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: Well, I finally was able to strong-arm my muse back to work. I did discover that putting my favorite men in dire situations is awesome but getting them out of them…that turned out to be the tricky part.
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Chapter 9
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"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. Instantly straightening his stance, White tightened his finger on the trigger, slid the muzzle of the gun up to sight on Dean's head. Wanted to make sure 494 knew that it would take only a blinking of an eye for him to squeeze the trigger, to end the unmodified human's life. "494, you keep surprising me," he drawled, ridicule in his voice instead of admiration, as he watched the transgenic approach from the far right of the warehouse.
At the sound of Alec's voice, Dean's head had snapped left. Seeing Alec willingly walking into the lion's den, his breath caught in his throat. "Alec, what are you doing?!" he accused, fear kicking his heart into overdrive, knowing that, whatever rage White had unleashed on him, it was nothing compared to the retribution he desired to bring to Alec, to the young transgenic that had outsmarted him, time after time.
Retaining the smirk he wore to goad White, Alec finally allowed himself to look at Dean, to see the state of his older brother. He took Dean's appearance in instantly: the blood coating Dean's lips, staining his chin, the beginning of bruises on his face, the exhaustion and injuries that his trembling stance broadcasted, the pain in his eyes even as they bore into him with disapproval. Suddenly, hatred burned brighter in Alec than it had ever before. White had hurt Dean, was seconds away from killing his brother. But mixed with the hatred was vulnerability so vast it nearly took his breath away. White had the means to shatter him apart, White could do the worst thing anyone could do to him: take one of his brothers away from him.
"Guess you're going to tell me the place is surrounded by your pathetic mutant army, that I should surrender or die," White scornfully surmised. Quickly stepping forward, he pressed his gun under Dean's chin and wrapped his left hand around the back of Dean's neck, locking the human into his manacle hold. "Let me assure you, he will die first," he promised, voice low, as merciless as his eyes as they lanced into Alec.
Alec's muscles tensed and his heart raced at the venomous threat to his older brother. It took all of his training and the sight of the cool, fearlessness that Dean emanated to restrain himself from giving White exactly what he wanted: begging, a rash attack, for him to make a mistake that would cost him, not only his life, but Dean's. Raising his left hand and slowing his approach, he soothed, "Hey, take it easy. I came alone." But knowing that White would only use his fear, his attachment to Dean against him, he forced a smile onto his too tight facial features and amicably suggested, "Come on, we can work something out. We can make a trade."
At the word "trade", every alarm clamored in Dean's head. "No!" he growled, wrapping his hands around White's gun, desperate to stop his family's hopeless cycle of sacrifice, to make sure it ended with him, for Sam and for Alec. Valiantly he fought to relieve White of his gun… or to help White pull the trigger because he wouldn't let Alec die for him, for a dead man.
Surprised by Dean's suicidal actions, White fought to keep hold of the gun, fought just as hard to make sure the gun didn't fire, that the Ordinary didn't die prematurely. Because, somewhere down deep, White knew that the Ordinary was the only leverage he had against 494. Leverage he didn't want to lose, not after seeing a glimpse of barely contained lethalness in the Manticore soldier's eyes. Not now as he realized that, if the human should die in their struggle, 494 would kill him, would willingly die, if he had to, to accomplish it. Understood, with the perceptiveness of a man that had been bred for mortal combat, that with the human's life in the balance instead of his own, 494 was a thousand times more dangerous than ever before. Feared that, with that motivation, the transgenic could turn out to be his equal….or worse. 494 could actually best him, might prove himself to be his superior.
"Dean, don't!!!" Alec yelled, running forward to intervene, to make sure White didn't fire the gun, to make sure Dean didn't fire the gun, that Dean didn't take himself out of the equation, didn't sacrifice his life for him. When a crack of a gunshot echoed in the room, terror and dread nearly overwhelmed Alec. It took him a horrible undetermined moment of time to realize that the bullet had missed Dean, had buried itself in the high ceiling, that White had shifted the gun in time.
His greater strength finally allowing him to regain the upperhand, White tore the gun free from Dean's hands, took a step back out of Dean's grasp and leveled the gun at the other man's right eye. "Stop or I'll kill him!!" he ordered loudly, eyes on Dean but the threat for Alec. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw 494 skid to a stop a few feet away, heeding his warning. Amid the short battle, something had become obvious, had shifted the odds. Surprisingly there was only one person in this struggle who thought the Ordinary's life was indispensable and White wasn't above exploiting that truth. "Drop the gun, now!" he thundered, adrenaline still surging through him at the short scuffle, at how close he had come to almost losing his leverage, unleashing an uncontrollable fury in the transgenic.
"Don't Alec! He's going to kill us both and you know that!" Dean starkly predicted, his eyes boring into Alec's. But the green eyes that met his own were wide with surprise and fear and profound devotion. Silently, Dean cursed. Alec truly was a Winchester, was going to unknowingly follow in the footsteps of the other men in his family.
