Title: (Minor Tremor 1) - (Minor Tremor 2) - (Minor Tremor 3) - (Minor Tremor 4) - (Minor Tremor 5) - (Minor Tremor 6) - (Minor Tremor 7) - (Minor Tremor 8) - (Minor Tremor 9) - (Minor Tremor 10) - (Minor Tremor 11) - (Minor Tremor 12) - (Minor Tremor 13) - (Minor Tremor 14)
accompaniment(s) to: With a Bang
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. Alec knows what's up sometimes.
Reading this other one helps but not required:
It was after and beyond visiting hours but Alec got back in.
He dodged a few shabby check points in the small hospital doing his smile thing. Man, did he hate the smell of the place more than anything else. Pausing at a water fountain, he tried hard not to grit his teeth. It was the lab back in Wyoming every step of the way. It was stark fluorescent lights, cracked tile and lingering chemicals that his transgenic olfactories could list by name. It was white coats, cameras and that weird quiet punctuated by a dull cry of someone’s pain that always echoed perfectly down cinderblock corridors.
Alec leaned his head down and took a few steady inhales. He worked his fists against the wall.
That light. The light that came from his hands.
“Sir?” someone asked. “Are you okay?”
“W-What?” he couldn’t focus.
He’d woken up on Dean’s bedroom floor, a startled paramedic slapping him awake. Dean was laying beside him, an oxygen mask on his pale face but he was breathing. Jesus fucking thank God Christ Buddha Allah he was breathing. Alec might have even had a few words of grace for the whatever the hell those Scientologists believed in.
“Are you okay, sir?”
It was some kid. Some kid playing at being a nurse.
Alec hadn’t been called sir in a while and it made him slightly sick. It also made him smile a little. Sam and Dean would never believe anyone had ever addressed him as sir but back in Manticore he’d been kind of a somebody. A big deal even. The word Sir had come with fear in their voices. Alec felt sick again.
“I’m- I’m fine,” Alec managed.
“Sir, it’s just that it’s past visiting hours and--”
“Gotcha. Just looking for the exit.”
Ignoring the careful instructions to the parking lot, Alec rerouted to Dean’s room on the third floor.
Sam was still there.
Alec paused moving silently to the side of the door.
The television was still on but muted. Sam was seated in the chair by the bedside but he was mostly leaning on Dean’s bed, head down on folded arms, one hand resting on his brother‘s chest. Dean was sleeping hard but Alec knew Sam wasn’t even close to rest even though he looked exhausted. Alec stepped back into the hallway. He didn’t often see his parents do any touchy feely crap and it was a strange feeling to understand when he happened upon it was sort of … well, not any of his business.
He decided to go home.
There was a Die Hard marathon on.
“Can I have your Jell-O?” Alec asked. Dean only seemed to eat the red kind but any color of the junk was good enough for him. Even to his uncle’s plain disgust, the green variety. Tossing the plastic cup back on the tray he realized Dean hadn’t eaten any of his other food even though it’d been sitting there for an hour.
He remembered Sam and the soup war from the night before and thought maybe he should try to do what Sam had.
“You should eat.”
So much for that.
Alec got back to staring out the window.
He’d slipped out of the house when Sam came home in the morning and vanished into his room. Without a word or anything. Just shut the door and that was it. Alec dutifully smiled at the nurse on her every 30 minute routine to check Dean’s blood pressure, take his temperature, and check the medication steadily dripping from the IV bags. When she left, Dean began shifting restlessly in his bed.
“Alec,” Dean cleared his throat. “I, uh…”
Dean had been saying a whole lot of nothing since Alec arrived so he was all ears.
“I need you to help me on something.”
“Like what? You need to go to the bathroom?”
Alec didn’t like the look on Dean’s face.
“Alec, I want you to help me get out of here.”
“Is this a joke? Because it kinda sounds like you're not joking.”
“A week!” Dean slammed his head back onto the pillow. “I can’t do this bullshit for a week.”
“You’ve been here less than 24 hours,” Alec snorted. “And you call me a spaz.”
“Just score my clothes and get the car ready out by the dumpsters--”
“Do you want me to die? ” Alec asked. “Because that is what will happen. Sam will find me and he will kill me and wear my skin to warn others.”
“He’ll never know.” Dean patiently explained. “Well, he’ll notice I’m not here but he won’t necessarily know… you had anything to do with it.”
Alec blinked at Dean’s well crafted hopeful smile. Man oh man, did he look that stupid when he was trying to sham somebody?
“You know what?” Alec pointed in his face. “I am kinda getting why I piss you guys off so much and all of the time.”
“This!” Alec threw his arms wide. “When I found you in your room I thought… I thought you … look, I just want you to stay here okay? Can’t you just stay one more day and then, hey, maybe they’ll have tater tots, or this piece of shit TV picks up Skinamax, or, or--”
“Quiet down or that nurse is gonna call the cops.”
Alec collapsed into the chair and held his head in his hands. “You-You always keep telling me it’s just not me anymore right? I have to listen to you because now… everything’s changed. We’re a unit and what happens to one of us happens to all of us. You keep telling me my problems are yours.”
“This is just,” Dean sighed. “It’s just different.”
Alec stood, his exasperation shifting quickly and completely into full blown rage.
“You know what, Dean? Fuck you.” he hissed. “You are full of shit.”
Dean raised his eyebrows.
“Go ahead!” Alec demanded. “Take off! Go die in some bar with a hooker and lame metal bands-”
“Doesn’t sound too bad.”
“…and your stupid heart condition, and, and, and, keep drinking whiskey that someone probably named Omar made in a toilet! Keep drinking and pill popping and then drag your old ass into your piece of crap car and do the universe a favor by driving it off a cliff! Because I don‘t give a flying fuck what happens to you! No one does!!!”
Alec felt a little dizzy.
Unsteady and panting slightly from his rant, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting in response from his uncle, but what came next certainly without a doubt was not one of them. Dean was now doing his very best, and failing, to stop cracking up laughing.
“Okay, you win,” Dean held up his hands and tried to make a straight face. “Geeze. That was better than vintage Sammy. I‘ll stay, alright?”
“I-I win?” Hands dropping to his sides, Alec blinked uncertainly, rage draining to plain confusion. “Why do I win? I never win-”
Aw damn. The nurse.
“Everything’s fine,” Dean assured her. “My nephew just has Tourette Syndrome.”
She quickly backed out of the room in slight embarrassment.
Alec sagged back into the chair, tired and feeling a brand new headache coming on. That wasn’t so bad was it? He just had to momentarily lose his ever livin' mind in the middle of a goddamn cardiovascular ward. But Dean said he‘d stay. He was going to stay. That was good. One day at a time, right? All that happy crap. But then thinking of the swiftly retreating nurse he frowned. She was kinda cute and he‘d been thinking of asking her out. Well, at least to the nearest bathroom that locked.
“You had to give me Tourettes?”
“The reality is slightly more disturbing.”
Alec couldn’t argue that one.