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Chapter Text

Rain drizzled onto the pavement in a sheet of dark water that slicked the tires of Alec’s bike. The streets of Seattle were dark — silhouettes of people mere shadows amidst the night market. The refuge camp had passed its occupational limits within days after the flag was flown. And with each cry of a baby came another open mouth to feed.

Alec zipped his jacket up and walked his bike to a dripping stand. The woman beneath the stall didn’t bat an eye as she pulled a box from beneath the counter.

Alec shut the box with a frown. “Where’s the rest?”

She shook her head. “The shipment was third-partied.”

“What?” He leaned in. “By who?”

Dina’s gaze fell, hesitancy trembling through her fingers. “I can’t.”

Alec blinked, staring intently at her before scoffing. “Unbelievable.”

“I’m—”

“You know how many people are depending on this?”

“I can’t help it!” She signed forcefully.

A car flew past, spraying a wash of water over the crowd in the bustling market. He shook his head and stepped back, taking a deep breath before leaning in again. “What do they have over you?”

Dina crossed her arms, searching the roof for solace. After a moment, she raised her hands. “My sister.”

Light flashed over the tents. Thunder followed, rumbling through the respirating fabric above their heads.

Alec wiped a hand down his face. “Listen, Dina—”

“I can get you the rest next week.”

He squinted, frustration pulling his lips into a tight smile. “Who?”

Dina’s eyes locked on the bills he set on the counter. Her expression tautened when he pinned them down. She held his gaze, resolve quickly melting in her bagged eyes.

“Steelheads.” Her fingers dropped to her waist, head down.

Alec followed her darting gaze to a man sitting a few stalls down. Large metal tusks protruded from his lips, matching the metal studs and rings that reflected in the dim light.

Alec turned back to her. “Next week?”

“At the earliest.” She slipped the money free. He swallowed a curse and shoved the box deep into his messenger bag.

The ride back to the camp swung between blame, shame, and a fluctuating sense of detachment. It wasn’t his fault. But how many people would suffer under his responsibility?

He paused a few feet away from the crowd gathered outside the fence. There were always protestors — but tonight was particularly nasty. A glass bottle shattered on the opposite side of the wire.

“Fucking freaks!” a man shouted. Bobbing signs and angry gestures punctuated the air.

A dark mop of hair caught his eye. Joshua towered over the crowd, shoulders to his ears as he stared out. His sullen expression shifted when their eyes met, a soft smile growing on his cleft lips as he waved.

Alec tightened his grip on the handlebars as heads turned his way. The rain had long soaked through his jacket, dripping into his eyes as he set his jaw. He wouldn’t come back with anything less than what he set out for.

“It’s one of them!” The sea of protestors shifted backward, allowing a few hotheaded demonstrators to take the lead. An unopened can of soda ricocheted off his back tire.

His tread slipped before finding traction on the uneven concrete, and Terminal City bled away into a quieter sector. Less welcoming, sure — stragglers eyed him from street corners, guarded expressions and prying stares — but at least they’d think twice.

He tucked his bike behind a dumpster and slipped down an alleyway.

Water squelched in his shoes. He froze when a door swung open. Light scattered across the glistening pavement, disturbed by a small crowd stumbling into the night. A woman and a man were locked in a tussle, all gritted teeth and laughter. Alec held his breath as he slunk against the wall.

“Hey! Get his ass!”

He pressed against the brick. The crowd’s backs were to him, and he let out a slow breath as the audience egged the fight on. He eased the cracked door open, locking it behind him as he went.

The Steelheads’ base was littered with scraps and parts. He grabbed an exoskeleton arm and idly flopped its hand while meandering through the quarters — toys, a blasting television, the smell of stale sweat, food, and oil.

A white box sat on the worktable. Alec flipped the flaps open to a pile of bright pill bottles. He turned one over, reading the glossy label. With his head held high, he cradled the box under his arm.

Alec: 1. Steelheads: 0.

He paused and glanced back at the arm.

Don’t, Alec heard Max snip in his head. And just because of that, he shoved it in the box too. Consider it a tax for being pointy metallic a-holes.

“Hey!” A man barked from the doorway. “The hell are you—?”

Alec held up a hand. “Hi, Max sent me.”

The steelhead squinted, jagged brow-ridges tightening. “Who?”

“Oh…” Alec made a show of looking around. “She must’ve sent me to the wrong place. Sorry about that.”

He turned for the back door — just as a horde of footsteps thundered into the room.

“Get him, you idiot!” a woman shouted.

Alec slammed out the door and booked it back up the alley. He couldn’t get on his bike fast enough, calves bouncing off the metal frame as he veered into the street. Angry shouts filled the air as he weaved through the foot traffic.

“Excuse me,” he squeezed through the meandering nightlife. “Coming through.”

Metal glinted a few yards back, pushing fruitlessly against the crowd. Alec slowed his roll as he drifted around a corner, popping his collar with a growing smile.

“Next time I won’t be so nice!” He tongued his cheek. “Weirdos.”

Mission accomplished. Sure, he was way past late for drop-off, but Max couldn’t ride his ass when he had the full shipment—plus a little extra spending money. He got his foot back on the pedal, a pleased hum leaving his throat when fingers grasped his collar and yanked him clean off his bike.

A tall woman squinted down at him, her metal jaw clacking with displeasure.

Alec took her in: the metal ball where her eye should be, mechanical fingers working a hole into his jacket. He held a hand up. “Whoa, easy.”

Her gaze slipped to his bag, to where metallic digits hung limp over the lip.

“This is just a misunderstanding.”

