Prophecy -- Chapter 19

Disclaimer:  The TV shows Dark Angel and Supernatural, all of the characters that appeared on them, and everything else that has to do with the show belong to their respective owners, not to me.  No money is being made off of this fic.  I only own the original characters (Dylan/X6-175, etc.).

Notes:  Spoilers/spoiler-ish stuff for the Dark Angel episodes “Pollo Loco,” “The Berrisford Agenda,” “Love Among the Runes,” and possibly other season 2 episodes as well as the Supernatural episodes “Bloodlust” and “Simon Said.”

“494.  You always show up when you’re not wanted.”  The dark-haired man raised his gun again.  The transgenic tried to reach for something, presumably a gun of his own, but was unable to find it in time and the attacker shot and killed him before turning his attention to Dean and killing him as well, laughing.  “So nice, I got to kill him twice.”  He turned around to the first stranger…

The interior of the Impala began to flash back into focus as the vision ended.  Sam sat gasping, barely aware of his surroundings.  He finally managed to take a deep breath and turned his head to meet his brother’s concerned face.  “Same one.  Exactly the same.”

Dean nodded.  “Well, that answers my question.”  He gestured towards the taillights farther up the road.  “We’re just outside of Seattle.  Looks like there’s a decent line at the checkpoint.  We’d better get our sector passes out.”

“Right,” Sam said.  “Don’t forget your disguise.  I should probably drive, too.”

“No way, Sam,” Dean argued.  “I’m not letting you drive after a vision.”

“Dean, I’m perfectly fine to drive,” Sam countered.  “The headache’s almost gone away and it’s not like that line over there is moving very much, and do I have to remind you that if the reaction of that asshole in my visions was any indication, there’s a damn good chance that your transgenic look-alike might not exactly be Seattle’s most loved person right now?  Even with the disguise we brought, the guards shouldn’t notice you as much if you’re sitting in the passenger seat.”

“I hate it when you’re right,” Dean grumbled as he opened the driver’s side door.  Sam opened his door and they got out and switched seats.  After he’d shut the passenger’s side door, Dean grabbed the bag that had been resting near Sam’s feet earlier and pulled out a dark wig, a baseball cap, and a small box.  He jammed the wig on his head and put the hat on top of it.  When Dean opened the box, he carefully took out a pair of colored contact lenses and put them in, turning to Sam when he was done.  “There.  Are you happy?”

“Very.”  A corner of Sam’s mouth twitched upwards as he tried to restrain a smile.  “Could you stand up and do one of those ballerina twirls for me?  Please?”

“Shut up, bitch,” Dean said.

“Only in your wildest dreams, jerk,” Sam returned cheerfully.  He restarted the engine and pulled the Impala back on the road and moments later, into the line of cars waiting at the checkpoint.  “So, what do you want to do to pass the time?  I Spy?”  He snickered.

Dean started to glare at Sam, but turned it into a smirk.  “Sure.  I spy with my eye a baby brother that’s about to get a taste of the sock that he found on the floor in the back of the car when we left New Paltz.”  He laughed when Sam made a face.  “Something wrong, Sammy?  Don’t you like the great smell of worn socks, especially when it’s been aged for several days before our trip here?”

“Dean, you swore to me that you threw those things out when we stopped for gas in Minnesota,” Sam said.  “If you’re lying…”

“Relax, Sam, I threw them out,” Dean assured him.  “Don’t be so uptight.”

Sam sighed and focused his attention on the cars ahead of them.  Yeah, he tells me not to be so uptight, but between the two of us, somebody has to be the grownup at least most of the time!  He remained quiet until the Impala finally got to the head of the line at the checkpoint.  When the guard motioned for them to roll down the window, Sam did so and gave the guard a friendly smile.  “How can I help you, sir?”

“I need to see your sector passes, please.”  The guard’s smile was clearly forced.

“No problem,” Sam said.  He handed both his pass and Dean’s to the guard and breathed a sigh of relief when they were handed back to him after only a cursory glance.  Thank goodness.  “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome,” the guard told him.  “Move along, and be careful out there.”

“We will.  Thanks again.”  Sam rolled up his window and drove forward.  After a minute, he briefly turned his head to face Dean before looking back at the road.  “Want to take over at the wheel again?”

Dean shook his head.  “No, not much of a point now.  Let’s just find a motel and get checked in.  We should start planning our next course of action.”

“Yeah, if we can,” Sam agreed.  Another few minutes later, he spotted a sign for a motel, pulled into the parking lot, and stopped by the office.  “That’s going to be the hardest thing we’re going to have to do here in Seattle.  I mean, we don’t know where to look for these guys and even if we did…”

“Take a moment and breathe, all right?” Dean said.  “We’ll find a way.  We always do…well, most of the time we do.  Just don’t worry about it.”  He sighed at the look that Sam gave him.  “Okay, don’t worry about it quite so much.”

