Max slid the sewer grate back into place, easing it down so it didn't clatter. It was early morning, the sun barely breaking over the horizon. Most people would just be waking up—but not her. She had been awake for the past 48 hours, prior to which she had caught a two hour 'cat nap' that had set her up to last up to three days. That was one benefit to shark DNA—she had enough time to finish what needed to be done while everyone else was passed out.

And there was a lot to do. TC was low on funds. They had survived for a year on Joshua's paintings and swiping the money from drug deals. But apparently the mafia was wising up—getting quiet. Either that or they had just stolen them blind.

Now their main source of income came from underground commissions. Turns out, a lot of people were interested in hiring a super-soldier for a job. All of them were carefully vetted before they were accepted, in an attempt to keep as much dirt as possible off the transgenic's record. They had even gotten a few government commissions—the hypocrites. Either way, they paid well.

But they were going through another heat cycle. Which meant larger appetites, fewer workers, and—Max was frustrated to say—a lot of condoms.

"Unless you want to buy pregnancy equipment and a hell of a lot of baby powder, this is the only alternative." Was what Alec told her when she pulled a face at the mention of condoms. To her, at first it had just sounded like a waste of money on pleasure. But it didn't take long for her to realize where he was coming from. "We have five hundred virile specimens with an enhanced urge to spread their seed."

Alec had a very… colorful way of speaking.

So long story short, they were short on funds. And needed a job. Badly. She was ready to break rule number one—save the 'tranny' name, and find some rich snob to rob. Of course, they would blame it on them. But then again, they blamed everything on them. And it might be kind of nice to actually be responsible for the accusations people were throwing around.

Max was still mulling this over when she mounted the steps to Joshua's house, hitching the backpack further up on her shoulder and wishing she could get the scent of the sewers out of her leather jacket. She had spent far too much time in the tunnels lately.

"If you need a reason to be suspicious of them, just look at how they hide in the sewers! We never see them in public, but they're always scurrying around. Like ants digging tunnels farther and farther underground. If they have such a clean nose, why don't they show their face?"

Because it would be beheaded. Dickwad. People found something wrong with everything.

Needless to say, Max was exhausted. And not in the 'I desperately need a nap' way. Although a nap would help. She might crash after she checked on the miracle kid. And handed over the clothes she had brought. Couldn't forget the clothes.

Logan looked up from his computers when she came into the house, a small smile pulling on the edge of his mouth. "Hey. Thought you were still busy when I left."

"I was." She ditched the backpack in the archway to the living room. "Got to a stopping point, though. Thought I'd check on the kid."

…who wasn't in his bed. The stretcher was empty, the IV disconnected. Max frowned.

"Where is he?"

She didn't know what kind of answer she was expecting, but a smirk wasn't it. Definitely not the full-blown smile that Logan gave her.

He pressed a finger to his mouth as a sign for silence, before gesturing for her to follow. She kept her frown as she trailed him up the stairs, keeping a far enough distance that she didn't feel too anxious about being around him. Logan's footsteps were quiet, hers were silent.

He repeated the sign for silence at the top, smile shrinking but not disappearing. He clicked off the hall light, before pushing open the door to the room where he usually slept in.

Max stared at him for a moment, nonplussed. But he took a step back, and what the hell? If he was smiling, it couldn't be that bad, right?

She leaned in to the doorway, her sharp eyes taking in details in the dark that humans were oblivious to. Making the picture all the clearer.

Alec was passed out on his back, the macho man holding his arms wrapped tight around the small form laid over him. The side of Dean's face was smushed into Alec's chest, freckled nose buried in the man's sternum. Even in sleep, the kid was clutching fistfuls of the man's shirt. Both breathing deep.

Her mouth parted, stunned silence her only response.

Alec?

Apparently.

She looked back at Logan, eyebrows raised. The man was still smiling, but he just shrugged. He gestured for her to close the door.

"You find them like that?" she whispered, after the bolt had been silently clicked into place.