Not tearing his eyes from Dean, Alec dropped his gun onto the floor, kicked it away even as he read the anger in Dean's eyes before the older man bowed his head in defeat. Hating himself for disappointing Dean, even if it was to save his life, Alec swallowed hard, then turned to White. "I'll trade for him."
"Trade what?!" White scoffed with a humorless laugh. "I already got you, free of charge."
"Fine, then I'll trade him for the other transgenics, for Terminal City's security plans," Alec offered without hesitation, eyes on White, consciously not looking to Dean, not wanting to read the disgust in the older man's eyes.
At Alec's words, Dean swiveled his look to Alec in disbelief. Trying to read the younger man, to gauge the truthfulness of his proposal, he found he honestly didn't know the lengths Alec would go to save him. Sure, he felt like Alec was a part of his family, was his brother, but Alec, he had Max, and Joshua, had apparently befriended most of Manticore. Alec had people in his life, he hadn't cut himself off from people like Dean had, only allowing Sam and his father into the inner sanctuary of his heart. No, Alec had family…and though it might include him, Dean accepted that it was not inclusive to him, to Sam. Told himself that he was glad Alec's threat was a sham, that Alec's loyalties had other priorities, never mind the pang of hurt that the thought caused.
White smiled, confident that he had regained control of the mercurial transgenic. "Ah, back to familiar ground now aren't we, you begging and bartering. Your little Ordinary friend here, he didn't want to believe you were a coward. Guess he doesn't know you like I do… that you would sell out anybody. That for you, taking lives is as easy as breathing," he taunted, goading Alec to defend himself, wanting to instill doubt in the human's faith in the transgenic, wanting them both off kilter.
Hands fisting at the insult to Alec, Dean started to take a menacing step toward White but Alec's sharp "Dean!" cut across his indignation. Alec's voice, so much like his father's commanding tone, had him stopping in his tracks, obeying before he consciously even made the decision.
Stepping further back from Dean, glare settled on Alec, White cocked his head to the left. "Well, now that we've gotten around to negotiations, I want 452. You bring her back here and he walks," he said, nodding toward Dean as if Alec didn't understood what was at stake, who was at stake.
Dean's breath caught and he looked to Alec, felt the tension radiating off the younger man. For Dean, the path was obvious: Alec had to agree. Had to lie. Had to find some way of walking away before White killed them both. Had to walk away from here, from him and Never. Look. Back. "What?! You have to think about this?!" Dean asked incredulously, praying Alec would get his message, would falsely agree to do White's bidding.
White smiled widely, enjoying the indecision he read on 494's features, the outrage in the unmodified human's words. Looking to Dean, he smirked. "I warned you about his loyalties. You got kidnapped in his place, are a heartbeat away from dying because of him and he's not even willing to give up his girlfriend for you."
Dean morphed his expression into one of hurt disbelief as he faced Alec, "He's not right, is he?! We're practically family! I broke you out of jail. I saved your life! Where was Max in all that? Huh? Painting her nails?! Ready to buy a seat to watch you get a lethal injection for murders she knew your twin did?!" Dean challenged, stepping toward Alec even as Alec advanced toward him.
"Don't talk about her like that!" Alec growled lowly, stalking toward Dean, kept his focus on Dean even as he drew closer and closer to White's position.
Realizing almost too late that he was getting played, White barely swiveled the gun from Dean to Alec in time. "Don't take another step!" he yelled, the muzzle of his gun practically resting against Alec's chest. He was troubled to find a true smile lighting up 494's features.
A rifle shot resonated across the warehouse. Reacting faster than any unmodified human could, White dodged left, causing the bullet meant for his head to nick his ear before pinging harmlessly off the side of the helicopter. Determined to take advantage of the opening they had been given, Dean dove toward White, vowing to kill the man this time around.
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After his initial shot missed White, Sam resighted his aim, began to pull the trigger on the rifle he had had the foresight to pull from the Impala's trunk, when Dean unknowingly stepped into his line of fire. With a cry of distress, Sam frantically jerked his rifle upward and removed his finger from the trigger like it was a branding iron. Breath ragged, Sam reveled in the quiet, in the lack of gunfire, in the grace that had been granted him that he didn't kill his own brother in a botched attempt to save him.
Then, from his vantage point at the door at the far right of the warehouse, Sam watched as Alec blurred in front of Dean to block his attack on White. He saw Alec practically tackle Dean, his arms wrapping around Dean's torso as he forcefully drove Dean back a few steps, away from White and out of his rifle sights. Recognizing that Alec had no intentions of releasing his bear hug hold on Dean, was bound and determined to assure that Dean didn't move, wasn't in his sights, would not be in them again, Sam steadied his hands that had began trembling at the near fatal tragedy of a moment before. Holding his breath, he squeezed the trigger. But White rolled left and sought shelter behind the helicopter, unharmed. Through the rifle scope, he tried to track White's position, a foot under the helicopter, a reflection off the metal, a piece of fabric visible however there was nothing to aim at.