She pulled the hand out and slipped it on, locking it to her opposite arm—identical to its sibling.

“One of the guys gave it to me—lost it in a game of Chinese poker.”

She didn’t acknowledge him.

“Like I said—”

“Stop talking.” Her voice was loud. She flexed her arm and curled her hand into a fist. Alec kicked out, planting his heel against her stomach. It was enough to wrench free. The woman bounced back immediately, stomping over his bike.

“I’m gonna rip that code off your neck, boy.”

Her drifting vowels and irregular pacing clicked in his head.

“Wait!” He mimicked Dina’s signing as best he could. The woman did a double take. “Dina. Do you know Dina?”

She paused, lips tight. “Who are you?”

“Your sister’s worried.”

The steelhead’s face soured. She scanned his features before bringing a hand up and shrieking a whistle.

“Oh, come on. Can’t we at least talk about it?” Alec tried one last time before tossing a punch. His knuckles caught her cheekbone. He ducked down and swung up again. Dina’s sister fell back with a garbled grunt.

He backpedaled hard and ran. Another flash of lightning came with a loud honk as he jumped out of the way of an oncoming smart car. Grabbing hands tugged at him but slipped away in the chaos of stomping boots.

Up the hood, over the trunk, and down the street.

Headlights flashed in his eyes and shocked insults filled the air as he rushed down the cross-street. He ran until it felt like his lungs were bleeding.

His feet carried him through the flimsy doors of the Space Needle and up the ever-winding staircase.

He was halfway up when his ears perked at the sound of doors slamming open below.

Damn. These people were relentless. Alec fished for his cell.

Trill.

He darted into the dining hall, briefly considering his options before tucking his messenger bag under the counter.

Trill.

It cut to her voicemail.

“Hey, Maxie. The tryptophan is in the Needle. Hopefully I’ll be back before you listen to this. If not…” He tossed years-old trash and cracked dishes in front of the bag before shutting the cupboard. “Would it kill you to answer your phone? Shit.”

He made his way to the patio and stared up the wire cage. Rainwater dripped onto his temple. The metal balcony was slick with it, streaming down the fraying lattice. He peered at the jagged hole that Max routinely climbed through during her scheduled brooding time. Which was great when you were a foot shorter and relatively fun-sized. The last time he squeezed through there, he’d panicked when his chest caught between the scraping ends of wire.

A barrage of footsteps burst into the room, slowing as the steelheads approached cautiously. Weapons high. Eyes bright with alarm.

Alec held his hands up and let out a laugh. “C’mon, guys. You got your arm back. I got my package back. No harm, no foul.”

A machete left Dina’s sister’s hand and bounced off the wall beside his head. “You think that’s funny?”

Alec forced a shrug, fight thrumming under his skin. “It’s a stress response.”

“You ‘genics think you own the damn city.” A man with a row of silver, pointed teeth snapped. A sliver of saliva slipped down his curled lip. “Ruin’ our business, stickin’ your nose where it’s got no right to be.”

Alec lifted his chin, bracing against the wall as the group drew in. “We have a right to live.”

The man banged the head of his crowbar against the dingy carpet. “So do we! If you wanna live so bad, why don’t you freeloaders go back to where you came from? Huh?”

The machete handle was worn smooth, the grain rough against his sweaty palm. The man lunged, and Alec raised the knife, barricading himself from the oncoming crowbar. He kneed Shark-Tail in the stomach, wrapped around him, and locked him in a chokehold. From there it was slow, steady steps back toward the stairway.

Shark-Tail squirmed, spitting expletives, then froze when Alec pressed the blade to his neck. “Work with me, Riff Raff.”

The tall, buff, and pissed-off woman pushed forward, grabbing knives from her steelhead buddy. The warning barely left Alec’s mouth before both knives lodged in Shark-Tail’s torso. Alec flinched, dropping the weight from his arms.

“Erica! You—” Shark-Tail strained as he sank to the floor. “Help. Oh, my God, I’m—”

“In the way.” Erica darted forward. Alec ducked under her swing, ear full of whirring metal before a sharp heat sliced through the cartilage. Instincts kicked in; he shoved her back—harder than intended. There was a wet crack as her skull slammed against the counter’s pointed edge. Erica gasped, catching herself.

“Oh, shit.” The remaining steelheads froze. Younger, less modified—more wonder in their faces, now replaced by a glint of primal fear. Their glassy eyes fixed on Alec like he was something wild and dangerous.

“Please, don’t.”

Alec turned away. The drugs were stashed. Two steelheads were dying. And his cell was ringing. So he ran. He wrapped his hands around the cut wire overhead and lifted himself through the space.

The top of the Needle was empty, except for graffiti blurred by the downpour. He sucked his stomach in and wriggled through the gap. He hadn’t meant to get mixed up in things like this—certainly didn’t like having Maxie come to his rescue like a damsel in distress. But maybe she had a point about waiting too long to ask for help.

A firm hand gripped his ankle, jerking him to a stop. He stared down at Erica’s desperate expression. He almost felt bad for ramming his heel into the bridge of her nose. Dina crossed his mind’s eye—slouched posture, unkempt hair, dull eyes.

Alec crawled onto the roof, gaping in horror as Erica clawed her way after him. “Jesus Christ. What is your deal, lady?”

She rose to her feet, lightning outlining the grimace shadowing her face. “Messin’ around with my sister.” Venom slurred from her bloodied tongue.

Alec fell back, watching her unsteady gait quicken as she stomped across the rooftop. A flash of white cracked through the clouds. Her metal prosthetics reflected the electricity, winking her glassy eye. Something uneasy shifted in his chest.

