Part 5: Want and Desire

Dean splashed another wave of cold water onto his face. He felt feverish. Hot. It was driving him crazy. His hands were shaking, and the longer he stayed close to Sasha the worse it seemed to get. Dean decided his body had declared some kind of mutiny against him because it was not listening to him at all.

He did not want Sasha. He did not want Sasha. He did not. Want. Sasha.

If only the pheromones would agree with him.

Looking up at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, Dean had to grimace. Chances are he would look just as bad even without the toll the pheromones were taking on him, considering he had had no sleep the night before, fought off seven demons earlier, and then had a large as life incubus attack him. Still, Dean could do without the bags under his eyes. He pulled his sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and put them on. If Sam or Sasha wanted to comment then he knew just where to tell them to stuff it.

Dean left the bathroom feeling at least a little better. The water had helped clear his head and he felt fairly certain he could handle the pheromones until tomorrow when they would hopefully wear off.

And then their table came back into view.

Sasha and Sam were talking casually over the countertop. There was a crooked half-smile on Sasha's face that made Dean's knees lock and his breath catch somewhere at the back of his throat. Sasha. God, he was so fucking beautiful.

Arg! Dean almost screamed aloud he was so frustrated with himself. So much for clearing his head. It wasn't that he didn't believe in Sasha's genuine attractiveness. Dean could admit Sasha was attractive. Straight men recognized the attractiveness of other guys all the time, if for nothing else than to size up their competition.

So sure, Dean would only too happily admit Sasha's face was kind of pretty, and that he really did like the red hair. And yeah, Sasha had a significantly nicer body than the average guy, that was obvious enough, but that didn't…have to…mean…

Okay. This really wasn't helping.

Once Dean reached the table he decided it would be better to keep as much space between him and Sasha as possible, so he sat down next to Sam instead. This awarded him a couple curious glances. Their food hadn't arrived yet, nor had Bobby, so Dean chose to take his solace in another cup of coffee.

"What?" he said, when Sasha and Sam seemed unable to stop staring, "I'm looking out for both of our benefits here," he said then, glancing across the table at Sasha, who looked so heartbroken Dean almost switched seats immediately. Sasha attempted a smile though, dismissive, so that Dean was reminded that the real reason Sasha looked so down was because everything Dean did as a result of the pheromones reminded the incubus of what he had done. "Damn it," Dean growled, hating that the expression on Sasha's face was mostly because of him, "Did you two brood behind my back while I was gone, because I will kick both your asses if I have to."

"Dean…" Sam said in that exasperated tone of his, the one that wasn't really upset but had to sound that way so he didn't have to admit how much he enjoyed the attention.

Then Sasha broke in, his voice as soft and pitiable as it had been when Dean chewed them out earlier. "We're sorry, Dean, okay, but a lot happened this morning and we can't just…brush it off."

"I know a lot happened," Dean countered, "I'm the one most of that lot happened to. And look. I'm fine. Pheromone poisoning not withstanding," he had to add, since the haze the pheromones created in his brain had become familiar now, not that recognizing them did anything to stop what they did to him.

There was the slightest chuckle from Sam, and Dean had to restrain himself from reaching over and smacking his brother upside the head.

Wait. Dean didn't need to restrain himself with Sam, only Sasha, so he reached over anyway and smacked the back of his brother's head with the flat of his hand.

"Hey!"

"You started it."

But Sasha wasn't finding any of this funny, and he spoke again before either brother could retaliate further. "Look, I know you're right, Dean," he said, his tone turning sharp and serious, "I just…I don't think there's anything you can say right now to make me feel better about this."

Dean turned back to look at Sasha. Nothing he could say, huh. Of course there was. "Kitties," he said. How's that for something.

Immediately, a crack began to form in that perfect, stoic mask Sasha had created, and a moment later he was laughing before he could stop himself. "What?" he said, probably thinking Dean had completely lost his mind. Sam was chuckling a little too, but then he was used to this.

With an affirming nod Dean responded by offering a grin of his own. "Got you to smile," he said. Worked every time too.

Of course Sasha had no choice but to laugh harder, though he was still shaking his head at Dean as if the elder Winchester had assuredly crossed that line from quirky into crazy-land. Sasha didn't understand, but he had to admit that it did make him smile.

By way of explanation—since Dean wasn't offering any—Sam stilled his own chuckling long enough to lean over the table.

"Randomness. It's the heart of Dean's logic," Sam said, "He used to pull that on me all the time when we were kids."

