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. My Word program was giving me some problems so hopefully no lines are missing from the text!.

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Chapter 19

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'It shouldn't be commonplace, being familiar with your brother being unconscious, being hurt', Sam thought remorsefully, bitterly. Knew he shouldn't know, from past experience, what it felt like to brace Dean in his arms while wounds on Dean's back were tended to, anymore than he should have had a calming technique already in place for instances like this. What kind of family expected this, anticipated it?! Blood, wounds, unconsciousness, pain. 'Mine,' he acknowledged darkly even as he realized that his normal techniques to quiet his fears would be worse than useless this time, would incite the flames of his fears instead of dousing them. Because making comparisons between Dean's present injuries and his past injuries, it would not reassure him that Dean had been in worse shape and had pulled through just fine. No, this time, that comparison offered despair instead of hope. Dean had never been this grievously wounded before.

'And lived,' he qualified without conscious thought, remembering too vividly the months he had been forced to watch Dean die. Over and over and over. In a thousand different ways. 'Ways just like this.' Then the dog attack replayed itself in the movie reel in his head. He had only been a few steps away, was calling out for Hollenbeck's daughter, had heard Dean's soft invite to the dog, 'Does somebody need a friend.' Dean had bled out from the bite at his jugular, died again in his arms, and he had had time for one coherent thought before the Trickster reset the game. "Stupid dog doesn't need a friend but I need my brother, Dean."

Now Dean felt that way again, heavy and lifeless in his grip, dying. He didn't even know his breath hitched until Alec took precious time away from stitching Dean's back to level a worried look at him.

Acutely aware of Sam, almost as much as he was of Dean, Alec reacted to the change in Sam's breathing, to the catch that felt like it was the on the precipice of being a sob. Could see that Sam was surprised, almost embarrassed by his attention, that his fleeting weakness had been detected. 'Don't break down, Sam or I'll lose it, man,' he pleaded but kept that need out of his expression, didn't want to put any more weight on Sam to be the unshakeable rock than there already was. Instead he hoped his look gave reassurances to the older man, spoke of confidence, that he was able to be the liar Manticore had molded him to be.

When Sam gave a weak smile of embarrassment, offered him a glimmer of encouragement like an older brother should, Alec readily returned his attention to stitching the wound closed on Dean's back. Suddenly feeling too vulnerable in the guise of little brother, he retreated back to the relative safe persona of medic, of uninterested party, of stranger. Retreated because he wasn't sure of the victory, wasn't certain of the strength of his defenses, didn't know if he could survive a defeat of this magnitude.

He worked in silence, his hands deftly striving to pull ripped skin together again, to try and fix, even beautify, what was horrific: a gaping wound on his brother's body. A wound that he had been too late, too weak to prevent. Knotting the last stitch, he ran his fingers lightly over his work as if he were checking it for imperfections, was instead reassuring himself that the flesh under his hands was still warm, allowed himself to think of the body under his fingers as his brother's and not some stranger's.

Breaking from his trance, he raised his head and nodded to Sam, said, "I'm done. Let's lay him on his back," his voice more hoarse than he expected, making him realize that he hadn't spoken in a long while, hadn't needed to as he and Bobby had come into a rhythm. He had cursed the need for that rhythm, that it had come to be almost monotonous, stitch after stitch. But hadn't. Had never truly been tedious…had remained heartbreaking, Every. Single. Stitch.

Clenching his jaw, he slid his hands behind Dean's back, helped Sam ease their brother back onto the mattress, was careful to not dislodge the IV in Dean's hand or the oxygen nasal canal. Felt whatever small relief he had gained at the warmth of Dean's skin falter when Dean's head limply fell back onto his forearm, when his brother's body moved so lifelessly in his arms.

Sliding his hand behind Dean's neck, Sam eased his brother's head from Alec's arm, settled it gently onto the mattress as the rest of Dean's tall, muscled form was carefully eased flat by Alec. "Hard part's over, Dean," Sam softly announced, ghosting his hand lightly over Dean's clammy forehead, through his hair, wishing Dean would flinch away, slap his hand away, would react like Dean, invincible, big brother Dean. Dampening his disappointment, he tried to joke like Dean would, even pulled on a smile for the presentation. "Next is your dream come true: your chance to get some super soldier mojo DNA from Alec." Knew he was a chicken for calling it DNA, for not calling it what it was, unable to choke out the word 'blood'. But he was conflicted at the thought that blood was going to pass from Alec to Dean, that Dean's life rested, not in Alec's hands, but in the nature of Alec's blood. Yellow Eyes had killed his mother so that he could give him such a 'gift', to mark him, mutate him into something less than human, something that he had been too scared to tap into even to save his brother's life. He hated that Bobby's words of 'Family doesn't end with blood,' seemed a double edged sword now.

