Title: Not the Golden Child
Author: Jinni (email@example.com)
Disclaimer: All things SPN belong to Eric Kripke, et al. All things Dark Angel belong to Fox, et al.
Notes: Someone on a group that I visit was looking for a fic where Alec gets mistaken for Dean, instead of the other way around. The plot bunny ran up, bit me in the ass, and said that I must write it. This is me doing the writing thing.
Summary: Whoever the hell this Dean Winchester guy was, he needed to chill the fuck out and not do things that could get either of them arrested.
PART ONE (of TWO)
The slide of a cell door opening down the narrow, dimly lit hall barely even fazed Alec after three days sitting here, just waiting. Waiting for what, he didn’t know, because he wasn’t even sure why he was here in the first place. He’d left Seattle, heading east with full intent to start the hell over in a new city, somewhere far from the drama of everything that was going on back ‘home’.
Somewhere he’d have a little easier time making a living, too. Where people weren’t already wise to him, where Max wasn’t looking over his shoulder with her reproving glances and pursed lips, like he fucking knew how to do anything other than be a soldier, for God’s sake! It wasn’t his
fault that he had to resort to running contraband, hustling at pool, and being a petty thief. Besides, from what he had heard – stories that he was damn sure Maxie didn’t want him to know – she wasn’t that much better than him. Oh, she’d cleaned up her act a lot in recent months, but as her little boyfriend Logan told it, Max used to have sticky fingers all of her own.
Figured that she’d be a hypocrite, on top of her holier-than-thou attitude. Alec snorted and leaned back against the bare, concrete block wall of his cell. Truth be told, it was almost like home, this place; it certainly had the feel of a Manticore bunk – cold, uninviting, hard.
Still, he shouldn’t even be
here. Wouldn’t be here, either, if it weren’t for a fluke. He sure as hell hoped it was a fluke, come to think of it. Having one twin was bad enough – but a second? He was 494, his twin 493 – from what Alec could remember 492 was a kid that died before he was ten and 495 was some chick that got herself whacked on her first solo mission. If he had anymore ‘twins’ running around, logic dictated they would have had one of those designations.
So who the hell was this Dean Winchester guy that had the same face as him? Well, maybe not quite as good-looking, Alec added with a mental snort. And how was it that they looked alike and, wait, here’s the clincher – had the same fingerprints?
He’d been cruising along, minding his own business in a car that he’d ‘borrowed’ a few states back, just trying to get to the East Coast and away from the transgenic drama going down in Seattle, when he’d gotten pulled over. Okay, yeah, his fault for speeding. Whatever, right? He had valid ID – some of the best that money could by and a get-the-hell-out-of-town-and-away-from-Max present from Logan – so it was no big.
What he hadn’t expected was that they’d run the plates. He should’ve thought of it. But by the time he realized that they were doing just that, there were two more cop cars coming up beside the first and, hell, six officers? What the --?
He could have taken them. Six humans versus one X-5? Yeah, they’d have gone down easy.
At least, he thought they would.
But with six guns pointing at him, telling him to get out of the car, he wasn’t about to take that chance. Manticore wasn’t around to patch him up if he got hurt and the last thing he wanted was to land in a hospital was some doctor could take too close a look at what he was. That’d bring White scurrying real quick. Last thing Alec wanted was to end up on the wrong side of one of White’s “interrogations” or, better yet, “autopsies”.
So he’d let them arrest him, assuming that he’d be taken to some sort of hick-town lock up that he could easily escape from the second he was left alone long enough to get the deed done. But booking at led to something he hadn’t expected. His fingerprints – his face
- matched a guy that was already in the system for that area, wanted for various offenses ranging from assault, to a little B&E, to fraud.
Dean-fucking-Winchester. Whoever the fuck that was. The cops, understandably, hadn’t believed him when he said he didn’t know who that. How did he have that guys’ fingerprints, then, Officer Asshole had asked, shoving him into a cell that had bars he had no hope of breaking through and no window to get out of, either.
So here he was, stuck until they decided to ship him off to another jail or take him for a hearing or whatever. He’d make his move then and get the hell out of dodge. Maybe he’d try to track down this Dean guy and figure out why they were genetic doubles. It was possible that there was another X-5 with his face, after all; and, if so, they were practically related. He wanted to kick the guy’s ass like a big brother should and tell him not to go fucking up and landing either of them in jail anymore. He had no problems with his would-be twin’s life of crime, but damn if Alec wanted to be the one arrested for that kind of crap. He had his own life to lead, his own hell to raise, and damn if he wanted a dumbass clone ruining it for him.
