hand as his eyes bore into Dean's.
"Is it a boy or a girl?" Dean smart mouthed, watched White smile with malice.
"I'm almost going to miss your wit….almost," White drawled as he reached into the shoulder holster hidden by his suit, pulled out his gun and leveled it steadily at Dean, made a dramatic show of cocking it.
"It is one of my better traits," Dean countered, wearing a beaming smile of his own. Then, without warning, he unleashed a kick that knocked the gun from White's hand. The gun skittered across the smooth warehouse floor, ended up under the helicopter which was yards away. Before White could react, Dean surged out of the chair and, using his handcuffs as brass knuckles, he delivered a roadhouse right into White's jaw that sent the man toppling to the ground.
Planning to make the most of his opponent's weak position, Dean stepped forward, intent on letting loose a rib-breaking kick but instead he was the recipient of a kick that caught him on the jaw, put him on the ground before he even had time to register the pain of the contact. Having extensive experience fighting opponents faster and stronger than he was, Dean knew that his best weapons were endurance, his will power to stay alive and being smart enough to stay out of the kill zone. So when White stalked forward, Dean rolled left, forced White's foot to crash into the ground instead of his chest. Scrambling quickly to his feet, Dean charged forward, tackled White, sent them both crashing to the floor.
Dean landed a right punch, then a left, then a right to White's face, felt hope and satisfaction as the man's head snapped almost loosely under his blows. 'The stronger race, my butt. He isn't so tough..' Dean told himself until White's hand wrapped around his throat and nearly crushed his windpipe.
Rolling his head to look fully at Dean, White gave a bloody smile. "Is that all you got?"
Dean struck White's face with two more punches but the man's smile when he refocused on him hadn't dimmed. Giving a choked, cry of pain, Dean wrapped his right hand around White's wrist, tried to dislodge the manacle, inhuman hold that was intent on strangling him or snapping his neck. Accepting that he couldn't match White's strength, Dean released his grip on White's wrist and slammed his right elbow into the other man's jaw, hard enough to daze White, to allow Dean to use his left forearm to collide and jar White's one handed grip on his neck. Slipping free of White's hold, Dean rolled left and climbed unsteadily to his feet, coughing, trying to get his reopened airways to work.
Watching as White arched his back and flipped to his feet, Dean skittered back, hands raised, ready to deflect White's next assault even as he dreaded it. Ducking White's kick that was aimed at his head, he did a leg sweep, was disappointed when White backflipped to avoid the tactic. "Ahhhh, that's really pretty. You're mommy teach you that along with ballet and how to cower in corners from bullies," Dean taunted.
"No, my mother was killed once she filled her duty by giving birth to me. But my father taught me this," White replied, menacingly stalking forward.
Dean held his ground at White's approach, tightened his hands into firmer fists. When White was within striking range, Dean lobbed a jab at his face…but White caught his fist in his hand, halted his punch, even with the improvised brass knuckles, like an adult would a child's. When White bent his hand back, Dean grunted in pain, felt himself being levered to his knees and knew that was the last place he should be if he wanted to live. Purposefully dropping his right hand, Dean removed White's leverage and sent a roundhouse left into White's jaw. Stepping forward onto White's toe, Dean used his left hand to pull White's suit jacket over his head, used the fabric to pull White's head down…right into his upcoming knee. Shoving the unbalanced White backwards, Dean ripped his right hand free of the man's hold, retreated a few steps to get his bearings, to stay out of White's attack radius.
Bringing his head up to look at Dean, White wiped at the blood streaming from his nose casually like he had received the injury playing a harmless game of basketball. "Not bad for an Ordinary but you and I both know how this is going to end. The truth is, I've just been playing around with you."
"Yeah, sure you have, keep telling yourself that," Dean challenged roughly, hating that his voice was rough from the near strangulation, that his head was ringing and he couldn't drown out the thought that White was telling the truth. "You really shouldn't underestimate your opponent. You left my paperclip in my back pocket and handcuffed me behind my back. It was almost embarrassingly easy to get free. If you're the improved race…I think you owe the government a refund."
Instead of verbally refuting Dean's statement, White replied in action, flipped forward twice so fast that he was nearly a blur. Even as Dean tried to predict where White would land, the cultist did an acrobatic flip over Dean's head, came to a crouched landing at Dean's back.
