Part 2: Coming to Terms with Chaos

There was silence over the phone for a long time, too long as Dean tried to think of what to say. Why had he called his brother anyway? He didn't really know. He just had to hear Sammy's voice, had to talk to him, even if he couldn't focus his thoughts enough right now to remember what he wanted to say.

There was so much that had happened in so short a time. The past few weeks, that night, those couple minutes he heard Sasha singing.

That was it. The lullaby. Their mother. Sasha. God, Sasha. The devil deal. All the fear Dean had been feeling from his dreams. Sam's problems with the powers too. It was all of it. Dean knew he shouldn't be surprised that a song was what triggered his mini breakdown, since music had always been such a strong part of his life, and the fact that it had been that song, and that Sasha had been singing it…

Dean didn't even know where to begin. He hated how much he felt like a girl for feeling the need to get all of this out of him somehow, but if anyone would understand, if anyone would listen and not judge his manhood over it, that person was Sam.

The silence had gone on too long and Dean knew he needed to say something. But usually a long silence from Dean meant he was waiting for Sam to come clean about something first and that was exactly how Sam took the silence this time. Before Dean could even open his mouth to begin speaking again, Sam's voice came first, filled with inklings of shame.

"Bobby called you, didn't he?"

Dean's world stilled. Something had happened, but no, Bobby hadn't called him about it. The only way to learn what had happened then was to play along, meaning Dean had to squelch his own needs for the time being and say, "Yeah, Bobby called me. You think he'd keep me in the dark about something like that?" Dean was a pro at this, after all.

There was a deep sigh over the line. "I didn't mean for it to happen, Dean," Sam said, a line that could only make Dean's heart beat faster with worry, "I just got…carried away."

There was a pause. Dean still had no idea what Sam could mean, whether it was using his powers too freely or what, so the only thing Dean could do was prompt for more. "I swear, Sammy, I don't know what's going through your head these days," Dean said. That should do it.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Sam barked back, riled up to defend himself just as Dean wanted. If he was defending himself he would surely give the details away. "After getting the Colt to work I just…I had to see her. I was only going to talk to her, see if I could threaten her into letting you out of the deal, something. She just made me so angry…"

Dean tried to wrap his mind around all that as quickly as he could. When realization struck him, the game was officially over. "You fixed the Colt and shot the crossroads demon?" Dean shouted into the phone. How stupid could his brother be?

Sam sounded completely flabbergasted as he responded. "You said Bobby called you!"

"I was lying!"

"Dean!"

"Damn it, Sam, what were you thinking?" Dean pressed on, starting a steady pace around the Impala. Thankfully, Sasha had gone inside when Dean excused himself to call Sam, leaving Dean plenty of room to raise his voice and stomp around. "I tell you to wait for us, and the first thing you do is…" Dean stopped abruptly in his tracks and in his speech. He had to ask. "Does this mean I'm out of the deal?"

Sam just huffed. "You think I would have waited for you to call me if it did?"

"Right," Dean replied, feeling stupid all over again for daring to hope like that. He started pacing again, leaving angry footprints in the dirt of the parking lot. It was California but still northern California, and in winter it got cold in Danville. Dean tried not to shiver. "Well this is just great, Sammy. What does it mean then?"

When Sam responded this time he had calmed down somewhat, but his tone still sounded like ice. "She said someone else holds the contract."

"Who?"

"She wouldn't tell me."

Wonderful. "Well it's a good thing you shot her then," Dean grumbled.

"I was trying to help you!" Sam shouted back.

Dean hated to admit it, but that was what bothered him the most about all this. "Why do you think I want you to stop!" he said, bringing a hand up to rub at his face and tired eyes. "God. You're killing me here, Sammy."

Dean stopped short again. He hadn't just said that. He hadn't just said the worst possible figure of speech to his brother, the brother out there trying to save him who worried even when things were okay. Damn it.

"Sam…hey…I didn't…"

"I'll save you, Dean," came Sam's voice, soft as a whisper now and desperate, "I'll find a way. I won't let them have you. They've taken Mom and they've taken Dad, they've taken Jess from me too, but they can't have you." Sam's voice cracked as he said the last of that and it just killed Dean to hear it.

They were both screw ups. They were both hopeless. One mess after another they couldn't control, it just kept coming. Last year Dean was desperate to save Sam from becoming the antichrist or whatever crazy thing it might have been, and now Sam was just as desperate to save Dean's soul, all so they could be together and still be the brothers they were when they started. But they weren't the same anymore, neither of them was.