"What kids?" Dean shot back, "I pulled that on you last month. Best idea I ever had."

"Yeah," Sam agreed with a barked laugh, "There's a shocker."

It was really quite amazing how often fratricide presented itself as an option for Dean Winchester. He would have to remember to hide Sam's conditioner later. That would drive the overgrown oak tree crazy. And hey, it might even help Dean distract himself from—

Okay, looking at Sasha had become the antichrist, because it was the very last thing Dean should have anything to do with. All the guy was doing was sitting there, leaning back, arms crossed, his face still lit up from laughing, and it just undid Dean completely. The incubus looked like perfectly normal Sasha. But today that was more than enough to make Dean entertain thoughts of pulling the redhead up onto the tabletop and taking him right there in the restaurant.

Carefully, Dean slid his fork from its rolled napkin prison and brought it down to his lap beneath the table. He wrapped his right hand around the tongs and squeezed. It wasn't a permanent solution, but it did the trick.

Just as the waitress was bringing their food over, Bobby came through the door with a clang of the bell. They waved at him and he soon joined them at the table, taking the seat Dean had vacated next to Sasha that soon had the plate of pancakes and eggs they had ordered in preparation for his arrival.

Finally, some real distraction. Food. Bobby. The whole explaining part where they filled Bobby in on what he had missed, conveniently leaving out the whole Sasha going rogue incubus on them thing, of course. Bobby still didn't know Sasha was an incubus and they were not about to let that slip.

They had decided earlier that they would tell Bobby a very close version of the truth. Wrath was designated as the demon that had used his power on Sasha. That would help explain Dean's wounds if Bobby ever saw them. As for what Sam had done, they told Bobby all about it. He knew Sam had powers anyway so they trusted Bobby with the truth. He was as about as freaked as the rest of them by it, that was certain, but he also agreed that the best thing to do would be to hone those powers so they continued to be a help instead of a hindrance. He admitted that opinion reluctantly though—hunters always had a hard time accepting anything with abilities of the paranormal—but it was smarter than letting those powers go unchecked.

"I'm still clearing my head from what that girl did to me," Bobby grumbled into a forkful of eggs, "Under that spell, or whatever you wanna call it, I was so certain of what I was doing. I think about how easily they dooped me into leaving you boys and it just makes me sick. Also makes me glad you're around to keep on eye on those two," Bobby added, nudging Sasha beside him.

Sasha looked a little tense, like he always did around Bobby, but it was loosening significantly the more time they spent together. Dean always knew it would only be a matter of time, and he had to feel a little pleased when a mischievous smile played about Sasha's lips. "You sure you don't mean you're glad they're around to keep on eye on me, Bobby?"

Bobby took another bite of his pancakes and shrugged. "It's a start. Now if only I could get you to do something about that hair…" he said, shaking his head.

Now that was just too damn funny, ensuring both Winchesters almost bust a gut at the comment. Of course Bobby had to assume Sasha went to the trouble of dying his hair—normal people weren't born with crayola colored locks. The fact that it really was Sasha's natural color only made it funnier.

Bobby shook his head at Sam and Dean then, saying that they were just encouraging him and that being so conspicuous could get them in trouble. Besides, hair like that made it difficult to use a high ranking alias. The laughter continued regardless, and more importantly, Sasha was smiling real again.

After a few minutes the laughter died down and the group of tired and hungry hunters engrossed themselves in finishing breakfast. This also dulled Dean's distraction enough for him to focus his attention on Sasha again. He didn't mean for it to happen. All he had to do was look up and he got lost somewhere between the too blue eyes, that oh so impossible red hair, and the crack of a real smile that made Dean's whole world feel a bit better. The only thing about Sasha Dean didn't like was that the guy had such a strong crush on him. What with the pheromones, Dean didn't mind that so much anymore, which left absolutely nothing in Sasha but things to love.

Dean wondered what it would be like to nibble on one of those slightly pointy ears Sasha had when he was in his incubus form. A moment later he was stabbing his fork into his thigh, but it wasn't helping as much anymore.

"What's with you?" Bobby asked suddenly, giving Dean his scrutinizing stare, "You're kinda…twitchy. You okay?"

"Sure," Dean lied, avoiding all eye contact with Sasha, though he could feel those perfect blues all over him, "Just tired. Demon attack. Near death experience. Usual stuff, ya know. I'm just…antsy. Too much coffee." Dean accompanied that last part with another swig of his now third cup. He hoped it was helping keep his mind alert. At least a little.