The door at the end of the hall slammed open, metal banging against the stone wall behind it. Alec frowned. The jailors were in a fine mood today, apparently. Had Officer Asshole had a bad day? He pasted an uncaring, unworried smirk on his face just in case the Officer had to come down this far in the four-cell holding block, knowing that it pissed the burly piece of white-trash like nothing else.
The footsteps got closer. Closer, still. Alec turned his head, looking through the bars.
”Officer,” he greeted, the corner of his mouth moving upward as though he didn’t have a problem in the world with just sitting here, locked away. His gaze flickered to the man that was standing just behind him; at dark eyes that sparkled with anger, a stance that said he didn’t screw around, and lips that were pressed into a tight, thin line. Was this his new cell mate? Joy.
“Your daddy arranged bail,” Officer Asshole said. Alec’s eyebrows went up. Dad, then? “I still say it’s a mistake letting you out.”
“Officer Jamison,” his ‘Dad’ said tightly. “I believe I can handle things from here. I’ll make sure Dean shows up for his court date.”
This was his ticket out of here, so Alec wasn’t about to argue that he wasn’t Dean. Best of all, this was that Dean guy’s father! Which meant that, one, he could try to get down to the mystery of who the hell this other joker with his face was – obviously not a transgenic if he had a father, and two, he’d be in a good position to find Dean and lay things out for him. No more stupid shit. Either he was good enough not to get caught or he should just stop playing around entirely.
Alec wouldn’t mention, of course, that he’d found out about his clone’s criminal record because he had been, stupidly, speeding.
“You do that, Mr. Winchester,” the Officer sneered, looking both like didn’t believe for one second that ‘Dean’ would ever see the inside of a courtroom and like he couldn’t believe ‘Mr. Winchester’ had gotten the judge to set bail for such a delinquent.
He raised a brow at Officer Asshole as he pushed out of the cell and into the hall, but couldn’t bring himself to give more than a passing look at the man that was Dean’s father. Did they look enough alike that this guy wouldn’t be able to tell the difference? Alec certainly hoped so, he didn’t want to find himself shoved back in that cell with a ‘nevermind’ or ‘not mine’ as the only explanation.
If ‘Dad’ noticed something, he didn’t say a word, though.
Alec followed him out of the cell area, grabbing up his things from the front desk on his way out the door.
Sunlight. Fresh air. He breathed it in, pausing for a minute to just enjoy it. Fuck, he’d thought he’d never get out –
“Dean! Truck! Now!”
“Sir,” Alec replied automatically, jumping to obey before he even realized what he was doing. By the time he did, he was in the truck, his door shutting in a weak echo of his Winchester’s own slam. There was something about this guy that screamed military, but Alec couldn’t place his finger on it. The tone of his voice, the way he issued orders in clipped, sure words – all spoke of someone that was used to being obeyed.
What kind of Dad was this?
Alec glanced around the truck, suddenly very wary. Had he just been sprung by one of White’s people, tricked into going along with things?
But there was nothing except the interior of an old truck, as far as Alec could tell. Oh, it was well taken care of, but it was still older-model. He relaxed slightly. Maybe Dean’s dad had been military at some point; or maybe he was just an asshole and a mean, cranky old man.
They left the city behind before another word was spoken, buildings giving way to fields of corn that were already going golden under the sun.
“I thought you and Sammy were working a job in Mississippi.”
Alec cleared his throat, unsure what to say to that statement. He didn’t have a single clue who this Sammy person was or what the hell him and Dean were doing in Mississippi.
“So, imagine my surprise when I get a call from Bobby, says he heard on the police scanner two cops boasting that they’d picked up someone for speeding that turned out to be Dean Winchester.”
There had to be a way that Dean would react to that, Alec knew. But he was lost as lost could be. There was nothing about this guy that gave him any clues how to play this.
“How in the hell
did that happen?”
And this, ‘Dad’ apparently did
expect an answer to. Alec licked his lips and opened his mouth, shutting it again when nothing came to him. Maybe if Dean’s ‘mom’ had been the one to bust him out, Alec could have worked some of that charm of his. He didn’t think that Dean’s dad was going to fall for that sort of thing, though.