And, for the life of him, Sam couldn't decide what blood truly was: a curse? a salvation? Whether it should be discounted or was the only thing that mattered. Maybe it was all of that..and none of that. Prayed that, stacked up against love and Winchester stubbornness, blood was what they made it, could be coerced and molded into what they needed it to be. That it was neither bad nor good, was just another weapon in their arsenal. 'And just like any other weapon, Alec and I will use it to keep our family safe. Just like Dean taught us to.'

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The Berrisford Assignment not withstanding, Alec had been an exemplary asset for Manticore. Utilizing skills of thievery, deception or callous force, he had achieved the goals his masters set for him. Could even pretend, during the daylight hours, that the collateral damages for those successes didn't weigh on his mind, let alone a conscious he wasn't supposed to be in possession of. And it had been an easy, guiltless transition in his post-Manticore world to adapt those same skill sets to get what he wanted in life. To change the focus of his world from Manticore's needs to his own, to convince himself that his own needs may not rival Manticore's national security needs but they certainly justified thievery and deception.

Then Dean and Sam had come into his life, had turned everything more upside down than even Manticore's dissolution had. They made him question everything he knew, everything he thought he was, everything he wanted to be. Had nurtured the vigilantly suppressed need in him to give instead of take, to save instead of destroy, to fight, not for his own needs, but for the needs of others..of even strangers.

And in the past hours, all of his newly unleashed instincts had been deployed but one, and that one was way past due. It was time to return what Lydecker had stolen twenty some years prior from Dean, for his mutated blood to give Dean life as surely as Dean's blood had given him life. Wanted things to come full circle. Knew it was ironic that, in his own way, he was carrying on the Winchester tradition: a life for a life. Wanted to pay back, even in some minuscule way, what Dean had given him. Not only life, but family, brothers…hope.

Clenching his fist, Alec watched the IV lead from his vein to Dean's arm flow with blood. Though Dean's wounds were stitched and antibiotics were slipping into his system via the other IV, he had seen enough wounds on Ordinaries to know his brother's body couldn't function without regaining a vast portion of the blood that he had lost, couldn't generate the strength to fight the massive wounds it had sustained, didn't have the ability to heal such devastating damage. Not without some miracle…or, in place of that, than a transfusion of some top secret, scientifically altered blood.

Hearing the first drops of water splashing onto the tiles of the shower, he was still surprised Sam had obeyed his terse order to take a shower to remove the blood coating his skin, to change his blood drenched clothing. Wasn't sure if he had done it for Sam …or himself, because he had seen enough of Dean's blood for a lifetime, couldn't focus with the handprints and slashes of red marring Sam's shirt and jacket. If he fine-tuned his hearing, he could detect the shuffle of feet outside the door, knew Bobby was pacing nervously in his sentry duty. But the running water, the shuffling feet, they were just a distraction from the cruel quiet blanketing the room.

He wasn't used to Dean being quiet. Hated worse that it felt like it had when he sat beside Rachel's bed, when he was void of hope that she would wake up, that she would ever know how sorry he was. Didn't want to think about Dean never knowing how sorry he was. Suddenly words tumbled from his constricted throat, "Dean I'm sorry. I screwed up, didn't get there in time to stop…this." His hand swept above Dean's body, indicated the wounds on his brother's body he knew were there, concealed under the blankets. "Some ace in the hole, I turned out to be, huh?" 'Some brother I am.' "We should have seen this coming, maybe I did and just…" he broke off, scratched the back of his head nervously and gave a bark of bitter laughter. "The whole thing with White proved I was a danger to you but I thought…" his voiced broke on the word and he tried it again with more conviction. "I actually thought I would be able to protect you this time, use the freaky genes of mine and do something good with them. Dumb, right?" eyes fixed on Dean's face, desperate to hear Dean growl at his words, to defend him like he had from the very start, even when he was just a stranger wearing his face.

