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Artwork courtesy of Valjean & |
By Valjean
ARCHIVE: No
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Artwork courtesy of Valjean & |
*****
“Where’ve you been?” Dean asked as Sam came into the motel room they were sharing and tossed his canvas jacket over the back of a chair.
“Library,” Sam said simply.
“We haven’t even reached Reno and you’re already investigatin’ our ghost?” Dean said. He gave a thumb’s up. “Now that’s dedication. Dad would be proud.” It would have been a compliment if it weren’t for the snide smirk accompanying the words and gesture. No matter how hard he tried, Sam knew he could never even begin to reach the level of admiration Dean had for their father -- a man who, in his older brother’s eyes, could pretty much do no wrong.
“Not investigating,” Sam replied quietly. “I was lookin’ at that DVD I got in the mail.” He glanced up at his brother, meeting his eyes. “It wasn’t an AOL disc like you thought.”
“What was it then?” Dean asked easily, picking up the bag of peanut M&Ms from the night stand and popping a candy into his mouth.
“It was video surveillance footage of a murder.”
Dean stopped chewing. “A murder? Who’s?”
“Guy named Martin Brentwell. Ring a bell?”
“No. Should it?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Sam, what are you talkin’ about?”
Sam sniffed loudly and turned away. “I thought we could trust one another.”
“We can. Sam, if you’ve got somethin’ to say, spit it out.”
“Tell me about Brentwell, Dean. Why’d you kill him?”
Hazel-green eyes widened. “Kill him? I don’t even know who the dude is!”
Sam shook his head sadly. “Sometimes I forget what an expert liar you are.”
“I’m not lying,” his brother protested, dark blond eyebrows drawing down. “What’s on that DVD? And who the hell sent it to you?”
“I don’t know who sent it,” Sam admitted. He turned around at last, and his eyes collided with Dean’s. “But there’s a police file as well as the surveillance footage. Seven years ago a man named Martin Brentwell had his throat slit in a New York City parking lot. The entire crime was recorded on a traffic surveillance camera. There was DNA evidence recovered at the crime scene as well.”
Dean was staring at him.
“It’s you on that tape, bro. And the DNA samples match yours too, at least according to the photo copies of the police reports they included. X5-494’s genetic material is in the CIA’s data base, in case you didn’t know. Not to mention the police record you have back in Seattle where you were arrested a few years ago for yet another man’s murder -- Timothy Ryan. Any of this soundin’ familiar yet?”
“Seven years ago,” Dean repeated. He swallowed hard before adding quietly, “Let me see the footage. Then you and I need to have a little talk.” He held out his hand as Sam opened his mouth to say something scathing. “There’s an explanation. But it’s gonna be hard for you to understand or believe. Just ... gimme a chance. And if we need to we can call Max. She’ll back me up on what I’m gonna tell you. Lydecker too.”
“You mean it’s a Manticore thing?” Sam asked, his voice flat.
“Oh yeah,” Dean said. “In spades.”
*****
“Lemme guess,” Dean said as Sam was putting the DVD into the drive of the laptop computer. “The victims in those reports had all of their teeth yanked out, right?”
Sam was looking angry, as well as wary. He grinned humorlessly. “And you still say you weren’t involved with these murders?”
“Not directly, no,” Dean replied as the disc spun up. “But I never said I didn’t know somethin’ about the crimes.”
The footage was short, grainy, and brutal -- what looked like X5-494 cornering a terrified man in a poorly lit rain-slick parking lot, pinning him against a brick retaining wall, and slitting his throat with a large knife not unlike the one Dean sometimes carried when on the hunt. Blood sprayed everywhere ... black ... droplets spattering the X5, making him swipe it out of his eyes with the back of one hand. Although the tape was extremely dark, the attacker’s face was clear to see at several points thanks to a nearby street light, the planes of that handsome visage all the more terrifying because it boggled the mind to think that a young man of such beauty could commit such an atrocity.
“You haven’t changed much over the years,” Sam commented when the tape had finished.
Dean had a feeling his brother wasn’t referring to just his looks. However, he was busy reading through the police reports that had also so kindly been included on the incriminating DVD. “This happened in New York City seven years ago,” he said as he rechecked the date. He glanced up at Sam who was standing behind him. “I was locked up at Manticore back then.”
“So it was a mission,” Sam said with a shrug. “That still doesn’t excuse anything. Killing for your country is one thing, Dean. Maybe excusable if not understandable. But this is just plain premeditated murder. And worse, there doesn’t seem to have been a motive.”
