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 note: Spoilers for No Rest for the Wicked. Ok, personally I'm not sure how this chapter turned out. Bear in mind that I got my medical knowledge off the internet and a dash from personal experience, that I've been in a terribly teary eyed mood lately and that I've been stumped on this chapter for …oh more than two months. Guess I'm just hoping there is some redeeming value in my ramblings below. Oh and yeah…angst heading your way.

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Chapter 18

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It was a mockery, the town being named New Harmony. Alec cursed Lilith for her twisted joke as he sent the Impala rocketing through the dark night, speeding over the deserted blacktop of a nameless road. But the joke, it was at her expense. She had come out of the battle as the final loser. 'Not us, it won't be us,' he insisted, demanded, pleaded, his teeth clenched together, unable and unwilling to look in the rearview mirror again to try and gauge Dean's condition…or Sam's emotional fortifications. Couldn't bear to judge the scale of destruction of either anymore than he could let his own emotions slip free of their reigns. He was a soldier, was a Winchester, was a brother and he had a job to do. Nothing could get in the way of that. Nothing.

Tightening his white knuckled grip on the steering wheel, he put his mind to the task of formulating the steps he would take to save Dean's life. Ran through the list of supplies he had asked Bobby to get, sought to catalogue which of his brother's wounds to focus on first. Began to calculate how much blood he should transfuse to Dean…but that was a pitfall. It wasn't in him to coldly estimate the amount of blood Dean had lost, that had stained the hardwood floor of that house, that soaked through Dean's clothing and Sam's and the thick, too absorbent towels.

Sam's quiet, choked directions to turn at the next road to the right were a relief, gave him a reprieve he knew he wouldn't have for long. Because, it truly was up to him to know how much blood Dean had lost…how much he needed to get back. It was his responsibility to clinically assess Dean's wounds and make the best medical decisions from that knowledge. Letting his guilt, his regret, his fear dull his proficiency…it could cost Dean his life. 'It's just your luck, 494. You find you have brothers, you lower your guard, let them convince you that you don't have to always be the perfect soldier, and now being the perfect, cold blooded field medic soldier is the only thing that may save your brother. And you're not sure you can be that anymore, with Dean threatening to die on you, with Sam looking over your shoulder, counting on you to save his brother. Great freakin' time for you to come to grips with your softer side.'

With both relief and dread, he saw the motel come into sight, knew that he had to slip on his field medic persona. But even as he swung the Impala into the parking lot and brought the car to a sliding halt outside the motel room he knew that the brother part of him wouldn't bow to necessity, was too much a part of him. Flying from the car, he didn't bother with the pleasantries, simply kicked in the room door, left it open as he blurred back to the Impala, to his brothers.

When he opened the driver's side back door, his breath caught painfully in his chest, not at the damage evident on Dean but at Sam's red-rimmed eyes. At the pain, the despair pouring off of Sam, at the pleading in his brother's look for him to make all this better.

Too choked to make reassurances, Alec slid inside the car, intending to hold onto Dean so Sam could climb out of the car. But as he gripped Dean's shoulders, he felt Sam tighten his hold on his brother instead of loosening it. Swallowing hard, he raised his head, met Sam's tortured gaze and couldn't blame Sam for the doubt, the misgivings he leveled at him. When had he ever proven himself worthy of the trust he was demanding from Sam…from Dean?! It didn't help at all to know that, in the pit of his stomach, he knew, whether the trust was warranted or not, he was their best chance to save Dean, or rather his blood was. "Sam, if there was another way…if there was someone else that could help Dean instead of me…" he stammered, felt his own eyes sting, his chin tremble. What he wouldn't give for even Falon to be there, to tell him that what he was proposing was for the best, wasn't going to simply kill Dean slowly, painfully instead of peacefully letting him go. 'But I can't let him go…and neither can Sam.'

