Part 2: Breaking Barriers

The cops hadn't been mulling about the shop for some time now, so Dean, Sam, and Sasha thought it was safe enough to go in and start asking their own questions. Bobby had gone ahead to the police station to con his way in as part of the DA's office; he wanted to talk to the supposed murderer personally.

There were still a good many people around the shop where the perpetrator had killed a woman over a pair of green heels, so it wasn't hard for Sam, Dean, and Sasha to blend in. While Sam went to see if he could get a look at the shop's surveillance tapes, Sasha and Dean split up to try talking to the clerks.

"So, I hear some pretty crazy stuff went down a little earlier. You working when it happened?" Dean asked, having eased his way from casual conversation to business with the pretty brunette working the front counter.

"Well…actually…" hazel eyes darted from side to side, and the girl leaned further over the counter towards Dean, whispering, "We're not supposed to talk about it."

While average in build, the girl was quite cute, and when she leaned her upper body onto the class counter, the fine curves of her cleavage made an even more prominent appearance, one Dean always appreciated. He knew the rules—don't get caught staring—but that didn't mean you couldn't find ways of looking anyway.

The reflections in the glass worked well enough.

"Must have been scary," Dean went on, leaning closer as well with heavy-lidded eyes and that interested half smile he used when he needed to coax what he wanted out of a reluctant target, "You, just trying to do your job—which you work so hard at—and then some crazy chick starts screaming over shoes."

There was the slightest blush creeping into the girl's cheeks. She batted her eyes a few times. "She didn't scream. In fact, she seemed…no, I really shouldn't say anything," the girl said suddenly, standing back up and crossing her arms over her chest in nervous fidgeting. So much for cleavage.

Dean was losing her. He had to think of something else.

But before he could say anything, mouth half open with less than half a thought at what he was going to say, a familiar voice interrupted.

"Hitting on the help again, honey?" There was way too much self-satisfaction in those words for Dean's liking.

Sasha slipped up behind Dean, hooking an arm around his waist and tugging him in tight against his side. Dean could have sworn he remembered that they had an understanding of some sort. Didn't they?

"Were you two talking about the whole murder thing? Crazy, right?" Sasha said, his eyes turning to the girl behind the counter who had since dropped her arms and was looking strangely more relaxed. Sasha sounded different too, though Dean couldn't quite figure out what it was. "Man, we were on our way here when we heard. Almost turned right around, ya know? But I hate to be bullied out of something, not when my sister said this place had such cute stuff. Right, Dean?"

"Uhhh…"

"So…you two…?" the girl's smile had changed slightly as she looked between Sasha and Dean. It looked somehow mischievous and Dean felt a strange sense of being violated. What was going on?

"Uh, we're not…" Dean tried to say, also trying to push Sasha away from him. Damn, that incubus strength.

Sasha just continued on, ignoring Dean, and rattling off like one of those airheads from 'Sex and the City'. "Personally, I think my baby looks better in Manolos, but I wouldn't say no to a pair of green pumps. That's the shoes they fought over, right? Man, even I wouldn't kill for something like that, and I've been known to get pretty vicious during a sale. Embarrasses the hell out of my Dean here."

My Dean? And what the fuck were Manolos?

Whatever amount of crazy was happening around Dean right now, which pretty much had him tongue-tied and stiff as stone in Sasha's grip, it was I-just-overdosed-on-deep-fried-crack kind of crazy.

What made it worse was that the girl behind the counter started leaning forward again, inhibitions somehow banished, and started telling them everything Dean had failed to coax out of her himself.

"Well, I didn't see the whole murder part myself, but when they were in here…"

She went on to explain that the woman who did the attacking was a regular, the nice kind of customer who made small talk and actually bought that extra pair of shoes in the window just because the nice clerk said they would look good on her. The two women hadn't fought at all in the store. In fact they had barely even talked to each other. Minutes later, however, the clerks heard screaming from outside and the woman who had bought the green heels was face first into someone's windshield. Dead.