No bark to cut the chick-flick drama, no flicker of long lashes against translucent skin, Dean's utter stillness: It was the last straw for Alec. There was no calculated emotional valve opening, was only a tidal wave of despair that made his sob crest over the silence in the room. Seared away the locks he had struggled to keep intact as he had worked to save Dean's life, to put together his brother's savagely broken body. He choked on the next sob, scrambled to get himself in control before he shattered completely, before he became useless to either of his brothers.

Leaning forward, he rested his cheek against the top of Dean's head and slid his hand across Dean's chest, fingers wrapping around the left side of Dean's neck. Closing his eyes, he rasped out, "I lied, Dean. I don't curse the day I met you and Sam, I treasure it. It's the best thing that ever happened to me and I'm not ready to give up on it, the dream, the idea of family: you, me, Sam."

Opening his eyes, he didn't move, didn't release the so needed contact with his brother, found strength in being that close to Dean, in hearing his breathing, feeling his heartbeat under his arm, of remembering how in awe he had always been in Dean's presence. "You hear me? I'm not giving up on you, or on our family. And if you think you can just bail on me…Well, I have a problem with that," he declared with conviction and determination as he raised his head, reluctantly lifted his hand, his arm from his brother and settled back in his chair, eyes never leaving Dean's face.

Shifting his shoulders and his walls alike, he continued his commentary, "Ok, fine, you're going the stoic route. I can respect that. Sure, I'll just amuse myself by say, painting the Impala," he gave an upside down smirk along with his threat. "I hear hot pink is the new black. And paisley interior…it's all the rage."

"You do any of that and he'll haunt you," Sam smirked from his vantage point in the bathroom doorway, the hoarseness of his voice belying the lightness in his tone. It was almost satisfying, seeing Alec startled, to catch the highly trained soldier off guard. With Alec's glare searing into him, he left the bathroom, crossed to his brothers. "Trust me, I've heard the threat often enough to believe it," his words affectionate as he looked down at Dean, remembered Dean's words after his heart attack….the night before in that house when it seemed all hope was lost.

And now…Dean wasn't gone, was there, was hanging on by his fingertips but was still fighting. Sam looked to Alec, knew that Alec had been the deciding factor the previous night, not only at the house but in this very motel room. As he opened his mouth to voice his gratitude, he finally took note of Alec's appearance, the haggardness in his features, the paleness of his skin….the state of his clothing.

"Alec!" Sam exclaimed, dropping to a crouch beside Alec. Reaching for his younger brother's chest, his torn, bloody clothing, he drew in a sharp breath as he uncovered wounds that mimicked the ones Dean had on his chest: claw marks, scratches, puncture wounds. "Why didn't you tell me you were wounded?!" he demanded then chastised himself, fingers lightly brushing over the wounds, inspecting them. "Crap! You shouldn't have had to tell me, I should have known. Dean would have known you were hurt, he always asks if I'm alright. Always. Even when he's practically…" he cut his words off before the word 'dying' escaped. Clenching his jaw, he stifled his fears, the guilt he felt at having missed Alec's wounds, forced himself to focus on taking care of his brother. "We have to clean out these wounds and stitch them."

"I'm alright," Alec reassured, surprised at the panic coming off of Sam, panic for him. When Sam's incredulous look landed on him, he downplayed with a wave of his hand, "Ah, just a few scratches. Normal battle scars when you toss felines and canines together in a ring."

Shaking his head at brothers who thought they could joke or lie away their injuries, Sam lifted Alec's shirt up, grimaced at the dried blood that congealed around the wounds. Letting the shirt go, he ran his hands down Alec's arms, found some tears and blood stains on Alec's sleeves. Raising his eyes to Alec, he tilted his head as he also noted the paleness in Alec's features, could see the freckles standing out across his nose…just like he always could on Dean when his brother lost most of his coloring. Swallowing as worry crested, he breathlessly asked, "Alec, how much blood did you give Dean already?" cursing himself for not knowing that answer, for not recognizing that Alec would willingly drain himself dry to save Dean.

Instead of answering Sam's question, Alec strategized, "I'll give him another pint now. Then we can watch his vitals and determine if he needs more blood in a few hours."

"Another pint.." Sam repeated, in surprise and concern, couldn't imagine the state Alec would be in if he allowed him to follow through on his plan. "No," he simply said, hands reaching for the IV in Alec's arm. Unexpectedly, his little brother's hand coiled around his wrist, detoured his intentions. "I'm not letting you give another pint, Alec!"

