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FIC: Key
Title: Key
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance
Rating: Adult
A/N: Dark Angel/Supernatural X-Over. Gen. Unstoppable force meets unmoveable object.
The water is like ice around him, a visceral burn pressing him down. He has to stay down, a good soldier stays down, but as the minutes tick past he can't help trying to surge towards the air. His lungs hitch and ache. He can see the lights above him, he's so close--
They pull him out, and he heaves in a deep breath. He's shaking.
Max stares down at him, her arms behind her back. At attention. He can see it in her face, they got to her. She's buried under their conditioning. She broke. "What's your designation, soldier?"
"Max," he pants, "don't do this."
Her mouth thins. "Maybe you shouldn't have failed."
And he's under again. It's so cold. So cold. He can feel things failing inside him. He can feel the fracture points in his head and he knows they know them, too. He could break, he could be a good soldier, it'd be easy. He could kill and kill and kill...
There's someone here with him, in the water. He knows her, her hair swirling around her face like a corona, her easy smile. Rachel comes for him out of the dark. There's something wrong with her mouth, too many teeth. She takes hold of his shoulders and pulls him down, down and down, into the dark.
He deserves this.
A horn blares outside.
Alec jerks awake to the smell of his own sweat. He's drenched in it. He has to blink a few times to focus on the crappy motel room around him, the sheets wrapped tight, the restraints around his wrists. When he pulls hard against them, they don't give and his right shoulder throbs with sick pain. The room smells like hospital without the sterility, drugs and desperation.
He stops, staring up at the water-stained ceiling. Tries to think. 2008. The bitch in that diner. Dean and Sam.
Fuck. He'd let them take him somewhere. That ranked pretty high on fucking stupid things he'd done. Granted, it was better than dying in some lousy parking lot or getting roasted, but still: it's a debt. Not good.
Alec turns his head to check the time. 4:12 pm. It'd been a couple hours since the diner. Should've healed by now, courtesy of Mother Manticore. And hey, speaking of which, what the fuck's with the bitch shooting quills and looking human? Too advanced for 2008. Secret project? White's crazy-ass snake cult?
Something else?
He can worry about it later. For now, he nudges up the dial on his hearing and catches the sound of running water from the room's bathroom. The clink-clink of someone tapping a razor on the sink. Unless Dean and Sam are crowded together in the can, which isn't likely, he's only got one of them to worry about. Better odds than expected.
Alec twists his wrist in the restraint, trying to reach the catch with his fingertips, and it rattles once. The sound ought to be under human hearing, but the sink turns off and the door opens. Alec flops, watching through his lashes as somebody steps into the room. The tread is heavy and male, the scent sharp with soap. It's not Dean and Sam. More complications.
The guy clears his throat and speaks. "You're awake."
Damn.
Alec opens his eyes, trying to look spooked. It hurts like hell to scoot away from the end of the bed, propping his back against the headboard as best he can, given that those fuckers had restrained his feet too. "Who are you? I-- I'm sorry, I don't have any money. I can get some, you can look in my wallet and take the cards, just please please don't hurt me."
The guy raises an eyebrow.
"Did..." Alec blinks, trying to summon up tears. "Did you call my parents for ransom?"
With a sigh, the guy rubs his short beard. "You gonna get this crap out of your system soon?"
Damn again. There's just enough water in his eyes to well up. Alec gulps air. "What crap? I don't--"
The guy coughs out a short, sharp laugh. He looks like he doesn't laugh much. "Pretty good, kid, but best cut it out while you're ahead. 'm not fucking stupid." Without looking away from Alec, the guy moves between him and the door and sits on the edge of the other bed. "Your ID says Alec McDowell from Muncie, Indiana. University ID from Ball State in there, too. That a fake?"
Alec takes a minute to think, slowly testing the ankle restraints. The guy watches him through dark quick eyes. He's a guy that doesn't miss much and isn't spooked by possible kidnapping charges. Friend of Dean and Sam like that guy in the trucker hat. Probably white trash, that type that has a deer decoy on the front yard. Real militia bullshit that won't hold water after the Pulse. Alec knows that kind, repressed racist assholes. Smart in a slow animal way.
New game. Rolling his good shoulder, Alec shifts a little. He's not at his best, grimy and sweaty, but he's not trying to be the guy's prom date. "Yeah, maybe. What's it to you?"
