[Fic] The Canine Conundrum (1/2)

[ukefied.livejournal.com]

Fandom: Dark Angel
Disclaimer: Slippery when wet. Also, the show and characters aren’t mine.
Word Count: ~3,100
Rating/Warnings: R for gore & twincest (but not at the same time)
Character/Pairings: Ben/Alec, Sam, Dean
Notes: For Reasons, both shows's timelines are minutely tweaked. For characterization notes, I tried to think of how they would have grown up without Manticore. I figured Ben would end up more serious (he just wanted to be a good soldier) and Alec would grow up the rowdy one.
Prompt: DA/SPN, Sam/Dean (wincest or not) Alec/Ben (twincest or not) Prompt: Sam and Dean are the transgenic brothers while twins Alec/Ben are the hunters. For the Summerfest~ This was illustrated by mandraco who thought there should be a fic to go along with it.



“The Canine Conundrum”
by Mina Lightstar


Ben McDowell’s got his back to the wall. The world has narrowed to the knife in his hand and the Wendigo coming at him. A few more seconds. He tightens his grip on the hilt, braces himself. A few more seconds.

The Wendigo’s gangly frame goes up in flames. Ben shields his eyes as the cavern’s darkness is illuminated by bright fire. The Wendigo shrieks — twists and convulses upon the ground. Ben doesn’t dare move until it burns out of existence.

Alec comes scampering out of hiding to kick at the ashes. “Ha-ha,” he laughs, twirling the flare gun ‘round his finger. “Wendi-gone!”

Ben rolls his eyes. “What took you so long?” He sheathes the knife in his jacket and watches Alec stumble toward him, still favoring his wounded arm.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” his twin remarks with heavy sarcasm. “Was my timely rescue not to your liking? Maybe next time I’ll let the monster take a few bites out of you before I—”

Ben shuts him up with a kiss, turning them around and shoving his brother against the wall. He tries not to jostle the bad arm but Alec grunts in pain anyway. The flare gun clatters to the ground.

“It took a few bites out of you,” Ben gasps, coming up for air. He inspects Alec’s left arm closely. His jacket and shirt are ripped along the bicep and he’s still bleeding, but it could have been worse. “I think you need stitches.”

“Probably,” Alec groans. Ben smiles; Alec hates getting sewn up, so if he’s well enough to be complaining about it, it can’t be that bad.

“Don’t do that again,” Ben says. He kisses Alec again — a quick firm one right on the lips. “Never again.”

“Never what?” Alec muses, good arm snaking around Ben’s neck to keep him close. “Never get jumped by the enraged supernatural? I’ll do my best,” he assures, suave despite Ben’s glare, “but you might need to talk to them about it.”

Ben bends over to pick up the flare gun. “Come on, dork. Let’s get you patched up and get out of here.” He starts heading for the old mine’s exit.

Alec falls into step behind him. “Worst part about gigs in ghost towns,” he says, “is that there are even fewer people grateful for what we did.”

Ben shakes his head ruefully. “You know many people who’d give us a hero’s welcome?”

“Don’t need a hero’s welcome,” Alec replies. “A home-cooked meal would be nice, though.”

“Can’t help with that,” Ben regrets. “But I might be able to get you the next best thing in Baker City.”

The sun hurts his eyes, so he has to wait a few minutes before tacking the first-aid kit. They lean against the hood of the Impala while Ben inspects the nastier of Alec’s cuts. In the daylight, they don’t look as bad. Actually, Alec doesn’t end up needing stitches after all, much to both of their relief. He still whines and moans throughout the entire process, of course. Ben dabs at the cuts a little harder than necessary, and maybe uses a little more alcohol than is needed.

“Sadist,” Alec accuses in an exaggerated hiss, trying to pull away.

“Baby,” Ben retorts, tightening his grip.

Finally, Alec’s arm is wrapped and Ben bundles him in the passenger seat. The Impala roars to life and Ben shifts her into gear, and then they leave Granite, Oregon behind.

***

In Baker City, Ben lets Alec hole up in the motel room while he heads to the nearest diner. He brings back hamburger steak drowned in gravy and a six-pack, and finds Alec hanging up his cellphone when he walks through the door. Ben doesn’t ask until the food’s laid out and Alec has been surfing the Internet for five minutes.

