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Rating: SPN/DA Crossover - PG - Gen – AU in the year 2020 clap your hands and believe!
Spoilers: General (for all aired episodes)
Disclaimers: SPN & DA & characters are owned by their various creators.
Summary: Two worlds collide and all three explode.
Alec chewed on a pop tart and watched the rain drip on the fire escape.
It was better than listening to his faucets. Every one of them was making noise. The kitchen, the bathroom and even the shower head. He could handle some rusty water but these leaks were a little strange. The landlord had told him to lay off the magic mushrooms when he explained the problem over the phone.
He gnawed his food and frowned at the once white sink.
There was no telling what the red stuff coming out of the drains was, but it was making his apartment to start to smell like a slaughter house. Alec glanced up at his ceiling when he heard another skitter and scratch through the plaster. The vermin around here were getting a little too well fed. While he was fantasizing about large traps with pieces of cheese the single light bulb hanging in the living room began to flicker in and out.
Great. Alec tossed down his pop tart in disgust. A bio hazard in the pipes, rats in the walls and now a freakin' blackout? The power had been off for three days already this week and--
A knock on the front door startled him.
Instead of his elderly and annoyingly short landlord, there were two men in bad suits waiting in the hallway.
“Hello, sorry to disturb you,” the tall one on the left said. “We're here about the dead cat.”
Alec looked down at the gold badges with surprise. He didn't even know the FBI still existed.
“I-I don't own a dead cat--”
There was a moment of awkward silence that Alec felt a need to fill.
“I got some weird shit coming outta the drains, tho?”
“Bingo,” the agent on the right smiled. “The whole building has a leak and we think its coming from this floor. Mind if we come in?”
“It'll only take a second.” the other agent quickly assured him.
Alec rubbed at the back of his neck and wished he was wearing a shirt that came up a little higher on his bar code. He considered slamming the door in their faces but he decided to toss caution to the wind and let them in. Neither one of them had a plunger in their hands but that big black duffel bag might have something to kill the stink generating in his plumbing.
“Only for a few minutes,” he stepped aside and lied. “I gotta go to work soon.”
He could give a nickel tour of his two room place and they could take a water sample and get back to whatever desks they came from. Alec paused in confusion when they weren't following him to the noisy drip of his kitchen sink. The stuff that was previously dripping was now slowly gushing in a red sludge.
“Hey, is this a terrorist attack?” Alec guessed. “If it is you guys can tell me, I won't freak out the neighbors or anything-- h-hey, what's that?”
Both agents were standing by the closed door and were both holding flasks of... water?
The transgenic's eyes narrowed. So this was how it was. His mind raced with what he should do next. But instead of heading for his window all he could think was one thing. How the hell did Manticore track him down again? Alec stepped backwards with a cold sink of dread at the raised water bottles.
“Just stand still,” the agent with the green eyes said. “This won't hurt a bit.”
No agent or their chemicals were getting anywhere near him.
“It might,” Alec made two fists. “Just a little.”
He always dreamt the same jagged pieces of the same nightmare.
Flashes of fire. The weight of an antique revolver in his hand. Bright yellow eyes.
Alec woke up groggy.
He had no idea what the hell had happened but he knew he was still inside his own apartment. For one the smell of that red crap coming from the drains was as potent as ever. It hit his senses like a sledge hammer before he could even adjust his eyes. He could also feel the familiar lumps of his mattress under his back.
The power was out and the weak waver of candle light shone on the ceilings and walls.
“He's waking up.”
Alec could turn his head a little. The taller agent had taken one of the living room chairs and moved it near the bed. The man's jacket was gone with the white shirt rolled up to the elbows, a striped tie loosened around his neck. Alec wasn't prepared for the look the big guy was giving him. The transgenic expected coldness. Calculation. Rage. He expected pretty much anything but the soft gaze that was studying him curiously.
“'Bout damn time,” another voice mumbled from across the room. “Thought he was gonna sleep all night.”
The curt reply brought Alec back sharply into focus, adrenaline flooding his system and bringing his panic back to a keen edge. He still couldn't move. Making a small angry noise he willed all his muscles against any restraints that might have been put in place. But there were none. Alec's eyes watered in frustration as he realized his limbs were completely untethered. The only thing he knew of that could put him out commission this efficiently was a couple of souped up electric cattle prods. Waiting to feel the burning after effects of hot metal barbs, his confusion deepened when he detected none.
