[Fic] The Canine Conundrum (2/2)

[ukefied.livejournal.com]

Previous part here.

Author: ukefied
Disclaimer: Slippery when wet. Also, the show and characters aren’t mine.
Word Count: 3,053
Rating/Warnings: R for gore & twincest (but not at the same time)
Character/Pairings: Ben/Alec, Sam, Dean
Notes: For Reasons, both shows 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.
hc_bingo: WILDCARD (moved my "medication" square)



“The Canine Conundrum”
by Mina Lightstar
(Chapter 2)



Alec sums it up best: “Manticore was fucked up, man.”

Sam and Dean exchange dubious glances. “That’s one way of putting it,” the latter replies.

Ben occupies himself with clearing away the styrofoam take-out containers and empty soda cans. Their whole story is crazy. Escaped transgenic super-soldiers from Seattle? If Ben wasn’t a hunter of equally unbelievable quarry he’d have laughed in their faces. “That doesn’t explain everything, though,” he points out, chucking the garbage. He fixes his gaze on Dean. “Why do you have our face?”

Dean appears to be at a loss. His shoulders lift in a helpless shrug. “Sorry. I don’t know. I’m guessing no one you know ever had anything to do with Manticore?”

Ben shakes his head. “If they did, it was a hell of a job not telling me.” If Mom was still around, maybe…

Alec leans over the back of the chair he’s straddling. “So if you’re genetically-engineered badasses, why are you roaming around small town parks inspecting homicides? You could be bodyguards or something.”

Sam drops his gaze and starts picking at his worn jeans. “It’s not that simple,” he mutters.

Alec blinks. “Why not? With all the records erased, no one would know what you are.”

“Manticore’s always on the prowl,” Dean explains, fiddling with the bandage on his arm. “Always looking for their lost property. We don’t know what they do to transgenics they do find. Don’t wanna know.”

Ben nods. “Okay, so you’re on the run. Not so different from hunters, then. What about your little investigation? What brought you to La Grande?”

“Sometimes,” Sam starts, and hesitates. “Sometimes, depending on the … augmentation … the transgenic can get confused. Scared. Lost in themselves.”

“Like you?” Ben hazards.

Dean’s halfway out of his chair before Sam grabs his arm. “It’s fine.” He holds Dean until his brother sits back down. “Yeah, like me. There’s something,” he gestures vaguely through a frown, “with my head. Sometimes I, I see things. Sense things.” His eyes flicker to Alec. “Move things.”

“Choke things,” Alec supplies.

“Alec,” Ben growls a warning.

“I’m not letting them take Sam back,” Dean insists. “I don’t care how far we have to run.”

Ben glances at Alec. “Not that we’re in any position to judge, leaping right into the action and all, but if you want to stay out of sight and live your lives quietly, maybe poking your heads around a supernatural homicide is a bad idea.”

Dean snorts. “We didn’t know it was ‘supernatural.’ We thought it was one of ours. An X5 — or maybe an X7, who knows? Sammy got the vision during one of his seizures, and we had to check it out. Make them stop, if it was a transgenic.”

“We have to tell them they aren’t in Manticore anymore,” Sam goes on. “Tell them they’re free to live their own lives, but within society’s rules. They can’t be attracting any attention to themselves. Otherwise people might start looking for the rest of us. It’s hard enough to hide the barcodes and our abilities.”

Alec chews the corner of his bottom lip. “So you came all the way here to help one of your own learn to keep the peace.”

“Is it so hard to believe?” Dean asks, defensively. “Makes way more sense than ghosts murdering people.”

“Okay,” Ben cuts in before they get into a my weird is weirder than your weird argument. “At this point, it could be either one. All we saw was the mutilated corpse.”

“We can rule out bears,” Alec quips. “So that leaves a pack of seriously pissed-off squirrels, a chupacabra, or a super-soldier.”

“What do you want to do?” Ben asks the transgenics. “You’d probably be better off staying with us. Not that this doesn’t look weird; four strangers wandering into town in the middle of a spree killing isn’t ideal.”

Dean looks over at Sam, curled in on himself and looking too large for the chair. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. We don’t play well with others.”

“Is it because of Sam?” Alec wants to know. He doesn’t flinch under Dean’s stare. “You know, because of his seizures?”