The guy shrugs, but he's still watching Alec. "You got family? Anybody looking for you?"
Alec's mind jerks immediately, guiltily, to Max. To Josh. How long would they look before figuring he's gone? Just like Max always thought, out at the first sign of hard work.
"No," he says. If it sounds raw, that's only the game. "No family."
The guy inclines his head a little. It's not pity. Understanding, maybe. Alec might regret putting the guy's teeth down his throat.
Nah.
Rolling his hips, Alec shows the guy his throat. His mouth. "Hey," he says. "Listen. Dean and Sam, this is their show. Nothing to you, right?"
All at once, the guy snaps to attention. His steady stare nearly burns, raising the hackles on Alec's neck.
"So if you unsnap these," Alec says, tugging on one of the restraints, "no big loss. I just got out while you were shaving. Not your fault." Dropping his eyes to the guy's dick, Alec lets his gaze drag back up and meets the guy's eyes again before he wets his lips. "Make it worth your while."
The guy hisses and looks away. His jaw flexes.
Miscalculation. Alec backs up, bracing to get hit. "Hey, man. Sorry. You--"
The guy makes a short, sharp gesture: shut up. Alec shuts up, watching the center of the guy's body for the punch. It's not his first choice for an escape plan, but hey, if he gets sloppy, if Alec can see an out...
Exhaling, the guy rubs a hand across his angry mouth and looks back at Alec. "What's Manticore?"
Shit. Alec feels himself freeze for a single traitorous second, but he forces himself to relax. "You tell me."
"Huh. And 494?" The guy waits a moment, then shakes his head. "Yeah, that's what I figured. You know something, this is the time to tell me. Save me some hunting."
Alec's attention twitches to the nightstand, the battered journal and the small stack of notes. With that glance, his eidetic memory scans the words and spits them out: Manticore, Rachel, Max. Alec's whole damned serial number, though the guy has it listed out a few times in a few different orders. Apparently Alec babbled government secrets in his fucking sleep.
The best thing, the right thing, would be to cap the dumb fuck in the back of his head before he starts looking. It's a mess Alec doesn't want to trail behind him.
The guy follows Alec's eyesight to the journal and smiles, humorless. Scary ass motherfucker hidden in plaid and a good old boy smile. Manticore will still eat him alive.
"Take my advice, buddy," Alec says. "Leave it the fuck alone."
With a slow nod like he's actually listening, the guy says, "Can't do that. Dean and Sam are my boys."
For a few precious seconds, Alec can pretend that the guy means that colloquially. But no, now that he's looking, he sees it: Sam's hair and intensity, Dean's build and eyes. It's a real family affair.
Must be nice, thinks a small bitter part of him, wanting anyway. Alec crushes it.
"Right," Alec says. "And where are they?"
"Out."
"Out. You're helpful." Letting his head thump back onto the pillow, Alec studies the water stains on the ceiling. "You gonna let me up?"
"In a minute. You're in a world of trouble here. You got yourself hurt by something you didn't understand. There are things outside that would tear you apart just because you look like Dean."
The wound on Alec's shoulder throbs, and he remembered the stink of cooking gas. "That sounds like my problem, not yours."
"It's my problem now. My boys have decided that you're their brother."
It's a kick in the chest, the stupidest thing Alec's heard in months. It's like coming over that last hill to find Manticore burning again.
"They're wrong," Alec says. He'll blame the edge in his voice on infection. "I'm not anybody's goddamn brother."
The guy shrugs eloquently. "Try telling them that. Doesn't matter. If anything happens to you-- they're survived enough already. I'm not cutting you loose for some demon to use to hurt my boys. Not until you know how to keep yourself alive."
"Done okay this long."
"You're not following." The guy leans forward, demands Alec's attention. "If you bolt before I say you can go, I will find you. I will drag your ass back here. We'll start all over. If whatever's hunting you doesn't get there first."
The guy, he doesn't smell quite human. Quite like anything Alec knows.
Alec wants to tell him to go fuck himself. But he's never been like Max.
"Sir," he says, letting his contempt do the insulting for him. "Yes, sir."
The guy huffs out a breath, not like it's funny, and unlocks Alec's cuffs. He's gentle about it, and if anything, Alec hates him for that more. "It's John," the guy says as he works.
"Alec."
"Yeah," John says. "I know."