Alec's broken admission reached Sam through his own pain, made him remember that he was a big brother now, had a role to play like Dean had always had. Forcing stiff fingers and tense muscles to loosen their possessive grip on Dean's slack body, he met Alec's pained gaze. "Dean wouldn't want anyone else to help him but you, Alec. And neither do I," he stated, gently pushing Dean forward into Alec's hold. He left his hands resting on his brother's back a moment even after Alec wrapped Dean into his arms, pulled his brother against his chest.

Steeling himself, Sam drew in a breath and then backed out of the car onto his feet, his eyes never leaving either of his brothers. "Carry him in Alec, I'll bring in the first aid kit," he ordered, though the words were quiet, forced. It was hard, giving Dean into someone else's care, even Alec's, especially when Dean was so vulnerable, so fragile, barely holding onto life. But Sam knew he had to prove to Alec that he did trust him, had to bolster Alec's faith before Alec could find the strength in himself to do what had to be done to save Dean.

It didn't mean Sam didn't stumble when he stepped back from the car, that he didn't feel like part of him was missing when he headed to the trunk, lost sight of Dean. That he didn't feel like falling onto his knees and crying and praying and begging for mercy even as his trembling hands opened the trunk, bypassed the useless weapons to grip the first aid kit. Only the knowledge that Dean was still alive kept him together, that Dean was fighting, that Dean expected him to keep fighting too.

Unprepared for Sam's words, for Sam to relinquish Dean into his care already, Alec choked on his next breath, pulled Dean tighter into his grip, rested his chin on Dean's shoulder. 'God please don't let me fail Dean…or Sam. For once in my life, let me do the right thing.' Slipping his one arm under Dean's legs, he pulled his brother tightly into his hold and slid back out of the car, shifted Dean's weight in his arms until Dean's head lulled against his shoulder before he headed to the open motel door.

Silently following in Alec's wake, hands wanting to reach out, to touch Dean, Sam skirted by his brothers to enter the room first, flung the first aid kit on the table and quickly stripped the bed farthest from the door of its covers. As Alec levered Dean gently onto the bed, Sam couldn't prevent his hand from bracing Dean's head, from carefully settling his brother's head onto the pillow, of letting his fingers skim over Dean's hair. He bit his lip at Dean's unresponsiveness, at the blood splattered on his brother's face, on his clothing and the towels soaked with dark blood, Dean's blood.

Alec was as shaken as Sam at Dean's condition. When he was holding his brother in his arms, he had felt Dean's racing heart, had sensed no muscle responses in his brother's body. For a moment, he stood immobile, hands fisted before he got himself under control, just like Manticore had taught him to. Secure your perimeter, assess the damage, scout for supplies, stay alive. 'Keep my family alive,' he tacked on, the last giving him the calmness, the determination that the other Manticore mandates did not, could not.

When Alec raised his eyes to Sam, who was looking down at his brother with such need, such love, it nearly broke Alec's new resolve, caused his planned gruff order to come out as a quietly spoken request. "Sam, make sure we don't get any unwanted guests. Then I need towels, blankets, pillows and more light, even a flashlight would help." When Sam nodded numbly, his eyes not moving from Dean's face, Alec was afraid he would have to force the older man into motion. But then Sam snapped out of it, had had too much training in survival, too much experience in fighting to save the people he loved to not click into action, to let a little thing like his brother dying slow down his reflexes.

Breaking out of his stupor, Sam ran for the Impala, for a flashlight and the salt and weapons he had left behind. Cursed himself for not thinking of setting up a protective barrier, chagrined that Alec had to tell him to do it. Boy, Dean would never let him live that down. 'Hear that Dean, you have to stick around to tease me, man. I'll even go to the circus and sit in the friggin' clown car if you'll just not leave me.' Arms full he ran back to the room, liberally laid down salt along the doorways and windows even as he checked the shotgun and reached to the back of his pants where Rudy's knife lay reassuringly tucked against his skin. Room secure, brothers as safe as he could make them, he stalked into the bathroom, grabbed towels and snatched pillows and blankets from the other bed and off the floor before piling them on the empty bed. Then he ran out of the room, kicked in the next motel room door and quickly scavenged for lights and towels and blankets, all the while trying to shut out the sight of Dean, bloody, still, frail, imprinted forever in his head even as he desperately clung to it, needed that proof that Dean was still with him, was broken but wasn't defeated. "You can't go, Dean. You just can't," he choked out as he stripped another bed of its covers and bundled them in his grip.