Sasha thanked the girl for telling them about what had happened, made some comment about how they had to go meet up with Dean's little brother—which at least wasn't a lie—and happily pulled Dean along after him as he went towards the back of the store to find Sam.

By the time they passed the dressing rooms, Dean's brain had remembered how to work. He pushed Sasha away from him and gave his friend a look that clearly said, "Dude, what the hell?"

"What?" Sasha shrugged, as if he couldn't think of anything wrong with what he had done. "You were flirting with her."

Duh. "So? It's kind of what I do, if ya hadn't noticed."

Sasha leaned back against one of the dressing mirrors, part of his red hair doubled behind him like someone had colored out of the lines with a Crayola classic red crayon. "Dean," Sasha said, his voice returned to its usual state, but also carrying something that sounded suspiciously like superiority, "That isn't always the best way to get information out of a pretty girl."

"Hn. Always worked for me…" Dean grumbled.

A chuckle left Sasha at that, but he shook his head. "I'm telling you, Dean, sometimes girls don't want to get hit on. Sometimes they would rather think they are the last thing on your mind. Makes them feel safer. Like they have nothing to fear. And nothing to lose. In fact, I've gotten more propositions by acting practically uninterested in girls than I ever have by flirting directly."

"Yeah? And how's your luck when pretending you have a frickin' boyfriend?" Dean snapped. He wasn't stupid. It may have taken him a moment to catch up, but he knew now that the cute girl at the front counter thought Dean's real reason for being in the store was to shop. For himself. For the kind of clothes he usually enjoyed taking off. Of women!

And Sasha just had to look all calm and casual about it all. "Worked, didn't it?" he said, grinning easily. There was no challenge in the expression, just Sasha's usual charm. He pushed away from the wall then and gave Dean a slightly sheepish look that would have almost seemed fake if Dean hadn't learned to read Sasha too well to ever be fooled. "Sorry. Really. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I don't mean to send any mixed signals here."

"Heh. Right," Dean laughed, albeit a little bitterly, "Your signals are never mixed. Just obvious and more obvious."

But because Sasha was smiling, and his regret was at least mostly real, Dean knew he couldn't stay mad. They had gotten what they wanted, even if it didn't lead them any closer to discovering what was going on. And it wasn't as if Dean wanted Sasha to change his nature for him. Sasha would always be Sasha. He was an incubus.

And really, Dean knew he wouldn't want it to be otherwise.

"Hey, I think I got something," came the sudden arrival of Sam, appearing from a back door near where Sasha and Dean were standing, "Any word from Bobby?"

On cue, the James Bond version of Bobby Singer came walking towards the group from out of the racks of women's dresses. He looked slick as ever—hair neatly done, suit and tie perfectly put together and falling about him as if tailored. It was not the Bobby any of them were used to.

Sasha gave a long whistle, and Bobby, enjoying such a rare moment of getting to look well-groomed, brushed a hand through his hair and came to stand beside Sasha in front of the mirror. Pretending to be part of the DA's office had its perks.

As always, it was only too easy to get all of them into the back room of the store, permission happily granted to let the detectives—or special agents, federal marshals, bikini inspectors, or whatever con they were pulling this time—watch the surveillance tapes uninterrupted.

Bobby had discovered that the woman who did the attacking was not possessed. He even spilled a little holy water on her to be certain. She just really wanted those shoes.

So now the group was looking for a catalyst. Someone else, or some other sign that a demon was at fault for the strange behavior. There was clear footage of a man going up to the woman who had later done the attacking and speaking with her just before it all went down. His hand touched her shoulder lightly as he spoke, though of course there was no audio for them to hear what was being said. He even gestured towards the woman with the green shoes who would later regret ever buying them.

"What do you think?" Sam said, pausing the tape on a shot that showed the man's face more clearly. He was thin, average height, with darker hair and a closely groomed beard.