"Dean needs it!" Alec growled, sounding too much like a cat protecting its young, his eyes blazing into Sam's, offering up an unvoiced threat.

Alec's proclamation halted Sam's logic, had him looking to Dean's face, wished his brother's features gave him reason to hope, showed a marked improvement. But Dean still looked close to dying, to slipping away. Suddenly, Sam felt torn between loyalties, between one brother and the other. Like he was expected to make the choice: Dean's life or Alec's health. Dean's life or Alec's life. It was too reminiscent of being in that cabin, his father demanding he kill him to defeat the evil that had wrecked all their lives and Dean begging him to not pull that trigger. Knowing he had to choose between vengeance and love, between his father's love and Dean's. "Don't make me choose, Alec," he brokenly implored, pain filled eyes coming up to Alec's confused gaze. "Don't make me choose between you and Dean, your life or his."

Alec's breath caught. He hadn't meant to do that, to lay that ultimatum on the line. Had just been so focused on Dean, on saving Dean that he had forgotten his other mandate: Saving Sam. "Sam, I'm alright, I can give another pint without hurting myself."

"Really?!" Sam challenged harshly, his emotions like a live wire in the room. "Because you're super human, right? Or maybe you think you're expendable?! But what you keep conveniently forgetting is you're my brother. You are Dean's brother. And right now I have one brother scaring the crap out of me, I don't need two, Alec." Ripping his wrist from Alec's suddenly slack hold, he reached for Alec's IV again, was relieved when his actions weren't derailed again. Pulling the IV out of Alec's arm with a sympathetic wince, he was going to remove the other end from Dean but Alec's capable, gentle hands were already there, replacing the IV with a sterile pad.

With Alec no longer bound to Dean and seemingly resigning himself to be the center of medical attention for awhile, Sam said, "Let's get you to the other bed so I can clean you up." Gripping Alec's elbow, he pulled the unexpectedly passive younger man to his feet.

Surrendering himself to Sam's needs, Alec came to his feet with his big brother's assistance but wasn't prepared for his genetically empowered body to falter on him, for his vision to tilt and his knees to weaken. Even as he reached out to latch onto Sam, his brother drew him into his arms, kept him off the floor and offered him the same fortifying connection he had moments before forged with Dean. Where the connection with Dean encouraged him to be the strong one, Sam's grip told him the opposite, told him that Sam was willing to offer him strength, would not judge his weakness. Sam's gentle, convicted words by his ear reinforced that belief. "I got you. I got you, Alec. You're going to be alright."

As he regained some of his strength, Alec didn't pull back but instead stepped further into Sam's hold, wrapped his arms around his big brother and held on, soaked up the hope, the strength Sam was emanating. "I don't know what else to do for him," he confessed, his voice trembling, chin resting on Sam's shoulder and hands fisted in the fabric of the back of his brother's shirt, wanting Sam to make this better, to tell him what to do.

Alec's tortured admission almost broke Sam's own barriers, the words almost the same ones that had echoed in his head during his shower. Lightly putting his hand on the back of his little brother's head, he held on tighter to his brother, felt the quaking in the lithe, genetically strong frame. "Dean would be dead if it weren't for you, Alec," his declaration whispered, as if to say it louder would undo something, reset the clock, steal his brothers away from him. "If you hadn't shown up….held off the hell hound…distracted Lilith…." All hope of control gone, he closed his eyes, leaned his head against Alec's. No matter how tenuous Dean's grip on life was at the moment, the fact that Dean had a grip at all was due to Alec, to his little brother's well timed entrance into the family battle. Sam knew with shame, with guilt that he had done nothing to save Dean, had been assigned a front row seat to his own brother's death…would have watched helplessly as Dean lost his life if Alec had not intervened.

"I should have gotten there sooner," Alec brokenly denied, holding tighter to Sam. "I waited …too long."

Shaking his head, Sam denied, "Dean would say you can't show your ace until the exact right time…when the winner seems inevitable." And from his prospective of the battle in that room in New Harmony, Lilith had won, was doing the worst she could to him: was taking away his brother, was condemning Dean to Hell. All in front of his eyes, all because of him. Mentally pushing that grim memory to the back recesses of his mind, he focused on the here and now, on the fact that Dean was alive, wasn't going to Hell, that Lilith had lost.

