He knew it was late. Knew it by the firelight and moonlight coagulating together in the beams streaming in through the window—silver and orange warring for dominance in the light shafts that flickered across the floor. Knew it because it was hours upon hours before Alec finally fell into a restless sleep. He knew it because there was no way the man would sleep well tonight after what had happened, and he had finally slipped into unconsciousness. Even if he was muttering in his sleep, whispering the name 'Gabby' and muttering 'no no no,' on repeat. The upsets came in spasms, easing out before they reached yells. As it was, it was just murmurs under the man's breath, barely articulated at all.

Dean only understood them because he had caught the faintest gist of what had happened, from what little Dalton had said when he came running into the apartment, shouting for Alec. The transgenic had ordered him to stay put, but he could still hear a little of what was going on in the main building. He could hear Max and Alec's murmurs from the next room over when Max had come into the apartment after. But his enhanced senses were the only thing that allowed him to hear the unconscious mutterings now, they were so quiet.

So he knew it was doubtful—highly doubtful—that the transgenic would wake up, despite the memories the day's events had dredged to the surface. Which meant Dean had at least a few hours. Max wouldn't come in to wake him up in the morning, not with the day they had all had, and Alec didn't have any special DNA to keep him awake for long periods of time. Just training that taught him to push through exhaustion.

He was just wondering if he should actually use the time he had.

Dean curled the blanket a little closer to his chin on the cot, still wearing Alec's hoodie. If he was being honest, it was just the possibility that he could be able to sneak out that kept him from slipping under the transgenic's covers. Not because he wanted comfort—well, not right then. But because he had seen the way Alec clung to Max after it happened. Comforting, but also drawing comfort. Like the transgenic female would disappear if he had loosened his hold even for a moment.

It was more evidence that they were the same. Dean never liked to admit that he liked to be held—to admit that would be like admitting a weakness. Like admitting that he drew a modicum of sick comfort from being held after—

After.

But he wasn't good with words. He wasn't good with gifts. Actions were the only thing he had, and he knew Alec had the same tactile nature. Maybe even more than Dean did—the transgenic was far, far more open with physical affection that he was. And for whatever the hell reason, Dean being close seemed to dampen the rampages of emotional hormones that sometimes swirled around the man. And not because he let them out on Dean, either.

He didn't understand it, but he knew he could help. Even just a little.

Yet, he was staying curled up on his own bed because if he tried to sneak away while Alec was that close he knew he would be caught.

Guilt churned in his chest. It was so freakin'… insensitive. To sneak away right after Alec had lost two of his soldiers—and whether or not he was deeply involved in the op or not, Dean knew the guilt ran deep. He could smell it on the transgenic. Shock and guilt and a heavy grief all warring for dominance, even in sleep.

And Dean was going to sneak out.

Fuckin' useless. Selfish. You won't have to wonder 'why' when the man finally starts locking you in a closet. You're enough trouble for it. Even without stealing the man's food. Hell, you even steal his clothes. Your balls have barely even dropped and you got the desperate slut routine down. Fucking gold digger whore.

His face flushed with shame, even as he eased his blankets back and his feet to the floor. The voices screaming inside of his head didn't matter, because there was something even louder—a physical ache inside of his chest that nothing could touch. It never went away, easing in the slightest only when he slipped into the abyss, near his brother's soul. But even then it still hurt. The ache was strong enough that sometimes he couldn't think of anything else—constant enough that sometimes he hated himself for just living with it.

He needed his brother.

It ensured he didn't hesitate, didn't stop himself from easing off Alec's hoodie, or slipping on the only other pair of shoes they had given him. He would just have to be more careful this time, to make sure he actually brought them back. And make sure no one bruised him in any place the transgenic could see.

Fuck, he thought he was past this stage.

But he was romanticizing, and he knew it. There was no such thing as a home for something like Dean. Wolves were free roamers anyway, right? Sure, they were territorial. But they were also always moving around. He should be used to it, right? If a wolf was what he turned into, it should be ingrained into his personality in the first place.

Something like Dean didn't get a home. Didn't deserve a home. Hell, that had to be ingrained into his personality, too—for how little time he had in a real family. Just long enough for Sammy to be born. Because Sammy deserved a real home. But Dean didn't, so it was taken away from both of them.

He just hoped that wherever Sammy and Dad were, that they were happy. Content. They deserved it. And maybe that made Dean selfish for trying to find them, for trying to take his curse back to them.

When those men came… they took Dean into a world of hell. Into a lifetime of moments that he wanted to forget, all compressed into three years. But they were also saviors—not of Dean, but of Sammy and Dad. They took away their curse, and gave it to people who deserved to be cursed, anyhow.

The boy didn't even realize he was slipping into another person's voice—the same one that had whispered in his ear while his mind was underwater with drugs and his body was ripped raw on the table. Naked and exposed to the cold air and colder hands.

Cursed.

