Title: When It Changes
Author: Restive Nature
Genre: Crossover
Type: WiP
Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural
Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.
Story Rating: PG-13 up to NC-17 for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)
Chapter Rating: PG-13 for language.
Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.
Pairing: Dean/ Max, other canon pairings
Summary: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.
When It Changes
Chapter Thirty-three
A Close Call With Death
Dean stared at the expanse of highway they were currently on, having been guilted with the puppy dog eyes of doom from Sam to turn around and head back the way they had come. He blinked and shifted his vision as often as necessary to prevent tunnel vision while he was driving. It was one of the things he had to be on guard against. So much driving could get monotonous and he wondered sometimes if the habit of taking interest in each landmark or road sign or building they passed, in an effort to keep himself engaged rather than on autopilot; might be why people construed that he had a short attention span at times. Spending so much time in the Impala, he needed to use these tricks often. And sometimes it was hard to lose the habit immediately upon leaving said vehicle.
But right now, listening to his brother whining at Max again about things that were happening in and around Seattle, he wondered if perhaps a little swerving would be enough to get him off the damn phone. But he also knew that Sam was worried about his friends and that since Dean didn't know them, he was unable to share much with Dean. And he also knew that Sam was loathe to talk about college life for so many varied and pained reasons. So Sam's response had been to call the one bright spot in his life and veg out that way. Dean instinctively knew that his behavior whenever Sam called Max would circumvent any pushing on a topic that he wasn't ready to share about and would also produce a tight-lipped quiet older brother. Sam still hadn't worked out why that was and if Dean had his way, he never would. More and more, he was convinced that Sam wouldn't understand, especially since he didn't or couldn't see Max the way that Dean had learned to.
“Well what about that hostage situation at that hotel?” Sam was demanding. “What was that about?”
Dean hid an impatient sigh. For all that Sam was thrilled about Max being able to retain her normal life when Sam's had been so ruthlessly shattered, he certainly didn't like the idea of his little sister being in a hot spot like Seattle. Every time Sam checked, it seemed like there was something bad going down. It would give Dean a nervous breakdown if he wasn't absolutely certain that Max knew how to handle herself. After all, she had been trained by the best. As it was, he worried too, but since he always had, about both of them, he was used to moderating his reactions to the various troubles that they all found themselves in.
Dean was removed from his thoughts by Sam's sudden gasp. “Is she all right?” he snapped out, his eyes, large, wide, stunned, caught Dean's for a moment and Dean frowned. Was who all right? But then Sam stiffened at whatever Max was saying. And then Dean knew, with a smirk that she was in it for something. “And why the hell were you there?” Sam's voice had gone dangerously low and the synapses starting firing quicker in Dean's brain.
He knew of course, about the hostage situation that had taken place at a science conference in Seattle, mainly because Sam had caught the news and was bemoaning Max's new home yet again. Someone they both knew had obviously been there, as now seemed likely, very likely from Sam's thunderous straight ahead glare and clenched jaw, that Max had been too. He could hear Max's voice, distant and unclear, just the sound of it making his skin itch and ache, before he managed to shut down the response, and suddenly Sam's face went from stony to crumpled in a matter of nanoseconds. Dean held his breath, ready to panic as he strove for control, but then Sam had himself back in hand, even if he was glancing out his window. Utilizing the side mirror, Dean could still see a tear trickle out of the inside corner of Sam's eye on the side away from his brother.
“I remember,” Sam finally uttered, his voice small and strained and Dean started looking for places to pull over. There was a long bit of silence on their end while Dean slowed the vehicle as imperceptibly as he could, before Sam spoke again. His voice was stronger now, even if Dean knew instantly that the chuckle was forced. “Yeah, me too. I'll talk to you later.”
Dean waited for about thirty seconds after Sam hung up his cell phone and stuffed it back into his coat pocket before he asked. “She was at the hotel?”
Sam didn't even glance up from where he was now leaning over to retrieve his laptop. “Yeah. Apparently her roommate Kendra was doing translations for that Japanese doctor. The one that was thrown off the roof. And she let Max look at the notes and Max thought that the work this guy was doing might help with her seizures,” Sam explained morosely. Dean didn't know how to take that. Yes, it was good news if Max could get help with that deceptively dangerous medical problem, but none of them were big on the hopefulness of theory. But at the same time, wasn't it just friggin' Winchester luck that one place that should be safe was rife with trouble.
“And she decided to go?” Dean concluded automatically. That was obvious, given the conversation.
“Uh huh,” Sam agreed as he booted up his computer once more. “She decided to go and she said that when the terrorists came in, it was pretty tense, but they let the women go as a good faith gesture.”