Giving Alec one more tight embrace, Sam drew back but kept his grip on Alec's shoulders. "If Dean asks, this never happened alright?" he enforced with a feeble laugh. "We went out and had shots and wracked up a pool game and won some money while he was healing up…but we never cried or hugged."

"Us? Cry?! Hug?! So not our type of thing.." Alec agreed, his voice still trembling even as he wiped away his tears, mirroring his big brother's actions. "Course knowing Dean he'll ask for his share of the pool money..and that, big brother, is coming out of your wallet, not mine," he said, giving Sam a pat on the chest before he maneuvered to the other bed, laid down with a grimace. And then he snapped his fingers, "Doctoring now. I don't want to be carrying around scars when Dean's going to probably heal up nicely like a baby. I'm not saying I'm competitive but…well, maybe I'm a little competitive…"

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Desolation radiated from Sam as he sat beside Dean. Without an audience, there was no one to be strong for and no one to witness the crumpling of his brave façade. Right then, he knew he would give anything in the world for Dean to wake up, tell him to stop being such a girl and stop holding his hand. But Dean's didn't move and his brother's green eyes refused to open. Whatever fragile hope he clung to was being bombarded by his fear that he truly would lose his brother.

Honestly, he wasn't sure if it made it better or worse, Dean not being in a hospital, the fact that he wasn't hearing a heart monitor…would never know when his brother's heart was showing signs of stopping. Felt a growing dread that the hand he held would become colder in his grip, would forever be incapable of squeezing his hand back. Taking in his brother's inanimate face, his freckles standing out starkly against his so pale skin, the years and strain the slack features didn't carry, Sam remembered Dean as a teenager, Sam's annoying, bossy big brother who thought he knew it all.

Biting his lip, Sam rested his other hand lightly on Dean's chest. "I'm sorry, Dean. I said…I said I would save you…I wanted to protect you…" his inhale turned into a gasp for breath and his exhale a trembling whoosh of air. But his next words were bitter, carried guilt and hatred. "Hell of a job I did. I should have allowed Ruby to teach me whatever dark tricks she wanted to. You did whatever you had to do to save me, I should have done the same for you."

And somewhere, he hoped that his words would get a reaction out of Dean: a furious denial, a shouted reprimand, a threat. Something, anything that told him Dean was still there, could still be reached, was still connected to him. He held his breath, waiting, waited for some flinch from Dean, for a twitch, for a grimace on his face, a movement from the hand he held. But it never came.

"Dean?! Dean?" Sam called out, voice ravaged, lost, searching his brother's face for the spark of life, of the hint of that fighting spirit that was all Dean. Tightening his grip on Dean's hand, he drew closer, leaned over further into Dean's personal space, looked down at his brother's face. "That crap you kept telling yourself, that I would be fine without you, that I am stronger than you…it's not true, Dean. It never was. You think walking away is hard, that Dad and I …we walked away from you because we were stronger than you. But you got it all wrong man. Staying is harder. Caring about someone is all about bravery. Loving someone, even when they hurt you, like Dad and I hurt you, that's love, that's real strength, real bravery. Dad and I …we were the cowards, thought it would hurt less if we walked away from you rather than seeing you get hurt, or being forced to let you go. Cowards walk away from their family and you're no coward Dean."

Pulling back, he reluctantly removed his hand from Dean's chest, sat back in the chair but didn't relinquish his brother's hand from his grip. "Besides, there's no one better to teach Alec all about being a family than you, Dean. I would screw it all up, you know that," he gave a shaking laugh. "There is a reason you're the big brother, Dean, and not me. Though I think Alec's got that getting-hot-chicks step down he doesn't know crap about prank wars. And his whole transgenic thing, it's gone to his head, makes him think he doesn't always have to listen to older brothers. Last but not least is his whole misconception that he's expendable. He gets that from your DNA, you know. That self sacrificing crap that's got us right where we are now."