"I think we got some digging to do," Dean replied, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair he had been sitting in to pull it back on. The others quickly followed suit.

A day's worth of investigating got them everything they needed to track the man down. Word was that he frequented a bar on the edge of town almost every night. It was a given that the hunters would set up shop outside the bar to stake the place out, but they had decided to take Bobby's car to be less conspicuous, much to Dean's chagrin, of course. While Bobby and Sam sat up front, Dean got in the back seat with Sasha.

It wasn't long before they saw the very man they were looking for heading into the bar. They had discovered that a man meeting his description had gone missing from his hometown right around the time the Devil's Gate opened. If that wasn't suspicious enough, his connection to the shoe killing certainly was.

Dean's first suggestion was that they head on in there and take care of the guy while they had the chance, but Bobby shot the idea down. They needed to be careful. They didn't know what was in that bar. Barging in would be the stupidest thing they could possibly do right now. Instead, they would wait. Eventually, the man would come out again, and they could follow him from there.

It wasn't glamorous or exciting, but it was smart.

An hour passed. Two. Dean could feel his eyes growing heavy and it wasn't even all that late. He knew it was because of being in the back seat. Dean was never in the back seat of cars, unless he was making-out, being carted around by police, or sleeping. The conditioned response of 'sleep' was what had hold of Dean now, and before he could help it, his head started lolling to the side.

Stakeouts were always boring. Two sets of eyes were usually enough to watch any given place, but the group of four wanted to be together on this whenever they could be, just in case they came upon any confrontations. It left Dean and Sasha in the back, silent so as not to disturb the atmosphere of watchfulness, and with nothing to do but doze.

As soon as Dean's head hit Sasha's shoulder, he knew he was done for. He almost let himself stay right there—Sasha's side wasn't all that uncomfortable really—but when realization dawned on him Dean felt a surge of both panic and shame. Their understanding had to work both ways, and Dean sleeping against Sasha's side, even if meant innocently, was just plain mean.

Dean lifted his head from Sasha's shoulder and blinked down at his watch. Somehow another hour had passed while he rested his eyes and body. So much for not being mean. He looked up at Sasha, meaning to offer some sort of apology for letting himself fall against him like that, but Sasha's eyes were serenely closed. He probably hadn't even noticed Dean since he was sleeping too.

A little smile cracked from the side of Dean's mouth. He would never admit it, but whenever he caught Sam sleeping like that, he would allow himself a few moments to enjoy the peace he found on his brother's face. He enjoyed watching Sam rest instead of always having to see him fight. Of course, a few moments after that, Dean would be making quick work of a black magic marker, but he had a reputation to keep. And after all, they were still brothers.

It was different watching Sasha. Dean still liked the peaceful look, knowing Sasha had been living the same hunter life as Dean for many years, only Sasha had always been on his own. Sure, the guy drove Dean crazy. But time and time again Dean just dismissed it. Why? They were friends, and Dean liked being friends, but Sasha had all but said straight out that he would rather have more. Dean didn't know what to think of that. What was more to an incubus? Sasha said he didn't want to just feed on Dean. Okay. So no one-night stands. But then…what? Did Sasha want them to date?

Dean almost snorted. He tried to imagine what his Dad would say to that if he were still alive. Hey, Dad, I'd like you to meet my new boyfriend. He's an incubus. Somehow Dean doubted an ex-Marine and first class hunter would take either half of that well.

But all that aside, Dean had to remind himself that right now Sasha wanted the same things he wanted—to be friends only and to forget all that mess of their…kiss, and whatever else. Sasha was willing to do that—stunts in the shop earlier aside—so why did Dean have to keep thinking about it?

Dean's mind had officially wandered, and he jumped back to himself abruptly, finding that he was still fairly close to Sasha, looking over at the incubus' face. Whose eyes, incidentally, were no longer closed.