Author:
nilchanceRating: Adult
A/N: Dark Angel/Supernatural X-Over. Gen. Unstoppable force meets unmoveable object.
The water is like ice around him, a visceral burn pressing him down. He has to stay down, a good soldier stays down, but as the minutes tick past he can't help trying to surge towards the air. His lungs hitch and ache. He can see the lights above him, he's so close--
They pull him out, and he heaves in a deep breath. He's shaking.
Max stares down at him, her arms behind her back. At attention. He can see it in her face, they got to her. She's buried under their conditioning. She broke. "What's your designation, soldier?"
"Max," he pants, "don't do this."
Her mouth thins. "Maybe you shouldn't have failed."
And he's under again. It's so cold. So cold. He can feel things failing inside him. He can feel the fracture points in his head and he knows they know them, too. He could break, he could be a good soldier, it'd be easy. He could kill and kill and kill...
There's someone here with him, in the water. He knows her, her hair swirling around her face like a corona, her easy smile. Rachel comes for him out of the dark. There's something wrong with her mouth, too many teeth. She takes hold of his shoulders and pulls him down, down and down, into the dark.
He deserves this.
A horn blares outside.
Alec jerks awake to the smell of his own sweat. He's drenched in it. He has to blink a few times to focus on the crappy motel room around him, the sheets wrapped tight, the restraints around his wrists. When he pulls hard against them, they don't give and his right shoulder throbs with sick pain. The room smells like hospital without the sterility, drugs and desperation.
He stops, staring up at the water-stained ceiling. Tries to think. 2008. The bitch in that diner. Dean and Sam.
Fuck. He'd let them take him somewhere. That ranked pretty high on fucking stupid things he'd done. Granted, it was better than dying in some lousy parking lot or getting roasted, but still: it's a debt. Not good.
Alec turns his head to check the time. 4:12 pm. It'd been a couple hours since the diner. Should've healed by now, courtesy of Mother Manticore. And hey, speaking of which, what the fuck's with the bitch shooting quills and looking human? Too advanced for 2008. Secret project? White's crazy-ass snake cult?
Something else?
He can worry about it later. For now, he nudges up the dial on his hearing and catches the sound of running water from the room's bathroom. The clink-clink of someone tapping a razor on the sink. Unless Dean and Sam are crowded together in the can, which isn't likely, he's only got one of them to worry about. Better odds than expected.
Alec twists his wrist in the restraint, trying to reach the catch with his fingertips, and it rattles once. The sound ought to be under human hearing, but the sink turns off and the door opens. Alec flops, watching through his lashes as somebody steps into the room. The tread is heavy and male, the scent sharp with soap. It's not Dean and Sam. More complications.
The guy clears his throat and speaks. "You're awake."
Damn.
Alec opens his eyes, trying to look spooked. It hurts like hell to scoot away from the end of the bed, propping his back against the headboard as best he can, given that those fuckers had restrained his feet too. "Who are you? I-- I'm sorry, I don't have any money. I can get some, you can look in my wallet and take the cards, just please please don't hurt me."
The guy raises an eyebrow.
"Did..." Alec blinks, trying to summon up tears. "Did you call my parents for ransom?"
With a sigh, the guy rubs his short beard. "You gonna get this crap out of your system soon?"
Damn again. There's just enough water in his eyes to well up. Alec gulps air. "What crap? I don't--"
The guy coughs out a short, sharp laugh. He looks like he doesn't laugh much. "Pretty good, kid, but best cut it out while you're ahead. 'm not fucking stupid." Without looking away from Alec, the guy moves between him and the door and sits on the edge of the other bed. "Your ID says Alec McDowell from Muncie, Indiana. University ID from Ball State in there, too. That a fake?"
Alec takes a minute to think, slowly testing the ankle restraints. The guy watches him through dark quick eyes. He's a guy that doesn't miss much and isn't spooked by possible kidnapping charges. Friend of Dean and Sam like that guy in the trucker hat. Probably white trash, that type that has a deer decoy on the front yard. Real militia bullshit that won't hold water after the Pulse. Alec knows that kind, repressed racist assholes. Smart in a slow animal way.
New game. Rolling his good shoulder, Alec shifts a little. He's not at his best, grimy and sweaty, but he's not trying to be the guy's prom date. "Yeah, maybe. What's it to you?"