Removing his finger from the trigger, Sam shifted the scope to Alec and Dean and felt almost sick with relief. Alec had Dean. Their "hostage negotiation tactic" had worked. He didn't allow himself to think about how it had felt to look through the warehouse door and see White leveling a gun at Dean, how gut wrenching it had been to stay back and helplessly watch the man threaten to kill his brother. To know that the situation was untenable, that if he shot White, White who had hypersensitive reflexes, had his finger practically squeezing the trigger, it would have been the equivalent of killing his own brother. That Dean would have died almost simultaneously with White.
Instead Alec had boldly walked in there, had done what he promised, had given Sam an opening to take a shot, to rescue Dean, had made himself the target to do it. "When White turns the gun toward me, take the shot Sam," Alec had ordered and Sam had wanted to protest but Alec had growled out a command in typical Winchester fashion, "Take the shot, Sam!" Then Alec had slipped inside the door of the warehouse, greeted White with his smart aleck comment, willingly placed himself in the hands of the man who wanted him badly, most likely wanted to kill him. Had done it to save Dean, to save his brother and, though Sam hadn't heard the words of the exchange as Alec drew closer to the combatants, he had interpreted the tension easily enough.
But it had rattled Sam, placing all his trust in Alec, wholly placing Dean's life in Alec's hands. As he had watched Alec's attention land on Dean, Sam chastised himself for his lack of trust in the younger man, especially after all that they had weathered together in the past months, with the way he felt about Alec. 'Yeah, right. You didn't even like trusting Dean's life to Dad,' he pointed out silently, remembering the times his father had proven himself unworthy of that trust, had put the hunt, had put revenge seemingly above his son's life. Immediately Sam prayed that Alec hadn't picked up those tendencies, that he was not like John Winchester, was not even like him, was most like Dean, who never put himself above his family. Never. Helplessly watching Dean wage a struggle to gain control of the gun White had jammed under his chin only brutally proven Dean ingrained selflessness, ten fold.
The sound of the gun going off had echoed across the warehouse, reached Sam like the wave of an explosion, knocking the breath from him, crushing his chest. His relief at Dean's unharmed status had him slumping against the wall. But a moment later he railed at his brother furiously under his breath, "Another one of his friggin' dead-man-walking stunts! Dean, I swear, as soon as we're safe, I'm going to deck you, man," he vowed, blinking back tears as he resighted the scope on the three figures in the warehouse.
Now, with White under cover, Alec and Dean still out in the open of the warehouse and his two rifle shots ringing through the air, Sam knew that quietly slipping back to the Impala with Dean in tow wasn't in the cards, especially when a four man squad rounded the corner of the warehouse at a run. Cursing, Sam slipped fully inside the warehouse, shut the door behind him and clicked the lock in place even as he knew it was no barrier against bullets or even a well placed kick. "Yeah, this is a typical Winchester rescue plan," he grumbled, but couldn't help feeling a little light hearted. He would bet on three Winchester any day, no matter the odds.
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Dean flinched at the crack of the second rifle shot, could practically trace the bullet's path, knew that he had been there moments before, would be there now had it not been for Alec steamrolling him backwards. From over Alec's shoulder, he watched in frustration as White escaped the shot, made it behind the helicopter.
Arms still wrapped around Dean, Alec felt Dean jolt in surprise at the rifle's report. Pulling back to look in Dean's face, his hands sliding forward to wrap around Dean's biceps, he asked hurriedly, his eyes piercing Dean's, conveying his worry for the older man, "How badly are you hurt? Can you walk?"
"Yeah," Dean replied, hating how rough, how weak the single word had come out. Hated more the disbelief and heightened worry that sprang into Alec's eyes. Felt Alec's grip on him tighten, as if Alec feared he couldn't stand on his own. "I'm good to go," he assured, forcing more strength into his words, threw in a tinge of indignation for good measure.
Standing in the open space of the warehouse with White cowering behind the helicopter at his back, Alec felt the hairs on his neck stand up, knew he was wearing a bull's eye on his back. But he stood fast, unwilling to shift even a millimeter, not when it could give White an opportunity to take a shot at Dean. Desperate to get Dean away from White, to get Dean to safety, Alec focused on discerning the truth between Dean's bravado, of assessing the obviously wounded man's ability to join Sam, to make it past White's men and back to the Impala on his own power. "Dean, I need the truth!" Alec barked, fingers biting into Dean's arms, heart racing knowing that, like chance and luck, time wasn't on their side.
"I'm hurt but I can walk on my own," Dean honestly answered, becoming acutely aware that he was dealing with Alec the soldier. An Alec that was calculating strategies, odds, escape routes, the possible number of the opposition they could face and assessing the fitness of the soldiers under his command. The cross examination would have felt demeaning if he hadn't also read Alec's desperation, his worry for him.