The first thought Dean had was to grin and offer some smartass remark, but any of his usual barbs fell from his tongue. Sasha wasn't smiling. His face was barely readable. The only thing Dean could be certain of was that Sasha looked just as peaceful as he had while asleep, if a little…sad.

"There!" came a harsh, fast whisper from the front seat.

Dean practically jumped, his eyes torn from Sasha's, and he realized that his heart was beating a little too fast.

Now was not the time for this. They had to focus.

"What's up?" Dean said, leaning up between the front seats.

Sasha's voice filtered up from behind him, sounding perfectly normal and composed, of course. "He finally leaving?"

Bobby's head gave a nod towards the front door of the bar, where there was not one man, but four. Their suspect was among them and they seemed to all be talking excitedly about something. Dean and the others watched closely, keeping their heads low. A few minutes later, another man came out of the bar, this one quite overweight and slow moving. And finally, two women followed behind that, one blonde and one brunette. Once all seven people were outside the door, mulling there around the front of the bar, they all suddenly turned.

To stare right at Bobby's car.

Shit.

Bobby had the car shifted out of PARK a second later, immediately taking a high speed reverse out of the parking lot. Even from their current distance as the group of people started towards them, and even in the dark, it was only too easy to see their black eyes, blotting out every bit of humanity from irises to the whites. Demons.

The group was wheeled around moments later, racing down the road to escape. At first it seemed that the demons were following them, but they were soon left behind in the dust.

"You see that number?" Bobby asked after they had peeled off more deeply into the city, his voice wild and his hands gripping the steering wheel tight.

"Yeah, that's one shitload of demons," Dean agreed. He had never seen so many together in one place like that, even though he knew there were hundreds out in the world now.

"Seven," Bobby said, his voice quieter now but still wild as he lifted the bill of his baseball hat and wiped his brow, "There were seven."

"No way," said Sasha from beside Dean, leaning forward towards the back of Bobby in the driver's seat, "Can't be…"

"It was proven they're not just myth or Christian ideals of evil," said Bobby, "They're devils, real as any demon."

Sasha shook his head, running one of his own hands hard through red locks. "This is bad."

"What's bad?" Dean pressed, having had about enough of 'guess our crisis', "What's going on?"

Sam didn't add anything, but he turned to Bobby with clear concern as the brothers both waited for some kind of response.

Bobby wiped at his brow again before speaking.

"The seven deadly sins," the elder hunter said finally, "live and in the flesh."

Since leaving the parking lot, Dean's hands had remained gripping the sides of Sam's seat in front of him. Now, Sam looked back at Dean and the brothers just stared.

The seven deadly sins were real live demons? Dean had to say it.

"Well…shit."

They got back to the motel without any sign of demons on their tail, but none of the hunters felt relieved. This particular hunt had just gotten six times more serious than they were counting on.

"I can't believe the seven deadly sins are real," Sam was saying, shaking his head as he sat hunched forward on the edge of one of the beds in their room.

"It's like hunting a frickin' celebrity," Dean added, to which he received one laugh and two very skeptical sets of eyes. At least Sasha was on his side.

"It makes sense," Sam went on, deciding to ignore Dean's comment, "That house…had to be Sloth. I'm sure he loves the new edge TV gives him."

"And the shoe thing has to be Envy then," Sasha added. He was sitting on the same bed as Sam, while Dean sat on the other one, and Bobby kept lookout by the window, "This really is bad. How can we take down seven ancient demons, with powers we don't even know the extent of, when they know we're here?"

"More the question," said Sam, "How we gonna track them?"

Ha. Dean was more worried about the sins tracking them.

Bobby seemed to be thinking along those same lines, because he parted the drapes one more time to peer out, gave a good snort, and then turned back to his younger companions.

"I doubt we'll have to worry about that. The important thing is to keep them separate. The last thing we need is to have the lot of them ganging up on us. Now, I can't be sure, but I get the feeling they know exactly who we are and why we're here. Hell, they could be hunting us right now."