"Yeah. The kid was awake when I got back." He started down the stairs, still whispering over his shoulder. "He was terrified of me—fell out of his chair trying to get away. Alec comes in like a mother bear protecting her cub. Carries him off to bed. I went up to check in on them about an hour ago. Been that way since."

She took the last step slower than the others, her feet plopping back on level ground out of more shock than anything. "Alec. Our Alec?"

Logan shrugged, still smirking that idiotic smirk that still got her insides twisting in all the right—wrong?—ways.

"I was surprised too." He kicked his desk chair back, flopping into it with all the grace of sheer exhaustion. "The kid latched onto him like a leech."

"Our Alec?"

"You think anyone can replace him?"

Max stopped. "Yeah, I guess not."

Logan gave a wry smile, before turning his attention back to the computer screen. Max stepped closer—just not too close. "What're you working on?"

He hummed distractedly, "Searching. I've got an algorithm running to try to find the kid's family but since he was born post-pulse, it's not likely that the records will be very viable. So I'm also looking to track down where the operation went next. Missing persons reports, fake ID's, sending out feelers… but, I don't know when the kid was taken, what his last name is, where he was born, if he's even from America, or if his family is still alive…" He sighed, "It's like finding a silver needle in a stack of aluminum needles."

Max shoved her hands in her pockets. "You talk to Dean yet?"

"No. Like I said—kid's terrified of me."

She smirked, "You and kids, Cale—what's up with that?"

"Yeah… but it's more than that. He's messed up pretty bad, Max. Alec doesn't want to leave him alone."

She raised her eyebrows, telling herself she would not repeat the question our Alec? again. Then again, just because she didn't say it, didn't mean she didn't think it.

"You tell him that we're short on funds?"

"Yeah. He said 'tough.' I think you're gonna have to talk to him, Max. He's pretty dead set on this."

She nodded, refusing to blow out a breath of frustration. Just one more thing she needed to deal with.

A creak on the stairs made her turn. Logan was oblivious, still staring at his computer screen, but she was sure she didn't mishear. Her sharp eyes narrowed as she walked towards the stairs, finally drawing Logan's attention.

"Max?"

She ignored him, halting in front of the first step and peering up into the black of the staircase. From the darkness she picked out the faint outline of a short stature, two orbs glowing in the faint light of the second story.

And what could she say to that? She knew he wasn't normal. If his resemblance didn't prove that, how fast he healed from his injuries definitely did.

Max smiled up at him—the same expression she used on Logan's niece that worked so well. It only made Dean turn one shoulder back, his body language closing off. She had a feeling bribing him with chocolate cupcakes wouldn't work either.

"Hey sleepyhead," she said, cocking her head at the boy. "It's good to see you up."

Nothing. That eerie, wolfish glow blinked.

"Why don't you come down here? Let me introduce myself."

The glow disappeared. Staying gone as Dean sealed his eyes, and kept them closed. He had so many memories that started with those words. None of them were pleasant.

"Let me introduce myself."

"Come on, kid… I don't bite. Promise."

Yeah, that's what you don't do. What else is off-limits?

But no, Alec said they wouldn't hurt him. Logan didn't… but then again, Alec rushed in and got him out of the room before Logan could do anything. And at the moment the man was still passed out upstairs, from where Dean had slipped out of his hold.

He had a lot of practice extracting himself from the tight arms of light sleepers.

He told himself he could take comfort in the fact that he could easily take the woman if that's what it came down to. But then again… Dean took one step down, doing his best to hide the wince of his burnt soles shifting under his weight, and tested the air with a delicate twitch of his nose.

Definitely not human. Another transgenic.

Then again, weren't they supposedly congregating? That meant a lot of freaks. And a freak didn't beat a freak. Definitely not the skinny ten-year-old boy kind.

"You're outnumbered, Dean-o."

"Come on," the woman smiled again. She was pretty, he'd give her that. And it looked like she actually knew what a toothbrush was with those straight white teeth.

Doesn't mean she isn't a pervert.