“Well, that's good then,” Dean sighed with relief. Spirits and poltergeists were one thing, dumb ass humans a complete other. “Anybody else hurt aside from that doctor dying?”
“Um, I think just a couple of the terrorists,” Sam scrunched up his face as he recalled the information from the news blurb that he had caught. “One's neck was broken and uh, the lead terrorist was shot, I believe, while trying to escape police custody.”
“Then I guess that's the end of that,” Dean shrugged it off. Max was safe. That was what was important.
“Except that there was something else,” Sam grunted and Dean rolled his eyes. That was one that had recently been added to the repertoire to avoid that dreaded tunnel vision. Dean caught his little brother sneaking a glance at him out of the corner of his eye. Dean stayed quiet, knowing that Sammy would get to it, he was just trying to bait his brother into snarking for the information instead of letting his brother draw it out, just to avoid whatever Max had brought up that made the kid go weepy. Dean would probably cave in a second. But he didn't have to. “There were reports that another guy was thrown off the roof, but someone saved him.”
“Saved him how?” Dean demanded. Not an easy feat to save someone from a situation like that.
“Uh, no cameras caught it, but plenty of eyewitnesses said that the terrorists hauled this negotiator up to the roof and threw him and then seconds after,” Sam recalled, his face still contorting as his thoughts played across his face, “someone else came flying off the roof right after him, rope tied around her waist. At least, most of the reports said it was a she. Anyway, there was gunfire and they slammed through one of the windows
“Gunfire?” Dean picked that up immediately, taking his eyes off of the road long enough to glare his brother into reassuring him and apparently Sam wasn't in the mood for games, since he continued immediately.
“Yeah, the terrorists were shooting the rope, I believe,” he tried to remember everything that had been reported and for yet another time, Dean was immensely grateful that Sam had the amazing retention for minutiae that he did. “But whomever it was that jumped and the guy that was thrown, like I said, crashed through a window and since there were no mentions of dead bodies being found in a hotel room, I assumed they were okay.”
“Not always a safe assumption to make,” Dean mused. “So are you thinking what I'm thinking?” he demanded tiredly, resisting the urge to rub at his eyes. He caught Sam's brief nod out of the corner of his eye.
It could pretty much go without saying that both of them suspected that it had been Max that had made that suicide leap off the building to save someone else. And even knowing that she was safe and sound, at home in her apartment and snarking at Sammy, Dean still felt that same despair clenching at the pit of his stomach. And because he couldn't cry over it, he gave into the other end of the spectrum. “Now correct me if I'm wrong,” he grouched, injecting as much derision as he could muster into his voice. “But didn't she promise to keep you updated on what was going on, as long as you did the same?”
He could tell in an instant by Sam's sharp, indrawn breath that he had hit a nerve. And the sheen in his eyes meant it was a deep one and realizing about the only thing that affected Sammy in that manner at the time, Dean groaned silently, wishing that he'd bitten his tongue instead. But instead of retracting his words, he started searching for something else to say. Words off the top of his head didn't usually fail him but he was well aware of his stellar capability from suffering foot in mouth disease. Normally it didn't bother him, but Sam's control was tenuous at best and the added stress of his friends from college having troubles was not promoting his getting... not better, but maybe forward motion was all Dean could hope for right now.
“Max didn't tell me because it was Jess that shared the original article with her,” Sam forced out through gritted teeth and Dean immediately saw the crux of the problem from both ends. Max hadn't told Sam because she didn't want to explain everything to their nosy brother and bring up bad memories, which were brought up anyway and Sam didn't want to think about happier times with his girl because it led to the inevitable depression of said girlfriend's death. And yet here it was anyway.
“Huh,” Dean grunted out, pretending oblivion. “So, this Becky friend of yours? She hot?” The intended change from concerned older brother to horn dog had it's usual effect and Sam was the one snorting and rolling his eyes, but at least he wasn't a blubbering mess. Something to be avoided at all costs.
*****
Sam came slowly to consciousness, fully this time, just to realize, by the slight burn around his throat as he sagged forward, that he was tied up.
That bastard had tied a friggin' rope around his neck!
He inched his head back and eased the pressure off his throat as best as he could. Once his vision began to clear and the throbbing in his head where the shape shifter that had taken on his brother's likeness, had clobbered him with the tire iron from the trunk, grew, Sam began to catalog his surroundings, his restraints and how quickly he could figure a way out.