Before Dean could swivel around, guard his flank, White sent a kick into his kidney. Stumbling under the blow, Dean used his hands to catch himself, to keep himself off the ground. But White was past giving him reprieves, was suddenly in front of him, brutally snapping his head left with a backhanded slap to his right cheek, cutting his lip, nearly chipping a tooth. White mercilessly followed that assault with a blow to Dean's sternum with the base of his palm that sent Dean flying backwards.
When he slammed onto the floor, Dean couldn't breathe, lay there on his back, hand pressed against his chest as if he could ease the pain, the crushing pressure there. 'Get up…get up…get up …GET UP!' went through his head until it was an internal shout. But it was his next thought that sliced through his pain, made his own needs inconsequential. 'You can't leave Sam, not yet anyway, not like this.' Imbued with determination to give everything he had to survive, he shut down the pain, forced air through his protesting lungs, rolled to his side and began to climb to his feet.
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"It's terrifying," Sam quietly admitted, breaking the silence in the car, earning him Alec's hit and run eye contact. Exhaling, Sam continued, "Watching Dean put himself in danger…for strangers, for you….for me." It was as close as he could come to voicing how it felt to be in the merciless grip of despair and the cold presence of terror without breaking down his barriers, barriers that kept him going, kept him sane, kept him from abandoning the road of good for the road of evil on the search to save his brother's life.
His look swiveling from the road to Sam and back again, Alec could read the torrent of emotions echoing off of Sam, Sam who wouldn't look at him, whose slouched posture said more than his words ever could. "Yeah, I'm figuring that out. This family thing…it's harder on my nerves than I ever thought it would be."
Sam gave a small laugh, "Well you certainly didn't get a normal, working 9 to 5, white picket fence family."
"Thank God. Maybe you've noticed but I'm not exactly normal myself. Normal gives me the hives. Nah, I think I'm pretty blessed by the family that got saddled with me," Alec said, knew the statement didn't even come close to how overwhelmed he was at having Dean and Sam accept him.
"Blessed?" Sam scoffed, his eyebrows rising as he looked to Alec.
"What?!" Alec challenged. "I got two older brothers who seem to think they should protect me. Oh and they do this whole super-hero-defeat-evil gig. Not to mention I've got an awesome classic car to drive around in. Doesn't get better than that, does it?" Alec quipped but there was seriousness in his eyes, a humble gratitude. And there was pride and adoration sparking in his eyes as they met Sam's.
"How much time did you say you spent in PsyOps?" Sam laughed out in mock censure at Alec's strange notion that being a Winchester was a friggin' dance party.
"Not enough to deal with all the crazy creatures you two have introduced me to. Do we have a family rate on psychiatric visits or is it all self therapy?" Alec returned with a raised brow, even as he knew he wouldn't swap his ties with the Winchester for anything in the world..not even to avoid the "family" business.
"Definitely self therapy," Sam replied, a small smile tugging up his lips, grateful that Alec was there with him, that he had someone at his side ready to do whatever he had to do to rescue Dean.
"Should have known you two would go the cheap path," Alec sighed, shaking his head but he saw the small smirk on Sam's face.
Then, turning onto Phillips road, Alec scanned the intersection ahead. "Ok, Mallard Drive's two blocks ahead. I'm going to park around here and we can walk in." Then Alec put action to words.
As the Impala engine pinged as it cooled down. Alec pulled Dean's pearl handled gun from his waist band and chambered a round. Beside him, Sam was doing the same thing, a grim, naturalness to his action.
His heart beginning to pound anew with fear and adrenaline, Sam asked "We have a plan?" even though he felt, as the older brother in the rescue mission, he should be the one coming up with the plan.
"Yeah, go get Dean," Alec said with a smile as he climbed out of the Impala.
Sam shook his head and grumbled, "Yeah, you're a Winchester."
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"It's really not your fault you're so inadequate," White drawled, stopping a few feet back to watch Dean struggle painfully to his feet. "Nature has its limitations, its rules. To truly excel it needs a boost."
When he finally managed to stand up, Dean stumbled back a step, came to a halt but swayed unsteadily on his feet. But when his head came up, his eyes met White's fearlessly, defiantly. He would not cower, would not back down, though he was beginning to worry that he couldn't win this battle, not weaponless besides improvised brass knuckles and with nothing helpful in the wide open space of the warehouse. Not against an opponent that could outrun him almost instantly, whose strength dwarfed his own, whose goal was to kill him, slow or fast didn't matter but his pain did. Yes, White would make it painful. Dean had easily read the enjoyment in the other man's eyes at the prospect. And the helicopter, the gun under it, they both might as well have been on the moon. They were impossible to reach…without help.