Dean squirmed in his seat. He frickin' hated demons. "That's comforting," he grumbled.

"So," Bobby pressed on, leaning back against the window now, though his eyes were consistently darting back to look outside, "We need to make the next move, if we can. Chasing after them now or heading back to the bar would just get us killed. I vote we stay in tonight, all in this one room with a lookout at all times. If they don't find us first, then tomorrow…we'll see if we can find out who owns that bar."

It wasn't the most reassuring of plans, but it was the safest and smartest they could come up with right now. To be honest, Dean didn't know if he would prefer the demons just came right now and started something, or if they managed to see the light of tomorrow only to face the demons somewhere else. Neither option sounded good if it really came down to seven against four.

They took hour shifts starting with Bobby, knowing they would need as much sleep as they could get. Dean went second. He was barely halfway into his turn, his eyes heavy as he stared at the still streets and mostly empty lot outside, when he glanced over at the cot and noticed Sasha was awake.

Sasha smiled and gave a shrug. "Can't sleep," he mouthed, not wanting to disturb Bobby and Sam in the two beds. He rose then, only half dressed but still wearing his jeans that like all of his pants hung low so that his tattoo displayed proudly. "Want some company?" he said once he had made his way over to Dean by the window.

Dean Winchester may not be afraid of the dark, but he was certainly not going to dismiss willing company while having to stay up in it.

There was a chair pulled up to the window so whoever was up had a place to sit while watching, and Dean was slumped pretty heavily in it. Sasha grabbed another chair from the little motel table, and set it down beside Dean so they could pass the time.

For a few minutes, they just sat there, silent. Sasha didn't ask any questions or make any small talk, and Dean didn't feel any need to fill that quiet, not like he usually did. He actually found himself enjoying the company for company's sake. It was a rare thing. So rare that Dean felt he better break the silence soon or risk turning too much into his brother.

Sasha must have sensed Dean's turmoil, like he did so often, because before Dean could say anything, Sasha spoke first.

"I keep meaning to ask," he said, his voice kept low but not quite a whisper, "Your necklace. I never see you without it. Must be special, huh?"

Dean stared down at the pendant resting on his chest. He was still in his jeans and T-shirt, a navy one that looked black in the dark. His necklace, glittering with its fake gold against the dark contrast of his shirt, was indeed something he never took off. Only when he showered, and even then it made him feel so much more naked that he wondered if he'd feel better peeling off his skin instead.

No, it wasn't anything special, not by most people's standards anyway. It was a face, maybe a mask, real tribal looking, like maybe it had been found in some Incan ruin. But Dean doubted that. His necklace had come from a pawn shop, he was almost certain. But if it did, that meant its true origin could be pretty much anywhere.

Grabbing onto it, Dean hooked the necklace with his thumb and pointer finger. "Ah, it's just something Sammy gave me one Christmas," he said, like it wasn't as big of a deal as it really had been for them at the time, "He was supposed to give it to Dad, but…" Dean closed his eyes, remembering how angry and scared Sam had been that night, "But…I was there. I was there and Dad wasn't, even though it was Christmas, and things were so messed up. Sammy was…eight? I don't know, maybe younger. That was the night I…told him what was really going on. I'm not even five years older, ya know, we were both just kids. And I had to tell him…there really is a boogie man." Dean opened his eyes, letting a smile grow, but like many of Sasha's, it wasn't really real.

"I'm sure it was all very different for you than it was for me," Sasha said, smiling back at Dean in the dark as they both leaned against the window and passed occasional glances outside, "I couldn't start hunting for real until after the change. I was sixteen when I went out for the first time. You've been doing this since before you were double digits. It's a different life."

Maybe, Dean thought, but after so many years, all things came back to zero, and all hunters ended up the same. "It was rough," he admitted, "but Dad was just trying to protect us, prepare us for the war he knew was coming. And hey, here we are, right? I'm sure glad I know the things I know. I don't want to think what it would be like to be a civilian in this mess."