But his movements attracted the wrong sort of attention as the thing, he refused to call it Dean, even in the silence of his mind, was shuffling around it's lair. Sam saw denim clad legs approaching and wondered, a little panicky, where his brother was. He tried to remember clearly what his brother had been wearing beyond his standard outfit of jeans, t-shirt and his leather jacket. He dearly hoped that this thing hadn't caught his brother and...
His chin snapped up sharply as the thing wearing Dean's face came into clearer focus. It stood silently, regarding Sam before it's arm crashed out, backhanding Sam, adding insult to injury.
“Where is he? Where's Dean?” he demanded on a low growl.
“I wouldn't worry about him,” the thing responded in his brother's voice, though the inflections were strange to someone who knew his brother better than just about anybody. “I'd worry about you,” it added thoughtfully. But if it knew anything about the Winchester boys, it'd know their stubbornness. Even people that didn't know them recognized that almost immediately.
“Where is he?” Sam repeated.
“You don't really wanna know,” it smirked before walking away. Sam didn't know how to take that. 'Don't want to know', as in the worst had happened or 'don't want to know', because it was smart enough to separate the boys and Dean's holding area in the thing's lair was more disgusting than this? Though Sam didn't think it could get much worse. Well, at least there weren't the skeletal remains of victims making his restraint any more unpleasant.
“I swear,” the thing continued, “the more I learn about you and your family?” he said it derisively, tilting his head and scoffing. “I thought I came from a bad background.”
Those words were enough to catch Sam's attention, because there were several things that Sam had realized. One, was that one way or another, he was going to get out of there. Two, Dean was somewhere, probably unconscious or aware and spitting nails and just as determined as Sam to make it out. And because of those two things, the third, that just in case they ever came across something like this again, it would be useful to know. It was always useful. And with those unconscious thoughts darting around his head, he demanded, “what do you mean, learn?”
The shape shifter was looking through some of the weaponry that Sam recognized as personal. It glanced at Sam and then moved it's hand lightly over it's forehead. Sam frowned, even as he fought to remind himself that it wasn't truly his brother who looked to be in pain now. The thing groaned lowly shuddering from it's back up. It moved it's hand in a loose fist to press lightly to it's mouth and Sam tried to swallow back rising bile. It looked once more to Sam and moved it's hand.
“He's sure got issues with you,” it taunted. Picking up the weapons bag it had just been rooting through and moving back towards Sam. “You got to go to college,” it explained further. “He had to stay home.” He dropped the bag casually between them but Sam knew from the current tightness of the ropes that he had no chance of getting at it. “I mean I” it stressed, “had to stay home, with Max, with Dad. You don't think I had dreams of my own? But they needed me. Where the hell where you? Sure as hell not protecting little sister from me, huh?”
Sam felt a bone coldness at that, those words. He knew deep down that the thing was just taunting him, but the way he said it. It knew what had happened between them and Sam tried to resist giving in, playing this game. Almost as if he could sense Sam's struggle, it continued.
“What I did to her? To little Maxie? That was beyond fucked up,” he taunted and Sam grit his teeth together, staring stonily up at the monster. “Did you ever notice that I'm my own worse enemy? And poor Max, she got caught in the crossfire. And she's still reeling from that, isn't she?”
Sam gulped against the truth of that, because it was obvious to anyone with a pulse, the pain his siblings were in.
“Yeah,” the thing cooed and Sam fought against the bile again, “it really cuts you up that you don't know and we won't tell you. It's that sick, that we can't tell you. But it's not gonna come from me. If there's one thing I'll go to hell for, it's what I did to her.”
Sam swallowed the insane urge to launch himself at the monster and strangle those... truth? Taunts? Whatever it was, the urge needed to be quelled. “Where...is... my... brother?” he demanded again and then recoiled slightly as the thing leaned over him.
“I am your brother. See, deep down, I'm just jealous. You got friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I'm a freak. And sooner or later, everyone's gonna leave me.”
“What are you talkin' about?” Sam tried to prompt, hating himself for giving in and playing this game. The thing seemed to have access to Dean's memories, maybe even his thoughts, but who knew if it was correctly interpreting those things. Something deep down in Sam told him that it was.
“Man, I treated Max like she was a fuckin' princess and in one night? Had her runnin' for her life. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to and he ditched me. No explanation, no nothing. Just...” the thing made a small noise to approximate an explosion, throwing his hands out gently before turning it's eyes back on Sam. “Left me with your sorry ass.” It rose up, pulling with it a tarp from under what looked like a crate, from what Sam could see. “But still this life? It's not without it's perks.” It smiled widely and something gnawed at Sam's middle with the glint of depravity he could see in it's eyes. “I meet the nicest people.” It leaned over, assessing, before it continued. “Maybe I should pay little sis a visit. I mean, it's not like I'm really her brother, right?”