Stumbling right, Dean didn't even try to block White's kick to his chest, actually minutely stepped into it. Again finding himself flying backward, he curled himself up, landed with something almost like a drunken roll…yards closer to the helicopter. "Seems Alec was right, you are the neutered version," he nearly slurred as he pushed himself to his feet, hand bracing his broken ribs. "Guess that's why you need to wipe out Manticore's supersoldiers: They show you up. What government would hire you when they could have top of the line."
"You talk too much. That's a bad habit," White lowly growled, striding toward his prey, a smug smile on his face. "But I'm about to cure you of it…permanently."
As White came at him, Dean, sensing a killing blow was imminent, dropped to the ground and swept his leg out to snag White's. As White toppled to the ground, Dean stood up, landed a kick to White's ribs, felt bone break under his blow. But he had no time to revel in the small victory.
Easily shutting out his agony just as he had been bred to, White struck Dean's thigh with his fist, watched as the man's leg crumbled under him. With both of them on the ground, White slammed the heel of his right foot into Dean's stomach, heard the whish of air escape as the man rolled right to try and protect himself, ease the pain. Gaining his feet slowly, his hand now bracing his ribs like the unmodified human had, White walked to Dean. "You just don't know when to give up, do you?" he asked before he delivered a kick to Dean's back that propelled the man into the air for a few feet to land on the ground and roll a few rotations. "494 would have been bargaining with me for his life five minutes ago. But not you."
Dean lay on his stomach, right cheek pressed against the too cold cement floor, a trickle of his blood dripping onto the floor in front of him. Pain flowed through him and the helicopter, the gun …he could see them both. They were now only a few feet away from him.
Hearing footfalls on the cement floor behind him heralding White's approach, Dean pushed himself onto his hands and knees with a grunt of pain, his eyes on the gun, wishing for the first time that he had some of Sam's telekinesis talent, heck, that he had the force, had some way to get the gun to come to him because he was starting to realize he wasn't going to get to it.
Burning hatred flared hotter in him as he watched White walk casually by him …right to the helicopter.
Bending down, White retrieved the gun from under the helicopter with mocking ease. Tauntingly waving the gun in his hand, he drawled from a crouch, eyes level with Dean's, "Hoping to get a hold of this, were you?" As he stood up, Dean's hatred filled glare tracked his movements.
Determined not to face death yet again in a position of helplessness, pinned to a wall or gravestone, Dean used the dregs of his strength to push himself to his feet, to stand face to face with his murderer. "You think you've won something but the truth is, you screwed up," he ridiculed, blood coating his lips and pain making his voice lower than usual. "Your little commando attack today, it was all caught on television by a news crew." At the flash of surprise in White's expression, Dean gave a bloody, cocky, smirk. "So much for keeping a low profile." And he could read the rage gathering in White's eyes, felt a victory there, for himself and for Alec. He decided that, if this was going to be it, if he was going to die by White's hands, he would revel in pushing White's button. "And then you go and kidnap the wrong guy. Worse yet, I'm not even a transgenetic. Talk about sloppy."
White cocked the gun, leveled it at Dean's head. "Good thing then that cleaning up is my specialty."
Instead of retreating at the threat, Dean stepped forward, eyes boring into White's, unafraid. "This isn't a victory for you, this is a defeat. All this got you was bad press, heavy causalities on your side and the world wondering who the bad guys really are."
White's smile was forced as he slid the gun's muzzle down to rest against Dean's chest. "But none of that is going to save you."
Dean shrugged but wore a cocky smirk, "Truth is, nothing was going to save me. I was going to be dead in a few months. I should probably be thanking you because, personally, that looming over my head, it was getting pretty hard to take."
There was a flickering of uncertainty in White's eyes even as his gun remained steadily on Dean. "You're lying, you just do it better than 494."
Dean snorted and shook his head, "This is so typical. No one ever believes me when I'm telling the truth."
"Truth or not, I have to admit I have one regret…that 494 isn't here to see you die for him," White lowly admitted, his finger pressing on the trigger.
"If I had known that I was invited, I would have been here sooner," Alec's voice echoed across the warehouse's open expansion.
White's head snapped up to see 494 walking across the warehouse floor, a gun held, almost carelessly at his side.
SNDASNDASNDA
TBC
SNDASNDASNDA
Thanks so much for sticking with the story and still reading and reviewing!
Have a great evening!
Cheryl W.