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It was wrong in a thousand ways, how fragile Dean looked. That Dean didn't make one protest, didn't move one muscle of his own accord as Alec removed the blood soaked towels and his shirts and jeans, left him lying on the bed in his boxers, his body smeared, coated in blood. But it was more than the blood, than Dean's unresponsiveness that mocked Alec's hope. That told him just how near to death his big brother was. It was the fast heart beat under his fingers as he rested them against Dean's neck, was the pale, cool, clamminess of his brother's skin, was the uneven rhythm of Dean's breathing, was the way the blood had ceased to well, seemingly a good sign but was one of the worst. Meant Dean's circulation was slowing down, that things might soon shut down…like his liver..his lungs…his heart. Dean was dying...but Alec had told Sam he could stop it, had told Dean he wouldn't let him. But this…this wasn't Dean, Dean who took on monsters on a daily basis, who went fifty rounds with White. Who didn't back down, no matter what Hell threw at him. This frail, listless, helpless man couldn't be his brother, the brother who had rescued him from prison, adopted him, taught him how to fight the supernatural but, more importantly, how to be a brother, what it felt like to have a family. "Dean," the name escaped him as a sob, as a little brotherly plea as he bowed his head until it rested on Dean's chest. He wanted Dean to make this better, to give him the strength he had from the very beginning, to offer him hope and love. "I need you, Dean. I've never let myself need anyone before but I need you, big brother," felt his tears drip onto his brother's already abused body.

Hearing the door handle mechanism before the door swung open, Alec instantly straightened, wiped the tears and the terror from his features. Steadying his hands, he set them to the task of inspecting the wound on Dean's chest as Sam entered the room. Sam was counting on him to be strong, to be the infallible Manticore soldier, to be the miracle that they needed. Sam didn't need to see that he was just a little brother, terrified to lose his big brother, was just a sick science experiment that had never really lived up to it's potential. Whose distinctiveness, whose blood had been more a curse on the world than it had ever been a blessing. 'Until now,' he vowed as he watched Sam dump his treasures onto the other bed , watched as Sam stilled as he saw the unvarnished graveness of his brother's wounds, how ravaged his brother's body truly was by the Hell Hound's teeth and claws.

"Ok, elevate his legs and I'll need some soap and warm water to begin cleaning out his wounds," Alec softly ordered, his eyes leaving the sight of Sam and refocusing on Dean, finding that, no matter how badly Dean looked, watching Sam's eyes switch from despair to hope to terror to need was worse. He didn't have to track Sam's action to know the other man was quickly doing as he asked, as if his instructions were trusted fully, as if he was trusted. It made Alec's gut churn, the trust, the fact that he was the only thing standing between Dean and death. That it was up to him to save his brother, to save them all.

As Sam sat the ice bucket full of soapy water on the nightstand, Alec eyes met Sam's. Something shifted in Sam's gaze, told Alec he wasn't the poker player Manticore had trained him to be. "Sam…" he breathed, pleaded, entreated, knew the other man saw his doubt, read his fear like he did his father's journal, knew that, where there should have been confidence, there was terror.

"You can do this, Alec," Sam stated almost with anger, not sure if he was trying to convince Alec or himself, was angry at Alec's doubt or his own. But when Alec numbly nodded and looked away, he reached out, gripped Alec's bicep, brought his younger brother's eyes back to his. "You can do this," he repeated his words now gently reassuring. "What you can do for family, for love…it'll surprise you," he revealed, a small tender smile on his lips as his eyes fell on Dean, as he reached out, put his hand on Dean's head. "Dean and I…what we've survived, what we've done for each other…it's not …normal. It goes against all the odds." Eyes finding Alec's again, Sam stated, "And you're part of that, Alec. You've become part of us." Then Sam pulled on a smile, offered humor like Dean would have, "Crap, Alec, stitching Dean up, swapping blood with him, that's just your final initiation into the Winchester family. After this, there is no going back."

