That Sweet Fall Into Sin

Title: In My Time of Dying 2/4
Author: Jinni (jinni.tth@gmail.com)
Rated: Pg13
Disclaimer: All things DW belong to James Cameron, et al. All the SPN belong to Eric Kripke, et al
Notes: Part of the AW ‘Verse.


CHAPTER THREE

The conversation with John was short and frustrating, ending when the older man started to doze from his pain medication. Alec left the room scowling and too irritated to even think of him as ‘Dad’ or ‘family’.

What the hell was wrong with that man?

Demon this. Demon that. Didn’t the man care that his oldest son was lying in a fucking coma?

The fingers of Alec’s good hand flexed into a fist, and he actually lifted his arm and cocked it at the wall before he remembered where he was. Putting a hole through the wall probably would get him kicked out of here, at the very least. Harnessing his rage for the time being, sure that he would let it out the very next time he was alone and had a hard surface to beat the crap out of, Alec went back to Dean’s room.

…beep…beep….beep…

The noises of the machines hooked up to Dean were both haunting and reassuring. There shouldn’t have to be any machines in here monitoring him, making sure that he didn’t… didn’t…

Alec swallowed and shoved that thought to the very back of his mind. There was a pain in his chest that he didn’t like or welcome, but there was nothing he could do about it. Once again he was struck by the realization that he was in too deep to get out now. That he should have cut out the second that John had his back turned, right there at the beginning. Gotten far, far away from the man and his sons before he started to care Emotions were sneaky little bastards like that, though. They came up behind you and got you in a stranglehold when you weren’t looking.

And that was how he felt right then, watching over Dean. He rubbed tiredly at his eyes and then glanced at the simple watch around his wrist. Sam had been gone for a while. Hopefully he would be back soon because Alec was getting antsy sitting here by himself, and he’d be damned if he was going to go sit there with John anymore. Not until he calmed down.

It was odd. He had known since almost the moment he’d met the guy that he wasn’t father of the year material, but that hadn’t stopped him from coming to care about him, think of him as a surrogate dad. He’d seen the way that John didn’t contact his sons except when he had to, how he held them at arms length. How he was sometimes downright selfish in his pursuit for this demon that plagued the Winchester family. Alec had seen all that during the time he was with John. He knew about it. But it hadn’t felt real until when he’d stood next to John’s bed, trying to comprehend how the older man could lay there talking about plans for killing the demon, about Sam getting the Colt, about all these things that just shouldn’t be mattering with Dean in a goddamned bed hanging on for his very life.

Now Alec understood why Sam got so upset with John. Why he had such overriding anger towards the man sometimes. Because it’s all Alec can do not to feel the same way right at that moment. He’s used to feeling hate, scorn, and even anger – but not towards someone that he cares about. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t cared about too many people in his life or possibly just because no one had ever let him down like John did by acting like he had about the demon. The way he just hadn’t seemed to fucking care that his oldest son was in a hospital bed and might not wake up.

He was about to sit down when he heard a raised voice. Sam, he realized with a start. Sam yelling at John over whatever it was that John had wanted him to get from Bobby.

The fuck? Stuff to summon the damn demon? Alec couldn’t believe that he’d heard correctly and was one step toward the door when the machines hooked to Dean went off.

The steady ‘beep, beep’ became an alarm. Alec turned on his heel, staring wide eyed at the flat line, uncomprehending for a second because, fuck, this couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t. Hands pushed him out of the way, off to the side, and Alec watched in numb horror as a doctor barked out orders. Prepping machines. He heard someone come up behind him, saw Sam out of the corner of his eye. Didn’t turn because it was all that he could do now to hold himself up and he was pretty sure that looking at Sam might fucking break him. He wouldn’t be weak in front of his ‘brother’, let alone perfect strangers like the ones working on Dean.

And if he could just hold tight to that sense of pride, maybe he wouldn’t feel like he was dying inside with every second that passed by. The wall at his back was the only thing holding him up, the firmness the only thing that was keeping him on his feet instead of in a useless pile on the floor.