Biting his lower lip, Sam shuffled in his seat, felt tears track down his face but didn't check them, had not the strength or the desire to pretend any longer that he wasn't scared, wasn't breaking apart. "You told me that nothing bad would happen to me as long as you were around…" he said quietly, remembering that long ago conversation right after meeting Max Miller, naively thinking then that they had an idea how off track his abilities could get. "You giving up on that promise, Dean? You ditching your big brother, protective job? Looks that way to me, man. Cause if you're gone…bad things," he choked on the words, had to draw in a ravaged breath before he continued, "that doesn't even begin to describe what will happen to me, Dean. And what's worse, I might even welcome it. Because you were right, you hear that. You were right. I do have something Max Miller and Andy and Jake never had…You! I have you and that's saved me a thousand times. You've saved me."

Leaning over his brother again, he nearly whispered his entreaty, "Now it's time to save me again, Dean. Do what you do best. Be my brother, be Alec's brother. For once in your life, fight for yourself, Dean. If not for yourself, than do it for your family. Just do it, Dean. Keep fighting, keeping being my brother."

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For being a super charged soldier, Bobby thought the clone was awful jumpy. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he apologized, shutting his motel room door shut behind him. He had booked the room beside the Winchesters, because, though he didn't want to crowd the three men, he couldn't stand to be far away from Dean. Watching the clone drop his fight or flight stance, he noted the obvious tension that remained in the younger man's stance beside the Impala. "Getting any vibes of trouble?" he asked, walking toward the transgenic, ready to take over the protection detail for the next few hours.

"Vibes as in what? Flickering lights, lightening storms, crops wilting or using my super hearing to pick up the first bars of ominous cue music for doom?" Alec tartly shot back, uncertain why the older man had him terse and putting up barriers. Sam and Dean trusted this man. 'Course the trouble isn't that they trust him, it's that this guy doesn't trust me. Not even when it comes to my own brothers' lives.' Struggling between railing at the man's audacity and wanting to earn his trust, Alec shook his head and looked away from the older man. He never did the right thing, why start now.

Feeling as if he and the clone…'younger man', he corrected himself, had gotten off on the wrong foot, Bobby crossed slowly to Alec, spoke amicably as he approached. "I'm going to take that as a no on the 'sensing evil approaching' question." Before he could reach the younger man's side, Alec was brushing past him, heading for his room. Sensing that grabbing the transgenic to stop his departure wasn't his best tactic, he did what he had to do with all Winchesters: Used words when they didn't, when they wouldn't. Stubborn idjits, all of them. "What you did for Dean…" When Alec halted, met his eyes head on, he could see that the younger man was uncertain if a reprimand or a congratulations was coming. It made him put more conviction in his next words. "It was the right thing."

"We don't know that yet," Alec hoarsely refuted, wishing to God he could tell if he had saved Dean's life or merely drew out his brother's agony.

"I've seen my fair share of wounds. Seen them treated by doctors in hospitals and by hunters huddled in ditches in the woods. Extensive blood loss…" he nearly choked on the words, on the memory of Dean, covered in blood, of the blood soaking Sam's clothing and Alec's and his own as they tended to Dean's injuries, "it's a killer in both settings."

"Maybe I should give him another pint. Maybe I shouldn't have let Sam stop me earlier…" Alec stammered, shifting on his feet, hand running through his hair.

"I know you're all powerful but even you couldn't survive giving too much blood at one time," Bobby pointed out, put some gruffness in his tone to prod the boy to get his defenses up. Instead he watched the doubt in the younger man's eyes grow, almost flinched at the desperation in the boy's next words.

"But if it saves Dean…"

"Don't you know by now that Dean would never want someone he loves hurt?! That he would be devastated if you died trying to save him? That's just the kind of big hearted jerk he is," Bobby countered, admiration and frustration in his tone but a softer emotion was gleaming in his eyes as they met Alec's. Knew that he was bound to this young kid by the love he had for the Winchesters, that they both had for the two, reckless idiots.

"He would have Sam. And Sam would have him. That's what matters most," Alec stated, his faith in his words unshakeable. No one who had spent any amount of time with Dean and Sam could misinterpret the connection they had, that they needed each other.

Bobby gave a chortle of scoffing laughter. "You try selling that to Dean?! Or even Sam?! I've seen their tempers, kid. I wouldn't get them riled." At the confused tilt of Alec's head, Bobby sighed and clarified like he was talking to an imbecile. "Family matters to them, most of all. And, like it or not, they've dragged you into their family. Me?! I have had to fight my way in. And even with me being honorary family, they wanted to bench me on this game."