“Lydecker dragged you back, flayed your brains, just to set you loose again.” She clenched her fists. “Against every single protocol, he gave you one last opportunity to redeem yourself.”

His phone was ringing again, far away in his pocket.

“What happened to you?” Alec’s voice wasn’t his anymore—soft and yielding as 494 stumbled forward.

“I was assigned to you after the incident with 493. I admit, I grew partial to you.”

The smell of mildew and vomit clung sick to the memory—water sliding through a basement door where a kind guard had pitied him once.

“Dina and I used to be a normal family,” her voice tremored, white-knuckling a knife. “I took care of you kids. And in return, you left me to burn.”

Alec drew a breath that dried out his mouth. “The fire.” He memorized her face for the first time again—gray eyes surrounded by new lines traced with age.

They deepened as her face crumbled. “I went back for the kids. And look at the shit I got in return.”

The heads of the other steelheads popped through the hole.

“I didn’t know.” Alec lowered his chin. “I would’ve—”

Erica ripped a hearing aid from her head. “I’m s’posed to look out for Dina, and that’s it. I was punished. God punished me for the sins of Manticore.”

A thrumming buzz filled his ears. Police lights pulsed across the roof.

“Erica!” A boy with pointed knuckles slid a handgun over the steel. She checked the chamber mechanically, clicking the hammer back with renewed fervor. The drone inclined toward them, camera light shuttering down a ray of fluorescence.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gambled against stacked odds. He reassured himself, ignoring the fact that it might be his last, as his shoes left the roof and open air swallowed him whole. His fingers caught the surveillance drone, a shout tearing from his gut as it tipped under his weight.

A crack split the air. Lightning flashed, illuminating the blood speckling the drone’s casing.

The world bucked and tilted into a dizzying spiral.

He was falling. And shot—but that didn’t seem as important all of a sudden.

His mind rushed, washing up on a foamy shore of blankness while bursts of light filled his narrowing vision.

An orchestra blared in his ears—a low drone beneath a shrieking whistle, blood roaring like a rockslide, screams folding under the airy spiel of a choir when he focused on their Gregorian cry.

Then there was silence.

The sky opened wide and dragged him in. The ground reached up and locked its jaws around him, gravity’s bite sinking into his frame when he slammed into a solid surface hard enough to jar his teeth. It gave, cupping him while he fought for air.

When his vision cleared, he found himself staring up at stars twinkling overhead. Shards of glass speckled his lap like dead stars finding a quiet place to rest.

Then he was staring into a pair of wide eyes. Then two. Dark and light, blotting out the sky. He… must be dead. Right? Because there was no other explanation for being alive.

“You better not give up the ghost on my baby.” The shorter man was pale, dread piggybacking on the words that cut through the ringing in his ears.

“Dean,” the taller one stammered.

Dean tore his gaze away. “I know, Sam.”

The conversation fell away from Alec. If he wasn’t dead, he was dying. Hands lifted him up, misery filling his flesh, but he kept rising—hovering outside his body as the world blurred into a mess of sound and motion. The last thing he registered was the rip of zip ties and a door slamming the light out of his eyes.

Chapter Text

A full moon hung deftly in the sky. A tepid breeze blew through the open windows as Baby coasted down the interstate.

Dean tapped a finger against the wheel and glanced at his brother, who was absorbed in an article on his laptop. He turned the radio up, keeping his eyes ahead. He could feel Sam’s glare burning into the side of his head.

“Dude,” Sam grumbled, his frown highlighted by the glow of the screen. “Turn it down.”

Dean squinted. “What?”

“I said, turn it down—” Sam’s face went from pinched to pressed.

Dean pointed to his ears with a shrug and drummed on the steering wheel to the beat. “I wanna know,” he pointed at Sam, “if you’ve ever seen the rain!”

The thrill of irony curved his lips when tiny specks of water tapped against the windshield. His grin faltered as the drizzle thickened into a torrent, blurring the road ahead—then something slammed onto the hood, shattering the glass and sending them skidding off the road.

White-knuckling the wheel, Dean checked on Sam and was out of the car without a second thought.

Under the dying drizzle lay a man slumped over the hood. The smell of rain and burnt rubber filled the air, dripping off the Impala’s grill in a steady rhythm.

Dean leaned in, pressing cautious fingers against the stranger’s clammy neck. A weak pulse beat in reply.

“Is he alive?” Sam called over Dean’s shoulder, letting out a breath when Dean nodded. “You saw that too, right?”

The man on the hood sucked in a rattling breath, his hands twitching in his lap.

“What kind of insurance scam… ” Dean grimaced, craning over him. “You better not give up the ghost on my baby.”

The stranger’s eyes snapped open, and Dean’s words died in his throat. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror—matted hair, pale skin, a rough-around-the-edges style that couldn’t hide how lean the man was—but the resemblance was unmistakable.

He looked at Sam just to make sure his brother saw it too.

“Dean,” Sam said, wide-eyed.

An alarm bell tolled in Dean’s chest. “I know, Sam.”

The stranger’s dilated pupils reflected the Impala’s headlights, flicking helplessly between the brothers.

“What do we do?” Sam asked.

Dean’s double—D.D., maybe —shifted before going limp with a groan. The remains of the windshield tinkled over the dented hood.

Dean stomped around to the rear doors and jerked his head at Sam. Together they lifted the man’s legs and maneuvered him into the backseat as fast as possible. Staring at a reflection of his own slack face was nothing if not disturbing.