After a few moments, Sam finally nodded.  “I’m gonna get us a room.  I’ll be back in a minute.”  He got out of the car and Dean waited patiently while Sam went inside the motel office.  Sure enough, Sam returned shortly afterwards and tossed a key at Dean.  “Here’s yours.  Merry Christmas.”

“Which isn’t for what, five or six months?” Dean teased.  He took off the disguise and tossed it onto the backseat.

“You never fail to impress me,” Sam muttered sarcastically as he turned on the engine, backed out of the parking space, and drove the short distance to the door of their room.  He parked the Impala once more and once the engine had been shut down, he and Dean got out and unloaded their duffel bags.  “I wouldn’t mind resting for a few minutes before we do anything.”  He frowned when his stomach rumbled.  “I guess it’s safe to say that I’m hungry.”

“Gee, you think?”  Dean laughed when Sam flipped him off.

“Whatever, Dean,” Sam said with a sigh.  I give up.  He took his room key out of his pocket and unlocked the door.  “Let’s just get inside.”  He turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped inside.

“Well, it’s about time you guys showed up.”

Dean and Sam nearly jumped as they saw the source of the voice.  Lying on one of the beds was a young man in his early twenties.  He was grinning cheerfully as he casually leaned against the headboard.  The Winchesters exchanged a look before Dean took a pistol out of the waistband of his jeans and aimed it at the young man, who quickly sat up and held up his hands.

“Whoa, let’s get a grip,” he said.  “Relax.  I didn’t mean to scare both of you.”  The guy snickered.  “Though the looks on your faces were priceless.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Sam said slowly.  His eyes narrowed.  I know this guy from someplace, yet I know I’ve never seen him before.  What the fuck?

“I’m sorry, I really am,” the man said.  He shrugged.  “I probably should have introduced myself first before I scared the crap out of you guys.  My name is Biggs.”

“Huh,” Dean said.  He lowered his gun, but didn’t put it away.  “I’m Dean and that’s Sam.  How the hell did you get into the room without a key?”  He took in the unnatural paleness of Biggs’ complexion and reached for his duffel bag.

Biggs shook his head.  “Let me save you the trouble of getting that thing out:  I’m a spirit.  I died almost four months ago.”  He grinned.  “Even if I was still alive, it still would have been just as easy for me to get in here without a key.  I’ve cracked locks that were ages more secure than this more times than even I can count.”

“How did you die?” Dean wondered.

“Beaten and strung up by a paranoid mob,” Biggs replied.  “Definitely not the greatest way to go out.  I always thought that I would go down in some major battle and maybe somewhere in the back of my genetically engineered brain I hoped that I would live to old age, but sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to.  We should just all be happy that I was able to clean myself up before I met you guys here.  The bruise around my neck from the noose was particularly gross and you don’t want to know what was done with my body after I was killed.”  He sighed.  “A reasonable crowd, and I mean reasonable in terms of numbers because none of those people were in what I would consider to be their right minds, I could have taken on.  Unfortunately, there’s a limit for everybody, even transgenics like I was—am.  Not even death can change that fact and I’m glad.”

Sam sucked in a breath as he suddenly recognized Biggs.  “You’re the other transgenic in the…memories, aren’t you?”

“That would be me,” Biggs confirmed.  He grinned once again.  “You guys can consider me your inside source.”

“Inside source?” Sam repeated.

“Yeah,” Biggs said.  “I was engineered, born, and grew up in Manticore until last year.  Plus, it’s amazing the kind of stuff that you can find out when you’re dead.  Ask me anything you want and I’ll answer it.  You guys need the basic rundown of the project or did you get all that from the news?  I’ve got to admit, they did a decent job telling people the actual basics of Manticore.”

“We heard all of that,” Dean told him.  He frowned.  “I’ve got a big question, though.  Who is your friend and why the fuck does he apparently, from what Sam told me, look, act, and sound like I do so damn much?”

“Rude much?” Sam muttered.

“No harm, no foul.  I thought that would be the first or one of the first questions that you’d ask,” Biggs said.  “His name is Alec, designation X5-494.  One of the best X5s if not the best one, actually.  We’ve been in the same unit our whole lives.  The reason that he looks so much like you is because he’s your clone.”

Dean blinked.  What the hell?  A clone?  “Ex…cuse…me?  Run that by me again?”