The silence over the phone this time might not have lasted quite as long, but it hurt twice as much. This wasn't the kind of chick flick moment Dean always tried to steer them away from, this went further than that because it was real and it hurt and there was no happy ending. How much Sam believed there could be only made it worse.

"Hey…Dean?" Sam said after the silence had become too much.

"Yeah?"

"If you weren't calling about all that, then…why were you calling? Did something happen?"

Damn. Dean had almost forgotten. He always forgot about himself when he was worrying over Sammy. "It's…not a big deal," Dean said. His problems seemed so much lesser now. He had to look out for Sam. That was more important.

Of course, he couldn't stop Sam from feeling the same way. "But Dean—"

"I said its nothing," Dean said more firmly. He couldn't deal with more of this. Not now. "Get some sleep," he said, "We'll pick you up the day after tomorrow."

Sam was silent for a moment and Dean was almost certain that his brother was going to press further for answers. If they had been together in person he knew Sam would have, and maybe when they got back together Sam would for sure, but for now he simply said, "Okay, Dean," and left it at that.

"And no more heroics, ya got me," Dean added. The last thing he needed was to worry about Sam going all Clint Eastwood with the Colt.

"Yeah," Sam said, his voice so soft and young sounding, Dean would have teased him for sounding twelve if he had it in him to lighten the mood, "Yeah. I got you."

After they hung up Dean stood out there by the Impala for a long time, letting the minutes tick by. It just kept piling on, the pain, the weight. Dean needed sleep. He wanted a drink more but he doubted he could have driven safely to find a bar right now. So instead, when he thought he had calmed himself down enough, he went into the motel.

Sasha was waiting for him, sitting on the second bed with his arms resting on his thighs and staring right at the door as Dean came through it. Dean had almost forgotten he had another conversation waiting for him in the room.

"How's Sam?" Sasha asked. Dean hated how much Sasha sounded like Sam then, all soft tones but broken.

Dean decided he could use this. "Out of his fucking mind, that's how," he said, taking off his leather and tossing it hard onto a chair. This awarded him a curious glance, proving Sasha had taken the bait and maybe Dean could keep their conversation right here and call it a night that much sooner. "He fixed the Colt," Dean explained.

Sasha's brow furrowed. "That's good, isn't it?"

Good. Ha. A bitter laugh fell from Dean's lips. "And he's already tested it," he said.

Again Sasha didn't respond with words, but his expression showed recognition, and Dean knew Sasha got the real point now.

As Dean sat down on his bed facing the space between the both of them, Sasha moved to sit across from him parallel. "I told him to wait for us," Dean said, staring at his hands and twisting the silver ring around his finger, "Killing every demon we come across isn't going to help us figure things out."

Damn. Dean hadn't meant to say it quite like that, and when he looked up he could tell Sasha was curious about what Dean really meant. Now was definitely not the time to tell Sasha about the deal. Dean doubted there ever would be a time that he would consider right. Maybe the Heavens would open up some day and be merciful so it would never matter.

Right. Dean tried not to snort at the thought. The only good side that existed was hunters. Mom was wrong. There were no angels looking out for him.

"Sorry," Dean said, though he wasn't really sure what he was apologizing for. He wanted to sleep, but he knew Sasha wouldn't let him off the hook quite yet. "Look…about earlier," Dean tried, staring at his hands again and twisting his ring that much harder, "I'm not…mad at you or anything. That lullaby…the one you were singing? It's the same one my mom used to sing to me and Sammy when she was alive."

Out of the corner of Dean's eye he saw Sasha flinch and sit up straighter. "Oh. Geez, Dean, I'm…I'm sorry."

"No, don't be," Dean said, shaking his head with half a smile that was at least half real, "You couldn't have known. I didn't even remember that song til I heard you singing it. I guess it just…shook me up a little," and Dean was pleased that at least everything he had just said was the complete truth. He figured he would end with another truth then, and looked up to catch those too blue eyes, "Nice vocals, by the way."

And since Sasha smiled maybe things were going to be okay after all. "Thanks."

Sleep called to Dean like a siren, dreams be damned, and he slapped his hands on the mattress as he said, "Ready to call it a night?"

"Sure," Sasha replied, but then his smile vanished and his eyes stared into Dean like a ghost, like he was looking right through him and knew there was more to say, "Soon as you answer my other question," he added.

Crap. Damn Dean for dreaming loudly.

"Come on, Dean, you didn't really think I'd forget, did you?"

No, but Dean had still hoped. Really, he should know better than that by now. Dean forced a smile but he couldn't look at Sasha directly anymore, forcing his gaze to the side where he focused on the bathroom door. "They're just nightmares," he said.