Water dripped from the man’s clothes, smearing across the fabric. Sam drew in a soft breath and held up a bloodied palm. “He’s been shot.”

“Take his jacket off,” Dean said, patting the stranger down. A cracked flip phone, homemade lockpicks, and a beat-up wallet full of credentials.

A consistent rattle pierced through the darkness Alec floated in. The faint smell of gasoline and vinyl filled his nose, stuffing his heavy head with cotton.

“Okay, thanks, Bobby.”

He cracked his eyes open to the back of a car seat. Two men sat in the front, silent, as cold wind whistled through a shattered windshield. Despite the alarm rising in his chest, his body refused to cooperate. His arms were pinned— restraints bit into his wrists and ankles.

The guy with longer hair turned, eyes locking on Alec’s. They stared at each other for a moment that stretched too long. Finally, he spoke. “Hi. You’re Alec, right?”

Alec glanced out the window. The sky was lightening into a gradient of color poking through the clouds. A blur of yellowing trees rushed by. Definitely not Seattle.

When he turned back, both men were watching him.

“He asked you a question,” the driver gruffed.

Alec pushed himself upright, pain crawling up his spine and shooting down his legs. He bit his tongue through the breathless ache. “Nunya.”

“What?” the driver asked, brows furrowing in the mirror.

“Nunya business.” Alec ran a finger along the rough zip ties. “Can’t believe you fell for that.”

The barrel of a gun glinted in Tall Guy’s lap. “Listen, we’re trying to help you, but if you don’t work with us—”

“Work with you?” Alec cut in, sitting upright. “Yeah. That’s real intimidating, Terminator.”

“Sit back,” the driver ordered, foot pressing harder on the gas.

“I appreciate the ride and all, but this is way past the part where we part ways.”

No response.

“Where’re we going?”

Silence.

Alec wriggled his wrists until the ties creaked—enough to light a spark. He laid back, braced, and kicked the window.

Another jerk. Another kick.

“Dean, stop the car!”

The jacket on his lap slid to the floor. He kicked again. The tires screamed as the car fishtailed to a stop. Glass cracked beneath his heel.

Another kick—and his foot went through the window. Fire licked through his arms as his wrists snapped free.

“Son of a bitch!” The rear door flew open. Hands grabbed his chest, fingers pressing on the shoddy bandage at his shoulder.

Alec kicked, connecting hard.

Dean tightened his grip. “Sam, you alright?”

Tall Guy—Sam—clutched his nose, blood running down his lip. Alec’s satisfaction was short-lived; his temple cracked against the window trim. The next thing he knew, they’d dragged him out, his shoulders hitting pavement first.

A boot pressed against his chest, a gun trained on his face. He bared his teeth, eager to finally get a look at his abductors.

The sight of the man made him freeze: sandy hairline, freckles wrapped over the nose. His own reflection staring down at him. The conversation in Max’s kitchen echoed in his mind, hollow and heavy.

Alec’s mouth went dry. “You?”

“Shut up,” Dean gritted. “Get in the damn car.”

The ties were zipped back on, layered over each other, and he was tossed into the backseat again. Alec sat back, staring at the back of Dean’s leather collar and clenching his cold, sweating palms.

Eventually, the car pulled off a side road and under a large wrought-iron overgate. Junk cars were stacked as far as the eye could see, giving way to a rundown two-story house. Its teal paint was faded and peeling.

Alec blinked at Sam as the man freed his ankles. Sam stared at him a lot, especially when he thought Alec wasn’t paying attention.

Sam cleared his throat. “Your tattoo is interesting.”

Alec watched him tuck his blade away. “Anything else you got a look at?”

It killed the conversation faster than it started.

Sam helped Alec to his feet and walked him to the porch. A black dog was stretched across the hood of a truck. It lifted its head, eyes following them.

An older man stood in the doorway with his jaw dropped. “What in the…?”

Alec wrinkled his nose. A hand gripped the scruff of his shirt and shoved him inside. The house was a collection of clutter—books, maps, and paintings lined the walls top to bottom. A metal chair sat in the middle of the room beside a desk full of tools and instruments.

He planted his feet. “I’m beginning to think you guys aren’t cops.”

“What tipped you off?” Dean pressed the muzzle of a gun against the middle of his back. The men pulled him forward, the taller one letting out a quiet apology as Alec fell into the chair.

Alec squinted at them. “Human traffickers?”

“What?” Sam stammered. “No.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” Alec flexed his fingers as they bound him to the chair. “Human sacrifice?”

The older man stepped closer, brows scrunched. “You’re taking this rather well.” He grabbed a small flask.

“Just another Friday night.” Alec huffed. “There are better ways to get a drinking buddy, pal.”

The man unscrewed the cap. “Are you always like this, boy?”

“When he’s conscious,” Dean grumbled. “We already tested him for everything.”

“Again, this isn’t sounding great—” Alec spluttered as liquid splashed over his face. It was room temperature and tasteless, dripping down his throat.

The three men exchanged a look.

Alec jutted his jaw. “Anything else? I can make balloon animals— do a cartwheel.”

“Jesus,” the older man muttered, grabbing a blade from the table. “He’s a spittin’ image.”

“Great. Thanks, Bobby,” Dean drawled, glancing at Sam, who only shrugged.

Bobby stepped forward and rolled up Alec’s sleeve. He lowered the blade to Alec’s forearm.

Alec swallowed, maybe torture wasn’t off the table. The slice was swift and shallow. Bobby leaned back to observe.

Alec forced his grimace into a tight sneer. “Like what you’re seeing?”