Something eased in Alec and he felt a kinship with the older hunter for the first time. He gave a weak smirk. "They tried that with me too but I pulled the little-brother, we're-stronger-as-a-family, a-family-fights-for-each-other line."

"Good one. I had to fall back onto the family-doesn't-end-with-blood," Bobby admitted with a shake of his head as he leaned against the Impala, found that Alec was still there, was no longer looking at him warily. Satisfaction flared in Bobby that he had finally found middle ground with the younger man, was surprised to realize how badly he wanted to connection with Dean and Sam's little brother. "I'm sorry for the way I treated you before. Those boys," he tilted his head toward the door that Sam and Dean were behind, "they are like sons to me. Them accepting you should have been enough for me but I…"

"You were just trying to protect them. I get it. Man, do I get it," Alec allowed with an exhale of breath. Since his brothers had come into his life, he understood protection duty on a core level. Understood even more how hard it was to protect two very reckless, too brave for their own good let alone his peace of mind Winchesters. He and Bobby had their work cut out for them.

"Crappy job I've done," Bobby bitterly condemned himself as he looked away from the younger man. Not able to face even the blame that was sure to lurk in this new Winchester's eyes. "Guess there's a reason I never had sons of my own."

Alec's heart went out to the older man, understood now what had lurked in Bobby's eyes outside that house in New Harmony: fear, guilt, terror that he would lose Dean, lose someone he loved like a son. "That's what I thought about my having a brother," Alec drawled, remembering that notion only too well, thinking he deserved a grade A loony like "Ben" for a brother. "Till I meet them," he jerked his chin toward the motel door, to his brothers inside. "I'm not sure if you noticed, but they aren't good at taking no for an answer. And once you get to know them…"

"You're doomed to care about the idiots," Bobby snorted with disgruntled love. "It wouldn't be so bad if they didn't threaten to die on you every six months," he qualified, absently swiping at his eyes, his gaze on the still highway and not on Alec.

"Didn't make deals with crossroad harpies," Alec tacked on, his voice breaking even through his weak laughter.

"Didn't go and get themselves shanked in the back.." Bobby countered.

"Didn't think ten thousand volts of electricity was their friend…"Alec said with mock glee and a fake smile.

"Or that it was Ok to chat with reapers…" Bobby growled out.

"Or that leaving me was an option…" Alec heaved out, the words coming unbidden, before he could filter them. Turning his back on the older man and letting his watery gaze rest on the horizon, he bit down on his lip, fought to not come undone again.

Turning to Alec, seeing the quake in the young Winchester's back, Bobby exhaled loudly. Being a Winchester, loving a Winchester, it wasn't easy, would never be easy, but it was worth it. "Guess you better set that idiot older brother of yours straight then."

Alec drew in a steadying breath, "Yeah." Turning, he saw understanding, grief, fear and hope in the older man's eyes. "Thanks for letting me treat Dean."

"I didn't let you, Sam did," Bobby corrected but then softened his tone when Alec nodded weakly at his words. "Sides, I knew Dean trusted you already. Fact is, he thanked me for finding out about you. Thanked me for getting him another pain-in-the-butt little brother to do his bidding."

A small cough of laughter erupted from Alec and his eyebrows rose in challenge. "Oh really, do his bidding. We'll see about that."

SNNNNSNSNSNS

'Dean?' The call vibrated through Dean, somehow reached him, beckoned to him. It took him considerable time to realize it was his own name. Found that it wasn't really the soldier in him responding to a command, a sharp bark for his attention, it was the sound of the voice that called to him, that didn't order, but pleaded, that didn't demand but begged for his attention. It was Sam's voice. He knew that voice as well as he knew anything in life.

He had been there when that voice said its first word, had come to learn how to detect anger and sadness on the first syllable out of his brother's mouth. And what was in that raw voice now was sorrow, need, the like Dean had never heard from his little brother before.

In that moment, Dean thought he would have found a way to come back from Hell itself at the beckoning of that broken voice.

Though he wasn't in Hell, the stasis he was in felt like a void, one that was a little possessive of losing its only occupant. Every measure he made to break free was meant with a countermeasure, left him spent and barely conscious. Only Sam's voice gave him the strength not to concede the battle, to regroup in full unconsciousness for a while longer. 'You told me that nothing bad would happen to me as long as you were around…you giving up on that promise?' That was Sammy alright. His little brother always knew how to play hard ball when he wanted something. But it was a little surprising to him what Sam wanted this time around: Him.