But, he would never find out if he just stood there shaking in his borrowed leather jacket, would he? And right then standing still would only make anything that happened worse.

He still clutched tight to the railing as he walked down, trying to even out his weight between burnt hands and burnt feet. By the time he made it into the artificial yellow light of downstairs, his face was fixed in a grimace, goosebumps standing out on his skin. When he got to the third step he halted, looking at the woman through long eyelashes and floppy blonde hair. Sometimes the submissive expression got him lenience, other times it got him a turn on. He wasn't sure where the woman stood yet, but he would be ready if she tried to grab him and drag him down the last few steps.

He shouldn't have been so tardy, after all.

"There you go," she murmured, brown eyes all soft and doey. He wasn't sure if it was a show or not. She held out a hand, "I'm Max."

Dean stared at the hand, distrustful eyes flicking between her fingers and face.

It was a long moment, stretched out into an eternity. Two stubborn forces facing each other off, one attempting to prod the other along with a gentle gaze.

But, in the end, Max dropped her hand. And Dean clung a little closer to the railing.

"You're Dean, right?"

He kept staring. He didn't even try to talk, knowing on instinct that his words were stuck again. And the last thing he wanted to do was open his mouth and gape like an idiot.

Not that it would make the woman much happier not getting any kind of response.

He ducked his head, looking at a knot in the wood of the staircase. It was bulbous, leaking out from under his toes like he was bleeding some disease into the house. Rough under his feet.

"Hey…" the woman was all but crooning. It both grated on Dean's nerves and made them ache in a way he hadn't felt in years. "No one here's gonna hurt you." She ducked her head—tried to get him to raise his eyes. He wouldn't budge, having learned a long time ago to find satisfaction in tiny acts of defiance. The big ones cost too much. "You're safe."

"Relax, kid. It's just steel—it won't kill you. Totally safe."

Yeah, not likely.

Dean edged one step back, widening the distance between them. He peeked out between thick eyelashes to judge Max's reaction. It looked like he had slapped her in the face.

The kid might have been thinking that she would hit him back, or that she was pissed at the tiny act of stubbornness. But in actuality, all she could see was Ben. It wasn't fair. She knew it wasn't. But the resemblance was more than breathtaking. And she had never seen that face so hesitant. Nervous. Scared?

Never.

It was worse than a slap in the face. Because he was turning away from her. He never turned away from her.

"Max?"

She looked up, and Alec was standing at the top of the steps, shirt rumpled and tearstained, hair tousled. But his eyes were alert, flicking between Dean and her with the sharpness of a razor's edge.

"Everything okay here?"

If Max hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she would've never believed it. Logan had told her, but seeing it was a whole other ball game. Lines of tension in the kid's body that she hadn't even noticed leaked out of him. And by the time Alec plodded down to the step level with him, and put a hand on his skinny shoulder, he looked ready to melt. Looking up at Alec like he was a savior or a superhero, even if that underlying spark of fear was still present in his eyes.

She guessed not everything was instantaneous. Trust certainly wasn't. Yet Dean had more for Alec in a day than Max had built in a year's time. Now? She trusted Alec with her life. A year ago? She wouldn't have trusted him as far as she could throw him. And as good of a fighter as she was, Alec had ten years of harsh training and honing on her—she wouldn't be able to throw him anywhere if he didn't let it happen.

"Nice to see you get a few hours of sleep," Max said, getting their attention again. Dean ducked his head. Alec flashed her a wan smile. It still looked tired, but she was glad to see a little bit of joviality twitching at the corner of his mouth.

"I gotta talk to you, Max."

"That works out, because I have to talk to you too." Max looked down, to where Dean's big green eyes were flicking between the two of them. As soon as he realized he was being watched, they dropped to the floor. "You better come too, kid. It isn't nice when grown-ups talk about people behind their back."

Dean's eyes snapped up at that, eyes narrowing on her in an open display of suspicion and if she was right, fear.