Bobby took off his hat with a sigh. “Never seen anything like him before.”

The wording made Alec shift, watching as Dean inched forward. “Thought he might’ve been a shifter at first.”

Alec blinked, chest tight.

“Dean,” Sam winced.

Dean waved him off and knelt in front of Alec. “Or a demon. Maybe some sort of doppelganger.”

Ice pooled in Alec’s stomach. This was worse. Way worse.

Alec tittered, “Right. Okay.”

This wasn’t how he imagined going out. Maybe in a blaze of glory, or a bullet to the head. Or, preferably, something quiet—surrounded by his friends. Not by paranoid nutcases.

“I’m not a thing.” The words trembled out of him.

“Prove it.” Dean hadn’t moved, but the steel in his eyes had softened.

Alec’s gaze bounced around the room. He took a breath and spoke.

“Okay, Alec.” The name fell uncomfortably from Bobby’s tongue. “You’re twenty-one, born in Seattle, and retired from the military.”

“Yeah.” Alec rubbed his sore wrists; they throbbed in time with his bandaged shoulder. He picked grime out from under his nails. “What sort of hunters are you, anyway?”

The men shared a silent look on the couch.

“Big game,” Sam spoke thoughtfully.

Alec arched a brow. “So not demons? Or ghosts?” He snorted despite himself.

Bobby folded his arms. “That’s not a military tattoo.”

“It’s my designation,” Alec reiterated. “Everyone in my unit had one.”

Bobby didn’t blink. “What branch?”

“Black ops.” Alec returned the favor.

Bobby leaned forward. “How long?”

Alec crossed his arms, keeping his voice even. “That’s need-to-know.”

“Fine.” Dean stood. “What about your family?”

Alec hesitated. “Classified.”

The scowl on Dean’s face deepened. “Do you know John Winchester?”

Alec watched the man with morbid curiosity. Did that rough gruff come naturally? Or was that learned?

“Mary?”

“What—”

“Who are your parents?”

“I already told you.”

“You haven’t told us anything!” Dean snapped, jabbing a finger into Alec’s chest.

Bobby shot him a warning look. “Calm down, son.”

“This is bullcrap. You fell out of the damn sky.” Dean clenched his fists. “Start talking, or I swear to God.”

Alec crossed his arms, fingers tapping against his ribs. “I’m adopted.” Not really a lie. His genetics were technically adopted. Though, the man in front of him made him wonder just how many others adopted those same genomes.

The tension in the room dropped like a spinning coin, sucking the air out. Dean’s shoulders sagged, and he slumped onto the couch beside the others.

“The military is all we knew. Some things went down. Now it’s not.” Alec eyed the window. It was a few feet at max. “I’m sorry about your car.”

Dean rubbed his eyes, sufferance settling in with a sigh.

“Okay.” Sam self-consciously tucked hair behind his ears. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

Alec expressly examined his hands where dirt caked into lines across his palms. Had the others found the box? There was a few days worth of medicine in it. He fruitlessly rubbed at some of the difficult filth. Would he make it back before their stockpile ran out?

The hunters carried their hushed conversation into the next room. Every word was clear, too loud as he picked up his phone from the table. The keypad was half-peeled off, and the screen threatened to pop free of its hinges.

No signal, no messages, and a dying battery.

He dared to picture Terminal City: protesters surrounding the fences, pressure mounting inside. Did they think he’d abandoned them? He shut the phone off and pried out the SIM card.

“Bathroom?” Alec inquired, poking his head around the corner.

Bobby pointed down the hall.

Alec dropped the front once the door shut behind him. There wasn't a lock but he was sure these people wouldn’t know until it was too late.

He managed to scrub some of the pallor from his face. The trail of dirt was still swirling into the drain while he jiggled the window slit open. He crammed himself through the sill, delicately padding into the sea of dead cars.

Unsurprisingly, none of them worked. He ducked through rows of gutted parts and hollowed shells until he reached the front of the yard. A rusted and worn-down Chevrolet rested beside the porch.

The junkyard guard dog lifted its head with a low growl as Alec slid into the driver’s seat. His fingers fumbled under the dash, thick wires brushing his skin. He grabbed a pair, twisted, and touched them together. The dash lights flickered to life and the engine roared, sending the dog jumping off the hood with a yelp.

The tires ground against gravel as he turned the wheel and floored it. Movement flickered in the rearview mirror– the silhouettes of the men rushing from the house.

“ Thank God, “ He sagged. They were not going to believe him back at home.

Eventually, when the tires hit smooth pavement, Alec reached into the dash and pulled out a folded map. State Route 11 and 479th Avenue. He traced his finger over the glossy paper.

It was over a day’s drive back to Seattle.

Alec tossed the map aside and pressed down on the gas.

Chapter Text

The evening sun chased shadows off the pavement. Alec stretched. The insides of his bones felt as if they had been hollowed out, joints aching and tailbone on fire no matter how he sat. The beginnings of his bruises had already started darkening, warmth radiating from the tender skin.

Alec fiddled with the patchwork radio in the meantime. It crackled with static, a welcome distraction from the silence. Every lull opened a floodgate of thoughts: Dina’s grief clawing at him, digging needles into the padded wrap over his shoulder. Max working harder in his absence while Terminal City teetered on the brink. That man wearing his face. More lines and age, more experience.

Alec tightened his fingers over the wheel. Every minute that passed felt like time wasted. He wasn’t one for praying or miracles, but the last few hours had him testing the waters.

He glanced out the rearview mirror and tried calling Max again.