Sam swallowed heavily, feeling a burn in his nose and throat and lungs as he tried not to think of what havoc this monster could wreak on Max's life. The life she was just getting that she deserved. Her real family. Happiness. Not having to watch her back every second of every day.
The thing smiled then and bit at it's lower lip before it quirked an eyebrow, looking more like Dean than Sam had seen so far. “Or maybe little Becky? She closer.” It straightened up and the look was lost. “You know Dean'd bang her if he had the chance. Let's see what happens.”
Sam barely had time to blink as the thing threw the tarp it was holding over his head. It stank of mildew and rot and other things that Sam didn't want to focus on right then. He could hear it walking away, slightly muffled through the fabric.
“And when I'm done with her, I think I'll head on to Seattle,” it chuckled. “'Bout time I moved on. What better way than with little sis?”
And then it was gone.
Sam lost no time in continuing his struggles with his bonds, using the movement of wriggling and twisting his hands free to encourage the loose placement of the tarp to come free. It caught a few times at other parts of his body, each movement assisting gravity before it finally fell all the way down and Sam gasped in the not so much cleaner air. He continued to try to visualize what kind of knots were in the twists of the rope. But as he swore softly, having some difficulty, he heard a noise coming from behind him, coughing. He swiveled his head around, as far as he could as he stilled. That thing wouldn't be back already, would it?
“That better be you Sam and not that freak of nature!” his brother, his real brother snarked out and Sam laughed with relief. Dean had been here the whole time. Obviously unconscious, or he'd have been putting up a hell of a fight hearing that thing talking about Dad and Max like that.
“Yeah, it's me,” he confirmed, knowing that Dean would be able to just tell from his voice, the way he talked that it was really him. Just as Sam had sensed right from the first moment that the thing was not Dean. He continued twisting, hoping that the liquid he felt around his wrists was just sweat, but one way or another, they had to get out. “He went to Becca's, looking like you,” he explained and heard Dean pause for a moment in his struggles as well.
“Well, he's not stupid,” Dean started and Sam rolled his eyes, waiting for it. Even in the midst of all the chaos, trust his brother to say something inappropriate. “He picked the handsome one.”
Sam almost didn't want to tell Dean the rest, given how touchy he was about Max over the past few months. That hadn't escaped Sam's notice, not at all. But there was no way either one would leave Max hanging, even given whatever had happened between his siblings. “Yeah well, if we don't stop him now, then he's going after Max.”
“What?” the word was so quiet, Sam thought for a moment that he'd imagined it. But before he could say more, Dean's struggles were renewed and there was a crash. And then uneven footsteps and Dean came into view, pulling the rope off of his feet before leaning over his brother as Sam leaned as far forward as the rope around his throat dared. Dean had him untied in a matter of moments, helping him up, focused and furious and Sam was glad his brother was on his side.
That thing was going down.
Going after Dean or Sam, or hell, even Dad was one thing. Or even whatever it had planned for Rebbecca and Sam knew it wasn't of the good. But he knew his brother well enough to know that Dean had connected the dots faster than usual on this score and there was no way that he would allow this depravity to happen to their little sister. No matter how much she could look after herself or how well she could tell whenever supernatural things were around her, Dean would allow nothing to get near her. To do... that to her.
This thing was going down... hard.
*****
Sam shook his head as he climbed into the driver's seat of the Impala. Once they'd taken care of that shape shifter, albeit with more trouble left behind because of it, they'd, as Dean would put it, 'shagged ass' to get out of town and as far away from the news reports as possible.
It was going to be a pain in the ass, with the rest of the known world thinking that Dean was dead. But Sam hadn't wanted to stick around and have the wrong person see his brother and start to wonder about the family. That was yet another complication in life that they didn't need.
As they'd driven, Dean had tried to be kind, in his own way. And Sam, well he hadn't wanted to think too much about it. Yes, he knew exactly what he had given up when he'd left Palo Alto with his brother, to look for their Dad. What was uppermost in his mind, once it had finally been allowed to calm once more was, what had happened to his family when he had left? But Dean was just as closemouthed on the subject as ever. Sam had wondered idly if he might be able to call Max and let slip that he'd been in contact with this shape shifter that had all of Dean's memories and it had mentioned her. He felt a momentary squick at the thought once more of what the thing had obviously wanted from their sister and pushed the thought away. Max was safe and she would never have to be faced with the depravity of her brother trying to force himself on her. The shifter had been right about that thought. It was beyond sick.