Sasha nodded, and his back gave a curved stretch, proving how tired he was despite not being able to sleep.

Dean wasn't sure exactly how it all started after that. He couldn't remember if Sasha asked him another question, or if he just started talking on his own, but by the time Dean's turn as lookout was almost up, Sasha knew all about what it was like growing up as Dean Winchester.

"That was probably one of the hardest things I remember going through, harder than any hunt," Dean was saying, having gotten passed Dean, the early years, and moved on to the time when Sam was ready to head to Stanford, "I mean, I was so proud. Dad was too, he was, even if he couldn't say it. But selfish or not, neither of us wanted him to go. Felt like he was…"

"Abandoning you?"

Dean sighed. He was not looking for a therapy session, but he sure did like having someone listen who wasn't his brother. "Just leaving," he said, "I never like…anyone leaving. This job's one thing, but this job alone…" Dean caught himself then, but it was already too late. He'd said it. Shit.

Glancing over at his friend, he saw the sad smile on Sasha's face, the incubus' eyes turned to the shag carpet just as they had been when he told Dean he wouldn't press for anything anymore.

"Hey…I didn't…mean…"

"Yes, you did," Sasha said, his voice a whisper now. He looked back up at Dean and his blue eyes glowed in the shadows, making him look inhuman in a way Dean didn't mind at all. "You always had someone, Dean. First your dad and Sam, then at least your dad when Sam left, and now…you still have Sam, and Bobby and others when you need them. Me…I've always only been me. And now…when I think about going back…it really scares me. I don't like anyone leaving either."

And there was the regret, the remorse, that horrible weight that Dean had started to forget about again, but couldn't escape. His deal. In less than a year Dean would be just another person who leaves, and Sasha didn't even know.

Now was not the time to tell him. Neither Sam nor Dean had thought to bring it up during the first hunt, because they figured it was a one time thing. Sasha had fixed himself to the group though, and they were glad for it, but it made Dean feel like such an ass. Now there was one more person he was leaving. He tried to tell himself that it was also one more person to keep an eye on Sam after he had gone, but that thought wasn't as comforting as Dean hoped it would be.

Thinking quickly, Dean jumped on the first distraction he could come up with. "Hey, you always had your aunt though, right? You weren't completely alone. And she's not about to abandon you even if those elders of yours are idiots."

Sasha laughed a little, maybe with a touch of sadness at being reminded of being banished, but he nodded before saying, "Yeah…she's been great, I can't deny it. But the last person I would ever want on a hunt. Although…" Sasha's smile grew, and it was at least mostly real now, "I guess she was really good about getting all my dad's stuff before, I don't know, any other hunters or who knows what that she thought would try to take it. So I did have all my dad's notes, his equipment, even his old guitars right from the start. Sometimes it felt like he was with me for real, leading me along, ya know? Sure, I mostly taught myself how to hunt, caught up with a few hunters like Ellen and Bobby who knew my dad before, but…I guess I can't say I have too many complaints considering where I've ended up." Blue eyes batted long lashes at Dean but then quickly turned away. Sasha was holding up his end of their understanding, hard as it seemed.

And again, it made Dean feel like the biggest ass in the world. It wasn't pity, but whatever the feeling was, it sunk Dean's heart a little lower into the pit of his stomach. "So…" Dean tried, hoping for distraction again, "Did you say guitars? What sort of guitars your dad have?" Music. It was one of Dean's elements. And though he couldn't really play himself, he loved a good guitar riff.

Sasha was smiling real again, and Dean knew he had steered the conversation right this time. "Couple acoustics and a fender," Sasha said, "Nice too."

"Sweet," Dean had listened to the tunes of some pretty hot fenders in his day, "Yeah, you know…our dad used to play too," Dean said, surprising himself a little actually, since he hadn't thought about that in such a long time, "When we were real little, when Sammy was still a baby, he loved that old guitar. You play?"