Joshua and Logan weren’t picking up either. Nobody was, for that matter. He didn’t even reach Original Cindy’s voice message.

Alec made it a few more miles before the engine’s complaints turned into haughty hacks that set his teeth on edge. He rolled into the nearest gas station— barren and old as the roads around it.

He was still a day out from Seattle’s outskirts, and this car guzzled gas like a starving beast. He stuck the nozzle deep into the filler neck and locked it.

Opening the trunk gave him pause. For the first time since he’d fallen off the Space Needle, he wondered if he’d underestimated the danger he was in.

Layered over occult symbols was a variety of well-maintained weapons. Stubborn stains darkened the velvet lining. The smell of rot tinged his tongue and he shut it fast.

The fifty dollars in crumpled bills and coins he’d scavenged from the dash and under the seats would have to do. He dropped the change on the counter, offering the disgruntled woman behind it an abashed smile.

For a gas station in the middle of nowhere, it was one of the nicest he’d set foot in: rows of slushie flavors, soda fountains, and coffee machines haloed in harsh fluorescent light.

He grabbed a handful of ice, popped one in his mouth, and browsed the aisles. Bright wrappers. Artificial everything. His stomach whined in complaint.

In the middle of thumbing through candy, a familiar engine growled into the lot. The Impala’s black paint warped imperfectly under the sunlight, missing windshield exposing the state of its passengers. Stone-faced and expressibly pissed, they spilled out of the car.

Alec shoved a candy bar deep into his jacket and hurried to the back. The bathroom’s handle jiggling spitefully under his palm. He peered around the corner at the entrance’s chime. Low chatter filled the quiet atmosphere. He swallowed his pulse and peered around the corner. The cashier pointed his way, heart lurching in his throat.

Alec retreated with a curse. The heavy boots plodding his way drummed over the cashier’s threat to call the cops.

The men rounded the corner but were cut short when Alec rushed them. Grunts bounced off the small hall as they fell aside. Alec slammed through the front door without looking back.

Gravel crunched underfoot, wind whistling in his ears, and in the trees somewhere a woodpecker drilled. The sharp handle of Bobby’s car never felt more merciful. He yanked it open and got his foot in.

Hasty footfall made his skin prickle and a body rammed into him. Alec collided with the door panel, bitterness stinging his throat when his knees buckled and they hit the rocks. His back screamed as he grappled with his attacker, glaring into the man’s weathered eyes.

“Stop fightin’ me, boy!” Bobby had lost his cap in the tussle.

Alec bucked and rammed his knee into the man’s gut. The weight on his limbs grew heavier until he found himself at the bottom of a dogpile. He shouted for help, spitting every reason in the book for an onlooker to intervene.

A hand slapped over his mouth, muffling his cries.

“They’re on their way!” the cashier yelled from the shop and locked herself inside.

“Great,” Dean spat into the dirt. Light glanced across the light sheen of sweat on their brows.

The sharp click of a gun made Alec freeze. A perfect circle of sky formed between the men’s heads. A guiding line for the buzzards.

Dean pressed the muzzle against his stomach. “Maybe you’d be doing us a favor by getting arrested.” The gun shifted to rest between Alec’s brows. “Or if they carted you out of here in a bag.”

Alec watched the fire burn in the man’s eyes. The sparks there seemed to threaten the gas pumps— tight-jawed rage with a promise to take endless acres of woodland along with it.

Police sirens wailed in the distance.

Alec squirmed. “I woke up zip-tied in your backseat!” He met Sam’s faltering expression and held it. “I’m sorry, okay? Just– you gotta let me go.”

Sam studied his face. “No one’s dying. Okay?”

Alec spread his fingers with raised brows. “This doesn’t scream execution to you?”

“Okay,” Sam rubbed his brow, “Yeah. This is all a misunderstanding.”

The pressure on Alec’s legs eased. “But we had to make sure—with how you showed up, how you look…”

Dean nodded. “It’s seriously freaky.”

“It is freaky,” Alec squinted between them. “Do you snatch people off the street as a hobby or only when they kind of look like you?”

“Kind of?” Sam frowned, ignoring Bobby’s shrug.

“You’re my freaking doppelganger,” Dean muttered. “You fell on my car.”

Alec rolled his eyes and thumped his head into the dirt.

Sam sat back on his haunches. “It’s nothing personal.”

Maybe getting arrested wasn’t such a bad idea. At least Logan and Max would be able to find him then. He could already hear her telling him off for being an idiot.

“You weren’t gettin’ real far with my car anyhow,” Bobby stated at the blare of approaching sirens. “Let him up.”

Alec wiped cold metal from his skin. He thought about running— hiding out on the roof of the station until he could hitchhike. There was a bus stop a few miles back.

Bobby shook out his hat before tugging it back on. “Car’s got a full tank. You boys should take off.”

His car rumbled to life, back wheels kicking up dust as he peeled onto the interstate. Each pitch of the cop car dwindled his hope.

Steel glinted Alec’s way, in both hand and eye, and he set toward the Impala. He opened the back seat, hesitating until Sam leaned over the hood.

“We aren’t going to hurt you.” Sam assured, voice unwavering. The earnest look in his eyes was almost believable.

Dean huffed loudly and shifted the car out of park. Sirens broke through the treeline, bathing the distant trunks in red and blue.

“We can take you home,” the taller brother said, tucking his weapon away. “Stay here or come with us, but we’re going.”

Alec considered the men, shot one last glance the other way, and climbed in.