But shaking his thoughts clear, Sam knew that Max would know better than to fall for so obvious a ploy as that. But if he was going to have a chance at finding out what was between them, he had to take it now, while Dean was convinced to lay low in the motel they'd stopped at. Mourning like a moron over missing his own funeral. That was a morbid though that Sam could do without. There were enough real funerals in his life...
Sam saw a billboard advertising a fast food restaurant and deciding quickly, changed lanes. Drive through would satisfy his brother's appetite as well as anything else. He turned in to the popular chain restaurant and joined the short dinner time rush of cars as they lined up around the building. He glanced over the menu board when it was his turn, his hand absently reaching for his phone. The thought of calling Max was still there and once he had committed the order in his mind, he checked that the car ahead of him hadn't pulled ahead yet and then looked fully at his cell phone.
There were three missed messages and when he checked, saw that they were all from Seattle numbers. One he thought might have been Cale's number, the other two were from Max. With a sigh, wondering what the hell had happened now, he set about retrieving the first message, from possibly Cale's number. The small relief that he felt on hearing his sister's voice, was completely negated as he winced at her words.
“Sam? Call me! I just saw... Please call me and tell me that you and Dean are all right. Please.”
The message stopped and his automated service was giving him options with what to do with the message as Sam swore softly to himself. He hadn't even thought that the news report would make national news that quickly, if at all. That could be the only explanation of why Max had freaked out. And she had mentioned that she saw something?
Pressing buttons to retrieve the next message, he moved the Impala ahead, next in line to order.
“Sam? I really need you to call me. There's something going on here. It'll be okay, but I'm going to have to turn my phone off for a while. So please, just leave me a message so I know that you guys are all right. Or call Kendra and leave a message with her. Please, just call me.”
Her tone was even more desperate than the first. And it was worrying Sam, making him feel like even more of a heel that he hadn't even thought to call and check in with her. After all the times that he had chewed her out for not sharing to keep them from worrying and he was now pulling the same crap, albeit unintentionally, on her.
Forced to put the phone down for a moment so he could recite the order, he quickly did so and then retrieved the proper amount to pay for their food.
Once he had paid and received the order and pulled back out onto the street, he lifted the phone to his ear, steeling himself with a deep breath, he held his phone up to his ear for the last message.
“Sam, it's me again,” she announced, though it was unnecessary. “I'm really hoping you're okay. It's been... Look, I've had Logan checking on things for me and he didn't find anything with you mentioned, just Dean, so either... Please just call me.” The call ended on her sob and Sam fought back the tears suddenly welling in his eyes. Blinking them back, he was aware enough to catch that the last call had been at four that morning.
He wasn't such a bastard that he was going to make her wait for his call and he was hanging up the voice mail option and dialing her number as he drove. He knew that something huge must also be going on if she was reduced to tears by just the thought that something had happened to them. Max was firmly in the camp of making sure she knew all the facts before she reacted when they were hunting. Sam had the idle thought of wondering how Dean would react to the thought of Max in tears and distraught over his apparent death. Sam at this point, just had no clue how his big brother would react to anything having to do with Max anymore.
The phone picked up in the middle of the first ring and Sam had to smile at her frantic tones, despite himself.
“Sam? What happened? Is Dean...?”
“Shh,” he soothed immediately as he navigated traffic on his way back to the motel. “We're okay. Both of us. It was a shape shifter that assumed Dean's face.”
“Okay,” he replied and he could hear how shaky her voice was. And then a little stronger. “Okay, but you're both okay. You're not hurt? Those things are pretty strong.”
“They are,” Sam agreed mildly. “I take it the news about Dean being a supposed serial killer made national news?”
“Not as far as I'm aware,” Max offered quietly. “It may have.”
Sam frowned, wondering how she could have known then, but her little sigh told him that she was willing to explain.
“Logan added your names to his watch list,” she began. “Just in case something happened and you lost your cells or I couldn't be contacted. As soon as the news blurb came up with Dean's name, he called me.”
“Well, as intrusive as that is,” Sam grumbled, though he could see the logic behind it, especially as Cale wouldn't know that they would rarely, if ever use their real names, especially if they were in with police or hospital, it was probably a kindly meant gesture for his sister. He once again wondered how deep this Cale person was in with his sibling. “I wish he hadn't gotten you all panicked over nothing. You didn't, did you?”
“At first no, but...”