“And where the hell is your brother?”
“Brother?” Alec asked before he could stop himself, wincing when he realized what he’d done.
’Dad’ glanced his way and Alec saw a glimmer in his eyes that he didn’t like. It made him feel naked, bare. Uncomfortable. Then it was gone and the other man’s eyes narrowed to thin slits, gaze going back to the road.
”Yeah – you remember your brother, Tim, right?”
“Right,” Alec nodded along. “Sorry – I’m a little tired. Couldn’t sleep much in there. Tim is… fine.”
“Right,” ‘Dad’ drawled. “And your sister?”
“She’s good, too,” Alec replied back automatically.
The truck slammed to a stop. Alec put his hands out in front of him, stopping his forward momentum with a hand to the dash.
“What the fuck?” he snapped, turning in his seat.
There was a gun in his face. A gun in his face held by a very pissed looking man. At this close of a range, there was no way he could grab it away before the other man could squeeze off a shot.
“Um, Dad?” he tried.
“What?” Alec said, blinking in surprised confusion. When the hell had this conversation strayed into - what was that? - Spanish or something?
”Cristo." 'Dad' said a little louder, frowning. It was like he was looking for a reaction of some sort. Did this family have secret passwords or something? "Huh. You say it."
Well, fuck, he wasn’t going to tell the the guy that had a gun shoved practically up his nose that he was nuts. Too bad his mouth wasn't on the same wavelength as his brain. “What is your problem? Cristo. Happy now?”
“No. Not nearly. You’re not Dean, so who are you and where’s my son?”
Alec sighed. “Don’t know. Never met the guy, but when you see him could you tell him that I don’t fucking appreciate getting arrested for his
crimes? Seriously! My name is Alec and I don’t know who the hell your son is, who you are, et-fucking-cetera. Got it, tough guy?”
“Are you a shapeshifter?”
“A what?!?” Alec’s eyes rolled. “I can tell your family is a barrel full of fun. Is my look alike a psycho like you?”
Wait, 493 had been psychotic, delusional. Had Manticore gotten their DNA from this Dean guy, who apparently came from a family full of mental patients? It all made sense, the more he thought about it. The fact that they shared the same fingerprint, for instance. He was this Dean guy’s clone.
“You… don’t have a clue what I’m talking about.” The gun lowered, but the wariness remained. “Do you?”
“Oh, I got the part where you’re crazy – and I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out why I share your son’s face. Oh, and I’m really grateful that you bailed me out. I’ll repay the money,” he added the last part, having no intention of repaying a dime to this nut.
“Don’t worry about it. Was a faked court order anyway and someone else’s credit card,” ‘Dad’ said, twisting in his seat to stare at him. Alec tried not to flinch under that gaze. “You’re too young to be Dean,” he finally muttered. “And you’re missing the scar he has at his hairline.”
Alec sighed. “Stay with me – I. Am. Not. Your. Son. Don’t know where he is or what he’s doing. Does he have a phone you can call or something, just to get this paranoia out of your system?”
‘Dad’s’ eyes narrowed. “I want to know who you are. You said you have a theory?”
This day was just getting better and better. Alec didn’t know why he wasn’t grabbing the gun. It would be easy now, with it not in his face. Or, hell, he could just jump out of the truck and run. No way in hell this old man would be able to catch up with him if he did that.
Maybe it was curiosity that kept him sitting there; a sick desire to see how this would all play out.
And, if he wanted to get technical, this guy was his father
Then there was that little part of him that said to do the right thing and tell this guy that his son might one day end up in danger because of his face. All White would have to do was get a tip off about 494 and they’d be all over him. Somehow Alec didn’t think that they’d stop long enough to figure out that Dean was just a regular old human before killing him.
“Can we get a little further away from that shithole back there, just in case they figure out you weren’t on the up and up?” Was what he ended up deciding on, feeling unease creep up his back. This wasn’t the place for this kind of conversation and he wasn’t just trying to sway this guy with the subtle threat, either. The cops really could figure it out and be hot on their ass at any second. Officer Asshole would probably enjoy tracking them down.
“Drive,” Alec countered, voice steely. “Or I’m not saying anything.”
END 1 of 2