Chapter Text

Place holder between the main storyline and one-shots. :-)

Chapter Text

The first time Sam dropped the “f-bomb” was over Berry Waffle Slams at three in the morning. It had followed brutal back-to-back sleepless nights tracking a shapeshifter. It came to an unsatisfying end when the creature turned into a swan, took flight, and abruptly expanded into a puffy cloud that rode the wind out of state faster than they could give chase. Alec hadn't stopped pinching himself. The hood of the car dipped beneath Sam's weight while Dean cursed into the breeze.

Sam must’ve been delirious from sleep deprivation when he leaned back in his seat at the diner, wiping bacon grease from his fingers. “ To family, “ He smiled, raising a cup of coffee.

Dean met him halfway, clanking their glasses together before turning to Alec.

Alec froze, skin itching as he mechanically tapped his cup against theirs. He stared into his milk as they drank. By the time they settled into a motel for the night, the word had solidified into an icy casing beneath his skin. Solid warmth pressed against his shoulders as Dean tossed in his sleep. Alec scrubbed his face and swung his legs over the side of the mattress. He scribbled out a note and headed out for some fresh air.

Crickets chirped along the sidewalks as he wandered toward the nearby park. The night was warm, draped loosely around him as he took out a small pad he'd pocketed from the nightstand. A few lamps were peppered among the trees, lighting up a children’s chalk drawing of a snorkeler on the concrete. Aside from a few lone stragglers vacating the park, it was barren.

Alec stared up at the dark sky framed by foliage overhead. The twinkling stars were vibrant out here — untouched by the muggy haze of Seattle. A few states and an entire universe away. The tension in his shoulders melted out through the tip of his pen. Two months, two weeks, and three days since he slipped into another world.

One minute he was dropping off supplies; the next he was falling fifteen feet into oncoming traffic. He was lucky the Impala swerved when it did. Luckier when two men dragged him to the side of the road and held pistols to his face, demanding answers.

He sketched the “v” of Joshua’s lip, inked his nose in, and freckled his face. Joshua’s hair came out all wrong, his eyes lacking their usual sparkle. Alec shut the pad with an ache in his chest. His internal clock said he'd been out for less than an hour, but he wasn't ready to return to the cigarette-stained motel room just yet.

Alec slumped onto a bench and tasted the night air. The briny tang of ocean clung to his senses, and a gentle snort caught his attention. A dark silhouette stood tall on the store, holding still against the breeze that made the trees sway. A horse. It raised its head, acknowledging him with a chuff. Alec opened the pad again, sketching a rough outline before it shifted to stomp its hooves.

“ Stay still, “ Alec muttered. The horse shook out its mane and dipped its head to drink water. He hatched in the shadows, emphasizing seams in the horse's coat. " Almost. " he whispered as he stood.

Reality television had become a guilty indulgence lately — he'd turn it down low, binging after Sam and Dean were passed out. It was a reliable way to be lulled into restless sleep. Sam shot him a worried look one morning when Alec snapped his fingers at him and told him to " Make it work. "

The horse swished its tail as Alec approached. He lifted the sketch to the equine. The horse blinked, horizontal pupils searching the page. Its lip quivered as it smelled the paper. He watched it, mind wandering. Had Manticore cooked up some horse-people too? He thought back to his time in the facilities. He hadn't seen any, even in the basement. Maybe they were too wild for the cocktail.

It snuffed and shook out its mane. Alec felt a surge of delight. Dean had replaced his fashion shows with American westerns after Alec gasped and wound up choking on a Cheeto puff. Everyone woke when he threw up. He grinned at the thought of showing off his new friend to the guys. The daydream of appearing outside the motel atop the horse was unlikely, but not zero.

He plucked a few blades of grass and held them out. The horse nudged his hand, tongue slimy against his palm. He ran a finger across the solid bridge of its nose. Soft! Its warm muzzle twitched, lowering its head for more grass. Alec wished he'd brought his phone.

“ Good horsie, “ Alec whispered and patted down its neck.

Were wild horses usually this friendly? Maybe it had escaped from a nearby pasture. He traced the muscles down its shoulder, across its ribcage. In the distance, a car thundered through the trees with a distinct rumble. Alec turned, smirking at the Impala's headlights slicing the dark. Dean was going to lose his mind. He only got a step away before he jerked to a stop. He blinked and tugged on his hand. The skin burned, unbudging from where it was stuck. The horse chuffed and rebalanced.

“ What the hell? “ Alec squinted. His tendons rippled uselessly against the gentle curve of the horse's build. It shifted, dragging Alec forward when it took a step forward. It was a slow gander that Alec lost the fight against. Cold mud sank undertow and slipped into his shoes. It felt like walking against a brutal and stubborn train.

Bright headlights broke through the trees. The horse's inky coat gleamed like oil under the light — incandescent swirls clinging to Alec's bare fingers. Muscles flexed beneath its slick fur as he was dragged down shore.

“ Bad! “ Alec planted his feet in the water that flooded past his ankles. " Bad horse! "

The same breeze carried the urgent call of his name. Sam and Dean came bounding down the hill, flashlights in hand. The taller brother raised his brow, baring his disbelief. “ Woah. “

“ This is what you call a ‘short walk’? “ Dean grumbled, splashing up beside him. He grabbed Alec's wrist, tugging with a grunt. “ You gotta let go, man. “

“ I can’t. “ Alec clutched Dean’s arm, foot bracing against the horse's flank. The lake rose to his thighs, seeping ice into his gut.

Sam lunged and wrapped his arms around Alec's chest. " Don't touch it! "

“ Yeah, “ Dean deadpanned, prying Alec's leg from his stuck shoe. " Good call. "

Hands grabbed his arm. Alec bit his cheek as they pulled. His arm burned raw, even as the freezing water lapped their chests.