The guy shrugs, but he's still watching Alec. "You got family? Anybody looking for you?"
Alec's mind jerks immediately, guiltily, to Max. To Josh. How long would they look before figuring he's gone? Just like Max always thought, out at the first sign of hard work.
"No," he says. If it sounds raw, that's only the game. "No family."
The guy inclines his head a little. It's not pity. Understanding, maybe. Alec might regret putting the guy's teeth down his throat.
Nah.
Rolling his hips, Alec shows the guy his throat. His mouth. "Hey," he says. "Listen. Dean and Sam, this is their show. Nothing to you, right?"
All at once, the guy snaps to attention. His steady stare nearly burns, raising the hackles on Alec's neck.
"So if you unsnap these," Alec says, tugging on one of the restraints, "no big loss. I just got out while you were shaving. Not your fault." Dropping his eyes to the guy's dick, Alec lets his gaze drag back up and meets the guy's eyes again before he wets his lips. "Make it worth your while."
The guy hisses and looks away. His jaw flexes.
Miscalculation. Alec backs up, bracing to get hit. "Hey, man. Sorry. You--"
The guy makes a short, sharp gesture: shut up. Alec shuts up, watching the center of the guy's body for the punch. It's not his first choice for an escape plan, but hey, if he gets sloppy, if Alec can see an out...
Exhaling, the guy rubs a hand across his angry mouth and looks back at Alec. "What's Manticore?"
Shit. Alec feels himself freeze for a single traitorous second, but he forces himself to relax. "You tell me."
"Huh. And 494?" The guy waits a moment, then shakes his head. "Yeah, that's what I figured. You know something, this is the time to tell me. Save me some hunting."
Alec's attention twitches to the nightstand, the battered journal and the small stack of notes. With that glance, his eidetic memory scans the words and spits them out: Manticore, Rachel, Max. Alec's whole damned serial number, though the guy has it listed out a few times in a few different orders. Apparently Alec babbled government secrets in his fucking sleep.
The best thing, the right thing, would be to cap the dumb fuck in the back of his head before he starts looking. It's a mess Alec doesn't want to trail behind him.
The guy follows Alec's eyesight to the journal and smiles, humorless. Scary ass motherfucker hidden in plaid and a good old boy smile. Manticore will still eat him alive.
"Take my advice, buddy," Alec says. "Leave it the fuck alone."
With a slow nod like he's actually listening, the guy says, "Can't do that. Dean and Sam are my boys."
For a few precious seconds, Alec can pretend that the guy means that colloquially. But no, now that he's looking, he sees it: Sam's hair and intensity, Dean's build and eyes. It's a real family affair.
Must be nice, thinks a small bitter part of him, wanting anyway. Alec crushes it.
"Right," Alec says. "And where are they?"
"Out."
"Out. You're helpful." Letting his head thump back onto the pillow, Alec studies the water stains on the ceiling. "You gonna let me up?"
"In a minute. You're in a world of trouble here. You got yourself hurt by something you didn't understand. There are things outside that would tear you apart just because you look like Dean."
The wound on Alec's shoulder throbs, and he remembered the stink of cooking gas. "That sounds like my problem, not yours."
"It's my problem now. My boys have decided that you're their brother."
It's a kick in the chest, the stupidest thing Alec's heard in months. It's like coming over that last hill to find Manticore burning again.
"They're wrong," Alec says. He'll blame the edge in his voice on infection. "I'm not anybody's goddamn brother."
The guy shrugs eloquently. "Try telling them that. Doesn't matter. If anything happens to you-- they're survived enough already. I'm not cutting you loose for some demon to use to hurt my boys. Not until you know how to keep yourself alive."
"Done okay this long."
"You're not following." The guy leans forward, demands Alec's attention. "If you bolt before I say you can go, I will find you. I will drag your ass back here. We'll start all over. If whatever's hunting you doesn't get there first."
The guy, he doesn't smell quite human. Quite like anything Alec knows.
Alec wants to tell him to go fuck himself. But he's never been like Max.
"Sir," he says, letting his contempt do the insulting for him. "Yes, sir."
The guy huffs out a breath, not like it's funny, and unlocks Alec's cuffs. He's gentle about it, and if anything, Alec hates him for that more. "It's John," the guy says as he works.
"Alec."
"Yeah," John says. "I know."