"Way to petrify the kid, Max," Alec muttered. He plodded down a few steps, before turning back to Dean. The kid still had yet to move. "You coming, Dean?"

Way to petrify the kid, Alec, Max thought. Two pairs of eyes watching Dean as the kid looked between the two of them. If she didn't know any better she would think that he never had experienced someone's attention before in his life.

But he did take a step to follow Alec—with a badly concealed wince. His fingers curled into the railing, nail beds bleeding white with his grip. The transgenic stopped him from going any further with a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

Max couldn't remember feeling more like an outsider in her life, watching Dean's shoulders slump in such exhaustion. He didn't say anything.

"Dean?" Alec pressed, brow furrowing. "Dean, you in pain?"

The kid looked up, lids heavy and looking half-dead. He scratched compulsively at his chest, stubby nails grating over the leather jacket. A grimace was fixed on the kid's face. If Max hadn't heard his voice in the van, she might think the kid was mute for how much he refused to talk.

That didn't stop him from hunching in on himself, still scratching at the leather like he wanted to peel his skin off.

"Dean—" Alec crouched down beside him, then stopped. Max followed his gaze, landing on the kid's blistered feet, still covered in dried blood.

Fuck. How long had he been walking on that?

Since he woke up, if the look on Alec's face was anything to go by.

The man sighed. He straightened, scooping the kid up on his way. The kid's eyes widened, but he seemed to recover pretty fast, latching onto fistfuls of Alec's collar and hanging on.

That was Dean. Max was still stupefied as Alec walked by her with his precious cargo.

Our Alec?

Apparently.

It took a bit of convincing to get Max on board. In the long run she had the same worries as Logan, whether or not the kid would get hurt being around so many biohazard traces. But she relented, once he pointed out the fact that if they left Logan and Dean together for too long, Dean would probably kill him.

They had leaned out of the kitchen doorway then, and found Dean right where Alec had plopped him, sitting cross-legged and glaring at Logan from across the room. The man peeked up to find him staring, and gave a nervous wave.

"Hi."

Dean kept glaring. The man looked away real quick, muttering something about how the apple didn't fall too far from the tree.

The boy was completely unawares when Alec smirked, unable to deny the small fizzle of pride that sparked momentarily in his chest. He might be his mini-me after all.

Max had some stipulations—she wasn't about to let Dean leave TC on his own accord yet, and she wanted someone to be there to keep an eye on him. But apparently that person couldn't be him all the time. It made Alec regret his decision to let himself be forced into the role of second in command. It was idiotic, really. Why did it have to be him that went on all of these missions? Max slapped him around the head, called him an irresponsible douchebag, and then turns around and orders him to come on a life-or-death assignment with her?

Max was one tough cookie. But her mixed signals drove him absolutely insane.

"Four days, Max. Find replacements for me for three days, long enough for me to get the kid settled in. Then I'll go on jobs with you."

She had granted that much. After wheedling it down to three days. But what the hell—if he stalled when the time came, he might make it to three and a half.

In contrast, it didn't take any time at all to convince Dean. Mainly because the kid didn't seem to have anything to say. Alec gave him the rundown while cleaning out the burns on his feet, and he just stared at the transgenic all the while. When he was finished and slathered anti-biotic cream on the tender pink skin, and started wrapping them in a fresh bandage, Dean's eyes flicked to Max over Alec's shoulder. He stared at her for a long moment, hardly blinking, before looking back down.

And that was all the response they got. The boy seemed to check out again, aware of his surroundings by increments but not responding to any of it.

Alec had seen that type of behavior before. During his stints in Psy-Ops he had seen a lot of customers come and go. The ones coming in for rebellious behavior, snarking and fighting and snarling, would be broken down. One step at a time, until eventually all they could do was stare into middle space, responding like a drone. Then they would build them back up. Get them talking again. But how they wanted. 'Yes sir's' and 'no ma'am's' ruling their vocabulary. They would get them moving. How they wanted. Everything how they wanted.

