Mink (minkmix) wrote,
Mink
minkmix

SPN/DA Fic: Aftershock Two

Title: One - Aftershock Two - Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen & Sixteen
Also: Minor Tremors parts One & Two
accompaniment(s) to: With a Bang
Author: Mink
Rating: SPN/DA Crossover - PG - Gen – AU in the year 2020
Spoilers: General (for all aired episodes)
Disclaimers: SPN & DA & characters are owned by their various creators.
Summary: Sam POV. During With a Bang: After disabling Alec in his apartment, Sam has to take a moment to puke. Set directly in the middle of chapter one.



The power kept coming back on and off.

Dean had flicked down all the light switches to stop the sickening stammer of the lamps from flashing every few minutes. The bathroom overheads were working for now and Sam wished they weren't. It'd be easier to close his eyes and think in the dark.

He spit into the toilet and counted the seconds until he knew he wasn’t going to throw up again.

A medical monitor shaped like a bracelet sat blinking a pale blue light on the tile floor. The thing was used to extract tiny blood samples and calculate intricate analysis. It had cost about as much as a year’s worth of gasoline but it was worth every cent for it’s one time use. The easy-to-read display read a perfect genetic match. Well, almost perfect.

99.99999999999999999999% accuracy rate.

Life sure was funny that way.

When Sam had found out about the existence of a son the first time he’d puked too. It figured the second time around wouldn’t be any different. However, that first magical up chucking was due from pure unadulterated fear. He’d been sixteen years old when Jessica had given him the bewildering news. There had been less than a hundred bucks in his pocket and a pissed off family he’d ditched for the west coast. But Sam wasn’t afraid this time. He wasn’t sure what the hell he was besides dizzy and tired.

He fumbled with the sink.

Pulling the knot of his tie down his chest, he let it get soaked as he splashed water on his face. The mirror was polished clean and his ragged reflection was perfectly clear under the harsh fluorescents.

“I take it that means you aren’t feelin’ better,” Dean leaned in the doorway flipping through a book. “We could have just used a tranq. We didn’t have to… you didn’t have to—“

“Yes, I did.” Sam used a white towel hung with its corners perfectly matching. “How is he?”

“Out like a light.”

“Good.”

“I haven’t found a thing,” Dean pulled at his own tie. “But it sure would be nice to know what I was looking for.”

“If he’s been studying any occult we’ll find it.”

The living room was lit up with several large candles sitting on the coffee table. After the glare of the bathroom bulbs the waver of the flames settled Sam’s headache. The transgenic was laying on the bed right where they'd left him. After one simple touch of skin on skin Sam had been able to disable the kid without much of a fight. But it had taken a lot to shut the X5's eyes. The effort to keep him down was still seeping between them like a two-way switch Sam couldn’t turn off. He wondered if he should tell his brother that it felt like slowly bleeding to death. With a strange sense of unease, he knew that nothing he said now would make Dean give up and walk away from this apartment.

Not this time.

“There’ll be something here,” Sam said. “Did you check under the furniture yet?”

“Not even bad porn,” Dean held up a book before tossing it aside with the others. “Unless you wanna count Oedipus Rex.”

There were more texts stacked neatly on the floor where the shelves ran out. Sartre. Kaufmann. Camus. Prachett. The names on the bindings came from the classics and everything else in between.

But the pages of books weren’t the only place a person could hide things. Kneeling carefully by the bed, Sam took a deep breath before proceeding. Bracing himself for the static charge of physical contact, he felt the body jerk slightly under his hands. He rolled up the kid’s sleeves first, fingers tracing the inner arms for needle marks or the red sore outlines from a patch.

“No drug use,” Sam murmured. “Nothing came up on the blood screen either except for that tryptophan deficiency.”

“Good for him,” Dean glanced over at the bottles of booze that cluttered the kitchen counter. “Clean livin’ all the way.”

The skin on the transgenic’s chest and back was the same. There was light scarring everywhere Sam looked but it was hard to tell which were from superficial wounds and what had been serious. The X5 regeneration rate was a little strange. Sam paused when he found the barcode. He heard Dean stop behind him to get a look at it too. They had both seen plenty of pictures of the thing. There was more documentation on this series of numbers than there was on the person the code had been assigned. Brushing his thumb over the fine set of lines, Sam wondered how old his son had been when it had been placed on the back of his neck. Sam knew this child had a good memory for things other than words. He had no doubt that the same memory retained all the years of medical procedures performed to exaggerate and exploit everything the X5 had been born with.

Sam sat back on the floor, another wave of nausea rolling through him.

He kept waiting to feel something besides sick.

“Still nothin’,” Dean moved on to the next bookcase. “No pretty designs under the rugs. Nothing behind the picture frames. There’s not even a bible for Christ’s sake.“

“We can’t be sure.”

“Yer right,” Dean agreed. “We’re gonna have to talk to him. If he’s on a demon’s payroll I think we’ll figure it out fast enough.”

“I don’t know,” Sam found a chair and dragged it beside the bed. “I’m not sure how much I can control him.”

His brother laughed softly.

“What?” Sam demanded.

“You have to let him wake up.”

“Have you been listening to anything I’ve said?”

“Yeah, I heard you but it’s time to face the music. It’s been ten years and I’m ready.”

Sam watched the steady rise and fall of the transgenic’s chest.

“And so are you, Sammy.”

He felt the urge to argue surge and fade. Ten years was a long time to think about what may happen. It was an eternity to think of what might not.

It was simpler than he thought it would be to ease off, the sway used to subdue the transgenic pooling back in Sam’s head like a stopped sink. As he gripped his son’s wrist, a flash of power drove back the ill feeling roiling in his stomach. The boy twitched as he was drawn closer to the surface of waking, a small sound of fear on his lips as consciousness returned. There was a stutter of light behind Sam’s eyes as he made contact with the sleeping mind that was so like his own.

His son was dreaming. Smoke. Fire. Jessica.

“He’s waking up,” Sam said.

The X5’s eyes blinked opened and struggled into focus. It was then that Sam could see it. It was all right there in the line of his jaw and the tint of his hair. The hands that were in a larger and masculine shape of the girl’s that Sam used to hold and touch. He stared into pupils a shade of green that he’d know anywhere.

“'Bout damn time,” Dean mumbled from across the room. “Thought he was gonna sleep all night.”

Sam supposed his brother was right. After a decade of hunting it was time to bring the search to an end.

It was time to meet Alec.




go to part 3
Tags: aftershocks, gen, sam pov, spn/da crossover, with a bang
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