Bobby continued to eye Dean for awhile and finally said, "Well will you stop kicking me? You keep stretching your legs out."

It was only then that Dean realized what he had been doing, much like that moment when he had looked down to find his hand on Sasha's upper thigh. Completely unconsciously, Dean had been trying to find Sasha's legs with his own. "Sorry," he managed, grabbing his coffee to down the rest of it. Maybe a fourth cup would finally do the trick, he thought, as he reached for the pot.

All Dean had to do was get through the day. He wasn't brainwashed. It was just pheromones. As long as he kept telling himself that, he believed he could beat them. They couldn't be that strong anyway; they were only suggestion. They probably wouldn't work at all if they didn't have a basis to grow from.

Wait…

There was a sudden clatter that made Bobby, Sam, and Sasha all turn to stare at Dean. The coffee pot had almost dropped from Dean's hand as realization struck him, and if he thought he was making an effort to avoid Sasha's eyes before, he doubled that effort now.

The rest of the day Dean did everything he could to keep Sasha off his mind. He refrained from looking in the rearview mirror while they drove, despite the fact that he knew Sasha's face would be only too visible if he glanced up. He stuck close to Sam the entire time they planned what they would do next—which really ended up being that they would stay in a new hotel and rest after their day of Hell. They got a single room for Bobby, a single for Sasha, and a double for Sam and himself. Dean didn't trust himself to be alone, and he definitely didn't trust himself to sleep anywhere near Sasha. If Bobby thought something was going on, he didn't say.

Once they were settled in and had decided to just keep to their rooms, despite Sasha hanging out in theirs and talking with Sam the whole time, Dean kept himself busy cleaning guns. It was a job that needed to be done and it gave Dean something to do with his hands. Something that wouldn't make him sick with embarrassment later. It also helped distract him from thinking too hard on that latent realization he had had in the restaurant. He only hoped Sasha and Sam hadn't thought that deeply into it. The last thing he wanted was for one of them to bring up the possibility that Dean had actual feelings for Sasha, especially since it…might be true. Dean doubted he could maintain control if that happened.

Every once in a while one of them would look over and ask if Dean was okay. Dean always replied the same. Eyes glued to whichever gun he was cleaning at the time, he would say, "I'm fine. Quit nagging," and whoever had asked would leave it at that. At one point Sasha mentioned that he would understand if Dean was having a tough time, since he didn't know much about how strong the pheromones were when he was frenzied, and maybe Dean was being much more heavily influenced. Dean was almost certain that was the case, regardless of any other possible truths behind the pheromones' effectiveness. Still, he simply shook his head. Talking about it would not make him feel better.

Naturally, that didn't stop Sam from forcing him to talk when Sasha finally left. "Dean, talk to me."

Oh how Dean hated that phrase. "I'm fine."

"Dean…"

"It's not a big deal, Sam."

"Dean, you always say it's not a big deal, especially when it is. What's going on?"

"What do you mean, what's going on?" Dean growled, throwing one of their pistols onto the bed since he was sick of looking at gunmetal and rags. He knew he was glaring but he didn't care. He looked right back at Sam, because at least with Sam he could meet gazes and not feel like jumping the person on the other end. "Pheromones, dude. Case closed. And I'm handling them."

Sam looked somehow skeptical, and Dean wasn't really sure what Sam didn't get about the situation until his brother spoke again. "I know, Dean, but…is it really…just the pheromones?"

Dean should have known Sam would come to the logical conclusion eventually. But "What do you mean?" was all he managed to say.

Slowly, Sam rose from the chair he had been sitting in and came over to sit next to Dean on the bed, sliding the remaining guns over to give him room. "It's just…it feels like maybe there's something going on here that you're not filling me in on. Something with Sasha."

Oh shit.

"Dean, you know you can tell me anything. If something's happened, if…you've realized anything."

Dear God, Sam was not saying this.

"If…well…anything. Because…I'm pretty sure I know what's going on, but I'd rather you actually told me yourself."

Oh sweet Jesus. Dean would have reached over and strangled Sam if he could get himself to move.

After a few moments, puppy eyes blinking over at Dean innocently, Sam realized Dean was nowhere near responding and gave a reluctant sigh. "I'm sorry, Dean. I feel horrible I didn't notice sooner. I should have known from the beginning and been more understanding about this."

