FIC: Complications
Aug. 30th, 2008 01:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nilchanceTitle: Complications
Rating: Gen, PG-13 for language
A/N: Dark Angel/Supernatural X-Over. Dean has some questions.
They run the bathtub luke-warm and as deep as shitty motel tubs get. Dean sits on the can with his rosary dangling over the kid's face, and tries to think. Dad had taken a harpy quill once; had his lips gone blue? Hard to remember.
Alec; the name's sharp-edged and unfamiliar. Alec. Dean doesn't know the kid's middle name, doesn't know his birthday or his blood type, doesn't know how he got his scars, but he knows the kid has reason to avoid hospitals. So he'll keep Alec here as long as he can, though he's got no intention of watching anybody else die on him. It could be as simple as a stupid phobia, no Feds or complications, but Dean has the feeling that complications come standard with their family.
Sam sits on the floor, cupping water in his hand and pouring it over Alec. His other hand stays on Alec's shoulder, keeping him in the tub, though the kid's completely out for the count. Sam's lips move on some blessing or prayer; it can't hurt. Dean adds his own voice, purifying, as the kid starts to shiver and his blood turns the holy water pink. They know when the purification works because the water starts to steam, bubbling off Alec's skin. The demon spooge peels off, flakes floating to the surface of the water like soap scum. Bubbles rise from the wound itself. Sam presses harder against Alec, but there's no reaction, no fight in him at all.
Jesus. The kid is a walking target, and he's not ready. He's soft. He went down easy to a minor demon and he let the two of them just... take him fuck knows where when he's injured. He's demon-bait, Winchester blood and no goddamn sense. Easy to use against them. Sammy's already decided, like Alec is some stray they can throw in the back of the Impala, and there's no arguing with him. But it's another blind side opening up, another vulnerable place for the demons to gouge open.
Maybe it's psychotic to look down at his own face and wonder if he ought to just shoot the kid the next time Sam's not looking. It'll be kinder than what the demons'll do to him.
Sam's gentle with him, almost tender, spilling the water over Alec's throat, baptizing the angry wound. Patient. There's a look on Sam's face that means he's thinking of Dean in hell, Dad gone, hunting alone and doing whatever was necessary to bring them all home. It's a look that always throws Dean off, how can I help clashing with what have you done, and so he isn't really paying attention as Sam eases Alec under the water.
Alec opens his eyes.
The kid goes off like a goddamn bomb, bloody water exploding out as Alec snaps his leg up and into Sam's side. The force of it knocks Sam back against the counter, something popping under Sam's skin, but before Dean can worry about that Alec's on him, trying to knock his head back into the toilet tank. Sam kicks the bathroom door shut fast, containing the fight like a hurricane in a bottle; Dean can barely keep himself from getting the shit kicked out of him, the kid moves so fast, and if he wasn't John Winchester's son he'd be screwed. Alec fights dirty, hands going for throat-eyes-groin, his bony knees digging bruises in Dean's hips.
"Hey," Sam barks out, and snags Alec around the waist, hauling him off Dean. Alec doesn't yelp, doesn't make a sound, just snaps an elbow back into Sam's stomach. It's calculated, familiar; Dean's heart stops a second as he realizes why he knows that move. Dad. Sam knows it, too, knows the counter, twists Alec up like a pretzel, and that's when Alec's fight goes wild. Panicked. He moves too fast, inhumanly fast, thrashing around and ripping the wound wider, silent, silent.
Fuck this. Dean sees an opening, takes it, one hard strike to the harpy wound. Alec yelps, but he stops long enough for Dean to punch him out.
His and Sam's ragged breathing fill the bathroom. Alec isn't even winded, the little bastard. There's blood and holy water everywhere, and Dean's pretty sure he'll need to wrap Sam's ribs and maybe reset one of his own fingers.
Sam meets his eyes, nods, and puts Alec back in the tub. They'll break out the sedatives and the restraints from... from before, still kept in the trunk in case Dean slips backwards. "I've got him," Sam says unnecessarily.
"Good luck with that." Wincing, Dean gets up and gimps out of the bathroom. Behind him, he hears Sam start up with bathing Alec's fevered brow or whatever the fuck he's doing. "Quit babying him, he's fine."
Sam ignores him, which is pretty much what Dean expected.
Dean's cell is sitting on the nightstand. Dean sits heavily on the side of the bed and stares at it a minute before he picks it up and dials. He hasn't called that number in a long while, but he still knows it by heart.
It goes to the machine, of course. Just like old times. Dean listens to the message that hasn't changed in years, and has to clear his throat after the beep. It's awkward, and that's new.
"It's me. We've got a situation. We're in Idaho. Get here." It'd be easy to hang up there, but Dean has to add, "You've got some explaining to do, Dad."