“Sure, no problem,” Biggs assured Dean.  “You guys know Manticore used to be a covert military op.  Naturally, the first place that they’d look when it was time to look for genetic donors for the transgenics when it was time to whip them out would be from the various branches of the service.  When they were looking for donors for the X5s, they came across your dad’s service record from his time in the Marines.  I met your dad, by the way.  He’s a cool guy.  Anyway, his record was awesome.  If he hadn’t stepped away from the service after ‘Nam so that he could settle down with your mom, he would have gone really far up the chain of command.  Unfortunately, one of your dad’s old friends from back in his Marines days was working for Manticore and knew that your pop wouldn’t go for donating some sperm, and taking blood from him to make a clone or to extract selected genes would be just as impossible, so they decided to take a look and see if he had kids.  They saw a picture of you, Dean, and then they did a check on your mom’s background.  I’ve got to admit, it’s impressive.  No military service to speak of, but your mom’s brother was an FBI agent who’d made it all the way to deputy head of the LA office until he had to retire when he was injured in an undercover op and your great-uncle had been the Kansas City Police Commissioner before he’d retired.  All of that meant a set of traits that would help make a hell of a soldier, and a commander.  Not to mention the fact that your mom had an I.Q. of 197.  They didn’t have to tweak the genes for Alec’s brains.”

“I’ve got a 197 I.Q.?” Dean asked.  He looked impressed.  “Damn, I’m good.”

“Actually, it’s 190.”  Biggs smirked and pointed to Sam.  “He’s the one with the 197 I.Q.”

“Sucks to be you,” Sam said.

Dean rolled his eyes.  “Hilarious, Sammy.”  He turned back to Biggs.  “So, how did Manticore get a hold of my DNA?”

“Blind luck,” Biggs replied.  “Your dad’s old friend, the one who worked for Manticore, happened to be living in Phoenix when you guys moved there for a year back in 1996 because he was working on a side project for his superiors.  Then you guys moved there and he and your dad struck up their friendship again, so he ended up knowing about a bunch of seemingly insignificant stuff, like when your dad brought you and your brother in to the doctor’s office for your annual physicals.  The friend arranged to have some of the blood that was drawn from Dean swiped and brought to Manticore’s DNA lab, which was located in its facility in Wyoming.  The scientists worked their magic and presto.”  He frowned.  Damn, I’m probably going to have to tell them about Ben eventually.

“Biggs?”  Sam asked.

Biggs sighed.  “They didn’t just clone Dean once, they created two clones.  The second—actually, technically the first one—was Ben.  His designation was X5-493.  He and Alec never met.  They were even put into separate surrogates.”  He launched into the Ben’s entire story, leaving nothing out.  “…she didn’t want to kill him, but Ben begged her to.  He was right.  They didn’t have a choice and God only knew what Manticore would have done to Ben if they’d found him alive.  As it was, they buried him in the graveyard in the Wyoming facility and threw Alec into Psy Ops for a few months to try to see if he would blow it like Ben did, which they thought that he might considering that one mission almost two years previously when he fell in love with the daughter of his target and freaked out when the bomb Manticore ordered him to plant on the father’s car severely injured and eventually killed the girl.  Alec won’t lose it the way that Ben did.  I know the guy.  It won’t happen.”

“I guess so,” Dean said quietly.  He sat down on one of the beds and sighed.

“Dean?” Sam looked worried.  “Are you okay?”

“Sure, I’m peachy,” Dean said sarcastically.  “I mean, I only found out that not only do I have a clone, but I originally had two and one of them went fucking mental.  Yeah, I’m absolutely great.”

“Dean, please…”

“Please what, Sam?  Huh?  What am I supposed to do when it’s my fault that Ben went crazy?”  Dean bit his lip.  “Don’t say that it wasn’t my fault, Sam, you know that it was.  Ben’s DNA came mostly from yours truly and you definitely know how many times I’ve skirted the line that Ben tripped over.  Remember after Dad died?  Does the vampire that I killed in Montana years ago ring a bell?  I’m fucking responsible for Ben losing it and Alec getting punished for something that he had no control over.”

“The only thing that you just said that actually was the true was the part about Alec having no control about what they did to him after Ben died,” Sam pointed out.  “It was not your fault, Dean.  You had as much control over the situation as Alec did.”

“He’s right,” Biggs agreed.  “Ben just left Manticore too early.  He never had the stability through puberty and adolescence the way that either you or Alec did.  Even with you moving from place-to-place as frequently as your family did, you always had your father and brother.  Alec always had Manticore, myself, and Dylan.  Ben…while as much as Zack loved his brothers and sisters, he wasn’t around enough to know all of what Ben went through after the escape and Ben hid the bad parts from Zack.  It’s just fucked up circumstances.”

Dean finally nodded.  “I guess you’re right.”  He took a deep breath.  “So, Manticore only swiped blood from me?”

“No, they took some of Sam’s blood, too,” Biggs said.  “They whipped up an X5 using his DNA, but the surrogate for him—him being the X5—had a miscarriage.”

