Family Bloodties (Macgyver/Supernatural)

Chapter Three

The first thing that registered in the young Phoenix agent's head was hushed voices around him. The second was that he was lying on a soft surface, which he deduced as a bed. The final thing was that his neck hurt horribly and more importantly. The pain he felt was beyond just an ache; it felt as if his neck had been ripped open and a scalding hot rod had been jammed into it.

Mac fought back a moan of pain and opened his eyes. His eyesight was blurry and he blinked rapidly to clear it. As his sight began to focus, he began to test his limbs. He was able to move so he wasn't paralyzed and he didn't have missing body parts so that was good.

The hushed voices stopped when he made a move to sit up and failed. He fell right back and let out an exasperated pain-filled breath. He became aware of a presence kneeling beside him and turned his head slowly to look at the person.

"How do you feel?" He asked. Mac stared at him for several moments before his eyes slid over the man in front of him to the short man standing in the corner of the room, a gun drawn and pointing at him.

"Who are you?" Mac countered hoarsely, looking back to the man kneeling beside him.

"I'm Sam Winchester and the rude guy over there is my brother Dean." The man -- Sam -- said trying to lighten the mood. "What's your name?"

"Mac." The blonde whispered. He was beginning to feel tired and he just really wanted to go to sleep. But he couldn't, he needed answers and he needed to figure out if these two were trouble. "It's really Angus MacGyver but everyone just calls me Mac."

Sam nodded and glanced at Dean, who was starting to look impatient. "Okay Mac, I'm going to ask you some questions and it's imperative that you be very honest with us. Dean's kind of trigger happy at the moment."

Mac glanced at Dean very briefly and and fear flickered across his face before disappearing and being replaced with a blank look. He looked Sam straight in his eyes and said, "I can't promise anything."

"How much do you remember from last night?"

Mac sighed. "Not much. I remember being at a rave with my friends, meeting this girl. . .Natalie, and we were going to go to her place but. . .someone was injured. I tried to help him but he attacked me."

"Why did you try to help him?" Dean demanded.

Mac frowned and looked at the both of them apprehensively. "It's what I do. It's my job, I--"

Sam noticed his hesitation and frowned, saying, "What?"

Mac shook his head, pushing himself to sit up. His body felt well enough to do so and he leaned back against the beds head-board. "It's classified. I'm not supposed to tell civilians what I do for a living."

"Did Natalie seem weird to you? Do you remember what the man did to you?"

"No. I-he bit me." Mac raised his hand to feel over the bandaged part of his neck only to feel liquid at his fingertips. Staring at his hand, all he could see was red and when he blinked the blood was gone.

"Who's John?"

Mac's blood ran cold and he paled almost immediately at the mention of the name. It was crazy hard for him to even think about the man, it's been fifteen years since the last time he saw the man and it was still an open wound. And how did they know about him? Realization dawned on him as he realized that they must have gone through his phone or did research on him. Sam seemed to take notice of his discomfort and started to speak.

"You don't have to tell us if--"

"My father." Mac told him. He glanced around the room, realizing that this was a motel room and pointed toward his wallet. They handed it to him and as he pulled a picture out of it he said, "I haven't seen him in fifteen years."

Mac stared at the picture of his father in his hand before handing it over to Sam. The man took one look at the photo and gasped, his eyes widening. Dean, obviously curious about what caused his brother to react like that, moved closer and peered over Sam's shoulder.

Mac watched them as they slowly looked up at him, their expressions mirroring one anothers: shock, confusion and revelation showing clear on their faces. Mac blinked, confused by their reactions.

"This is your father?" Dean questioned.

"Yeah. Not that it really matters sonce he left me and my mom on our own fifteen years ago." Mac spoke. "I've been trying to find him for the past year, but none of the leads I've had even adds up."

"Mac," Sam spoke quietly. "This man, John, he's our father too. John Winchester is his real name. Not John MacGyver."

Mac's mouth dropped open in shock and he stared at the faces of the two men in front of him. If this was true. . .then that would mean Sam and Dean were his brothers. He found himself unable to look away from them, now that he knew they were brothers. And the more he stared at them, he could see the resemblance between himself and Sam.

"How old were you when dad- John -left?" Dean asked, putting his gun away. He was watching his reaction and on ready to help if he needed.

Mac sighed, closing his eyes. "I was nine."

Sam looked at Dean, a look of realization crossing his features. "That was right around the time dad came back from whatever nine-year vacation he was on."

"I was seventeen at the time and you were only fourteen." Dean stated. Turning to look at Mac, he added, "You're our little brother. This is what dad meant before he died. He told me to 'protect him' but I thought he was talking about Sammy. Except he wasn't . . .dad was talking about you."

Mac's mind froze on the word 'died' and he sucked in a sharp breath. Even though he knew what he meant, he still couldn't stop himself from asking. "D-Died? He's dead?"

Dean's face morphed into one of guilt and he looked ashamed. He glanced at Sam for help but he was staring at the floor. Dean turned back to Mac, his newfound brother and sighed. "It's a long, complicated and unbelievable story. One that after we tell you, you'll probably think we're crazy."

Mac stared at Sam and Dean, frowning. He wanted to know the truth, he wanted to know everything but he wasn't sure if he could handle it. However, if knowing everything would help understand what the hell happened last night, then he'd take it.

"Tell me."

Dean, surprised shot a look at Sam who shrugged and nodded. "Well first what you saw and experienced last night . . ."