Mink (minkmix) wrote,
Mink
minkmix

SPN/DA Fic: Waiting for the Sound of Thunder - part 2

Title: Waiting for the Sound of Thunder: part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - ?
accompaniment(s) to: With a Bang & The Aftershocks and Not a Whimper... and the The Ripple Effects and Minor Tremors and and and Incandesce
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: Alec POV. After a harrowing hunt, Dean and Alec try to unwind in a roadside bar...



It was comforting to stare up at the magnificent swirl of stained glass.

A dull thought kept running in a loop in Alec’s head. This isn’t Sam’s church. This isn’t Sam’s church. This isn’t Sam’s church. This isn’t Sam’s-

“Sam?” he heard himself croak. “I can’t… I can’t hear you…” Alec shifted as pain began to seep in, his back flat against a hard floor and his limbs numb and heavy. No Sam. And hearing was a broad interpretation of the connection he had with his father. He pushed his mind outward again looking for his freaky nationwide demon coverage.

Nothing.

But there was stained glass. Beautiful stained glass way up high on the vaulted ceiling.

He tried blinking to make the picture of glass become more clear. Someone had spent a lot of thought orchestrating a determined angel, a helpless mortal and the relentless evil boiling all around them. The carved sheets of cobalt and ruby had been placed in a widening spiral, the transmutation shifting the sublime into the cursed. It was all too abstract for Alec’s tastes but he’d never been good with all that appreciation of art bullshit.

Something cool and wet pressed against Alec’s mouth.

“It’s been six days,” Castiel said. “I know your body is strong, but drink.”

So this Castiel knew what he was. Being raised as a machine of death didn’t apparently be on a list of big fat secrets.

“Please, Alec.”

Alec smiled at the magic word. He parted his lips and shuddered at the feel of cold water dripping on his dry swollen tongue. There was a brief flicker of worry that the water may have been blessed. Made into poison for his… kind. The laughter started, but it was soundless, his shoulders shaking as his eyes squeezed shut.

A gentle hand smoothed a soaked cloth over his brow. “Do you know what God requires us to be?”

“I have no friggin’ idea,” Alec breathed. “But I get the feeling you’re about to tell me-”

“Grateful.”

Alec had enough strength to raise his head up off the floor and slam it down as hard as he could. Fourteen and a half times before his body refused him any more brain numbing satisfaction.

“I am grateful I found you, Alec.”

“Y-You shouldn’t,” he said. “Because…. Because I’m going to kill you.”

Instead of a knife’s touch to Alec’s throat, all he heard was a deep sigh. Castiel took a seat in the very front pew, the oiled wood groaning as he sat back and crossed his legs. The guy looked like he was waiting for a goddamn bus. But it was then that Alec suddenly realized he’d been taking a snooze at the base of the raised altar.

“What is this?” Alec asked. “What’s happening?”

“It’s Sunday,” Castiel said. “And you are for sale.”

For sale.

He stilled.

Sale.
Sale.
Sale.

The word kept booming through Alec’s head. A cold sweat broke out on his skin and his stomach churned as flashes of tiled white walls seared behind his eyelids. Dissection. Pints of blood. Tissue samples. Semen samples. Skin graphs. Sam help me please help me I’m in trouble I’m in trouble Dean Sam Dean Sam I’m in trouble--

“You’re late,” Castiel stood. “I don’t have much time.”

The mild reprimand hadn’t been for Alec. He opened his eyes at the sound of footsteps coming down the center aisle. Someone had entered the church and was loudly jangling change in their jacket pocket. Alec smelled the faint scent of outdated aftershave, day old blood and something else. It was unpleasant but at the same time oddly familiar. His flexing hands turned into weak fists, his sluggish heartbeat thudding in his chest. A demon had entered the house of God.

Not a scraggy leftover that had been left behind by its master. Not a fraud. Not simple. The thing was Hell’s solider and packing some major power.

“Am I on time?” the newcomer had a drawl from the south. “I’ve heard about you and your need for keepin’ on the clock.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Castiel said. “I require only gold.”

The spare change in the man’s pockets wasn’t exactly what Alec had surmised. Bright thick coins began to spill onto the floor, bouncing and sounding pleasantly like wind chimes. The treasure kept coming and coming until the glittering coins lay in heaps.

“I have provided more than you requested,” the man said. “So if you don’t mind, I’d like to inspect the merchandise. Make sure I get what I paid for.”

“Patience,” Castiel said. “I have proof.”