No matter all the words Sam had said, had wanted to say but he wouldn't let him, no matter all the research his little brother had done behind his back to break the deal, no matter that look in Sam's eyes when it was midnight, when his time was up, he had still clung to the belief that Sam would be alright without him. Thought Sam would come to realize he didn't need him…like he had in college. But what he heard in Sam's voice now, the imploring look Sam had leveled at him as he knelt beside him on the floor in that house in New Harmony…it made him doubt himself. Rethink his role in his brother's life, the necessity of his role even after Sam had come into his own, was his own man, according to Sam could 'take care of himself.' But now Sam's words that had followed that declaration became clearer, 'I want you to worry about you. To care that you're dying.'

Through the void, Sam's voice was like a candle, brought hope and light, was a sharp contrast to the desolation, the fear in his brother's tone. 'Now it's time to save me again, Dean. Do what you do best ..be my brother…fight for yourself Dean…keep being my brother.'

Dean railed against the notion that he would be anything less than Sam's brother. It was who he was down to his core, some days it had felt like it was all he was, was the best he was. And then Alec had come into their lives. Had slipped past his defenses like the well trained soldier he was, not with tactics but with the strength of his heart. It had been no harder to accept the responsibility of Alec than it had been Sam. It came naturally, was an honor, the highest honor anyone could ask of him, that his father ever asked of him…that Alec ever allowed him. Was an honor he wasn't ready to forfeit, not yet, not when a part of him still sparked with life. 'Albeit weak, painful life,' he amended as he fought against the void with new vigor, struggled to return to Sam, to Alec, to the family he knew was waiting for him. But more than that, Sam needed him to return and maybe Alec did too. At the heart of it, Sam was right, being a brother, it was what he did best.

Head bowed over his and Dean's intertwined hands, Sam jolted upright when Dean's hand moved in his. Hopeful, desperate eyes flew to his brother's pale visage. A wince scurried across the features, made Sam clutch tighter onto his brother's hand, quietly entreat, "Dean?" Then his prayers were answered as Dean's eyes fluttered open, as he was blessed with the sight of his brother's familiar, well loved gaze. Not giving Dean a chance to come more fully awake or dare to slip away again to unconsciousness, Sam leaned forward and slid his arms under his brother and gently but desperately pulled Dean slightly off the bed into a hug, chick flick moment be damned. "Dean," he exhaled torn between a sob and a laugh, his joy filling the room as he clutched possessively to his brother, daring any force, either of this life or of the afterlife, to just try and pry his grip loose.

"Sam..my," Dean managed to get out, unburying the strength to lift his hand far enough off the bed to snag his fingers in his brother's shirt. Felt and heard Sam's breath hitch by his ear even as he was pulled more firmly into his brother's strong embrace.

"Dean, I'm right here. Everything's alright now that you're back," Sam assured gently, forced himself to pull back, to settle Dean back onto the bed, to be satisfied with his hand resting gently on Dean's chest. Looking down into Dean's more lucid eyes, he smiled, didn't bother to wipe away the tear that tracked down his face.

"You …alright?" Dean wheezed out, his big brother instincts not letting the question go unanswered, especially at his brother's haggard, pale appearance.

Sam gave a small, happy laugh at his brother's usual inquiry. "I'm fine, Dean. Now that you decided to give up your prima dona, sleeping beauty routine."

"Bite me," Dean choked out, a ghost of his trade mark snark in the words. "Wait…ready been…bitten."

Shaking his head but unable to dampen down his blooming smile, Sam said, "Dude, how about we make a deal that you never use that phrase again."

Tiring, Dean closed his eyes, heard Sam take in a sharp, panicked breath at his gesture. "Chill, Sam," he exhaled weakly but there was conviction in his next words. "I'm not going anywhere."

Wielding his own conviction, Sam quickly returned "Damn right you're not, Dean," but his light touch on Dean's cheek was all tenderness. "Get some sleep, I'll be here when you wake up."

His eyelids too heavy to lift, Dean murmured, "Threat…or..promise," heard Sam's solemn promise of "Both" before he sank down into the void again. This time not to be its prisoner but merely its temporary guest.

SNDASNDASNDASNDA

TBC

SNDASNDASNDASNDA

Thanks for everyone who read this chapter and for the words of encouragement for last chapter!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.