“Who’s Dylan?” Sam suddenly spoke up.

“Dylan would be X6-175, the boy you’d been connecting to,” Biggs explained.  He laughed.  “I shouldn’t say boy.  He’s eighteen and all grown up.  He’s a great kid, he really is.”  The smile left Biggs’ face.  “I’ve been worried about him lately.  He’s been going through a lot.”

“What about the visions that Sam’s had the last two days?” Dean asked.  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound like such an asshole.”

Biggs shook his head.  “Don’t worry about it.  I understand why you want to get down to business.  Okay, the setting for Sam’s peek into the possible future is a town called Novelty.  It’s east of Seattle.  The other man, the one that’s wearing glasses, is Logan Cale and he’s there to meet a contact of his.”  He made a face.  “He’s Eyes Only.”

“Eyes Only?  The Eyes Only?” Sam guessed.

“Possibly the only guy on the planet that’s too goody-goody even for Sammy?” Dean chimed in.

Biggs laughed.  “And you only got that from the broadcasts.  Yeah, that’s the guy.”  He shuddered.  “I only met the guy once before I died, but that was more than enough.”  The expression on Biggs’ face became angry.  “The asshole who killed Alec and Dean is a wonderful piece of work named Ames White, who was also at least partially responsible for my demise.  He found out that transgenics run a slightly higher base body temperature than normal humans do, so he and his subordinates set up thermal scanners and they happened to catch me on the street and…”  He sighed.  “Plus some of his subordinates almost got Dylan recently.  Luckily, Alec and Max were in the area and got to Dylan in time.  Anyway, White is a member of this selective breeding cult that’s got the biggest world-domination complex that I’ve ever seen.  I would say that they’re blowing it out their collective ass, but they really do number at least in the hundred thousands, possibly even millions.  Luckily for the transgenics and I guess you humans, they’re scattered all over the world, though mostly in North America, Europe, and northern Africa.  They’ve got a plan to spread this virus through the world that would kill off any non-breeding cult humans.  Transgenics, though, have at least some immunity to this virus, and might get a little sick, but will fight it off.  Some are physically strong, some have psychic abilities, though not quite like Sam’s.  I mean, unlike Sam and company, if your friend Andy was to work his Obi-Wan magic on the members of the cult that have psychic abilities, they’d be crawling on the floor and acting like infants, know what I mean?”

“I do,” Sam said, trying not to smile at the mental image of White crawling around and cooing.  His expression sobered.  “You said that Logan Cale’s going to be in Novelty tomorrow.  I guess Alec will be there, too?”

“Yep,” Biggs told him.  “And so will Dylan.  They’ll be going with Cale to play bodyguard.  None of the transgenics like him all that much, especially Alec and Max, but he’s still got contacts that they need so they have to keep him around, or at least alive and not in enemy hands.”

“Why don’t they like him too much?” Dean asked.  “I guess they think along the same lines that you do about him.”

“That, and the little fact that Logan used to be madly in love with Max, or so he claimed,” Biggs said.  “To make a long-ass story a whole lot shorter, Logan and Max were friends, were apparently ‘in love’…”  Biggs made quotation marks with his fingers before he continued.  “…and after this retrovirus that Manticore created to keep them apart was finally cured, finally dated until a week or so ago when Max walked in on Logan cheating with an ordinary woman that we all thought was only a friend of his.  Oh yeah, and Alec has been head-over-heels in love with Max since they first met when she kicked him across her cell back at Manticore.  Again, that’s a long story.”

Sam nodded.  “So between Dylan and myself, we’ve potentially got a leg or two up on White in this scenario?”

“Possibly, yeah.”  Biggs got up, walked across the room, and perched himself over on the arm of the motel room’s armchair.  “Dylan’s no slouch.  I’ve got faith in him, and in Alec, too.  I think those guys can get the job done, especially…”  Biggs sighed and let his sentence trail off.

“Especially what?” Dean said suspiciously.  “What are you talking about, Biggs?”

Biggs paused for a moment, taking in the looks on the faces of both Winchesters, before shaking his head.  “Nothing.  There was a rescue mission a couple of days ago that didn’t go as well as it could have been and Dylan especially was a little freaked about it because the X5 that he’s sweet on was on the mission that went sideways, but he’s better now, thanks in large part to Alec.  I’m telling the truth, you guys, honest.”  I’m just leaving out one or two large details.

“Yeah…” Sam said slowly.

So much for putting off filling them in on certain nuggets of intel.  “Look, you guys, there’s more about Manticore that you should know.”

“Really?  Like what?” Dean queried.

“You both should sit down,” Biggs cautioned.  He waited for Sam to sit down next to Dean before he started talking again.  “It’s about…”

TBC