Dean was in Hell. The year was somehow up and he was already there. He could feel the inevitable punch line coming. Sam was about to destroy every last drop of sanity Dean had managed to maintain during this mess with a single phrase.

And then he said it, "Sasha really likes you, doesn't he?"

Wait. What?

"God, and you've known all this time. You let me sit there laughing about the pheromones and you knew how hard it must be on him. Dean."

Dean looked stunned and ashamed without even meaning to play into Sam's hands. He was certain that was the moment Sam was going to accuse Dean of being the one with feelings. After all, if Dean had recognized that being affected by the pheromones meant he had at least some actual feelings for Sasha, surely Sam had realized that too.

"I mean, I guess at first I was a little freaked," Sam was saying. Dean had almost forgotten Sam was still speaking. "You'd have to like Sasha yourself for the pheromones to work."

Dean looked up. Maybe Sam wasn't an idiot.

"But then I realized it had to be because they were so concentrated with the whole frenzy thing. Hell," Sam chuckled, "They probably would have worked on me just as well with that kind of power behind them. I still wish you would have told me that Sasha had feelings for you though. I feel like such an ass."

No, Sammy, Dean thought, you're not an ass. You're an idiot, but not an ass.

But then maybe Dean was the idiot. Concentrated? Maybe that was all it was. The pheromones were so concentrated they were working despite Dean's lack of actual feelings. It was possible. Only Dean couldn't recognize that right now because the pheromones were still wreaking havoc on his brain cells. He might not be doomed after all.

"Dean?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sorry, Sam. I've known for a while. I guess I just…didn't think to tell you."

Sam rattled on then about how he wished Dean had told him so he could have been more sensitive about the whole thing, not that Dean thought Sasha really cared. Sam knew now. Good for him. Yeah, Sasha has a crush on your older brother, Sammy. What a shocker. Now you have another reason to be your sensitive, girly self. Woot.

Dean probably only spent brain cells on Sam's dilemma for maybe two seconds. The rest of the time he was thinking about pheromones.

He needed to think more about this. Alone.

Explaining to Sam that he was just going to pack the guns up and put them away in the Impala, Dean used that truth as his excuse to get out of the room. He had successfully stored the guns a few minutes later and leaned back on the hood of his baby to think.

Right now he could honestly admit that a part of him really wanted Sasha, in every romantic and sexual way there was to want someone. But now Dean also knew that that didn't have to be an extended reach of his actual feelings. Sam had come to the natural conclusion that his straight as a rod brother had been affected because the pheromones were suped-up. Who's to say that wasn't true?

Heading back into the hotel, Dean felt amazingly better. He was renewed with a feeling that yes, he could beat this, and tomorrow when the pheromones wore off everything would go back to normal. Dean liked that normal, a normal where he and Sasha were becoming really good friends. Just friends. It was so much easier that way.

Dean decided that after he got back in the room he would finish off a few bites of his second hamburger left over from dinner, and go to bed early. When he woke up, all of this would be behind him and he wouldn't have done anything stupid. Well, too stupid.

Reaching the door to his and Sam's room, Dean scavenged his pockets for the key. He had three to choose from, since they had all gotten keys to all three rooms, just in case. Sam had told Dean to keep their room key separate from the rest so he didn't have to try all of them every time he got back from a trip outside, but Dean hadn't listened. What did he care about a few wasted seconds? Eventually, the key he tried did the trick, and he opened the door. No problem.

The shower was running as Dean went inside with no Sam in sight. That was no surprise. Dean would have wanted a shower too if he could handle one. He had sort of wiped himself down while cleaning his wound that morning, but a shower would have been too painful with gashes like his. Just imagining the water striking them with even the mildest pressure made Dean grimace and he touched a hand to where the deepest of them lay beneath his shirt.

The worst part was how much they itched as they healed. Scratching them, however, would be the stupidest idea in the world. Dean knew better than that. But every so often he still had the urge to run his nails over every inch of his chest.

Sitting down on the bed, Dean thought it would probably be a good idea to change his bandages and clean the wounds again before going to sleep. He was pleased when he heard the shower turn off. Sam was actually being fast in the bathroom for a change. Good. It meant Dean could get in there, do what he needed to do, and get to bed that much faster.

"You better not have used up all the hot water!" Dean called as the bathroom door started to open. It was one of the stored phrases he had for whenever Sam managed to get into the bathroom before him.