This kid was like that. A puppy constantly jumping back and forth between small rebellions to slinking submissiveness—tail between his legs. But considering the place they found him in, that shouldn't be surprising. The bastards probably wanted to sell out quiet little dogs that wouldn't fight back whenever some pervert spread their emaciated legs.

Fucking pigs.

Alec finished taping off the last bandage around Dean's ankle, his eyes narrowing on the pale scars that crisscrossed the kid's skinny calf. The boy wasn't even old enough to have fucking body hair, and he was snuggling up to men in the middle of the night asking them how they wanted it.

"I can be good."

Max looked on, stupefied again when Alec leaned forward in his crouch, putting his forehead against Dean's ducked head. He pulled away just as fast, ruffling the kid's hair in a move so casual Max wondered if she had just imagined the moment.

The boy didn't respond to either, other than giving a small sniff that sounded more like exhausted congestion than anything else. Alec knew what it was like—constantly on the alert, watching everything everywhere always. That along with the constant rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins… he thought it was finally catching up to the kid.

"Hey Dean." He tapped one bony knee to get his attention. The kid didn't move. But that was okay—exhausted or not he knew he was listening. "Maxie here brought in some clothes for you. Whaddya say we get you cleaned up and changed, hm?"

He wasn't expecting a response. Which was why he was more than a little surprised when the kid raised his head, and managed to glare daggers at him from an expressionless face.

"What? I thought you wanted clothes."

He kept glaring.

"Hate to tell you kid, clothes are non-optional. You can't steal my jacket all the time, dude."

Still glaring.

"What is it? You don't want to get clean?"

He ducked his head. Bingo.

"What, you don't like baths?" Alec was honestly surprised. Of all the things Dean could put his foot down on, it was a bath? That had to be the most regular-kid complaint he had seen from the boy yet.

Then Max stepped up behind him, footsteps all but silent and her voice soft and gentle. Like she was approaching a cornered animal. But the kid didn't move.

"Dean… what did they do? When they wanted to get you clean?"

Nothing. For a moment. Then the kid hunched further in on himself, drawing in his newly bandaged feet and tucking them close. Head down. Eyes flitting in restless thought.

The transgenics exchanged a glance, Max looking down to see a dark glint in Alec's green orbs. She had seen that look before, after Biggs was beaten to death. Like a stray spark hitting gasoline. If she thought there was any possibility of him moving on from finding the operation before, it vanished now.

Then Alec cleared his throat, and she was dragged back into the present.

"Hey… you just have to get clean, kid. Wet, lather, rinse, get what I'm sayin'? It's not even really going to be a bath, because you can't get those burns wet. The door locks from the inside and everything. No one goes in there but you."

Dean's swallow was audible, as those pert lips split apart. His eyes were slightly crossed in focus, throat working for a moment before a single word made it out. Quiet.

"Drugs?"

Alec stared. Felt his fists clench outside of the boy's line of sight. "No drugs, kid."

He nodded, ducking his head again.

"You okay with that?"

Dean shook his head. Then shrugged. Alec figured that was as close to sarcasm as someone could get without speaking.

The apple really didn't fall too far from the tree, did it?

"Alright."

Alec went slow, scooping the boy up in his arms for the third time in two days. It felt weird, but the kid made it less so, clutching at his collar and tucking his head into the crook of his shoulder. Still dead silent, and staring into some distant middle-space.

Max didn't say anything. But she couldn't help staring, just a little, as the two of them left the room. Couldn't help thinking that they looked like two pieces of a puzzle fitting together. Just a little.

UPCOMING: Lone Wolf

Dean gets settled in at TC, and the search for his brother begins. Old contacts, shady exchanges, and risky measures lead to a resident of TC discovering Dean's secret. Forcing the boy back into suffering in silence.

Alec is under pressure. Jobs are going wrong right and left, transgenics being killed or captured. Somebody is targeting them. Somebody with inside information. A traitor. And to top it all off, there is something wrong with Dean…

This story is going to be published story segment by story segment. On Ao3 it is published chapter by chapter.

Let me know what you think!