Dean hesitated at the door, unable to stop himself from looking back. The flickering beams of light bent across his face, making his eyes flash as he gazed back through the open archway of the bedroom. To the form lying on the bed. The transgenic's heartbeat pumping out in regular intervals, too fast for a human. The rise and fall of the man's chest, the sound of breath whispering in and out of his lungs.

Maybe it was better if he left. Not just to look for leads, but to actually go the whole way, and not come back. It'd be one less curse for them.

His heart picked up at the thought.

It wouldn't be the first time he had lived out on the streets. It was hard, and deep down he knew that Alec wouldn't be happy about it. But that was just because he didn't actually know Dean. He didn't. He knew a scared, defenseless and abused kid. And sure, he thought Dean was enhanced but he didn't know that he wasn't even human. The transgenic didn't know just how much of freak he was. As soon as he found out, it would be over. So it made sense for him to just cut to the chase, right? Save himself the trouble, save Alec the trouble.

Dean's hand tightened on the doorknob, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

Should he?

The boy pushed the thought down, violently. He barely kept himself from wrenching the door open, easing it shut behind him by sheer willpower alone.

As the bolt clicked softly back into place, it was like a switch had been flipped. The thoughts running rampant inside of Dean's head fell silent in the stillness of the hallway. He blew out a breath, gathering himself.

He would give himself three hours. Three hours—and he would come back. Everything else he shoved down. It could wait.

The farther he walked away from Alec's apartment, and the protection of the lone space heater, the colder it got. It wasn't too bad that night, warm enough that Dean knew it wouldn't kill him as he slipped out of the building, even without his jacket.

Terminal City had settled down for the most part. As much as it ever did. There were still fire bins on some of the flat-roofed buildings, set out to keep the more reptilian transgenics warm. Other than that, there was only the faint white glow of streetlamps coming from over TC's chain link fence. Both streaked out over the wet asphalt like watercolor. But the shadows were still deep enough that Dean could slide through them.

If it was some place he could just scout out, he wouldn't even bother with his human form. Dean knew a stray dog wouldn't light up on anyone's radar—even the transgenics keeping watch over the perimeter. It would be simple for him to shift and crawl under the fence through one of the loose corners. But he wasn't just scoping, and if he wanted to make any progress in finding Kova he had to have use of his opposable thumbs.

Unfortunately.

So instead of going out through the fence, he slipped through the shadows. Careful to avoid the corners on which he could hear the sentries camped out. They didn't make a lot of noise—just slight shifts. It was their heartbeats more than anything that gave them away, which was one thing even the transgenics couldn't conceal.

He didn't stop until he came to a manhole wedged between two buildings. It was the only one that Dean knew of that wasn't in sight of the transgenics perched on top of the buildings, mostly because the entire sewer tunnel was shut down. Which meant no lights, no water flow, and closed off exits.

Unless one could wedge themselves places. Which luckily for him, he fit into that category.

As he climbed down into the dark, Dean had the inane thought that he had better find Sammy before he got any older, or else he might not be able to sneak out.

He didn't have any time to think about the absurdity of that thought, about the fact that no, he wouldn't even be with Alec by the time he grew any bigger. Because by then he would either be dead or shoved out on his ass. And that was if Alec didn't think selling him for funds was a better option.

He didn't have time to think on any of that. Because he didn't even make it to the last rung on the ladder before a hand clamped around his mouth, and he was yanked back against the firm wall of someone's chest—the burn of silver sharp against the soft skin of his throat.

Several hours earlier

It was like some kind of messed up deja vu. Alec's skin crawled at the thought, from where he leaned against the wall, staring distantly into some middle space.

They were in what counted as the war room for TC. In reality it was just a conference room off of the main balcony—the same room where he sat when Joshua barreled in, saying Dean had vanished. The same room in which he stood weeks before. While people around him argued over what to do about Rory.

It was the same thing. Only Max wasn't here. As soon as the body cam footage froze, Alec had sent her to his apartment. He had seen her a single step away from hysterics—eyes watering, stare blank, hands frozen. And God knew Max could keep her cool, but when she lost it, it either meant breaking down or destroying something.

They were trying to keep a sliver of control over the situation—the other transgenics seeing their unanimous leader breaking down wouldn't be good.

Not that all of them didn't already know the shit they were neck-deep in.

Other than that, though, the only other difference was that Alec was leaning against the wall this time, instead of slumped over the table in thought. But then, they hadn't known what had happened to Rory. She was just gone.

This time—they knew.

Alec had come in too late to do anything, or at least that was what he told himself. There hadn't been any sign of trouble, not in the least. Until Dean's head had snapped around. And Alec could swear, that if the boy had ears they would be pricked forward, posture stiff.

Trouble, was what the boy had signed—waving his palms in front of each other. He was using the word outside of its grammatically correct scenario, but really, who the hell cared? Because then Dalton was skidding around the corner, his face flushed and light eyes wide.

"Alec," was all the young soldier had said. And the transgenic had taken off like a shot, one barked order at Dean to stay put before he was sprinting down the hallway.

He came onto the balcony just in time to hear Rod scream over the comm speakers, shouting for Gabby. It was only a split second before one of the bodycam's black and white footage was splattered with gray, obscuring the face in front of it.