The usual reply also came from a store of expected responses, only this time a usual reply was not what Dean heard. There was only a confused "Dean?" that came as the door opened fully, and then Dean was staring at a naked Sasha in nothing but a towel. A naked incubus Sasha, Dean noted, his longer hair still damp against his skin, and his eyes glowing red into the otherwise dark room.

Dean's subconscious hated him. There was no other explanation. Somehow, when he thought he was returning to his and Sam's room, he had gone straight for Sasha's instead. Since he had a key to this room as well, he didn't think anything of it when he got the door to open. Looking around, Dean realized he should have noticed the lack of a second bed, but therein lay the genius behind his mind's mutiny. He hadn't noticed. And now he was alone with a naked incubus.

Crap.

"Sorry!" Dean stood up quickly, trying to tear his eyes away but completely unable. Sasha was in is incubus form. The form that had tried molesting him earlier that day. Dean should not find it hot. "I thought…Sam…and I went out for air, but…the key worked…didn't think…I…sorry. Really sorry." Dean made a break for the door. If he just got out of the room, everything would be okay, his rambling not withstanding.

He was two seconds from grabbing the door knob when Sasha's rougher incubus voice called after him. "Dean, wait! You don't…you don't have to go. I'd actually prefer you never felt the need to run away from me, if it's all the same." There was a touch of sadness, of that same regret in Sasha's voice, and damn it all if Dean didn't have to turn back around.

Sasha had tossed aside his towel but was now clothed in the tattoos and—Dean decided just then—speedo-like covering. Really, Dean should not be so turned on by a gargoyle that fed on sex. Sasha had horns. Sasha had claws. Sasha had…really awesome wings.

Gah! Dean shook his head. He should go. He should definitely leave the room right now and avoid any further embarrassment or regrets. But then Dean started wondering whether or not the feel of Sasha's skin would change if he ran a hand from that pure white to the gradual fade into black on his hands, feet, and wings. Dean had a sudden urge to do just that and was walking back towards Sasha before he could stop himself.

"You don't have anything to apologize for, Dean," Sasha was saying, just standing there and seemingly oblivious to how much Dean's eyes were devouring him, "I'm the one who messed everything up, even if you don't want me to say that. After this morning…" Sasha glanced down at himself and his eyes went wide, as if he hadn't realized until just then that he was in his true form. "God. Like what you need right now is to see me like this. Just let me grab something to wear so I can change back." With that Sasha made to move across the room for his bag, walking right past Dean as he went.

There was no force on Earth that could have stopped Dean from reaching out. When he touched Sasha's bicep, right where the white started to fade darker towards his hand, it took all of Dean's strength to keep his grip simple. "Don't," Dean said at first, and then knew he had to elaborate when Sasha turned worried red eyes on him, "I mean…you don't need to change. I don't…mind when you're like this. I'd be a pretty poor friend if I did, especially after this morning. Okay?"

At first Sasha looked surprised, but then the most brilliant smile took hold of his face and he nodded happily. Dean had never seen his friend's eyes look so beautiful.

Was that what the pheromones did, Dean wondered, make him find Sasha attractive no matter what form he took? Dean didn't want to believe the only reason he felt comfortable around Sasha as an incubus was because of the pheromones. If he liked Sasha as a friend or anything then he shouldn't need the pheromones for that. He tried to think of how he could explain that to Sasha, if only to keep that smile there a little longer.

Instead he asked, "You always take a shower like that?" Dean forced his hand to release Sasha's arm, but it wasn't easy.

Sasha's smile went a little crooked but it remained as he said, "No. Sometimes I just…like to feel the water on my wings. It doesn't matter either way though. Both forms are the real me. Both get clean if I shower."

"Meaning this time you're…actually naked right now instead of hiding clothes?" Dean didn't know why he was asking that. He knew the answer.

Sasha looked a little confused by the question too. "Technically. It depends on the glamour."

"Glamour?" Dean repeated.

"Not fashion glamour," Sasha explained, "A glamour. It's how fae weave illusions. Illusions so real you can touch. I wouldn't really need clothes if I didn't want to bother. I could just make you think I was wearing them and you wouldn't know the difference. But I like actually wearing clothes. Touchable or not, I would still feel naked." Sasha glanced down at his body again. He had his covering but that didn't cover much. "Uhh…maybe I should get something on."

"No!" Dean knew he had said it too desperately the moment the word left him. He forced a casual smile when Sasha's expression turned skeptical. "Just…stay like this. I never get to see you like this. Not unless bad things are happening around or to us anyway. It's nice to be able to…see you."