Accepting Dean's statement as truth, Alec quickly released Dean and curtly ordered, "Go to Sam, he's at the door," nodding to Sam's location across the warehouse. Reading Dean's protest, he snapped lowly, "Go before White kills us both." Instantly, he knew he had said the wrong thing, knew it as soon as he saw the flare of fear and unshakeable determination spark in Dean's eyes to nearly overshadow the hue of pain in the green depths. Cursing himself for forgetting Dean's protective instincts, for forgetting that he was talking to someone that would never agree to leave him behind, to let him face danger alone, Alec scrambled to rectify his mistake, to devise something that would get Dean moving, would sway Dean's self assigned big brother responsibilities to him. "Sam needs backup, Dean! If his position gets overrun…" he let the dire prediction hang there, saw worry and indecision in Dean's expression. "I can handle White," he steely assured, his face hardened, his eyes becoming glacier at the prospect of exacting retribution on White.
"He wants you dead, Alec," Dean warned darkly, eyes boring into Alec, needing to make sure Alec knew the stakes of the game.
"The feeling is mutual," Alec countered, his cold smile like a mask of death. "Now get to Sam's position, I'll bring up the rear," he said, giving Dean a light shove to get him started on his way.
Stumbling slightly at Alec's shove, Dean watched as Alec turned away from him and began walking toward the helicopter, toward White. Having been bitterly shown that his skill, his strength was no contest against White, that he would only be a liability to Alec if he stayed, tried to help, Dean turned on his heel and starting making his way toward where his little brother was waiting for him.
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Leaning against the helicopter, gun cocked and gripped tightly in his hold, White waited for the attack, knew that he had no where to go, was a few yards from the wall, from the cement cells he had devised to hold Manticore's pets but was no where near to an exit. And he held out no hope that 494 would scamper away, not this time, not after he had hurt, had threatened to kill the Ordinary that 494 had apparently become fiercely attached to. So attached to that he had been willing to betray every transgenic to save him, had been more than willing to die for him. No, White was certain that Manticore's usually perfect, detached soldier bitterly wanted to kill him…all over the pathetic, fragile life of some Ordinary that had the privilege of being his DNA donor.
Tilting his head back to rest on the copter's metal frame, White called out, "He's not worth it, you know. He was a means to an end, that's all. Like a part from a totaled car. And as far as his longevity, he's so fragile," White goaded, determined to make the Manticore solider come to him. He tightened his sweating hand on his gun before he spoke again. "I broke his ribs like they were made of straw." He gave a derogatory laugh. "I nearly snapped his neck one handedly without even meaning to. How long do you think he'll last when more of my kind track you down and capture him in the process? You should do the merciful thing for the both of you and put a bullet in him right now."
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Approaching the helicopter, Alec tried to gauge White's position from the man's voice, tried to let White's taunts roll off his back, to restrain himself from reacting. But each of White's sentences dug deeper, hit a nerve, exposed a fear. When White spoke cheerfully of breaking Dean's ribs, of nearly snapping Dean's neck, Alec gritted his teeth, every muscle coiled in him for action, and he felt rage fill him nearly to capacity. But it was White's ominous prediction of the future, of his cold suggestion that he kill Dean out of a show of mercy that stole away his self-control.
With fury flowing through him, Alec stalked boldly around the front of the helicopter, dropped gracefully into a forward roll as White fired off a shot, missing him. Coming out of the roll and to his feet inches from White, Alec slammed his right hand into White's throat even as his other hand wrapped around the barrel of the gun aimed as his chest and ripped the top section of the barrel free. Menacingly striding forward in pursuit of White, who was stumbling back, choking to get air though his abused throat, Alec almost lazily raised his arm to block White's kick to his head, countered instantly with a left jab that snapped White's head back.
Dropping the now useless gun, White retreated back from Alec, rolled his head to shake off the pain and resized up his opponent. "Well at least you're proving to be more challenging than your pathetic pet. I had to really hold myself back from killing him right away but it was worth it when he started to beg."
Alec smirked but there was a promise of death in its midst. "Holding back, huh? Is that why your mouth's bleeding, why you're keeping your arm down to protect your ribs?" To punctuate his words, Alec feigned a left roundhouse, waited until White raised his hands to block the attack before he delivered his true strike: a powerful kick to White's suddenly unguarded ribs. Felt grim satisfaction wash over him as White cried out in pain and toppled to the ground on his side. Pacing around the downed White like a predator, making sure he was out of White's strike zone, Alec snarled, "Dean didn't beg but I promise, you will."
Growling in outrage at the taunt, White climbed to his feet, forced himself to straighten his stance, to face the transgenic unflinchingly. "He never expected you to come for him, never thought you had the guts to risk yourself for anything or anyone. He had faith in you…that you would willingly let him die in your place. Guess he does know you better than I thought."