He waited, following the signs back to the highway that they'd taken the first motel at that they'd found. A few more miles and he could fully concentrate on his family. Wouldn't do to have an accident while driving the beloved Impala. A suspicion was forming in his head and he blurted it out without giving it further thought.
“You haven't heard from Dad, have you?”
“No!” the strangled squawk told him that either she was lying or something else was messing her up really bad. And he wanted to know what it was.
“Then what has you so upset?” he pressed, his foot coming down heavier on the gas pedal than it normally would have. “It's not like we all haven't been in tight spots and been okay.”
“I can't be concerned about you guys?” she countered and Sam smiled. Typical of his family. Ask a personal question and it gets turned around. “Seriously, I know how Dean hunts. It gets personal and he gets reckless. And a shifter stealing his face is almost the most personal I can think of. It was just murder, wasn't it? How bad was it?”
Sam winced, thinking once more of the connection it had created with Dean, the things it had said, had planned.
“It was bad, had been in the area for a while,” an suddenly he remembered that Max had met Zack on one of her visits. “It was taking on males forms and going after loved ones. It attacked Zack Warren's girlfriend while Zack was with his sister, Rebbecca,” he explained and heard her swear softly. She remembered Zack of course.
“That sucks,” Max whined softly. “But he's going to be okay?”
“Well yeah,” Sam nodded, though she couldn't see him. “The cops are pinning it all on dead Dean.” He'd meant the words to lighten the mood, but Max hissed slightly and he winced and apologized swiftly. “Sorry, you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“The worst part,” Sam continued ,trying a different vein this time, “was watching it take on Dean's personality. It didn't quite have it right at first, but you know, enough that it would fool anyone else.”
“Really?” Max sounded more interested and cautious now and Sam knew he had her definite full attention.
“Yeah,” he went on, catching sight of the street sign denoting the motel and he slowed his speed. “It had some sort of psychic connection to Dean, which we think is why it was leaving it's chosen forms alive, aside from creating havoc for them with the cops. It was almost like it was... downloading everything about him. Thoughts, memories, personality traits.”
“God, that's disturbing,” Max groaned. “Two Deans. Must have been a nightmare.”
“Mmm,” Sam muttered, non-committedly. “What was weird though, this thing said that it had a really messed up life, but it had nothing on our family. More specifically you and Dean.”
“Really?”
He could hear the caution and apprehension in her voice now, scared that this thing had revealed their secrets to Sam and his frustration mounted that they just couldn't tell him, rather than leaving his imagination to roam. But he knew he couldn't torture her like that. If she hadn't been so upset, maybe he would have tried another fishing expedition, but he was too tired and not an ass.
“It makes you wonder though,” he sighed, “what was so bad between you and Dean that this thing would consider fucked up?” He rarely swore and grimaced as he pulled into their designated parking spot and cut the engine of the car.
“Everything about us Winchester's is royally screwed up,” she quipped, though it seemed very half-hearted. “I thought you knew that Sammy.” Rolling his eyes, he retrieved the bags of food and slightly awkward with both hands occupied, climbed out of the car, pushing the door shut with his hip.
Thankfully, his brother was waiting like a caged tiger for his return and had opened the door for him so he wouldn't have to pause to retrieve his room key. He stepped over the thick salt line without incident and noted that his brother relaxed slightly. He thrust the bags at Dean who took them with a questioning look on his face.
“I figured that out ages ago,” he retorted turning back to push the door shut.
“Okay then,” Max went on. “Then all I'm going to say is that what happened between Dean and I, is just that. And Sam, that's the last time I'm going to say it. Got it?”
Sam let out a huff of air, a little more pissed than they would think he had a right to be. Yes, he understood wanting privacy about certain things, but this was hurting both his siblings and they obviously wouldn't talk to each other and neither talked to him and he knew they sure as hell weren't talking to Dad. He started wondering if he was going to have to get some outside help before this all blew up further than it had. Maybe Pastor Jim would be willing and up for some stubborn Winchester ass counseling sessions.
“I got it,” he offered peaceably, hoping that she'd settle down, but he caught the sniffle and his heart broke just a little bit more. “Hey,” he tried with the soothing again. “Everything's fine. I'm sure it was stressful, but,” he felt the nudge at his shoulder and glanced up to see his brother with his mouth already full of burger, mouthing a question at him. Sam just shoved him off and turned away. “It doesn't seem like something you couldn't handle.” Dean pushed back and Sam smacked at his hand. Yes, he was sure Dean did want to know who he was on the phone with, but the drama with Max was all he could deal with now, he didn't need Dean imploding on him as well.