“Come and eat.” Ben gestures to the styrofoam containers. “Who was that?”

“Ruby,” Alec replies simply, dropping into his chair and digging in.

“Whoa,” Ben says, fork halfway to his lips. “Wait, Ruby? What did she want?” They haven’t heard from Ruby in weeks. She tends to lie low these days; betraying Lucifer’s master plan for a couple of hunters didn’t win her any popularity contests down below.

“She has a hunt for us, not far from here.” Alec looks pleased, smiling with puffed-out cheeks.

“Chew your food,” Ben scolds automatically. “She doing okay?” Ruby used to shoot them clues about supernatural issues she came across, back when she was helping them protect the seals. Ben just figured the heads-up — and the alliance — would stop after Lucifer was caged.

Alec shrugs. “She’s carving a life out for herself, she says. Was gonna settle down around here but the fries suck.” He gestures vaguely to the laptop on the bed. “She was in La Grande, not too far from here. Heard about a series of maulings in town — almost like a rabid dog, locals are saying. Except the injuries are way more severe.”

Ben taps his plastic fork against his container. “Could be something for us.”

“Ruby wouldn’t have called if she wasn’t sure.”

“She gonna help us take it down?”

Alec snorts. “Yeah, right. She’s an information broker now, not a goon. She’s probably as far from La Grande as that sissy little car of hers can take her.”

“Hm.” Ben shakes his head. “I guess she’s earned her retirement. Hey, did she say anything about Heaven?”

“Nada. I guess she can’t get in until Cas gets elected, or whatever, and pulls some strings.”

“Red tape,” Ben mutters. “That’s bureaucracy for you. Okay, so tomorrow we hit La Grande and see what’s what?”

Alec nods, still shoveling food into his mouth. “Bet it’s a chupacabra.”

“Bet it’s a black dog,” Ben counters. He presses his styrofoam container closed and chugs the rest of his beer. “You wanna watch TV?”

“No,” Alec says pointedly, and there’s a familiar twinkle in his eye.

***

La Grande isn’t even an hour away, but they’re due to gas up anyway. Ben hands over a few bills to the cashier, trying not to wince. These days especially, keeping the Impala’s tank full requires the bulk of their meagre, ill-gotten funds. Alec used to have a Duke he loved more than Ben loved the Impala, but it wasn’t long before they couldn’t afford both vehicles.

“Gonna have to hustle pool soon,” Ben says, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Alec grunts, poking at his bandaged arm. “Soon no one’ll be willing to play for money anymore. It’s hard enough to make a living as a civilian, never mind a hunter.” He sighs as the engine turns over, and rests his head on the window. “Sometimes I wonder how this future is any better than the one Zachariah showed us.”

Ben thinks about it, tapping his fingers against the wheel. “This is one we’ve made for ourselves,” he finally replies.

Alec doesn’t answer. Ben pulls back onto the highway.

***

La Grande is a small, quiet sort of town. It has a hospital and a university and grumpy old men who play chess outside diners.

“The government should so something,” old man Erikson is saying. He is actually shaking his cane for emphasis; Ben and Alec are trying not to laugh in his face. “These immigrants just waltz in here, expecting to settle down and take all our money, and let their rabid pets run wild and eat our children’s faces.”

“Forget the government!” old man Jacobs scoffs. “Government couldn’t even manage to keep their lights on a couple years back. Just let someone walk in and shut the whole country’s power off, they did. They sure as hell don’t care about animals running amok over here.”

Ben shares an uneasy glance with Alec. In 2009, their final round with Lucifer had the unfortunate side effect of effectively shutting down the United States. Nowadays, most people blamed the chaos and ensuing economic depression on a cyber-terrorist attack. Ben supposes that’s easier to swallow than “Heaven and Hell threw down in the lower forty-eight and broke all the computers, for some reason.”

“You stay away from that Pioneer Park,” Erikson snaps at them, startling them both. “My grand-nephew says he’s been hearin’ strange sounds comin’ outta there at night.”

“Yer grand-nephew’s bloody drunk all the time,” Jacobs retorts.