As if on cue, Sam’s form starts to quiver. Ben takes half a step toward them, unsure of how to help. Alec scrambles out of his chair, looking guilty. Dean ignores both of them, gathering Sam into his arms and lowering them to the floor. The larger transgenic’s shakes turn into convulsions, and Dean reaches for his jacket with his good hand, trying to hold his brother with the wounded one.

“Watch your arm,” Ben orders. He moves for the coat himself, rifling through the pockets for the pill bottle. “How many?”

“Three.” Dean holds out his hand and Ben shakes three tablets into his palm.

Ben and Alec hover awkwardly while Dean smoothes Sam’s hair back, coaxes the pills into him, and murmurs assurances. Gradually, Sam’s seizure subsides. Dean keeps petting him, keeps mumbling about how they’re going to be okay.

“Sorry,” Alec ventures after a minute. “Did I do that?”

Dean shakes his head. “He’s always a little more susceptible after a vision.”

“You’re almost out,” Ben observes, rattling the bottle. “Do you have more stashed somewhere?”

A mournful expression ghosts across Dean’s face before he schools it into neutrality. “No. Gonna have to raid a pharmacy or supplement store or something.”

“We could help with that,” Alec offers. Ben glances at him. “What? I feel bad. We’ll head out and find some more. You can stay here with him.”

Dean considers them, one hand still stroking Sam’s head. “We can’t be owing anyone anything,” he whispers.

“Don’t worry about it,” Alec insists, waving the concern away. “Hunters, transgenics … what’s the difference? We’re all outcasts, anyway. Gotta look out for each other, right?”

Sam shifts in Dean’s embrace, unfolding enough to stare at them with wide hazel eyes. “If the murderer is a transgenic, you can’t kill it. You have to let us talk to it.”

Ben sets the pills on the table and grabs his jacket. “If you want to talk to the murderer, you’re gonna have to come with us to find it.”

“We don’t deliver,” Alec adds.

Dean actually quirks a grin at that one. “Fine. You, uh, you want me to write down what kind of tryptophan to get?”

“Got it already,” Ben says, hefting his phone. “I’ll go get the meds. Be back soon.”

He makes it to the car before Alec slips out of their room. “Hey,” his twin calls, “you need me to run interference or anything?”

Ben checks his watch. Ten-to-six; by the time he makes it to the Walmart, it should be open. “Nah, should be fine. I think we have enough cash to cover a couple bottles of the stuff, anyway.”

“Didn’t mean to spend all our money,” Alec apologizes, looking contrite as he walks over to the car. “I just, I dunno — Ben, one of ‘em has our face.”

“I know.” Ben looks around. The parking lot is deserted, so he pulls his twin close. “Manticore has a lot to answer for, however that happened. But you did good. What if something happened to them while they were out and about? Like you said, Dean looks just like us.”

“Our lives are complicated enough as it is,” Alec agrees, lips ghosting over Ben’s neck.

Ben makes an appreciative noise but reluctantly pulls back. “Go wait with them. I’ll be back soon, and we can start planning our next step.”

Alec nods. “I still think it’s a chupacabra, not a transgenic. The attacks were just so savage.”

Ben leans forward and steals a kiss. “You’re both wrong; it’s a black dog.”

***

When Ben wakes up in the evening, he finds himself in a tableau of surrealism. He’s got Alec curled around him in one bed, a telekinetic moose in the other bed, and their clone sleeping on the floor.

“This is so fucked up,” he mutters, rubbing at his face.

Alec snuffles and snuggles closer. Ben gives him a pat, but then moves away to head for the bathroom. He steps over Dean on the way, but the transgenic only presses his face further into the pile of coats passing as his bed. Sam sleeps on, looking more peaceful than he does when he’s awake. Four bottles of brown pills sit on his nightstand.

When Ben comes out of the shower, the entire room is waiting for him. “I take it we’re ready to go hunting?” he muses, flicking wet bangs out of his eyes.

“Ready and willing,” Alec affirms, twirling the Colt around his finger.

Sam’s hulking form comes closer, towering over Ben and his twin. “No hunting,” the huge transgenic reminds them. “Just talking first.”

“Sure.” Alec is unintimidated by Sam’s size. “So long as it isn’t a monster.”