Sasha's expression softened again and Dean realized there was more to what he was saying than the pheromones' desperation. A part of him that remained untouched by the pheromones was looking at Sasha now, looking at every detail that would make most people afraid. Dean knew not to be afraid, knew he could trust the supposed monster in front of him, and he wasn't lying when he said he liked what he saw.

"My whole life I've been taught that anything not human is evil," Dean said. Normally he would drop his eyes saying something so personal, but one thing the pheromones did have tight control over was how much he wanted to look at Sasha directly. "Other kids got to go to monster movies and think, how cool, while I had to learn how to kill them. You're one of the good guys. For the first time I can think, how cool, and it's okay. I mean…that sounded wrong. You're not some sideshow attraction to me, I just…" Dean shook his head. He wasn't saying this right.

But since Sasha was still smiling, maybe he was. "It's okay, Dean. I know what you mean. I don't mind being something like that for you. You're kind of the same thing for me. A hunter, a person I can let my guard down around. Something I'm so used to being dangerous, but with you it isn't, so I can just enjoy it. It is…nice."

And then Dean was smiling too. Half of his mind realized they were having a moment, and since Dean fundamentally hated moments he was able to knock himself back down to Earth, pheromones be damned.

Dean gave a little cough and tried to shrug the sentimentality off of him, clearly wearing an expression that indicated Sasha should do the same. Of course this could only result in Sasha full out laughing at him, but it was better than them living a scene from the Lifetime channel.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Dean said, hoping to change the mood by changing the subject.

"Of course."

Dean's eyes were still all over Sasha, something the incubus still failed to notice fully, and Dean let them travel along the contours of his friend's wings as he said, "Do you feel different when you're like that?"

That classic, devilish grin of Sasha's took over his features. "Why don't you touch me and find out," the incubus said. It was obvious he meant the comment only in jest, much like most of Sasha's more playful advances towards Dean. It was just the way Sasha was. So it made sense that he looked rather surprised with how Dean responded.

"Can I?"

Sasha's smile vanished and his face went almost painfully blank.

"I just mean…" Dean spoke quickly but didn't really know how to salvage that. He let his eyes travel to Sasha's wings again. "Your wings. I've been…wondering what they feel like. Unless that's too weird." Of course it was weird, Dean thought. He knew he was acting on pheromones, knew he shouldn't even be in the room anymore, but being so close to Sasha, sharing space and time and emotion with the man, it undid everything.

Something of recognition flashed across Sasha's face, as if he knew—he must know—that Dean was not entirely in control of himself right now. Half of Sasha looked as if he was about to turn Dean away and put a stop to this before things got out of hand, but the other half…

The other half was only human, after all. In a manner of speaking.

"Go ahead," Sasha said, and he extended one of his wings a little closer to Dean for him to touch it more easily.

For a moment Dean had no control at all, not even an ounce of it. There was no little voice at the back of his head to warn him or talk him down, not anymore. In that moment the pheromones had won.

Dean reached out with his left hand first, his fingers grazing the very edge of Sasha's wing. He thought it would feel like a bat's but it didn't. It felt like skin, rougher than the skin on Sasha's chest, which was amazingly soft, Dean noted, as his right hand touched Sasha there. He told himself it was just to compare, maybe even said that exact half-truth to Sasha, and then his hands were moving, one along the skin of his chest and the other over the inside of Sasha's wing, feeling the groves as he moved from one section to the next. It was amazing. He was going to ask Sasha what it felt like to be touched like that, whether or not having his wing touched felt like touching other places on the body, but when Sasha gave a slight moan at Dean's caresses, Dean was pretty sure he had his answer.

Red eyes stared back at him, hazy, clouded now, when Dean looked up. He hadn't even noticed how close they had gotten until he stopped to look. He could smell Sasha all around him, that wonderful, lingering smell he still couldn't identify as anything but Sasha. He wanted to touch Sasha more. He wanted to touch everything. So the first thing he did was reach up to touch horns, black and curling from Sasha's temples.

They felt like bone, smooth as anything. Sasha was still staring at Dean as Dean ran his hands down the horns to the very end. And then Dean was mesmerized by those slightly pointy ears, like an elf or a fairie or…Dean didn't know what, but he had to touch them too. His body moved and he had to let it, couldn't stop it. His chest was flush against Sasha as he brought his hands up to those ears and traced his fingers around the shape and cartilage to their tips. His touch was light. Too light. Teasing. Intimate. Sasha made a strange noise like a deep-throated purr, and Dean smiled.