“Look Sam, I can't... I just,” she stammered out and then after long moments passed, Sam was thoroughly shocked as a dam seemed to break in his usually imperturbable sister. “I just can't lose any more family.”
And then Sam realized just how bad it was for her to be out of the loop on this one. Losing her brother Seth, Zack leaving her, Jess dying, he sucked in his own breath. He kept his face averted from his brother, lest he decided to throw his unwelcome two cents in. “We're fine,” he stressed again. “And Dad probably is too,” but then something about the way she was crying into the phone, talking about him and her words, that everything there was just... “You're not talking about us, are you. Max, what happened?” he surged from his benign stance, pacing around the room as several realizations settled on him like a coat of suffocating ichor. He knew that he had caught Dean's attention of course, as his brother had stilled now.
There were a few more quiet moments until Max finally seemed to gain control of herself. Her voice was heavy with sadness, laced with fear and pain. “We found Brin.”
There was nothing for a moment and Sam quelled the urge to start grasping chunks of hair and yanking as his frustration mounted. “And?” he asked softly, having recognized her sister's name and knowing that couldn't be the end of the story.
“She was in trouble and called Zack,” she began to explain, unable to keep the heaviness out of her voice. “He tried to get to her but he was hurt, not too bad, in a hit and run before he could.” Sam winced and regretted it as it seemed to shake Dean out of his stupor. “So he came to me and we went to go pick her up.”
“Okay,” he offered hesitantly, twisting away from his brother so that Dean couldn't try whatever it was he was planning. But nothing happened yet.
“When we finally got to her, we found her in an advanced stage of Werner's syndrome,” Max continued and he could hear her voice trying not to break. He quickly ran the word through his mind, not understanding what problem this was, though it definitely seemed medical to him.
“Werner's?” he repeated softly. “I don't...”
“Progeria?” she asked, prompting the recognition and Sam got that, something to do with aging. “Werner's is an extremely rare genetic disorder that causes rapid onset aging and if usually fatal.”
“Usually fatal?” he repeated, grabbing onto those words like a lifeline, as he was sure Max must have. He yelped slightly as Dean punched at his arm, much harder. “Hang on.” He turned a fearsome scowl on his brother and covered the mouthpiece. “You jerk! Let me get the story here.” Dean frowned as Sam turned away again, reaching to the nightstand he was near for the pad of motel stationary stashed within and finding a pen in his jacket, quickly wrote a few things down. “I'm here again,” he informed his sister and then shoved the paper at Dean. His brother took it from him and read what Sam had written. They found Brin and she's sick.
“I got that much dick,” he heard his brother mutter.
“Is there anything that can be done?” Sam asked gently then, knowing that the 'usually' she had used, must mean there was something more.
“When we found her, she looked like an old woman,” Max sighed, her voice slightly clearer now that she'd had a moment. “There's... an experimental surgery. But that doesn't matter. We're going to lose her.”
“Max,” he sighed. He didn't know what to say. He had no idea and no experience whatsoever with a problem like this and he didn't know where to start. Well, first things first. “Does she not want surgery?”
“She does,” Max confirmed and Sam relaxed just infinitesimally. “The problem is surviving the flight to the facility, surviving the surgery....”
“Do you know the odds?” was his next question.
“Really high, from what I understand,” Max answered, “though it's not been done on someone with as advanced a case as Brin's. But he was sure it could be done. Anyway, Brin decided to do it. She wants to live Sam.”
“I can understand that,” he offered agreeably. Brin had to be around Max's, their age. She had the rest of her life ahead of her if she could make it through this. He pondered momentarily who this “he” was, but decided it wasn't important at the moment.
“But what kind of life is she going to have after?” Max declared miserably and Sam was puzzled again.
“What does that mean?” he wondered. “Is this going to be a continual problem?”
“No,” Max spoke softly. “But with these cases... Sam her central nervous system was so catastrophically damaged and with what they've found with this surgery, if she makes it through, it's almost one hundred percent certain that she won't be herself anymore.”
“Oh my God,” he grunted as he understood what Max was getting at. Brain surgery at any point was risky, but this was a level that was going to alter everything about a person so they weren't recognizable anymore? “So you're going to lose her,” he reaffirmed and he heard another sniffle from Max and restless fidgeting fro Dean who had seemed to completely forgotten about his meal.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Max conformed. “She won't be my sister anymore. She won't remember us. Everything that made her Brin will just be gone.”
“Are you sure about that?” Sam demanded suddenly. “I mean, who told you about this surgery? Cale?”
“No,” her reply was so soft, so weak. “It doesn't matter Sam. I can trust this intel, well as much as I can trust anything from Deck.”