And he hadn't understood what was going on—didn't know about the ambush until after. Didn't know how many attackers there were, didn't even know where his soldiers were. But what he knew—was that Gabby was dead. And something thick in his gut told him that Rod wasn't far behind.

He knew he would never forget the sound of Rod's choked gurgle—or the sound of his limp corpse thumping against the ground.

And this—this was new territory. They hadn't seen White in months, hadn't encountered FBI or NSA in longer. But whenever they did, it was capture. Not kill. Transgenics were worth tens of millions of dollars—they weren't cannon fodder even to spread sheet statistics.

But whoever did this killed. On sight. And they didn't have a leg to stand on other than the blurred image of some fucker in a mask off the body cam tapes.

And these idiots in the room with him were arguing about who the fucker was.

"Come on, man. It can't be White," Will said. "It doesn't match his MO."

"Yeah, well he was working with the FBI then," Mole muttered around his cigar—the transhuman's eyes clouded over in dark thoughts.

"Right. Then he had appearances to keep up. Right now I think his job is forfeit and he's finally going off just the cult's orders." Another X5—Aiden, Alec thought his name was. He knew his designation was 479, and wasn't that sad?

There were only two others—Bell and Alec. The rest had already dispersed. Whether to dig into their sparse liquor stash or find something to kill, he didn't know. Didn't really care, either.

"We can't just assume the cult did it because they're our arch nemesis or whatever," Will argued. "If we do that we're just asking to get stabbed in the back when we missed something." And the guy had a point there. But he was missing the biggest point. All of them were.

"All of you are fuckin' idiots," Alec mumbled. He had a strange sense of satisfaction when even those quiet words, coming out of his mouth were enough to make all four transgenics in the room turn to look at him.

"What was that, Princess?" Mole snapped.

"Save it, man," Alec said, looking at the transhuman with a slightly raised eyebrow. "We can start beating each other up when we get out of this mess. Right now we have something bigger to worry about. Like the fact that there's only one way that those fuckers could know their exact route into the building. Or the time they were supposed to be there."

Silence settled.

Usually Alec wouldn't say it. Keep your cards close to the chest, and all that. But that was before he and Max were heading off a whole freakin' city of transgenics. All of them could put the pattern together. All of them would, eventually. And all of them had issues with authority figures—it was better that they heard it from Alec, instead of their own reasoning.

Still, that didn't make the news any easier to hear.

"Who?" Mole growled out.

Alec raised his eyebrows at the lizard man. "Oh, I'm sorry. Let me type that up in triplicate for you real quick. Do you want the culprit's social security before or after their designation?"

Mole snarled, surging to his feet. Alec was straightening to meet him just as fast, so caught up in the oncoming transhuman that he didn't recognize Bell until the transgenic had shoved herself between them, hands barring their path.

"What the hell are you thinking?" Bell shoved Mole back. "We already have a traitor—we don't need any infighting!"

"Oh, sure—side with the X5."

"Did you hear what I just said? We don't need any more divisions, Mole. So do us all a favor—and shove it."

Silence. Alec raised his eyebrows at the petite X5, who up until today he hadn't heard utter more than five words.

"She's right," Will said. "Come on, guys. We can't do anything about this tonight."

Apparently that was it for Mole, because the transgenic shouldered his way past Alec to the door, muttering about X5's and their freakin' superiority complex. Alec ignored him. They were all too raw tonight.

"I'd better keep an eye on him—make sure he doesn't start shooting something," Aiden said, filing out of the room with a curt nod in Alec's direction. Bell was quick to follow after, shooting her own warning glare in his direction. Like it was his fault.

Alec ran his fingers through his hair, sighing. "Yeah, I'd better get back too. Don't know how long Max and Dean can get along without burning my whole place down." He scoffed out a chuckle, but it had little humor in it. And Will was staring at him. "What?"

"How's the kid doing?" he asked, instead of answering.

"Fine." Alec stared back, eyes narrowing. "Why? As I remember, you were one of the people who didn't want him around."

Will chuckled. "Hey, man. Don't attack me. Lots of us don't want him around. He's not one of us. It's not a crime to have our own opinion."

"Just so long as you mind your own fucking business," Alec growled, turning around to leave.

"Be careful with him."

"Sorry?" Alec froze, glaring over one shoulder. A silent warning—one that Will was apparently too reckless to take.

"I just…" he sighed. "I've known you for a long time, Alec, alright? I mean you've saved my ass more times than I can count."

"You're making me question that decision. Spit it out."

Will's mouth flattened, the war with himself painted all over his features. "I just don't think he's everything that he seems to be. Just… be careful, alright?"

It was too fucking late for this. Alec just watched two of his soldiers—his friends die, miles and miles too far away to do anything to stop it. They had someone selling them out, and he still hadn't figured out why the hell Dean was sneaking out. That combined with the exhaustion settling deep in his bones…

He didn't do anything. Just smirked coldly, before he turned away.

Later he would wonder how he hadn't seen it. God, why didn't he see it?