“People call transgenics monsters,” Dean says quietly from behind them.

The abrupt silence in the room is tangible. Alec breaks it with a snort. “Most people would shit themselves if they knew what a real monster looks like.” He makes a show of assessing Sam. “You’re no monster, buddy.”

Sam shuffles his feet, staring at the carpet. “Thanks,” he says softly, sounding genuinely grateful.

“Actually,” Alec prattles on, “you let me up on your shoulders? We could kick any tree’s ass.” He looks over his shoulder in Dean’s general direction. “And you’re just too gorgeous to be a monster.”

Ben shoves his twin toward the door. “We can organize a playdate later. Let’s take care of the serial killer first. Try not to trip over your ego on the way out.”

***

The plan is this: stake out Pioneer Park’s wooded area with one man at each corner. By loitering alone, posing as easy prey, they hope to lure the … well, whatever if is, into the open. Naturally, this is the night the murderer decides to take its sweet time. This means they’re spending more time arguing over the phone than anything else.

“I told you,” Alec is saying, “I didn’t change the presets on the Impala to sugarpop country.”

“Well, somebody did, Alec, and I know it wasn’t me!”

“You’ve gone senile. I knew it would happen someday, big brother.”

Ben pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Still nothing?”

“Nada. Sam and Dean haven’t called, either.” A pause. Ben pictures Alec scuffing his boot on the grass. “Maybe tonight’s the night it changes parks.”

“That would be our luck.”

And then Sam screams.

Ben nearly drops his phone, it’s so loud. He hangs up in the middle of Alec’s “He’s gonna—!” and starts running, before Sam brings the entire town upon them.

“Sam!” he shouts. “Sam, hang on, we’re coming!”

He crashes through the undergrowth, brandishing Ruby’s knife, looking left and right for something, anything.

He finds Sam on his knees at his post, shaking like a leaf and trying to jam tryptophan in his mouth.

“Dean,” he tries to get around the capsules. “I saw Dean!”

Ben’s next to him in an instant, helping get the pills down. “Easy, easy. What about Dean?”

“Sammy!”

Speak of the devil … Dean appears a moment later, looking frantic. Ben can see the relief literally flood his face when he sees Sam is okay.

“Dean,” Sam mumbles, bobbing back and forth on his heels. “Deandeandean.”

“What?” Dean asks, taking Ben’s place and pulling Sam into a hug. “What’d you see?”

Sam whispers, “You. Saw a — a dark shape. It was, it was…” He runs his hands down Dean’s back, as though making sure all of him is still there.

“Gotta be a mistake, Sammy,” Dean reassures him. “Nothing got me.”

“Sam,” Ben draws their attention. “Are you sure it’s Dean you saw?”

The transgenic blinks at him. “Uh, it’s hard to tell. The visions aren’t always clear. But it looked like…” he trails off, realization dawning on his face.

Ben’s blood runs cold. “Where’s Alec?”

In the distance, he hears the Colt go off. He’s running before Sam and Dean even scramble to their feet.

***

Ben covers ground faster than he ever thought he could. He’s panting so hard, blood pumping in his ears, that he almost doesn’t hear Alec’s warning.

“White cat!” his twin is yelling. His voice sounds pained. “It’s the white cat!”

Ben skids to a stop at the next clearing. A quick scan of the area finds Alec slumped against a red maple. One hand is lying at his side, the Colt held in a loose grip. His other hand is pressed under his coat.

“You’re hurt,” Ben observes. His gut twists into a knot. It’s only bone-deep training that keeps him from dropping his guard and going to his twin.

“Pay attention,” Alec orders through grit teeth. “I didn’t hit it. Didn’t even graze it; motherfucker’s fast.”

Ben inches his way forward. He turns in a slow circle, waiting. “Sam and Dean are moving into a pincer position.” He doesn’t know how he knows that, only that he’s sure they are.

“It’s still here,” Alec says. “I pissed it off. It wants to eat my face.”

“I don’t blame it,” Ben replies.

“You were right,” Alec says, after an uneventful moment ticks by. “It’s a black dog.”

Ben glances at him reflexively, but quickly looks back at the trees. “You said it was a white cat.”