Sam's words broke through Alec's fear, had him smirking, even though it was weakly, couldn't dampen the anxious, terrified look in his eyes. "Ah, that's alright," he replied with a shrug. "I wasn't looking for a way out anyway. Course I wasn't looking for a way out of Manticore either so maybe my sense of loyalty isn't quite the healthiest."

Sam gave Alec a playful shove on the shoulder, groused, "I can't believe I have to deal with two smart aleck brothers. You sure you didn't see a clone for me running around the old compound, you know, some way to even the odds out in our family?"

"Well, they were some pretty hideous looking guys down in the lower levels that might have had some DNA resemblance…."

"I'm sorry I asked," Sam cut him off but then his eyes alighted on Dean and it stole away his breath. Skirting by Alec, he came to stand by Dean, couldn't keep from reaching out, gripping Dean's wrist. "I know you have only known Dean a few months and you don't have much experience with family…brothers," he inhaled sharply and raised his head to meet Alec's eyes. "But Dean…" Sam shook his head, upset that he couldn't say the words without his voice betraying him, without his eyes beginning to sting all over again. "He's not just another big brother, Alec. Everyone doesn't get a brother like Dean, you know." He couldn't help looking back to Dean, tightening his hold on his brother. "He's given up everything for me, to keep me safe. Would do the same for you."
"I know," Alec said quietly, found he didn't have enough air in his constricted lungs for more than a whisper. Then Sam's teary eyes again met his, stole away more of his breath.

"I can't lose him, Alec. I just can't. If I need to steal from a blood bank or make a crossroads deal of my own or bind a reaper..I'll do that," Sam voice rose with his conviction, with his fear but then Alec's gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder, gave him another anchor, another handhold on sanity.

"Whoa, whoa. You're forgetting about the state of the art genetic wonder that I am. Let's not discount my efforts just yet," Alec lightly returned, prayed that he could be the solution, that he could make the difference between losing Dean, between losing both of his brothers.

"I didn't mean to discount you, your efforts, Alec. I just meant if they didn't work…"

"I know," Alec gently said, gave Sam's shoulder a squeeze. "Hopefully we won't need a backup plan but if we do, I'm part of that too, alright."

Sam bite his lip but nodded, felt somewhat better knowing that Alec wasn't talking about dissuading him from doing whatever he could to save Dean, was instead going to help him. That he truly wasn't alone in his fight to keep Dean with them.

Releasing Sam, Alec pulled in a breath, forced himself to put away the little brother in him that was terrified he would lose his brother and don the persona of the highly trained, never-lose-a-fellow-soldier, don't-come-back-until-the-mission's-done- and-it's-a-success Manticore soldier. Feeling his heart rate tack down, his adrenaline taper off and shaking out the last trembles in his hands he stepped toward Dean. Clinically he assessed Dean's condition, knew that three things were fighting to take his big brother away from him: the physical damage caused by the merciless teeth and claws of the hell hound, extensive blood loss and shock. 'Well, you're not getting him,' he silently vowed as he began to clean his brother's wounds with gentle, steady strokes. Hell hadn't won today and Heaven, well, they would just have to wait to induct this particular troublesome saint into their midst.

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Bobby was barely out of his car before the motel room flew open and Sam was quickly crossing to his car. Instantly, desperately he sought to read the younger man's emotions, to know if he had come too late. But as much as fear marked Sam's pale features, determination overshadowed it.

"You need help carrying anything in," Sam asked breathlessly, anxious to get back into the room, back to Dean's side.

"Back seat," Bobby replied, couldn't find the strength to ask how Dean was doing, not yet. His hands full of his stolen medical supplies, he used his hip to close the door and headed for the motel room. Sam beat him there, crossed the threshold before he could, likewise juggling supplies and holding the paramedic case in a white knuckled grip.