There was that inflection again. Someone from her past maybe, given that she knew him. It certainly wasn't anyone recent or he was hoping that he would have heard about it. “Who is Deck?” he asked gently.
“Deck is just... Deck,” she answered maddeningly, but Sam, used to dealing with much worse, was already garnering clues about this mystery man's possible identity. “He can help Brin. She wants to live. End of story.”
“Okay,” Sam agreed, letting this portion of things drop. Understanding now where her panic stemmed from and her concerns and her loss, it was all coming together. “I'm glad you were able to respect her decision, to help her. At least you won't have lost your memories of her.”
“That's true,” Max agreed and Sam then heard something in the background on her end. “Shoot, I need to get going Sam. I'm glad you called though. Like I said, everything here has been, really... I just needed to know you guys were okay.”
“All right,” Sam knew better than to push an precariously emotioned Max further. “And I'm sorry I didn't answer or get back to you sooner. Call me when you can, we'll be on the road again soon.”
“Okay,” Max answered sweetly. “Oh, and kick your brother's ass for not taking that thing out earlier.”
Sam had to laugh at that. “What, I don't get any of the blame?”
“If it had taken your face, and done all that leaving you holding the blame, you can sure as hell bet that Dean would be taking a strip out of your hide!”
“You're right,” he said through his chuckles. “Okay, I'll talk to you soon.” They hung up and Sam set his phone on the nightstand before turning to regard his brother. “Max sends her love,” he informed his brother blithely and was startled at the little jerk Dean gave before he got himself under control again.
“She did, huh?” Dean remarked before attacking his food again that had laid forgotten for the majority of Sam and Max's conversation.
“Well, she told me to kick your ass for not taking out the shifter sooner,” Sam grinned, “but I knew what she meant.”
“Uh huh,” Dean drawled and wiped one hand on his jeans before scooping up some fries. Sam moved to the table that held their food and pulled out his own meal before taking a seat. “So what the hell is she into now?”
Sam recounted their conversation as close to word for word as he could, leaving Dean looking a little sick and as close to sorrowful as he could, which was a look that Sam couldn't handle. It was too close, too painful, too similar. He tried to shake it off as Dean was muttering about researching this, just in case it wasn't naturally occurring. Even going so far as to retrieving Dad's journal and thumbing through it, convinced that their father had run across a spirit that could be accused of something like this. Well, at least it showed that Dean cared.
“You can look all you like,” Sam pondered as he contemplated his own fries and ketchup, “but I really doubt it's our stuff. Sounds plain old medical to me.”
“I guess,” Dean huffed and threw the cover closed and shoved the journal away.
“What I want to know,” Sam declared, eying his brother, who had perked up at Sam's authoritative tone, “is who Deck is?” Dean looked him over, his lips pursed and nodded once. Seemed like the brothers were on the same page once more.
*****
John stared at the red light ahead of him morosely. He'd been on the trail of this bastard for longer than he cared to think about and even though it all seemed to be coming to a head, at long last, there were still fears, still gut clenching worries that assailed him. He wanted to laugh, knowing that so many people thought of him as a hard assed son of a bitch who took no prisoners, ruled his family with an iron fist. But if they really knew him, they'd know his weaknesses.
And right now, he was nearing one of those weaknesses with alarming rapidity. He had debated about this move for days before committing to it. He'd planned and reconned as much as possible before going in. And he knew that for all that planning, simple coincidence, bad luck, karma, whatever one wanted to call it, it could rear up and bite him in the ass at any moment.
But there was no help for it.
He started drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. This light was taking forever. Casing the area around him, trying to be ever vigilant in a fight that was taking heavier tolls with each passing day, John noticed a young kid, the only pedestrian out in the light misting rain, was plastering a nearby electric pole with papers. As soon as he moved, John glanced fairly dismissively at the paper before shock dragged him back for a peering stare. He heard the car behind him blare it's horn and reflexively entered the intersection of the green light after checking that his way was clear.
He found the first available parking spot and not bothering locking up his truck, hurried back to the pole. Glancing around and finding no overt witnesses, he reached up and yanked down the just posted sheet of paper. He stuffed it into an inside coat pocket before jogging back to his truck. Once safely inside, he removed the paper and stared in shock at it. He shouldn't have been shocked, really. They'd all had trouble like this. Hell, Dean had just been in much more hot water recently, but this...
First Dean. Now Max.
His daughter was wanted for murder and unlike what the authorities thought about Dean, Max was very much alive. And very much in trouble.
WiC34- Darker Games
WiC34- Darker Games
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