“Yeah. A little white cat. A huge black dog.”

Ben licks his lips nervously. “Barghest.”

And because he just keeps asking for trouble, that’s when the air behind him shifts.

“Ben!” Alec cries.

He’s already moving, spinning around and raising the knife. It may as well have been a butter knife. The barghest slams right into him, knocking the knife out of his hands. He hits the ground on his back. His arms are up before he realizes it, elbow jabbing into the beast’s mouth to keep its jaws from closing around his neck.

“Get away from him!” Alec shouts, and Ben knows he’s trying to push himself up and take aim.

But then Dean’s there, grabbing the barghest around the neck and hauling it away like it doesn’t weigh three hundred pounds. Ben sits up, pain flaring from his elbow. Sam appears next, eyes dark with concentration. He raises a hand toward the beast thrashing in Dean’s arms.

It goes very still.

Ben gapes. “What—?”

“Hurry,” Sam pleads.

“What he said,” Dean adds, still hanging on.

Ben scrambles to his feet, catching the Colt when Alec tosses it his way. Sam and Dean have the barghest trussed up like a trophy, waiting for the kill shot. Ben keeps the run cocked, just in case, but opts for the quieter weapon and grabs his knife off the ground.

“Not a transgenic?” Ben checks in, just to make sure everybody’s on the same page.

Their transgenic friends nod. Ben flexes his grip on the knife and stabs. It plunges deep into the barghest’s fur, deep into its flesh, electrifying all the way. Under Sam’s spell, it can’t even cry out.

Slowly, Dean and Ben step away. The barghest is a dried-out husk of its former self. When Sam releases it, it scatters to dust, leaving behind the shredded corpse of its white cat disguise.

Dean pokes at the mess with his foot. “Whoa. At least no one’ll know what went down here.”

“Nah,” Alec says from behind them. “Now we just look like a bunch of cat mutilators. Let’s get out of here.”

***

Back at the motel, they patch up Alec first. He has a shallow but painful wound ripped into his right side to match the still-healing gash on his arm. It doesn’t look so bad once it’s cleaned up, but once it’s bandaged Ben kisses the fevered flesh around the wound.

“Twice in a week, Alec,” he whispers. When he sits up, he glimpses the bloodied t-shirt and his breath catches.

“Ben,” Alec sighs. “I’m a hunter; it’s gonna happen.” When Ben opens his mouth, Alec claps a hand over it. “It’s gonna happen. But I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”

It’s somehow the perfect thing to say. Ben forgets himself, wrapping his arms around Alec as gently as possible. Then he kisses his twin, a slow romantic dance that would have become something else had Sam not pointedly cleared his throat.

“Gotta patch up Ben’s arm,” the telekinetic explains.

“Oh, er, sorry.” Ben holds out the wounded limb and lets Sam work. “I’m glad it wasn’t a transgenic today. “I’m glad it wasn’t that sort of situation.”

Sam’s eyes flicker toward Dean’s. “Us, too.”

When Ben gets his arm back, he wraps it around Alec once again. “We made a good team.” Alec squeezes him encouragingly, and Ben adds, “You should join us. You’ve got a real knack for the hunting business.”

“Not to mention badass skills any hunter would wish for,” Alec jumps it, really selling it.

Sam laughs, if a little unsteadily. Dean shakes his head in disbelief. “You think so?”

“Maybe we could help you find a way to help Sam,” Ben brainstorms. “See if there’s something that can be done to stop the seizures forever.”

“Come on,” Alec urges, bounding in Ben’s arms. “We could be the McDowell triplets!”

“Sure,” Dean agrees with a quirk of his lips. He gestures vaguely at their embrace. “So long as I don’t have to get in on this.”

“Aw,” Alec pouts, even as Ben tightens his grip and says, “I don’t share.”

Sam reaches over to touch Dean’s shoulder. “Don’t you want to know why the three of you look alike?”

Ben catches Dean’s eye. “That question’s crossed my mind.”

Dean considers both of them, staring at their faces — at the one face they all share.

“So you’ll consider it?” Alec presses after a moment. “Plenty of room in the Impala.”

Sam exchanges a look with Dean, and then smiles at them. “We’ll tag along with you until the next town, at least.”

It turns out to be much longer than that.



~End.