The beeping returned just as suddenly as it had stopped, and Alec took a deep, gulping breath, oxygen-deprived lungs filling with air. How long had he held his breath, wondering if Dean would ever take another of his own? They aren’t connected, but Alec felt like it. Felt like he was the one that was dying.

“Hey,” Sam murmured from next to him, taking a spot on the wall next to Alec so that they were both now looking at Dean, both slightly out of breath from the fear that had held them captive for those moments. Minutes? Seconds? Alec didn’t know how long they’d waited to see if the doctors would be able to save Dean. Bring him back just one more time.

Alec licked his lips and cleared his throat. “Hey.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Sam said.

Sure it was, Alec wanted to say. Everything was going to be fine. But he couldn’t say that because right at that second he didn’t believe it. So instead he summoned up a weak, “Okay. Yeah, sure.”

Sam took his elbow, tugging on it. Alec looked up and saw Sam tilt his head towards the door. There was a tired, crooked smile on Sam’s lips when he said, “Look, c’mon. I want to go grab something from the store, and you look like you need to get away for a little while.”

Alec glanced at Dean. “What if he –“

“Man, there’s nothing we can do standing around here like this except drive ourselves crazy,” Sam said. Firmly. Using that voice that Alec wondered if he’d practiced just for dealing with his new ‘younger brother’. Something told Alec that it was just Sam’s normal not-taking-any-arguments tone, though.

Another glance at the bed made Alec sigh. Sam was right. There wasn’t a damn thing they could do for Dean, and while part of him didn’t want to leave Dean just in case the demon made another move, a bigger part of him needed to get the fuck out of his place before he lost it.

He still had a wall that he needed to beat up, anyway. Get rid of some of the nervous energy that was leaving him feeling like he was strung out and on edge.

“Yeah, okay,” Alec said, glad that his voice didn’t break at all despite the lump that formed in his throat as he looked away from Dean. “What d’you need from the store?

Despite everything, Sam’s grin grew. Though, it looked a little embarrassed around the edges. “You’ll see.”

~*~

This had to be one of the stupidest things that Alec had ever witnessed. He felt like he was at a fucking slumber party.

“I still can’t believe you’re doing this. Want me to braid your hair for you, paint your nails, maybe?” Alec muttered, giving Sam his best you’ve lost your mind look.

Sam cut a glare in his direction, pulling the Ouija board from its box. “You sound like Dean.”

Alec smirked. “Dean’s a smart guy.”

“Smart ass,” Sam corrected mildly.

Taking the jibe for the teasing insult it was meant to be, Alec squatted next to Sam. “You really think this is going to work? These things are hokey.”

Sam laughed under his breath. “Dude, everything we see and you can’t believe in something this simple? Just sit back and watch. If Dean’s here, then he’ll talk to us.”

This had to be one of the crazier things that Alec had ever seen in his life. Considering he’d seen a lot more since hooking up with John Winchester and learning about the ghosts and goblins in the world, Alec thought that was saying something. This, though? This was nuts.

“Dean…Dean are you there?”

The room was still except for the low whine of the machines, and Alec looked around, as if expecting something - anything - to happen. He rolled his eyes and looked back down at the board in front of Sam –

-- just as the plastic marker under Sam’s fingertips began to move.

CHAPTER FOUR

Alec stared at the empty bed where John Winchester should have been, hands clenching into tight fists at his sides. Nails dug into flesh, a brief biting pain. He understood the need to fight, to lash back at the things that caused pain and grief. Fuck, how he understood. But this was taking it too damn far. The sheets were still rumpled, and the bed was still warm where the other man had been lying when Alec ran a hand over it to check. Of all the stupid, foolish, selfish things to do!

Did he just not care that Dean could die? Was hunting the demon really all that mattered to him? Hell, he’d known that the Winchesters weren’t the typical family almost from the get go. Even knowing that, however, didn’t prepare him for this kind of outright lack of concern. Dad had asked Sam for ingredients to do a summoning; now he was gone without a word to either of them about what he was doing or where he would be.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was up, and Alec didn’t like it at all.