This was what he wanted. He knew now. He lifted up onto his toes since Sasha was so much taller in this form, moved his hands from those ears to grab Sasha by the back of his neck, and started to pull their heads together, leaning up towards those lips he so loved kissing.

Dean could feel breath on his face, see the intensity behind those red eyes as they looked at him, but before he could find the kiss he so desired Sasha called out. "Dean…" Dean loved the way his name sounded coming from a growl.

"Yeah…?"

Strong hands gripped Dean's shoulders, holding him steady. "I think…it's time you went back to your own room now."

The spell broke. Dean blinked and the pheromones were no longer in control. They still lingered, still made his blood pump a little hotter for how close he was to Sasha, but his mind came back to him and Dean realized what he had been doing. "…yeah," he managed, pulling away, "Sorry. Just…sorry."

Panic filled every part of Dean and he could not move fast enough. Everything he had fought against that day, everything he had tried to avoid, and he still managed to ruin it all. He knew he could blame the pheromones, knew Sasha would let him blame them, but it wouldn't change what had happened. Finally, Dean understood why it was so hard for Sasha to forget what happened that morning. Even if the person you wronged forgives you readily, it doesn't take the pain away from you.

Dean fell back against Sasha's door when it closed behind him. He was breathing so hard and his skin burned hot. He felt something choke in his throat but he would not let it rise. He would not fucking cry over this. He wasn't that weak.

Pushing from the door, Dean went straight for his room, knowing for certain this time that it actually was his and Sam's. He didn't look at Sam when he got inside, didn't respond with more than a grunt when Sam tried to talk to him. He tossed off his shirt, kicked off his pants, and got into bed, facing the wall. He didn't need to say "I'm going to bed." The obvious should be implied.

Sam didn't say anything, or if he did, Dean didn't hear it. Dean longed only for the morning and for all of this to have been a bad dream he could somehow forget. He knew he wouldn't be that lucky, so he hoped at the very least that when he woke up he would be able to look Sasha in the eyes again.

Hangovers didn't know how to be this bad. Dean didn't get hangovers, but he still knew they couldn't be as bad as this. His head throbbed, his sinuses ached. He thought his brain was going to explode and almost wished it would just to make the pain go away. He figured this must be what it was like to come down from a really powerful trip. Needless to say, he was not a fan. He did take note, however, that his pain at least meant the pheromones must have worn off.

Dean groped blindly for his watch on the nightstand. 12:03 stared back at him and he almost didn't believe it. They had let him sleep til noon? Dean supposed he needed it, or maybe the pheromones had put him into a deep slumber they couldn't wake him from. When he went to bed Dean had assumed he would have horribly vivid sex dreams all night, but he couldn't remember dreaming at all. He shifted enough to be sure the sheets weren't sticking to him in any awkward places and decided he was okay.

Crisis averted. He had made it through the night. And then he thought of Sasha.

Mean wasn't a good enough word to describe what Dean had done. Cruel. Vicious. Hell, Dean would almost say Evil. It's how he had felt when he left Sasha's room. Much as Dean wanted to believe it had all been a dream, he knew it wasn't.

"Finally awake, huh?"

Dean jumped. His brain was still a little fuzzy and so was his vision as he blinked towards the sound of that voice. Sam and Sasha were sitting at the table in the middle of the room. It took Dean a moment to realize they were playing cards.

"You feeling okay?" Sasha asked, smiling his usual, friendly smile as if nothing had happened. Dean loved and hated that about the incubus. Sometimes he just wanted Sasha to be angry with him. He would feel a whole lot better.

Dean didn't feel much like lying, and since he also didn't want to ask if one of them would just shoot him in the head already and end his misery, he said, "I thought you hated playing cards."

Sam snorted. Sasha just shrugged. "I make an exception for Go Fish," he smiled, "Besides, your brother owes me so much money by now, I would have been a fool to pass up a few extra hands."

"Yeah right," Sam grinned, slapping his cards down on the table, "Like I'd play for real money." Sam turned back to Dean and started to get up from his chair. "Lunch? Or…breakfast for you, I guess."

Dean still wasn't entirely awake but he managed a nod. "Yeah…food. Sure."

"I'll run grab something to bring back. I'm taking the car," Sam said, dangling Dean's keys in the air like a challenge.

"Whatever," Dean said back.