“You wouldn’t know anything about a motive, even if there had been one,” Dean snapped. “I was an assassin, Sammy. Pure and simple. I was created to kill, and there was a time when I actually followed orders. Yeah, I admit it. It’s probably why I took to huntin’ so well. It’s in my blood. But I didn’t kill this guy or the other one. That’s not me on the tape.”
“Then who is it?” Sam asked. “A shapeshifter? A doppelganger. Maybe your evil twin?”
“As a matter of fact, it is my twin,” Dean said levelly. “X5-493. His name was ‘Ben’.”
“X5-493?” Sam said, his blue-green eyes growing wide. “You’re telling me you had a maternal twin back at Manticore? Another brother? Why didn’t Dad and I ever know about him?”
“Because I didn’t really know about him either,” Dean said. “And Lydecker sure as hell wouldn’t have been inclined to inform Dad that he had a second son. Bad enough he let John Winchester get his hands on one of his precious kids let alone have him tryin’ to make contact with another.” Dean freeze-framed the DVD on a picture of the attacker, then leaned back in the chair and crossed arms defensively in front of his chest. “Ben was in Max’s Unit back at Manticore. He escaped with her and the others when he was ten years old. But unlike my Maxie, he didn’t adapt very well to the outside. Instead, he slowly went nuts ... schizophrenic. He started to do the only thing he’d ever been taught to do ... the only thing that made him feel whole.” His eyes met Sam’s again. “He killed ... huntin’ guys down for sport then butcherin’ ‘em in this bizarre ritualistic way that he thought would somehow bring him salvation. He even tattooed his own bar code on the backs of his victims’ necks, like he wasn’t just killin’ them but was killin’ himself as well. It was truly weird shit ...” The X5 shivered slightly, his eyes darkening at the memory of what Max had told him the night he’d implored her to “Tell me about him ... tell me about Ben.”
“You’re talking about him in the past tense,” Sam said.
“Ben’s dead,” Dean replied quietly. “Been dead for goin’ on six years.”
“I’m sorry. That is ... if what you’re telling me is true.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Dean said. “He’s better off where he is now ... out of his misery and outta my life.”
“You never met this supposed twin of yours?”
“Only in a test tube. Manticore was pretty expert at splittin’ their precious X5 embryos. Guess I was the lucky one, gettin’ implanted in Mom while Ben went to some surrogate.”
“493,” Sam repeated. “He was first ... the older twin.”
“Yeah,” Dean said, still staring at that mirror-image face on the screen ... a face that all too easily really could have been his if life’s circumstances had been different. A small smile. “They got it right the second time.”
“So, Manticore let you be raised part-time in a normal household while they kept Ben ... our brother ... caged?”
“With Max,” Dean said. “He was supposedly the better of the two of us ... better soldier material. Only the most elite X5s were in Max’s Unit, which is why it jazzed Lydecker so bad when they escaped. But of course I paid for that, too.”
“Whatdaya mean?”
“After Ben escaped, Manticore rounded up all of the twins and--”
“All?”
“Oh, most of the X5s were twinned,” Dean said. He grinned slightly at a memory. “Max’s sister, 453, is named ‘Sam’ by the way. Cute, huh? Me havin’ a brother Sam and her havin’ a sister Sam? But that’s another story. Anyway, me and the other twins were considered at risk for so-called ‘aberrant behavior’ after the escape so we were put through hell and back in psy-ops ... tryin’ to make us more tractable.” He leaned back in the chair, arms behind his head. “In case you haven’t noticed, in my case it didn’t work. Then, of course, I was hauled back into psy-ops for observation after Ben-boy turned into a psycho-killer. They wanted to be sure it wasn’t genetic.” He regarded Sam steadily. “Don’t worry. I got a clean bill of psychiatric health. I’m not nuts.”
Sam was looking at him as if he wasn’t so sure, and the doubt in his baby brother’s eyes cut Dean to the quick. “You still don’t believe me,” he said, swallowing hard again.
“Dean ... What you’re telling me ... I know Manticore sounds like something out of science fiction ... what they did to you. But this-- Man, that’s you on that video. Maybe you don’t remember. Maybe it was a mission and they messed with your mind. Maybe--”
“It’s Ben,” Dean said harshly. “493. Not me. Do you really think I could kill someone in cold blood like that?”
“No,” Sam admitted. “You couldn’t ... Alec couldn’t ... but I think maybe X5-494 could. In fact, he did. He killed Simon Lehane and Rachel Berrisford and God knows how many other people.”
“Stop talkin’ about me in the third person,” Dean said tightly. “I’m not schizophrenic like Ben. I don’t have a split personality or alternate ones. Just because I’ve used different names in my life doesn’t mean I’m not me. I’ve always known who and what I am ... what I’ve done. I’m not programmed with hidden agendas and psychological triggers, and I’m sure as hell not nuts. Maybe I should be ...” Eyebrows went up. “Considerin’ what I’ve been through in my life. But I’m not.” He nodded to the flickering computer screen and that close up of what looked like his own face. “That’s not me, Sam. It’s him.”