“Damn it,” Alec swore heatedly, as anger uncoiled like a venomous thing within his stomach. When he got his hands on that man, he was going to shake him very hard. Maybe more. Father figure or not, this kind of shit just wasn’t cool.

Sam was so tense that Alec could see the fine tremor of his muscles as he fought just to keep himself under control. Alec could see the rage bubbling beneath the surface, flickers of sparkling anger in Sam’s eyes. He reached out and put a steadying hand on his brother’s shoulder, marveling still at how easy it was now to just think of him like that. Brother. Family.

Dysfunctional.

“Do you want me to try to find him?” Alec bit off quietly, knowing he stood about as good a chance as anyone. Maybe a little better. The fact remained, though, that he wasn’t a bloodhound. Not even part bloodhound. Funny how his creators hadn’t seen the need to throw those genes in. Super speed and strength, enhanced senses, and a quick regenerative ability. None of that necessarily made him any damn good at tracking one man in a crowded hospital when he didn’t want to be found. It wouldn’t be like combat maneuvers in the woods, tracking other Manticore kids. He didn’t say any of that to Sam, knowing that sometimes it was better to at least have the illusion that something might do some good, might be of use.

Didn’t matter, though, because Sam shook his head, massaging his forehead with one thumb, eyes shut like keeping them open would just perpetuate the anger that was festering in him like an open wound. “No,” he finally said with a sigh, eyes opening though Alec noted that he didn’t look at the empty hospital bed again. “It doesn’t matter. He’s going to do what he wants to do no matter what. Unless you found him and then knocked him out, of course.”

There was a brief moment where Alec saw something like interest flicker through Sam’s eyes. Obviously the idea of taking John down a notch appealed to him, and Alec couldn’t blame him for that. He was tempted to put the old man on his ass when - if - he saw him again. But then it was gone and nothing was left in his brother’s gaze except worry and anger.

“We don’t need him,” Sam muttered. “We can figure this thing out ourselves. Dean is not going to die.”

Alec couldn’t tell if Sam was trying to convince himself, Alec, or both of them, so he just nodded.

Everything seemed to happen very fast after that. Worrying about whether or not Dean would wake up, mentally offering up more threats to Dean’s continued well being if he should happen to die – and Alec was pretty sure after being a part of this fucked up family that there was a ritual or spell or… something to bring Dean back long enough for him to kick his ass if he were to let him down and do that whole dying thing. Then there was listening to Sam beg Dean in his own, quiet, passionate way, not to give up. To just keep holding on. Finally getting back to being brothers, Sam said, while Alec was out in the hallway. He was pretty sure that Sam didn’t know Alec could hear him. They tended to forget about his heightened senses most of the time, and Alec sure as hell wasn’t going to mention overhearing Sam’s little impassioned plea.

Then Dean was awake.

Alec thought it was weird, the way that he just suddenly woke up, like he hadn’t been, literally, on his death bed. But he didn’t say a word about it. To be perfectly honest, he didn’t really give a fuck because Dean was alive and well and the Doctor said that he was fine. All those problems that the hospital staff had worried about? Gone. Wasn’t that what they’d wanted? Some miraculous cure or intervention to make Dean all better?

Yeah, sure, it was definitely not normal the way that Dean was suddenly back to being almost a picture of health. So. What. Alec wasn’t going to question it if it meant that his brother was back.

Maybe Dean and Sam had just gotten back to being brothers, but Alec and Dean were just starting. Happy didn’t begin to describe how he felt standing next to Dean’s bed though he was pretty sure he was doing a damn good job.

”And you don’t remember anything?” Sam asked Dean.

Had Dean beat death? A reaper is what Dean had told them – via the apparently not-so-hokey Oijia board technique - was after him. According to Sam, that was the kind of badness that you just didn’t get away from. Not if it was your time to go. Everything had pointed towards it just being Dean’s time, no matter how much they didn’t want it to be and weren’t going to let it just go without doing every damn thing they could to stack the odds in Dean’s favor.

And yet, Dean was still with them. Alive. Kicking. Awake. Maybe this wasn’t the type of thing that he should be questioning. They’ll all be out of here soon and –

Dad.