“Well, thanks for your help,” Alec says over their arguing, edging away. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Have a nice day,” Ben adds, and they make a hasty retreat.

Once they’re out of earshot, Alec gives Ben a look. “They think immigrant dogs are eating people’s faces?”

Ben rolls his eyes and tries not to laugh. “Only when the immigrant dogs aren’t shooting all the jobs. Come on, let’s get a room and check out this Pioneer Park tonight.”

***

To say one thing for the Pulse, as people called it: it certainly made being a hunter easier. By the time Lucifer’s death knell Y2K’d the country, Ben and Alec had already racked up a sizeable stack of fake IDs and credit cards. In more than one town, they’d made enemies of the local finest. In a post-Pulse world, all of these records were erased and Ben and his twin were free men in every state once again. It had been a good moment for hunters — and not just because they trapped the Morning Star in a cage and locked the doors to Hell.

So Ben and Alec have no trouble checking into their hotel under the names Hector and James Thibodeau.

“Why do we have English names if we’re French?” Ben wonders, sitting on his bed.

“Our dad’s French,” Alec explains, plopping down on the other bed. “Mom took his name because she thought it was cool.”

“Hmm.” Ben toes his boots off and starts stripping down. “Nap before tonight?”

“Sounds good,” Alec says around a yawn. He takes his clothes off more gingerly, watching his arm. He stretches out, taking the entire bed, and is asleep in minutes.

Ben rolls his eyes and sets his phone’s alarm. They get single beds because there is no way for them to pass as boyfriends. Of course, they come in handy whenever they want either their own space or, in this case, they feel like sprawling across the mattress and taking no prisoners.

Midway through his nap, Ben has to surrender half his bed to Alec, who crawls in complaining about his arm and wraps himself around Ben without asking. Ben sighs and arranges their limbs more comfortably, convinced for the umpteenth time that Alec would crash and burn without him.

***

Pioneer Park looks just like any other park they’ve been to, ever. Ben doesn’t see what’s so pioneer about it, but at least it’s deserted at the moment, leaving him and Alec more than enough peace and quiet to work. They inch along the grass, weapons ready. Ben favors one of their staples, the knife they got from Ruby. Alec prefers the Colt, a demon-killing pistol designed by Samuel Colt himself and perfected by Ruby.

Really, Ruby should start a new life as an arms dealer.

“This park sucks,” Alec declares. “There aren’t even any slides.”

“Maybe those seniors were just blowing hot air,” Ben suggests. “They seemed pretty unhappy with the world at large.”

“Seriously,” Alec says. “Immigrant dogs.”

Somewhere in the distance, a man screams. It’s a desperate, petrified sound. Ben and Alec are already moving. The next scream is blood-curdling. They run faster, as fast as they can, over the grassy knolls and toward a cluster of trees. The screams get louder, more inhuman — and stop.

Ben runs into the trees, Alec on his heels. Ben ends up stopping short, skidding to a halt. Alec bumps into him and mutters something unsavory, but Ben barely hears it.

The bloodied corpse on the ground is shocking enough. Ben registers the disembowelment, the entrails scattered across the grass, and the gaping hole in the body’s chest cavity. But what really gets Ben’s attention are the two figures standing over the corpse, inspecting it closely — a little too closely.

“Hey!” he snaps, brandishing Ruby’s knife.

He startles them out of their reverie. They straighten, wiping red fingers on their jeans, and Ben’s jaw drops. Behind him, Alec breathes, “What the fucking hell…?”

One of the two strangers is really tall — taller than them. He has floppy hair and dopey brown eyes and is huge. It’s the other guy Ben’s staring at, though. The other guy has his face. His and Alec’s face.

And he looks as confused as Ben and Alec do. “What the fuck is this?” he asks in a rough voice.

Alec clicks the safety off and levels the Colt at him. “Should be asking you.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” their doppelganger starts, but his parter is already reacting.

Ben turns as Alec flies across the clearing. His twin hits a tree with a shout, dropping the Colt and landing in a heap on the ground. Ben holds his ground. He has to suppress the urge to attack them or rush to Alec’s side.

“Sam!” not-Ben snaps, glaring at his companion.