“ I thought these things were extinct. “ Dean strained.

Sam practically hoisted Alec with one arm, pawing through his pocket with the other. A blade entered his peripheral, glinting in the moonlight. " Damn it, " He pressed it against Alec's palm. " I'm sorry. "

Alec met Sam’s gaze, swallowed, then nodded.

“ Wait. “ Dean stuttered. “ What about— “

“ There’s no time. We've got nothing for this! “ Sa'ms hand trembled.

Alec grabbed the knife and hacked. He wasn't alone in sucking in a harsh breath. There were a few brief seconds of numbness before his body sent warning alarms to his brain. Fingers squeezed his shoulders, holding him tight against the tide.

It took a few swipes, dark blood staining the blade, until he was able to tear free. He dropped back into the brothers' arms with a grunt. The horse snorted, dark eyes raking over them before slipping beneath the disturbed surface. He didn't wait for the waters to settle. He stumbled and waded toward solid land.

“ Bastard. “ Alec muttered, looking at his hand. Sam wrapped an arm over his shoulder, peering down to examine it with a grimace. “ Fucking guy. “

Dean disappeared behind the open trunk for a beat while Alec tugged off his remaining shoe. Despite being separated, he still hated seeing it dirty. He slumped against the car's hood.

“ Can’t believe you ran into a kelpie. “ Sam sat beside him, scoping him for other injuries. " We don’t carry supplies for that. “

“ Probably ''cause we aren’t out here petting wild beasts. “ Dean unscrewed a bottle. He waited until Alec held out his hand to pour it.

Alec swallowed a snarky retort when the vodka set acidic fire to his raw skin. Veins of diluted blood streaked down his elbow as he forced ragged breaths. He tilted his head to the sky, biting his bottom lip while Dean carefully wrapped his arm.

It still took some getting use to — being around people nearly every hour, letting them truly see him. It was going to happen whether he wanted it or not. Scrapes and bruises hid under clothes. Homesickness covered with jokes. Nightmares, less so. They scraped at the edges when he wasn't looking. When he glanced back, Sam was hovering. Alec forced a smile around clenched teeth and pushed off the hood.

Quiet rock filtered through the speakers as his head rested back. The trees and darkness shifted back into bumpy roads and yellow streetlights.

“ Next time you go wandering, you bring your phone. “ Dean stared in the mirror, eyes wary. “ If we hadn't shown up... damn it, Alec. " 

“ Take it easy, Dean. “ Sam spoke from the passenger seat.

" Don't, Sam. " Dean replied sharply.

Alec looked out the window at the motel they'd been bunked in all week. The neon sign flickered off as a family-sized sedan pulled out. He got the barest glimpse of the people inside. A woman with long, layered hair and a man with glasses riding passenger.

He picked at his bandage, filing 'kelpie' under 'stories to embellish' for the next time he saw Max and Logan. A small voice at the back of his head whispered one word. Quiet, but heavy: if.

“ These are great, Alec. “ Sam said, pulling him from his thoughts He held the notepad into view and flipped through the pages with slow appreciation. “ ‘Big Fella’. Is this one of your friends? “

Dean looked over and at the sketch and grinned, “ Damn. Kinda looks like you, Sammy. “

" I don't- " Sam tucked a strand of hair behind his hair. " Huh. "

The Impala coasted to a stop outside a diner. Silence flooded through the car as the engine died.

“ His name is Joshua. “ Alec hadn't said the name since he'd seen him last. It rolled heavy off his tongue like cooling glass. He snatched the pad back, pointedly ignoring the look the brothers exchanged over his head.

Joshua’s dopey smile glowed under the fluorescent light flashing in the diner's window. It caught in his inked pupils and twinkled.

Alec was in and sitting at a table before the others walked through the doors. He scratched at his lip and watched Sam and Dean talk over the hood. Their disagreement buzzed just out of earshot beyond the thick glass.

Sam frowned. " -saying... could... easier... him. "

Dean's face was hidden, but his posture was taut. With a sigh, he turned away, leaving Sam looking like he'd tasted something sour.

Alec offered them an easy smile as they slid into the booth. 

Nobody asked. Nobody pried. 

A fashion-show was playing on brick-faced TV. The waiter came and a milkshake appeared. Alec wasn't hungry, but it was better than letting his mouth stay wide open for his unfiltered thoughts. He chewed on the straw, the notepad heavy in his wet coat.

Sam caught his eye and smiled.

Alec forced his shoulders down and dramatically munched the straw, " Haaaaay. "

Dean pointed and burst out laughing.

Sam smiled in spite of himself, " Not funny. "

" Yeah, what he said. " Dean swiped the straw away. " Not funny. " 

" Hey! " Alec lunged for it.

Dean grabbed the straw from his drink and stole his milkshake. Alec gaped and yanked it back. Ice cream splattered across the table from the straw dangling from Dean's lips.

" Gross. " Sam wrinkled his nose and went back to his fries. Dean blew the remains of the shake at his brother, eyebrows ticking up like he registered what he did too late.

Alec clapped a hand over his mouth with a cackle at Sam's forlorn, milky expression. He snorted and cold liquid shot out of his nose. Dean pointed, clutching Sam's shaking shoulders. The people a table over shot wide-eyed looks their way at Dean's exclamation when his plate of fries was soaked in vanilla cream, much to Sam and Alec's shared delight. The ice in his chest shifted, melting under his cold, wet layers.