Recklessly, Alec charged for White, his actions practically welcoming the kick White slammed into his chest that took his feet from out from under him, dropped him harshly to the ground. Watching White leap into the air, knowing he planned on landing on his chest, Alec did a backward roll away from White's impact zone. Coming gracefully to his feet, Alec kicked White in the stomach, stepped forward and landed a head butt and followed through with a right cross.
Staggering from the blows, White went down on one knee. Seeing Alec's approach, he preempted his opponents strike by flipping over Alec's head to land behind him which enabled him to send a kick into Alec's kidney. Felt vindicated as the transgenic gave a cry and dropped to all fours on the ground. Taking advantage of his opponent's weakness, White flipped forward and landed onto Alec's back, sending the transgenic crashing onto the floor. Unmercifully, White unleashed a powerful open palmed strike into Alec's vertebrae.
At the blow, unquenchable agony shot through Alec, sending his vision into black and white. Every muscle he owned seemingly shutdown, refused to acknowledge any messages from his brain to move, to even twitch. Admit the debilitating pain, he heard White's voice from a distance and wondered if it would be the last sound he ever heard.
Patting Alec's head like he were a child he had to put easily but brutally to the mat, White came to a stand, one foot on the floor the other pressed into Alec's spine where his strike had landed. "That's what you transgenic scum lack, the taste for blood, the willingness to unleash anything within yourself that you have to in order to win, to survive." Crouching down so he could be closer to Alec's ear even as he increased the pressure on Alec's back, White drawled, "See, Manticore began to become so afraid that they were going to create monsters that they made you weak, emotional, human. Unknowingly they allowed you to develop morals, to having a conscious. And look where all that has lead: uprising, anarchy, you getting sentimentally attached to some guy whose only merit is his DNA." White leaned down further, whispered, "You're going to die and it is for nothing. Dean isn't going to make it out of here, not without your help. You failed him, 494. Actually, you killed him, just as surely as I'm going to kill you."
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Bracing his ribs with his arm, clenching his teeth again the protest his body made at the simple act of walking, Dean focused on getting to the door, to Sam beyond. Something on the floor a few yards to the left snagged his attention: the gun that Alec had discarded. Without hesitation he made a detour for the weapon, felt like fate might be starting to have a change of heart, had decided to bless him with a piece of good fortune. As he drew closer, he identified the gun as his own, the one that he had in Terminal City before the Tazzer fried him. It shouldn't have meant anything to him that Alec had chosen to use his gun, but it did, spoke of affection and loyalty and planned retribution. Things that Dean knew about intimately, knew just as well where they lead…would lead him in a few months time. It made him itch to turn back to Alec, to tell the younger man to not follow his path, to just let White go because it wasn't worth it, he wasn't worth it. But instead he clenched his jaw and slowly, painfully bent down to retrieve the gun. His fingers were just slipping around the pearl handle when he sensed movement. Overriding his pain, he, in seemingly one fluid motion, dropped down to his knees, snatched up his gun, cocked it and raised it at the approaching threat.
Finding himself in his brother's sights, Sam called out, "Whoa, Dean!" raising his hands, without slowing his mad dash across the warehouse.
Dropping his hands like they were suddenly made of lead, the muzzle of the gun clanking on the floor at the action, Dean let out a shaky hiss, "Crap, Sam I almost killed you!"
"Yeah, I know the feeling," Sam lowly muttered as he came to a stop beside his kneeling brother, who tilted his head up to him. Internally flinching at his brother's bloodied and bruised features, and the pain that smothered the usual sparkle in his brother's eyes, Sam bent down beside Dean and asked, "Are you alright?" but his words were overrode by his brother's same voiced question.
"Yeah," Sam scoffed in reply at Dean's predictable concern for him, his next words revealing his frustration at his brother's habit of forgetting to worry about himself. "Course I'm not the one who went ten rounds with a genetically enhanced federal agent, Dean."
Ignoring Sam's barb, Dean wrapped his left hand around Sam's forearm. "Just help me up," he lightly muttered as he started to use his brother as a crutch to get to his feet.
Realizing that if he moved his arm, tried to offer Dean more support to gain his feet, he would actually do more harm than good, Sam begrudgingly held his arm steady, rose with Dean, watched bitterly as Dean did all the work to gain his feet.
Eyes narrowing, nearly closing as pain washed over him, Dean tried to control his breathing, to not let it be his tell for the pain he was in, that White had put him in. But the quiet, worried, broken way Sam said "Dean…" told him that Sam had seen through his poker face, actually did know him 'better than anyone else in the world' as he had claimed.
Meeting Sam's eyes, he assuaged, "I'll live, Sammy," but internally he couldn't help the tag line 'for a few months, anyway.' But Sam flinched as if he had heard the unspoken words. Instantly that barrier was between them again, that threat that was more terrifying than White and his entire army could ever evoke in them, that abyss of a permanent separation, one that Sam couldn't rescue him from, that he wouldn't let Sam rescue him from.. .
