Dean was quiet. He didn't say anything after introducing himself, and only seemed to move when Alec told him to. One wary side eye always followed Alec from his position at the dining room table, where Alec told him to sit, watching the transgenic ransack the cabinets with gleeful abandon. He wasn't quite throwing things everywhere, but come on—when did he ever get the chance to dig through Logan's things with an actual excuse? Much less steal from his secret stashes.

He managed to find a bunch of three bananas, sitting in the back of the cabinet under the sink. He peeled one off and plopped it on the table. Dean just stared at him, arms protectively wrapped around his middle.

The transgenic slumped down in the chair across from him, but Dean still hadn't moved. It was a standoff, the older and the younger staring across the square table with the happy colored fruit sitting oblivious in the middle. Alec was fully knowledgeable of the fact that he was being evaluated. Scrutinized. With that stare the kid could be Osiris weighing his guilt against a feather, getting ready to send him straight to hell.

Alec scooted the banana closer. "Help yourself."

Dean didn't move. He kept staring, suspicion warring against obvious hunger as his gaze flicked between the fruit and Alec's face.

The transgenic spread his hands. "I don't bite. Hard."

Not a word left his mouth, but Alec could tell the kid was unimpressed. He sighed, crossing his arms and leaning them on the table. "Look, you're so skinny I could hang you out front and use you as a windchime. You can think I'm fattening you up to eat you, I don't care—just eat."

He wanted to. He could tell he did. The kid's breathing sped up, lips parting and pupils dilating as he kept looking between Alec and the fruit. He waited him out, not changing his facial expression in the least. If it were other circumstances, he might have gotten up and moved. But there wasn't any better bait than food to a starving kid, and he wasn't going to get used to Alec at close range unless he was, well—at close range.

When Dean did reach out, it was with so much self-control that his hand was trembling. Or maybe that was just the hunger. He kept his movements as slow as a sloth until his dirty fingertips brushed against the fruit… then snatched it so fast that if Alec didn't have an enhanced processing system, he would have missed the entire movement.

With the fruit in his hand, he seemed to forget about the transgenic entirely, tearing open the peel and inhaling the soft insides so fast that there was no way that he chewed once. But he wasn't done. While Alec watched, the boy folded the peel in half and started suckling on the soft white inside, milking the peel for every nutrient it could offer.

He didn't try stop him, watching with an impassive mask even as something inside him twisted at the sight of Dean's closed eyes—his young face contorted in almost desperate ecstasy and a need to sate his hunger.

That was another thing Alec had never been without. Even when Manticore was pumping him full of drugs and strapping him down to a table, he had never been without food and water. They needed him strong, even when they were trying to break him down. Yes, he had come to realize his lack of freedom. But this… this was a different need. A primal one.

When he finally sucked all of it all but bone dry, Dean pulled away from the fruit, a string of saliva still linking it to his lips. Wide eyes flicked to Alec, air still coming heavy through his mouth. Like he expected disgust.

Or arousal.

This time he couldn't find it in himself to force a smile. "Better?"

Dean ducked his head. Alec took that as a yes.

"We'll wait half an hour. If you keep that down you can have another one."

No answer.

"Y'know, I've always enjoyed talking to myself, but this is a little extreme."

Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Sniffed. He flicked his gaze up to Alec, watching the man through his lashes. "May I ask a question, sir?"

"Tell you what." Alec leaned forward. "You drop the sir for 'Alec,' or 'hey you,' you can ask whatever you want."

Not even a twitch of a smile—just a narrowing of his eyes. Damn.

Dean gathered himself, drawing a breath and watching Alec like a hawk, waiting for him to change his mind before the words came out of his mouth.

He waited.

"Are… are you a shifter?"

Alec raised his eyebrows. "What, you mean this?" He flicked a finger from his face to Dean's. The kid just watched him, waiting for an answer. "Well, that'd be an easy explanation. But nope, this gorgeous mug is 100% original packaging." He cocked his head. "Basically."

Dean stared.

"Are you a shifter?" Alec fired back, because why the hell not? He wasn't expecting the kid's eyes to widen, or the nervous flush to his cheeks before he ducked his head.

"No sir. Alec! I mean—" he swallowed, "I was born like this. Not like this—but with this face."

The poor kid looked about ready to hyperventilate. Again.

"Easy, kid." Alec held up a hand. "I'm not about to bite your head off. You can ask me another one, come on." He gestured, gimme gimme, with his hand, keeping his expression open. "You're bound to have a lot."

Dean swallowed. But something about Alec had to be believable enough, because he ventured in an even quieter voice, "Are you a hunter?"

Faces flashed in front of Alec's face. People. Berrisford. Rachel. Taking a shot from five hundred yards away and hitting the target in a moving vehicle. He had to be one of the best hunters in the world. And he had never shot an animal in his life.

Alec frowned. "Never shot a deer in my life. Why?"

The boy blinked, apparently stunned by that response. For whatever reason. "Nothing," he mumbled, "I was just wondering how you found the place, is all."

Finally, a normal question. Or at least an answerable one. "Yeah. Well, the guy who lives here—total geek boy. He built this algorithm that tracked down the suppliers through the delivery chains. Almost lost 'em, but then he got an anonymous tip about an old building in the middle of nowhere. It checked out."