He ends the call and goes back in to help Sam with their brother.
Rating: Gen, PG-13 for language
A/N: Dark Angel/Supernatural X-Over. Dean has some questions.
They run the bathtub luke-warm and as deep as shitty motel tubs get. Dean sits on the can with his rosary dangling over the kid's face, and tries to think. Dad had taken a harpy quill once; had his lips gone blue? Hard to remember.
Alec; the name's sharp-edged and unfamiliar. Alec. Dean doesn't know the kid's middle name, doesn't know his birthday or his blood type, doesn't know how he got his scars, but he knows the kid has reason to avoid hospitals. So he'll keep Alec here as long as he can, though he's got no intention of watching anybody else die on him. It could be as simple as a stupid phobia, no Feds or complications, but Dean has the feeling that complications come standard with their family.
Sam sits on the floor, cupping water in his hand and pouring it over Alec. His other hand stays on Alec's shoulder, keeping him in the tub, though the kid's completely out for the count. Sam's lips move on some blessing or prayer; it can't hurt. Dean adds his own voice, purifying, as the kid starts to shiver and his blood turns the holy water pink. They know when the purification works because the water starts to steam, bubbling off Alec's skin. The demon spooge peels off, flakes floating to the surface of the water like soap scum. Bubbles rise from the wound itself. Sam presses harder against Alec, but there's no reaction, no fight in him at all.
Jesus. The kid is a walking target, and he's not ready. He's soft. He went down easy to a minor demon and he let the two of them just... take him fuck knows where when he's injured. He's demon-bait, Winchester blood and no goddamn sense. Easy to use against them. Sammy's already decided, like Alec is some stray they can throw in the back of the Impala, and there's no arguing with him. But it's another blind side opening up, another vulnerable place for the demons to gouge open.
Maybe it's psychotic to look down at his own face and wonder if he ought to just shoot the kid the next time Sam's not looking. It'll be kinder than what the demons'll do to him.
Sam's gentle with him, almost tender, spilling the water over Alec's throat, baptizing the angry wound. Patient. There's a look on Sam's face that means he's thinking of Dean in hell, Dad gone, hunting alone and doing whatever was necessary to bring them all home. It's a look that always throws Dean off, how can I help clashing with what have you done, and so he isn't really paying attention as Sam eases Alec under the water.
Alec opens his eyes.
The kid goes off like a goddamn bomb, bloody water exploding out as Alec snaps his leg up and into Sam's side. The force of it knocks Sam back against the counter, something popping under Sam's skin, but before Dean can worry about that Alec's on him, trying to knock his head back into the toilet tank. Sam kicks the bathroom door shut fast, containing the fight like a hurricane in a bottle; Dean can barely keep himself from getting the shit kicked out of him, the kid moves so fast, and if he wasn't John Winchester's son he'd be screwed. Alec fights dirty, hands going for throat-eyes-groin, his bony knees digging bruises in Dean's hips.
"Hey," Sam barks out, and snags Alec around the waist, hauling him off Dean. Alec doesn't yelp, doesn't make a sound, just snaps an elbow back into Sam's stomach. It's calculated, familiar; Dean's heart stops a second as he realizes why he knows that move. Dad. Sam knows it, too, knows the counter, twists Alec up like a pretzel, and that's when Alec's fight goes wild. Panicked. He moves too fast, inhumanly fast, thrashing around and ripping the wound wider, silent, silent.
Fuck this. Dean sees an opening, takes it, one hard strike to the harpy wound. Alec yelps, but he stops long enough for Dean to punch him out.
His and Sam's ragged breathing fill the bathroom. Alec isn't even winded, the little bastard. There's blood and holy water everywhere, and Dean's pretty sure he'll need to wrap Sam's ribs and maybe reset one of his own fingers.
Sam meets his eyes, nods, and puts Alec back in the tub. They'll break out the sedatives and the restraints from... from before, still kept in the trunk in case Dean slips backwards. "I've got him," Sam says unnecessarily.
"Good luck with that." Wincing, Dean gets up and gimps out of the bathroom. Behind him, he hears Sam start up with bathing Alec's fevered brow or whatever the fuck he's doing. "Quit babying him, he's fine."
Sam ignores him, which is pretty much what Dean expected.
Dean's cell is sitting on the nightstand. Dean sits heavily on the side of the bed and stares at it a minute before he picks it up and dials. He hasn't called that number in a long while, but he still knows it by heart.
It goes to the machine, of course. Just like old times. Dean listens to the message that hasn't changed in years, and has to clear his throat after the beep. It's awkward, and that's new.
"It's me. We've got a situation. We're in Idaho. Get here." It'd be easy to hang up there, but Dean has to add, "You've got some explaining to do, Dad."
He ends the call and goes back in to help Sam with their brother.