Gun shots startled them both, had them swiveling to face the door. Each squeezing off a few shots at the soldiers, they watched White's men retreat back to the warehouse's exterior.
"So, looks like we're about to have company, at least four men," Sam grimly predicted, forcing himself to concentrate on the situation at hand, to focus on saving Dean today, on getting all three of them out of the compound alive. "There a back door?" he asked, even as he wrapped his arm around Dean's elbow, scanned the warehouse's dimensions even as he propelled Dean and himself backwards, toward the only shelter in sight: the helicopter.
"Don't see one, course I did get the express tour," Dean flippantly replied, eyes on Sam instead of the threat at the door. Watching his brother's jaw jump with tension, he tried to be more helpful. "You got the bay doors," he nodded toward the front of the warehouse which contained doors that were the entire height of the warehouse and when opened, were wide enough to allow a helicopter to be towed inside.
Sam didn't even spare a glance at the bay doors as they walked backwards. "They open electronically…with a pass card."
"Yeah, course. And I left that card in my other pants," Dean drawled and was rewarded by the sight of a smirk from Sam as they continued to pace backwards, side by side.
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Alec raged against White's prediction: "Dean isn't going to make it out of here, not without your help. You failed him, 494. Actually, you killed him…." Felt something more powerful than his genetic strength, more resistant than his healing abilities, something more basic than self preservation grow inside of him, smother his agony, override the effects White's attack had on his nervous system. At the sound of gunfire his fear for Dean and Sam encompassed him wholly, had him striking out at White even before he realized that he had regained full control of his muscles, his limbs, his body.
White was unprepared for his opponent to move..ever again. Was too stunned to avoid Alec's elbow as it impacted with the bridge of his nose and snapped his head backwards.
Quickly rolling left, Alec took White's one legged stand right out from under him. It sent the federal agent toppling to the ground on his butt at the spot Alec had been an instant before. Alec sent a roundhouse kick into White's side, eliciting a cry of pain from the agent. Slowly, Alec climbed to his feet, his stance wavering but his eyes ablaze as he dispassionately watched White come to his feet. "Maybe you are right, maybe I make a lousy genetically enhanced soldier."
With a growl, White made his move, was determined to stop playing games and simply finish the transgenic off. Running for 494, he leapt into the air a few inches from the transgenic, put his feet together, aimed them for Alec's chest. But at the last instant, the transgenic dropped to the floor, rolled under him, plowed a fist into his side as they passed one another, him on top, the transgenic underneath. Landing on the floor like a broken gymnast, limbs and head contacting with the cement and each other until he came to a halt, White breathed loudly at the agony, the transgenic's continued concentration of his strikes to his broken rib taking their toll. Raising his furious eyes to 494, he saw the smirk on the transgenic's lips, read the overconfidence that was pouring off him as he beckoned him forward with his hand, goading him. Treating him like he was the inferior one. With lethal resolve, White gained his feet, his hand pressed against his ribs, knowing that it was useless to try and conceal his weakness, the transgenic was using it to his advantage every chance he got.
"I am right," White spat out blood that was pooling in his mouth and he and his opponent circled one another. "About you…about your fellow transgenics, about Dean. Manticore was a failure and like any government failure, it needs to be sanitized, needs to slip through the cracks of the media, needs to be struck from the annals of history. Gone, like it never was, like you never existed." Dropping down, White swept his leg out, intended to break 494's leg but the transgenic did a flip in the air, made eluding the offensive seem like child's play. Quickly, rolling over, White sent another kick, this one aimed at 494's head as the transgenic made his landing. But the transgenic caught his foot in his hands, halted his foot like it had been wielded with feeble strength.
Mercilessly, Alec twisted the foot in his grasp, heard the crunch of breaking bone even as it was overshadowed by White's cry of agony. Flinging the foot free of his grasp, he watched as White lay on the ground, eyes shut, palms pressed to the ground. But he took a few paces back as White struggled to get to his feet, limped on the one foot but his eyes were ablaze with agony, with hatred so deep it was an endless well.
"I have the mental training to overcome pain," White sneered, limping forward, still believing that he couldn't lose, confident that his breeding would not ever yield to some backwater experiment. "My people have been around for hundreds of years, have advanced themselves farther than any race in the history of the world," he punctured his statement with a right cross that Alec dodged and countered with an uppercut that caught White under the chin, had him stumbling backwards.
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Continuing to walk backwards at Dean's side, their guns trained on the door, Sam stole a glance over his shoulder, gauged how close they were to the helicopter, to the only shelter they had when the soldiers decided to brave their fire and come inside the warehouse. His brother's urgent call of his name had him snapping his head forward, to see a grenade being tossed from the cracked door, to bounce and roll across the floor toward them.
"Sam!" Dean had shouted as the door opened, he prepared for the soldiers to dive through the opening, to start their assault. But at the unwelcome sight of the grenade, he bellowed, "Run!" his hand fisting in Sam's jacket, pulling Sam around, making sure his brother was with him as he ran for the helicopter.