“Don’t touch him!” the floppy-haired one — Sam — yells. He still has his arm raised from doing … whatever it was that sent Alec flying. He makes a fist, arm quivering. To Ben’s horror, Alec starts to gag.

“Alec!” he cries, torn. He decides to go for the source.

“Sam!” his double is saying, frantic. “Sam, stop it!”

Ben moves with adrenaline-fueled speed, but his mirror image is even faster. He shoves Sam aside and twists out of the way. At least Sam is distracted now, loosening his hold on Alec. He can hear his twin gasping for air.

Ben keeps his eyes on their doppelganger. It’s harder than it sounds. The double moves so fast, he blurs in and our of existence. Ben tightens his grip on the knife, following his movements. Watching — waiting. When not-Ben comes in for the kill, he’s ready.

Ruby’s knife strikes true — but that’s it. Not-Ben hisses in pain, turns back around and gets Ben with a mean right-cross. Ben hits the ground with a grunt. Not supernatural, he realizes. These two — whatever they are — aren’t supernatural.

“S-stop!” he manages, raising one arm in surrender. He pushes himself to a sitting position and waves at Alec. “Stop! Everyone, knock it off!”

Alec relaxes a little, the Colt at half-mast. He doesn’t look pleased, but is clearly waiting for an explanation. Sam is … Ben looks for him, finds him, and can only stare.

The huge telekinetic is a shaking lump on the ground. At first, Ben thinks Alec’s gun went off, but a quick glance at his twin determines this isn’t the case. Even as they stare, uncertain, not-Ben is rushing over. He ignores the slash along his own forearm, gathering the larger man in his arms and trying to dig through his pocket at the same time.

“Hang on, Sammy,” he’s babbling. “Hey, relax — don’t worry, I gotcha. Just stay still, Sammy, okay? Almost got it…”

“What’s wrong with him?” Ben asks, still on the ground. He wants to help, but is afraid of making any sudden moves on these two.

“Stay away from us,” not-Ben snaps, not even bothering with a glance. “We didn’t kill anyone.”

Alec snarls, “Then your friend shouldn’t have attacked us first.”

“Alec,” Ben admonishes gently. Then to their double, “Hey, does he need some help? What’s your name?”

The doppelganger produces a pill bottle and fumbles it open with one hand. Pillowing his convulsing friend against his chest, he shakes a few capsules into his palm and forces them down Sam’s throat. He cradles the larger man, rocking him gently back and forth, obviously waiting for the pills to take effect.

He looks at Ben then — with old, weary eyes. “Dean,” he says finally. “My name’s Dean.” He pauses, and then gives Alec and tight, humorless smile. “And you have no idea.”

Ben raises a hand to forestall Alec’s sass. “Okay, look: we’re putting our weapons away now. Is that cool? Are we cool?”

“Uh, totally not cool,” his brother quips.

“Alec.”

“Fine, fine.”

“Whatever,” Dean says. “Just — whatever, all right? Leave us alone; we didn’t hurt anyone.” He runs a hand through Sam’s hair. The larger man’s shakes have started to subside.

Ben exchanges a look with his twin. “Maybe not, but I hurt you. Will you let me patch that up?”

Dean looks at him blankly, and then glances down at his arm. “Oh. Don’t worry about it.”

Ben frowns. “I really think—”

Sam gasps, jerking in Dean’s grip. Dean holds him tighter, like he’s afraid to let him go. “It’s not here anymore,” Sam manages through clenched teeth. “It’s gone. It got away.”

“It’s fine, Sammy, it’s fine.” Dean sounds brokenly relieved, as though he’d been the one having the seizure. “Don’t worry about it.”

And that about hits Ben’s weirdness quota for the day. “Okay, guys,” he says, standing up. He makes a show about leisurely brushing himself off; further establishing the fact that he and Alec aren’t threats. “Why don’t we talk this over while I take care of Dean’s cut, huh?”

“Yeah,” Alec agrees. He folds his arms and gives the strange men a measuring look. “I really want to know about the one that got away.”


TBC~


Fffff still working on this, though it may take until my vacation to finish it. Note that fest fics are not beta'd, so I apologize for any errors....