Sam and Sasha both raised their eyebrows. Sam looked at Sasha and said, "You know he's wrecked if he doesn't at least try to stop me from driving his car. Keep an eye on him, will ya? This could be serious." Sam gave them both a passing wave and headed out the door.

It was as if they hadn't dared leave Dean alone until he woke up, and now that he had arose from his intoxicated sleep, it was safe for them to separate. Dean felt like a child that needed a babysitter. Then again it might just be that Sam thought Dean and Sasha needed to talk alone. After all, Sam had finally figured out the obvious—Sasha liked Dean more than a friend.

What a surprise.

"You really okay?" Sasha asked, rising from his chair and heading for the bed.

Dean tried to sit up, but his world spun and he had to lie back against the headboard. He grimaced at the ache in his temples. "Me?" he said, willing the pain away, "Aren't I the one who's supposed to ask that?"

There was that other smile of Sasha's, the sad, knowing smile that made Dean's heart ache whether there were pheromones in his system or not. Sasha sat down on the edge of the bed, wearing that smile firmly. "The pheromones must have been…pretty strong. Stronger than I realized. Usually, when it's just part of the game, they're not a big deal. It just peaks a person's interest, it doesn't…well…it wouldn't normally make a person do…the things you did. I should have known better. If I'd have realized I…well. I would have let you leave when you first tried. I can feel a person's emotions, damn it, I…I should have noticed sooner. It wasn't you're fault."

Why did Dean know that was what Sasha was going to say? It made him feel twice as guilty, and reminded Dean yet again how much Sasha could be like Sam. "You don't have to do that," Dean said.

"Do what?"

"Take all the blame. You're good at it, but that doesn't mean I want you to do it with me. Why don't we call it even? You tried to molest me, I tried to molest you, we both admit temporary insanity and…try to forget about it. It was only one day."

"And since I plan to have a lot more days with you and Sam…you're right," Sasha said, attempting to smile for real, "Putting this behind us is…for the best. Oh," Sasha said then, his face scrunching a little, "Sam's been acting sort of weird. Asking questions. I think he thinks I'm in love with you or something." Sasha laughed, and since the incubus was laughing Dean figured it was okay if he laughed too.

"Yeah," Dean admitted, "Try to ignore him. If he gets too annoying I give you full permission to hit him. Always works for me."

Sasha laughed a little harder and nodded, though Dean knew Sasha would probably let Sam rattle on and on for eternity with all his understanding and sensitivity rather than just punch the guy.

Wuss.

There was a moment that passed, quiet, not tense at all, and Dean thought that maybe they had somehow found a way to get themselves back to normal despite everything. It was nice. But Dean still had to ask because half of him still didn't believe it.

"Sasha," he said, waiting for those blue eyes to meet his squarely before continuing, "I know I should leave it alone, but…I gotta ask. I was right there, thinking I knew just what I wanted and blind to everything else, and you let me walk away. Why?"

Sasha looked surprised, maybe even a little offended, but after awhile he just smiled, leaned a little closer to Dean and said, "Because. If it ever does happen," his voice dropped to a whisper and he leaned even closer, "I don't want you to have any excuses. I'll be honest with you though," he added, grinning wide and yet somehow so sad again, "it was one of the hardest things I've ever done…watching you leave."

Dean couldn't bring himself to move when Sasha leaned that last bit forward to place a soft kiss on his cheek. The kiss seemed to carry with it all of the sadness in Sasha and it made Dean ache a little more.

"I'll let you get dressed," Sasha said, and before Dean had the sense to come back to himself, Sasha was gone.

For the first time in twenty-four hours Dean could think straight again. He laid back down, his head on the pillow, and stared at the ceiling. Either the pheromones worked because he actually felt something for Sasha in return, or they worked because they were just that strong. Dean had no doubts that they were especially powerful since they had made him do things he otherwise wouldn't do no matter what the truth was, but that still left him with a question. A question he still didn't know the answer to. And that…ached more than anything.

THE END...of Arc 2 but tbc...right here again with Arc 3!

A/N: I need some feedback on this one because I kept going back and forth with things, not sure, feeling kind of like Dean, muddled and not knowing what I wanted. So...yes? Good? Horrible? Annoying, I know, with Dean's continued denial, but who wouldn't be confused after pheromone poisoning. Dean just needs a little time to work through his feelings. He is not the kind of guy who could just jump into things after a mess like that. Besides, things to come will...well...lets just say make things much more interesting. See you again soon. And thanks for all the support!

Crim