It was only the hunter in Bobby that kept him from stumbling at the harsh sight of the exposed wounds on the man that he considered a son, that allowed him to keep moving forward, to seemingly detachedly put down his supplies like they were camping equipment, not means to keep someone he loved alive. However, the father in him, the father that the Winchesters had forced him to become, wanted to back out of the room, to tell himself this was another dreamscape he was having on the wacky weed from a few months ago. That it couldn't be real. He had sworn to himself that he wouldn't let Dean get hurt, wouldn't let him go, die …just like Dean's oath to him, 'I'm not going to let you die. You're like a father to me.'

But this, this wasn't a dream, was a nightmare which he couldn't wake up from, couldn't even escape through death. No, this was where his cowardice had gotten them. For the thousandth time, he cursed himself for running away from Dean, from the agony that had poured off the younger man after Sam had died. For being unable to bear seeing the ever so strong boy brought to his knees in grief. For not knowing, not guessing what Dean might do, that he would willingly forfeit his own life to undo what had happened, to get Sam back. Hated himself for letting Dean's illusion of strength fool him into thinking the boy couldn't be broken…could endure his brother's death. 'And look where that got us?!'

He jumped when a hand landed on his arm, found that Sam was standing at his side, that the younger Winchester had enough heart to spare him a worried glance. "Bobby, you alright? You get everything without trouble?" he heard Sam's drawl, heard the gentleness and the barely restrained heartbreak in the boy's tone.

Nodding, he broke free of Sam's hold, began pulling supplies out of bags and boxes. "Rufus knew where the town's paramedic bay was so I raided everything from the ambulance, would have taken the vehicle if I thought we could have hidden it around here," he said, only raising his head from his rummaging to hand Sam a box of rubber gloves, a bottle of saline and a professional suture kit. "Crap, I forget the oxygen tank in the trunk," he cursed, waiting until Sam had a good grip on the supplies he had passed to him before leaving the room at a fast trot.

Turning around, Sam placed the supplies on the bed beside his brother's leg, couldn't help flicking his eyes to Dean's face, wished that there was some sign of consciousness even as he knew it was a blessing that Dean was not awake to feel the pain of his injuries, or the agony their efforts to save him would produce. Beside him, Alec lifted the soapy washcloth and his bloody hands from Dean's chest wound, quietly mumbled, "I need to go wash my hands," before he slipped away, stole into the bathroom.

Sam couldn't help sliding into Alec's vacated position so he could draw closer to Dean. Putting his hand on his brother's forehead he quietly reassured even as he sensed the coldness of his brother's skin, the way his brother's body shook slightly, "Hey, you're whole medical team's here now and we're going to fix you up, alright. You just have to be that stubborn jerk you always are and hang."

Lightly brushing his hand back through Dean's hair, he bit his lip, felt the tears come again. "I can't do this alone, Dean. You've always had my back, always. Even when you were in that stupid coma you found a way to be there for me, to tell me that you hadn't gone, were fighting to stay with me. You can do that again. Tell the reaper to go fly a kite…or you probably would say 'Bite me," right?" his laughter weak and nearly a sob at the end. Resting his hand gently against Dean's forehead, he breathed, "I know you better than anybody, remember. I know you can fight this, can stay with me. So just do it, Dean. Stay with me, man. Just stay here with me, with Alec…with Bobby. Staying is what you're good at Dean. Always has been."

Alec stopped on the threshold of the bathroom, halted by Sam's painful, desperate entreaty. Closing his eyes, he tried to wipe away the traces of his momentarily falter in his barriers, in his control. Hoped that the only witness to his doubt, his tears that surfaced a moment ago was the bathroom mirror. But now, hearing Sam's words, proven again that Dean was Sam's world….it made his poorly reconstructed walls shake. Rachel had been Berrisford's world…and he had taken her away from him…had taken her away from both of them.