Alec shook as they both stepped up to stand over him. This was it. They were going to undress him and examine his body. They would scoop half his brain with a serving spoon and study it under a microscope. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t be alive to hear their amazed voices pondering the results.

“I don’t know, Castiel. He’s so young,” a hand slid under Alec’s T-shirt and traced his collar bone. “He couldn’t possibly do what yer sayin’.”

“This boy can do that and more.”

“I don’t want my tea leaves read. I don‘t need some damn soothsayer.”

“I assure you,” Castiel sighed. “He is no fortune teller.”

Alec felt his nerves go red-hot. His body stopped shuddering and went right into shaking. His mind seemed to collapse, go silent as all his senses began to sickeningly heighten and expand. It felt good. Colors flashed, soothing like a sunset and as brilliant as a sunrise. The seething anger cooled into an unnatural calm, and before he had a chance to open his eyes and wonder, the man named Castiel was holding his face with two hands.

“Come back,” Castiel said. “Come back.”

“W-What?” Alec stared up into the man’s impassive face. It took him a moment to recognize the pungent smell of burnt flesh flooding over him like smoke. But he wasn’t wounded. Neither was the freak who’d told some demon he was for sale. “…what…”

“It’s over.”

“What are you talking about? What’s over?”

“The demon,” Castiel absently patted Alec’s cheek. “You destroyed it.”

Alec jerked his head towards the left, the shadows behind the altar moving with something he couldn’t smell or hear. He was learning a lot about his demon blood, and the bodily senses didn’t always cover the supernatural bases.

“Ignore them,” Castiel said. “Those are my servants.”

“Servants.”

“Yes, and now so are you.”

Alec knew all about servitude. He also knew the word servant was just a couple letters away from the word slave. But before Alec could disembowel the fucker he felt something stop him before he could even start. Heavier than chains and sounder than any lock or key. This man had him under his sway somehow and Alec wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “I thought I was for sale,” he said. “I thought you were doing a deal.”

“I lied.”

It was said so matter of fact that Alec felt his head begin to hurt.

“I had another one,” Castiel told him. “One like you.”

“Another one, huh?” Alec muttered. “Sorry pal, but I’m one of a kind.”

“No. But you are rare. I require crossbreeds to do my work.”

Alec blinked in shock. Not that he wasn’t accustomed to being thought of as a tool, but he’d never really thought his special genetics were useful to anybody. Crossbreeds. The casual way Castiel had used the term made Alec clench his jaw. Like an interesting or curious pedigree. And while he was on the subject, how did this asshole even know what Alec was?

“Do not fear. I will take care of you.”

“What happened to your last crossbreed? What’d you do? Break him?”

“Yes.”

“That’s great,” Alec closed his eyes. “That’s just friggin’ great.”

So Castiel needed a brand new understudy. Alec wondered if the former servant had been another X-5 or some random unlucky bastard living his life in the real world without a clue to what was stashed in his tainted DNA.

“Hate to tell you, but this isn’t gonna work out.” Alec liked the smug feeling that replaced his fear. “I got some guys that will come looking for me. And when they catch up to your sorry ass, it’s not going to be pretty.”

“No.” Castiel was blowing out the white candles one by one. “They won’t.”

The guy’s creepy monotone was pissing Alec off. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that, they know how to handle a freak like you.”

“Sam gave me his permission.”

Alec felt his smugness grow and his smirk turn into a laugh. “You’ll have to do better than that, dude.”

“Dean did as well. That was why he brought you to that bar. And that is why your father hasn’t appeared to save you. They understand how dangerous you are, Alec.”

Alec’s smile faltered as he remembered the fight that caused him to shatter the house. The house he’d imploded with his weird-ass mind. The devastation. The wreckage. He felt himself begin to shake again and it wasn’t from fear.

“Your father and I have known each other for a very long time,” Castiel said. “Please trust that what I say is true.”

The two servants in the shadows began to writhe, twisting and flooding the dark spaces in a futile attempt to escape. Alec watched them and suddenly found that he couldn’t bring himself to fight for the freedom they craved. Sam wanted this? Dean knew this was going to happen? Alec had almost killed them both. Several times. Wanting Alec far away made a lot of sense when he thought about it. But not complete sense.

“I want to talk to Sam,” Alec said. “Not on the phone.”

“Of course.”

“Now what?”

Castiel prodded the smoking pile of demon meat with his shoe. “Now we do it again.”
Tags: dark angel multi-chapter, h/c, hurt!alec, hurt!dean, hurt!sam, spn multi-chapter, spn/da crossover, with a bang
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