Alec felt a weight lift off his chest at the sight of the older man, followed quickly by a resurgence of the anger he’d felt earlier when they found out he’d wandered off to do fuck knew what. It was lightning hot, slipping through his veins like molten lava, revving him up. All those enhancements, those gifts he never asked for, in his body came alive, tensing and preparing for a fight. John…Dad… whatever – he’d had the stuff to summon the demon, and then he’d left. Like he said, it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together to get four with that kind of evidence hanging right there. Yeah, he had promised Sam he wouldn’t go after the demon. So fucking what. Alec didn’t think for one second that John wouldn’t break a promise if he thought, somewhere in that twisted head of his, that he was doing the right thing. Problem was, John’s idea of right didn’t necessarily match up with anyone else’s.

He would’ve done well at Manticore. Get the job done, no matter what, at any cost. And the thought of John being anything like those traitorous creeps from Manticore was almost enough to break Alec and send him from the room.

Almost.

Before Alec could say anything, do anything, Sam was doing it for him. All that rage and irritation that his brother was feeling, bubbling out, and Alec rocked back and forth on his feet. Up on to his heel, back down, hands shoved in his jean pockets so that he didn’t do something stupid like throw a punch at the closest thing to a parent he has ever known.

Wait…hold on… what? Dad was trying to calm Sam down? Was saying that he didn’t want to fight?

Something wasn’t right.

Alec opened his mouth to ask what the hell was going on, only to shut it again at the look that Dad shot him. A silent request: not now. If Sam noticed, he didn’t say anything. Just left with a bewildered look on his face to get the coffee that Dad had asked for.

Manticore had trained Alec to know when to keep his mouth shut, to watch and observe and be the best little soldier-slash-spy-slash assassin that he could be.

They hadn’t trained him to be human, though. Or to deal with the kind of emotions that he was finding himself confronted with because of John and Dean and Sam.

They sure as fuck hadn’t taught him what to do when a father figure started to give what sounded like a going away speech. One of those Hallmark moment deals. The kind that ended with I’ll be seeing ya and a big hug.

Or what to do when that same dad told him and Dean something about Sam that shook them both. Alec swallowed thickly, painfully. No. That wasn’t going to happen. He looked at Dean, knew that they were a mirror of shock for each other. Neither of them were even paying attention when Dad left the room.

“I –“ Dean began, then stopped. He shook his head, and Alec nodded. Yeah, he understood. There was complete agreement between the two of them. Unspoken. Silent. Like they really were just one person, sharing a mind and will. They weren’t going to let it happen. No way. No how. Sammy… Sammy would be okay. There just wasn’t any other choice in Alec’s mind. Fuck the demon. Fuck destiny and all that other bullshit.

Sam was going to be fine.

“It’ll be okay,” Alec offered firmly, echoing the very same words that he and Sam had said back and forth to each other the whole time Dean had been in a coma. One problem traded for another. That was all they seemed to ever do.

Dean nodded. Muttered, “Yeah. ‘Course it will.”

He didn’t sound any more sure than Alec had been, though.

Soon as they were out of here and he and Dean could get Dad alone, they’d have a real sit down talk about this. Between the three of them they’d find a way to make sure that what John had said to them never came to pass.

”We –“ Alec began, but Sam’s sudden shout cut him off.

“NO! DAD! HELP!”

Alec was running, sliding on the linoleum, Dean just a few steps behind. They crowded the doorway, shoulders and arms touching.

Death was no stranger to Alec. He’d witnessed it before. Hell, he’d caused it and come close enough to meeting it up close and personal himself, too.

Never before had he felt so powerless. This even went beyond what he’d felt waiting for Dean to wake up.

He held his breath and hoped. Prayed to the same God that he was pretty sure didn’t care a damn thing about him, hoping He’d have some sort of affection for John, at least. A good man, that was what he was. He fought the good fight. Kept the darkness at bay.

He saved lives.

He wasn’t perfect.

He cared about his family, even if he didn’t know how to show it.

He was determined not to let the bad things in the world win.

He was…

“Time of death…”

… dead.

END