Cursing, he took a step back into the room, fisted his hands and leaned against the sink. That couldn't happen again. He couldn't make that type of mistake again, couldn't be weak enough to not fight for what he loved, to keep who he loved safe. 'I'm not losing Dean. I'm not letting Sam lose his brother.' Pushing off the sink, he stalked out of the room, went back to where he belonged, with his brothers, fighting at their side, not willing to concede this particular battle. Ever.

When the oxygen tank snagged on something in the trunk, Bobby began cursing the trunk and the tank. And it caught him unaware, how quickly the curse turned into a choked sob. Stilling his motion, he leaned his head again the open trunk and tried to smother his emotions. 'God, I know I spent more time cursing You than praising You but that boy in there, he's good, doesn't deserve this, any of this. He's the best man I've ever known…was even before he was old enough to slide behind the wheel of a car. I know he deserves a rest, deserves to be somewhere safe, out of anyone, I know that. And maybe it's selfish, wanting him to stay…but that's what I'm asking. Sam, he can't live without that brother of his. And Alec, I don't know how you feel about him, him being created in a lab and all but if you care for him at all you can't rob him of having the best big brother this world has ever seen.'

Rolling his head against the trunk, he sighed. Old fool he was, crying, sobbing to a God that shouldn't care what he wanted, not after all he had done…and had not done. Straightening, he levered the oxygen tank free of the trunk and slammed the truck. Roughly he wiped away his tears but only took one step toward the room before he stopped. 'Lord, you want me to beg than I begging. Not for those boys in there but for me, cause losing Dean….it isn't something I can handle. Make me do whatever penance you want, just let us keep Dean awhile longer…sixty years or so would do nicely.'

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The threesome worked like a well honed team, their goal giving them the strength and fortitude to not accept even the notion of any setbacks. They were working to save the best of each of them and there could be no outcome less than victory.

Tersely, Alec asked for saline and sutures and scissors and Bobby handed it to him while Sam kept the flashlight's beam steady, his other hand unconsciously latched on Dean's hand, holding on. Alec's motions were controlled, concise, didn't hint at the inner turmoil roiling through the transgenic as he tried to forget the blood was his brother's, the viciously ripped skin and muscles under his hands belong to someone he loved, that one mistake on his part could cost him any happiness he wanted for himself, had finally deemed himself worthy to have.

Hearing Dean's breath quicken, Bobby slipped to the other side of Alec and increased the flow of oxygen before he gently touched the nasal canal leads resting on Dean's face, made sure they hadn't slipped, that they were keeping the worse of Dean's shock at bay. Turning, he checked the IV, made sure there was still liquid in the IV bag hanging on the IV pole he had stolen, that the pain medication and electrolyte solution was still offering what help they could to the badly wounded man's body. But found he couldn't pull back from Dean without resting his hand gently on the wounded man's head for a moment, silently pleading to the young man, 'You never ever backed down from a fight when your family was at stake so you can't fold now, Dean. Keep being the stubborn kid I know you are, son.' Then he forced himself to step back, to return to his place on the other side of Alec. He had a debt to pay to the Winchesters and he would see it done because, as much as being inducted into the Winchester circle hurt at times like this…he knew what an honor it was. The thought made him shift his look to Alec, wondered, for a moment, if the young man knew just how cursed and utterly blessed he was.

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TBC

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Ok, I did mention there would be angst and that I was in a sappy mood, right?

The next chapter is written but needs some fine tuning before I post it.

Now, for those of you like a heads up, who like to look at the clock at 8:45pm and determine there are only 15 more minutes remaining in the SN episode like I do, I'll be wrapping this tale up in 2 more chapters. Of course I foresee the last one to be rather long..which is kind of standard procedure with me.

Well, thanks again for enduring my scribblings!

I know I just dumped all this angst on you but I really hope you have a wonderful day!

Cheryl W.

(Aw come on…you KNOW I'm not going to let Dean die, right? Not after I went through the effort of saving him from Lilith and the Hound and Hell. 'Sides…how could I write more SN fanfiction if I killed him?)

So now I can wish you to have an Awesome Day without my conscience bothering me that I tanked your day with my story!