Not needing more incentive, Sam slipped his hand around Dean's waist as he and Dean simultaneously turned, ran from the grenade, to the helicopter as fast as they could. They rounded the front of the helicopter to the sight of White stumbling backwards, right into a collision course with Dean's headlong pace. Reacting to the threat to Dean, Sam yanked Dean hard to the left, enough out of White's way that only their shoulders brushed. But the ruthless motion sent Dean's legs tripping over each other, left him free falling…right into Sam, his cheek connecting with Sam's collarbone as the taller man bent down to catch him.
Before Sam could straighten up, get Dean on his feet, the grenade exploded, shook the ground, knocking him off his feet, sent Dean sprawling over his legs.
Finding himself on the ground, draped over Sam's legs, Dean slid his hands under himself, began to push himself upright when saw White was on the floor only a few inches away from him. When their eyes clashed, Dean cursed under his breath, knew before White moved that the federal agent wasn't done trying to kill him, wanted to hurt Alec by killing him in front of him. Even as he struggled to get his gun out from under his own weight, to defend himself, Alec intervened.
Sensing White's intentions against Dean, Alec reacted, instinctively like the brother he had come to be. Acrobatically flipping across the distance to White, Alec came to a crouched landing at White's feet as the man sat up, was about to turn his wrath on his brother. Instantly, before White could barely register his proximately, Alec plowed the heel of his palm into White's sternum, felt the man's rib bones break away under the blow. Coldly, Alec watched as White toppled backwards, slumped onto the ground, began choking up blood as the shards of his broken ribs pierced his lungs. "But being a brother, that I'm starting to get the hang of," Alec said quietly as he scrambled to Dean's side. With almost absurd gentleness, he wrapped his arms around Dean's waist and levered his brother to his feet, the brother that had fought off White's attack until they could arrive, had broken White's rib in the first place, giving him the leverage he needed to defeat White, to survive.
Finding Sam on his feet at Dean's other side, Alec looked down at White, saw the man struggling to breath, to live, his eyes nearly beseeching him. "You're dying, White, and it's at the hands of a transgenic and an Ordinary. The world is changing, but lucky for you, you won't be sticking around to see it." Then Alec began moving Dean backwards, turned their backs on White and aimed them for the helicopter, Sam pacing them.
"Time for exit strategies. Get in," Alec ordered, slipping back into soldier mode as he opened the helicopter's passenger door and started to give Dean a push into the seat. He wasn't prepared for Dean's opposition.
"Whoa! Whoa!" Dean growled, wrapping his hands around the side of the helicopter and the open door, forestalling getting into another flying contraption. "This can't be your plan," his voice raising as he looked to Alec, hoping to see a joke in the other man's green eyes.
Unaware of Dean's fear of flying, Alec glibly teased, "Don't worry, I was pretty fair at the simulations."
"Simulations?!" Dean choked back, eyebrows rising.
In the meantime, Sam had already opened the sliding door of the helicopter, hopped inside and claimed a seat. Leaning forward to Alec and Dean, he announced, "Dean has a …thing …about flying."
"It's not a thing…it's a healthy, well founded …" Dean began to defend but another grenade exploded, would have sent him crumbling to the ground had it not been for Alec's grip on him. Before he could fully recover his equilibrium, Alec propelled him forward and practically picked him up and dumped him into the helicopter's co-pilot seat. As Dean considered jumping free of the machine of death, Alec slammed the helicopter door shut in his face.
Latching the passenger door, Alec jumped in the sliding door, slid by Sam and sank into the pilot's seat beside Dean. Deftly his fingers started flipping switches and the helicopter's engine came alive…which provoked gunfire to pepper the side of the helicopter and ping against the bullet proof glass of the cockpit and pilot's door.
"You know how to fly, right? I mean you didn't just play video games and feed coins into a simulator right?" Dean shakily asked, frantically trying to latch a safety harness. At Alec's silence, he shot a glance to Alec, wasn't at all encouraged by Alec's wide smile as the helicopter came fully on line.
Closing the sliding door and having already buckled himself in the seat, Sam called to the front, "I don't mean to be a killjoy but we're inside a warehouse, Alec. This will give a new meaning to low altitude flying."
"Sam, Sam, when God shuts a door…" Alec began as he lifted the helicopter a few inches off the ground and swung it around to face the bay doors, drawing more gunfire. Looking over his shoulder to Sam, he gave a smug smile, "blast open a window." Turning back around to the view outside the cockpit, he pressed a button on the throttle. A sidewinder's smoke trail materialized in front of them, right before the missile struck the bay doors, turned them into raining confetti of kindling. With steady, expert hands, Alec sent the helicopter flying leveling forward, right out the space where the bay doors and a portion of the warehouse wall had been moments earlier.