"And the others?"

Alec's eyes softened. Dean ducked his head. "Oh."

"I'm sorry about that, kid."

Dean shook his head. "It's okay," he whispered, "There wasn't much left of 'em anyhow."

A beat. When Alec was sure he wasn't going to offer up any more information, he cleared his throat. He would rather not ask so soon, but he never was one for tact, so why start now?

"Quid pro quo. I got one for you." Dean peeked up at him. "When we first got you… you were half-dead. We didn't think you were going to make it. Now—one week later—you're walkin' around, you're talking, you're eating. No sign anything was ever wrong, except the burns."

The boy swallowed, looking down. For a minute there was nothing but the sound of Dean's slightly congested breathing. Alec just waited him out. It seemed to be the trick to dealing with this kid. He wasn't disappointed.

"You're a transgenic, right?"

Alec raised an eyebrow.

"I saw it on the news at my last owner's place." Dean shrugged to his lap, like that was a freakin' normal thing to say. "You have a barcode on the back of your neck. 'nd you move really fast."

It seemed like the longer the kid talked, the more he whispered. Alec was straining his ears at this point to make out the words. "Yeah—you got something against it?"

"No sir!" Dean looked up, eyes wide. "S'just—" he stopped.

"It's just what?"

His eyes went back to his lap. If the kid wasn't already tensed like a bowstring, ready to bolt, Alec might have tilted his head up. He was getting tired of talking to a mop of hair.

"S'just they… they did stuff." A glance, a glimpse of nervous green. His breathing picked up. "Changed me. They wanted a better p-product."

Alec was losing him. The boy hugged himself, hunching in his shoulders to try to make himself smaller in the face of a veritable stranger. He was putting so much effort into maintaining a fragile mask of calm that he didn't even notice when it slipped—a single tear streaking down his freckled cheek.

"I was in and out of there so much I don't know everything they did… b-but I know I'm not h-human." He gasped in a breath, blown eyes going distant. "Oh God. My dad. My dad's gonna k-kill me."

He wasn't breathing. Shallow pants for air going no farther than the back of his throat. He didn't even look like he was in the same room anymore.

"Hey, hey!" Dean didn't move, didn't even flinch when Alec's chair went tumbling back and the transgenic appeared in front of him. Alec shoved the kid's head between his skinny knees, keeping a firm hold on the nape of his neck. "Breathe. Easy, Dean. Breathe."

One shaky breath, and he started sobbing. Full body heaves that wracked his entire frail frame. Alec felt like he would break him just by putting a hand on his back.

"H-he's g'na kill me."

"Why?" Alec rubbed the kid's neck as he cried, wishing he could say outright that no, his father wouldn't hurt him. Would still want him. But he had seen too much, and he didn't believe in lying to help. It was a cold comfort. "Why would your dad want to kill you?"

"'M a m-monster. D-dad k… kills monsters. 'S not g'na w'nt me anym-more." Dean hiccupped, folding further into himself. And that was enough.

Alec scooped him out of the chair, gathering the child close to his chest as he sat on the floor. At first the boy tensed, his frame going rigid and reeking of fear. But then he took in one hitching breath, and then another, deeper one—and he melted. Letting whatever scrap of a mask was left fall away, Dean fisted his hands in Alec's shirt, burrowing himself deep into his chest as sobs continued to rake along his spine. The transgenic felt something hot and wet pool on his shirt. He just held the boy closer, burying his lips and nose in the boy's hair as Dean finally let go. He wasn't a transgenic, he wasn't a monster, just a terrified kid that hadn't had a comforting touch in far too long.

"I t-tried!" he whimpered, voice thick and wet with tears that wouldn't stop. Sobs that wouldn't stem. "I tried. I p-promise. I din't wanna let 'em… I din't want—"

"I know." Alec rubbed his arm. "I know."

"They w'n't s-stop. I j'st w-w'nt'd 'm t' st'p." He shook. "'M s-so sorry."

"Okay," Alec pulled away, just enough to cup Dean's face in his hands, forcing the kid to look at him. "I want you to listen to me 'cause I'm about to tell you somethin' important. You didn't do anything wrong." Dean closed his eyes. Alec shook them open again. "Not a thing wrong, you hear me? You want to blame somebody, blame them. It's their crap. And they heaped that crap on you. It's not your fault."

Dean closed his eyes, a whimper escaping from his sealed lips. He leaned into Alec's hand, panting and hiccupping but thirsty and twisted in pure innocent need.

Then he looked up. Staring at him with eyes that shone like emeralds through trembling pools of water. "B-but… h'w c'uld he wn't me?" He sniffed. "'M a f-fuck up."

Alec stared, mouth twisted and for the first time since he could remember, at a loss for what to say. So he did the only thing he could. Pulling Dean close, he enfolded him—dropping his lips onto the boy's head. The skinny kid was drowning in Alec's jacket, and completely engulfed by the broad frame he was pressed into. He burrowed even further in, the sobs buried somewhere in the folds of the transgenic's soaked shirt. He could still feel them, though, every shake of the boy's shoulders and hiccupping breath sending jostles up his spine.

He closed his eyes.