Sasha gave one of his almost mockingly modest shrugs and said, "I don't suck. Better at singing. You sing? Besides humming to metal, I mean."

Now there was a laughable thought. Though if Dean really thought about it, he wasn't all that bad of a singer, it just wasn't something he usually did. "I guess I'm okay," he decided on saying, but then a smirk caught the edge of his mouth and he just had to add, "Sammy, on the other hand…tone deaf as a mute cow."

A louder than he had yet allowed laugh escaped Sasha before he could help it. They both glanced into the room and saw Bobby stir. He didn't wake though, and Sam hadn't even twitched.

That kid could sleep through anything, as long as there wasn't any real threat. How his subconscious knew the difference was anyone's best guess.

"Anyway," Sasha said, whispering again, "Singing gets the bills paid once in a while."

Bills paid? "What do you mean?" Dean asked.

Those little creases in Sasha's forehead that appeared whenever he was confused about something, creases Dean had seen up close and personal plenty of times now, came back for another encore, "You gotta have some way you guys make quick cash, besides credit card scams," he said.

"Sure," Dean admitted, "We'll play some cards or hussle a little pool now and again."

Sasha nodded as if that sounded exactly like what he had been thinking. "Well," he said, "I hate poker and black jack, and I pretty much suck at pool. If I pass a bar or some place needing a night's entertainment though, I'll play and sing a little. Usually, I'd have one of those guitars with me. But…one of the acoustics' got smashed a few hunts back. Haven't had the heart to pick up one of the other ones."

Hmm. Dean supposed that all made sense. There was certainly something of a showman in Sasha's charm, if he thought about it. "Your aunt keep all your stuff?" he asked. Everything Sam and Dean needed or owned was kept in the Impala's trunk, but Sasha only had his bags.

"Not anymore," came the reply, "I keep a few storage places for extra ammo and weapons. There's one in Illinois where I keep most of Dad's old non-hunter stuff. Easier to travel light."

"When you don't have a sweet ride," Dean added.

He never missed a chance to talk up his baby, and Sasha had already expressed numerous times how much he enjoyed the car too. It was one of the final things Dean needed to know about Sasha to prove to himself that even as an incubus, the guy couldn't be all bad if he had good taste in cars.

A yawn broke free from Dean before he could say anything else. He glanced down at his watch and saw that he still had a few minutes before Sasha was supposed to take over his shift.

Dean shook his head to ignore the yawn, but the skin of Sasha's forearm brushed his own as the incubus said, "I got ya covered."

"I got some time yet," Dean dismissed.

"Don't sweat it. I'm up anyway."

That was certainly true. Dean gave a shrug then and stood up, stretching his arms above his head before offering a smile down to his companion. "Not gonna argue then," he said, and he took off towards the open cot, all the while praying he could actually find something close to sleep amongst his thoughts.

Dean was curled up, his shirt tossed somewhere into the mess of the room's floor, when he stole one last glance at Sasha sitting now in the chair Dean had vacated. Sasha was doing his job, staring out at the night, and looking still and solid as anything, as if nothing could move him. It was a kind of easy strength that Dean admired, and it had nothing to do with the real physical strength Sasha had. It was the kind of quiet strength that always made Dean think of his dad. The kind he never thought he had enough of himself.

Somehow, it made Dean feel safe, seeing Sasha like that. He knew now that they could do this. They could be friends. And it was that thought that followed Dean into dreaming, content with what he had even when so much of everything in his life was always so messed up.

tbc...

A/N: I hope you like how 3:1 is changing, which as you can see means mostly leaving all those annoying people OUT. You will see no sign of Ruby either. She was the biggest kill-joy of the episode in my opinion. But here it begins in my version. Tell me what you think. I'm really excited for giving you guys a very different fight than the episode did. Thanks for sticking with me.

Crim