As the helicopter left the warehouse and gained altitude, Dean drew in a sharp breath, and fisted his hands into the sides of his seat. It didn't help whatsoever when the helicopter nearly clipped the warehouse roof across the alleyway. Alec's small laugh had him turning to the younger man and accusing, "You did that on purpose!"
"Come on, it wasn't even close," Alec defended, purposefully turning the helicopter into a sharp bank to the left, causing Dean to slid left in his restraints. But the flash of pain that flickered across Dean's features at the motion to his already abused body had Alec shooting a hand out to catch his shoulder, to steady him. Instantly he felt horrible for taunting Dean, for hurting him in the process. It was just so easy to believe, even covered in blood and bruises, that Dean was invincible, that nothing could stop his big brother, that Dean would never leave, him or Sam, especially when they needed him.
Appreciating Alec's support as much as Alec straightening out the helicopter, flying it straight and true, Dean spared a glance to Alec, surprised no more taunts were headed his way. But the look in Alec's eyes as they studied him… it reminded him of the look Sam gave him after his heart attack, when he couldn't hide his weakness, deny his vulnerability, when death was lurking in the shadows for him and Sam wanted to stand in it's path, was determined to literally take on a reaper to do it, to save him. His forehead furrowed in confusion at Alec's expression. They were escaping, Alec and Sam had saved him, he was a little worse for the wear but he wasn't dying. Dean's eyes widened at the implications, suddenly tried to gauge the timing of Alec's entrance into the warehouse with his taunt to White, 'I was going to be dead in a few months.'
Fearing that his raw emotions were an open book to Dean, Alec looked away, concentrated on flying to the Impala's location a few blocks over. "Sam, I'll drop you at the Impala, and trail you until I know you're in the clear," he shouted to be heard over the whirl of the helicopter blades. Digging into his pocket, he arched the car keys back to Sam who deftly caught them.
"O.K!" Sam shouted back, unsnapping his seat harness and putting his hand on the door handle, ready to react as quickly as he could, knowing he didn't want to be a target anymore than he wanted to make the helicopter an easier target.
Putting his hands on his harness, Dean readied himself to release the latch in preparation for the welcome trade of the helicopter for the safe confines of the Impala. When Alec put his hand down on his hands, stilling their actions, his head swiveled to Alec in surprise.
"You're staying here," Alec stated, eyes sliding from the street below to Dean.
"What? Why?" Dean demanded but it came out petulant, like he felt he was being punished when the other kids got to go have recess.
For the first time in his life, Alec wanted to react like every mother he had witnessed as they interacted with their child, wanted to say, 'Because I said so.' "Maybe you've not noticed the small army trying to shoot us down, to kill us. Call me crazy but I don't plan on making myself a convenient target for their grenade launches by hovering in one place too long."
"I can.." Dean began to protest but Alec cut him off.
"Sam can move faster than either one of us right now, Dean," Alec starkly pointed out, including himself in the tally, hoping to lessen the blow to Dean's self esteem. "Ok, there she is. Ready Sam?"
"I'm ready," Sam called back as the helicopter dropped altitude, was with astounding skill, lowered down between the side road where the classic car sat and the opposite building. "Sammy, be careful!" Dean ordered and then Sam slid the side door open and leapt from the helicopter to land on the ground only a few feet away. Tension surged through Dean as Sam ran for the Impala, dove into the vehicle and started her up even as Alec pulled the helicopter up from its dangerously low hover. It eased a little when Sam put the Impala in motion and Alec began to shadow his brother as he sped the Impala through the city, aiming for Terminal City.
Settling further back into his seat, loosening his death grip on his seat restraints, Dean kept a steady eye on the Impala but didn't see any hazards ahead. White had apparently never expected to be faced with a small but efficient rescue squad, his group had no backup to cut off their escape, even seemed to lack the numbers to wage a decent pursuit. They were practically in the clear. Wearing a beaming smile, Dean turned to Alec but his cocksure words died in his mouth at the grave expression Alec leveled at him.
"What did you mean when you told White nothing was going to save you, that you would be dead in a few months?" Alec lowly asked, even as the words stole his breath away, lodged a constriction in his throat, threatened the happy world he thought he had finally found for himself. Because, unlike White, he did know when Dean was lying, worst still, he usually knew when Dean was telling the truth.
The guilty, resigned look that sprang onto Dean's face decimated the last hope Alec had valiantly, foolishly clung to that Dean's words had been a ploy, a con, had been a well crafted lie for White. Instead, Alec realized Dean had saved his well-crafted lies for him: the lie that everything was alright, that Dean would always be around, that they were a family..and nothing could change that, could take that away from him.
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TBC
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Whew! I actually got the chapter finished! The chapter started out more wordy than I planned but I hope the holdout for the action was worth it.
And as some of you predicted, Alec did overhear the vital parts of Dean's conversation with White. I'm not sure who I feel sorrier for in the upcoming verbal confrontation: Alec or Dean.
Well, I hope you continue to tune in as we slide from action back to angst and brotherly sap.
Have a great day!
Cheryl W.