Alec began to shake as his panic swiftly descended into fear.
“It's okay,” came a soothing voice. “Calm down.”
Alec flinched violently when the callused palm rested on his forehead. He wasn't sure at first what the gentle whisper in his ear was, but he abruptly recognized that the agent was speaking a monotone stream of Latin. Against his will, he immediately felt sleepy again, the hammer of his heart slowing like he'd just been shot with a high grade tranquilizer. The murmur of the old language stopped and the man's warm hand withdrew.
“He looks like you, Dean.”
The tall man was speaking to the other agent Alec couldn't see.
“He looks like you from a while back,” the guy had a small smile on his face. “Kinda when you were a kid.”
“I never looked like that.”
Alec could hear drawers opening and closing. His things being searched. Seams being ripped and turned inside out. Books being removed from the shelves and dropped on the floor.
“Sure you did,” the man leaned back in his chair. “You just got old.”
“40 is the new 20, Sam.”
“The golden party years,” was the response. “Life is just gettin' started.”
Alec hated how they were talking like he wasn't right there. But they weren't talking like government agents. They didn't even smell right. These men weren't dry cleaning and plastic. They were pistol grease and sweat.
“I gotta admit,” the one named Dean appeared in the limited field of Alec's vision. “There's a little somethin' around the eyes.”
Alec held his breath when the other man crouched down to look him in the face. He hadn't been paying much attention when the men had come to his door but now they'd won his full concentration. Staring into eyes as green as his own, he felt his muted terror start to bubble up again. This man had spent his years hard but not like Alec had. The transgenic grew up pale under fluorescent lights of a facility and now worked under the gray clouds of the city skies. This man's tanned skin was pleasantly lined from a lifetime out in bright daylight, the sun leaving pleasing creases behind from too many smiles. Dean leaned in closer and cocked his head like he was looking at an old photo.
“That pout ain't mine tho.”
The person he'd called Sam shifted uncomfortably behind him.
Alec's mind raced through all the possibilities for these men to be here. Although he'd never seen any X-series much older than himself he wasn't beyond believing that a few must exist. Some prototypes. Experiments. There was no knowing what Manticore had left to burn in its basement. Alec fought to speak, his tongue heavy and thick in his mouth.
“W-What are you?” he rasped. “Clone? Twin? What are the hell are you doing here--”
“It's funny,” Dean's mouth tugged into a smile. “Back in the day clones used to be only in the movies.”
Alec blinked uncertainly at the amusement in the man's features. There was also some cautious relief there that Alec didn't understand.
“But yer right kid. We're related.”
Rough fingers ran through Alec's hair and briefly locked in an easy grip. It took a moment for Alec to comprehend it wasn't an act of aggression. A thumb ran down the line of his jaw and held his chin in a strange gesture that made the transgenic go still.
“Hate to disappoint but you ain't my clone,” Dean said. “I'm just your uncle.”
The man with the green eyes slowly stood up.
Somewhere in the fog of his brain Alec had the dull revelation that Sam was younger than his friend if only by a little bit. The larger man's eyes glittered wet in the candlelight, grief drawing his weary expression into raw pain. His age seemed decreased further when his broad shoulders slowly began to shake and hunch over, his chin dipping down to his chest. Dean reached out to grab his shoulder, squeezing one arm hard enough to keep him upright in his seat.
“Take it easy, Sammy,” Dean said. “We found him.”
Alec dazedly wondered who the hell they thought they'd found. Their sadness baffled him and his mind began to spiral down into the thrash of unwanted dreams again. He whimpered when the scent of fire and the burning forest came back.
The dim room blurred into nothing.
Manticore flickered orange and red through the trees. The flames roared and sizzled as he tried to back away from its hungry glow, but he couldn't move a muscle. He just stood there as the smoke billowed ink black through the dark woods like hell on earth. Alec's numb body twitched as he struggled to keep hold of the last strand of his conciousness, but it was too late. The last thing he could hear before he faded away was Sam's quiet baritone, harsh and broken.
The strained voice kept saying a name over and over again like it should mean something. Alec breathed the word once, the image of a pale haired girl searing across his vision just before he slipped away. But he didn't recognize her.
He didn't even know anyone by that name.
go to part 2