“Right. It’s your ... evil twin.”
“Ben wasn’t evil,” Dean said. “He was broken. Manticore did that to him. I was lucky. I had you and Dad when I was growin’ up. I had structure and people around me to help me come to terms with what I am -- Lydecker even, in his own shit-evil way. I had a life ... people I could lie in bed at night and think about besides the handlers and the scientists and the pain and the guards with their machine guns trained on us all the time. I had you and Dad to look forward to almost every summer and holiday, even though I had to return to my cage after each visit and never tell you guys what was really goin’ on. Ben ... he was on his own and he just couldn't cope. It wasn’t his fault he turned out like he did.”
“Are you defending him, or yourself?” Sam asked calmly.
The question infuriated Dean. His little brother was humoring him.
“Look,” he said, with great effort keeping the anger out of his voice. If you want proof that I had a twin brother who was a homicidal maniac then -- like I said earlier -- you can ask Max. She’ll confirm everything I’ve told you.”
Sam seemed to be thinking about this for a moment -- as if realizing that to do so might put his own mind at ease, but would also mean he didn’t believe Dean -- a breach of faith between the two of them.
“You’ve got no proof?” he finally asked. “Yourself?”
“Not on me,” Dean said. “Why would I? I used to have a birth certificate showin’ I had a twin brother, but it was a fake. Lost the paperwork when the Freaks were corralled in Seattle.” He looked hard at Sam. “Who sent you that video anyway? I think that’s our real problem. Someone wanted to shake you up ... maybe separate us.”
“It was just in with the mail, address to ‘Samuel Winchester,’” Sam said, shrugging.
“Postmark?”
Sam pulled the envelope out of his backpack. “Seattle, Washington,” he said, eyebrows rising.
“And the plot thickens,” Dean replied with a cynical smile. “Obviously I’ve got enemies, right in with my own maybe.”
“You think it was Max?” Sam asked, his voice indicating how much he doubted that.
Dean silently stared at the monitor, then shook his head. “Not Max. She’d never do that to one of her own, and even though I’m a pain in the butt I’m still a brother ... her partner ...”
“Not to mention the father of her son,” Sam added. “Lydecker then? Who’d want to frame you, Dean? Drive a wedge between us? Make me doubt you?”
“I don’t know,” Dean said honestly. “And that kind of scares me. But I don’t see why ‘Deck would wanna piss me off. As things stand though, only he and Max know about Ben and also know our zip code.” He gazed off into the distance, out the motel window to the dark, rain spattered night, chewing on his lower lip.
“Someone else who has access to their information?” Sam ventured. “Someone who wants to hurt you without going toe-to-toe with an X5?”
“Someone who plays dirty?” Dean added. “Yeah, I can think of a certain person who fits that description -- Logan Cale. But I’ve got no proof, and until I do I’m not gonna make accusations. That’ll just make her mad.” He then looked hard at the younger man. “You still need proof though, don’t you, Sammy? That I’m not the homicidal Freak who slit an innocent man’s throat then yanked out all his teeth?”
Sam’s awkward silence was answer enough.
“Call her,” Dean said quietly, tossing his cell phone across the space between them to land in Sam’s lap, cat-eyes demanding that he obey. “Speed dial four.”
“What’s one, two, and three?” Sam asked with a little smile.
“Dad, you, and the 1-800 number for Bail Bonds are Us.”
Sam shook his head, the smile still in place, and pressed down on the button.
Dean remained silent, listening, while his brother and ex-girlfriend talked. The conversation didn’t take long. When he’d hung up the phone, Sam looked over at him with apologetic eyes. “I had to be sure,” the younger man said.
“I know.”
“You really think Cale would do this to you ... meddle in your life?”
“Who else could it have been?” Dean said, uncomfortable himself with the answer but not able to reach any other logical conclusion.
“Will this be the end of it?” Sam asked.
Dean shrugged. “Probably not. Old Eyes Only is a pretty nasty dude when he sets his sites on someone. Question is, is he just harassing me or does he mean business? Does he want me to simply stay away from Max and Brac, or does he want me gone on a permanent basis?”
“Dean, if he finds out where you are he could-- All he has to do is tip the government that there’s a rogue X5 and-- Dean, he’s a dangerous enemy to have. He’s got too many resources and a lot of pull with certain people in very high places.”
“I know,” Dean said quietly, his eyes once again on the night outside the motel window. “I know.”
THE END