"About me."

"I never said that."

"You said my name, Dean."

"You said I looked right at you," Dean countered, remembering the way Sasha had described things on the rooftop, "Ever think that was the reason I said your name?"

"Dean." Sasha sounded firm and unimpressed with Dean's lying. Again it reminded Dean so much of Sam he felt like he was having the same conversation all over again, only this time he was the one defending himself.

"Crazy shit happens to us all the time," Dean said, only meeting Sasha's eyes every few seconds before having to look away again, "We're hunters. Nightmares are practically in the job description."

Sasha's voice was so calm it made Dean shiver. "Nightmares about me," the incubus said again.

"God damn it," Dean ran a hand through his hair, one of the many mannerisms that increased whenever he was dealing with Sasha and failing miserably at making sense of things. He tried with extra effort to stay focused on Sasha's eyes as he spoke. They were just so blue, so understanding, so caring, it almost hurt to look at them for too long. "Look. Not every dream I have with you in it is bad, ya know," Dean said. That was far from a lie, even if Dean wasn't about to elaborate.

But of course Sasha had to smirk, his serious expression breaking into his flirtatious one, where Dean felt surprisingly safer. "Oh really?" Sasha said, his voice already dripping with innuendo, "What are the other ones like?"

This was Dean's chance to counter Sasha with a snarky comment of his own so they could laugh about it, call things good, be easy friends again, the end. But instead Dean felt a different answer rise up within him, and he was smirking too as he said, "Wouldn't you like to know."

It wasn't like Dean, not with someone of the same gender anyway, and certainly not with Sasha. Dean blushed and stammered and got all teenage boy embarrassed when Sasha flirted with him. Dean did not blatantly flirt back.

Sasha's smirk fell, but his eyes stayed so intensely trained on Dean that even if Dean had wanted to look away, he wouldn't have been able to. There was so much heat in that look, so much want. Dean physically felt hotter under that stare.

Two weeks, more now since the 'incident' as Dean thought of it, and nothing. Dean had his dreams, Sasha occasionally said something flirty but still harmless, and they became closer as friends without the confusion. Well, there was confusion, but not openly, not the way it had been when Dean was high on pheromones and Sasha kissed Dean so tenderly on the cheek.

Dean was bringing it all back now, more than talking about his nightmares ever could. Even playfully saying something like Dean had just said was plain cruel to Sasha if Dean didn't mean it. Sasha liked Dean as more than a friend, and much more than a meal. And Dean. Well.

Dean didn't feel like taking what he had said back. Not a word of it.

He quirked his mouth up into even more of a smirk and said, "Now can we call it a night?"

Sasha's eyes narrowed for a moment, as if he was trying to read Dean's emotions, or maybe his thoughts, and wasn't quite sure about his findings. Well that was fine with Dean, because he wasn't sure of anything either. What he did know was that he didn't want to be afraid anymore of trying to figure things out.

Fear of any kind was for the weak. And Dean Winchester was not weak.

"Yeah," Sasha said finally, looking fairly tired himself, "We should sleep."

They didn't say much more as they started getting ready for bed. Dean tossed away his pants and over shirt, keeping to his T-shirt and shorts. He was ready before Sasha was, and looked over, seeing his friend had lost most of his clothing and was taking off his own T-shirt now, leaving a bare back with those wing-like tattoos and long bare legs. Sasha turned to put his dirty clothing in a neat pile, much neater than Dean's haphazard tossing, and Dean saw the other tattoo, the one that tied up his stomach in knots whenever he caught a glimpse of it. Sasha was wearing black boxer briefs this time too. They looked so stark against the incubus' pale skin with the red hair and blue eyes.

Dean let himself stare, let himself wonder, because that was the first step in facing this fear. Wondering.

If Sasha had noticed Dean's peeping eyes he didn't say anything about it, he just got into bed, smiled over at Dean more easily than he had in a long time and said, "Goodnight, Dean."

Dean got under his covers then too. "Night."

It was crazy. Dean knew it was crazy. But it had taken him over two weeks to get this far. Maybe Sam had gone through this when he was in college, the time so many other guys ask themselves that question. Dean hadn't gotten that chance, never let himself wonder. But Sasha was…Sasha. Dreams be damned, Dean wanted to wonder now. He owed Sasha at least that much. And he owed himself even more. Especially if he really only had a few months left.

As Dean fell into sleep, the weight on his shoulders felt a little lighter. That night he dreamt of his mother, and the lullaby played faintly the entire time in the background in Sasha's smooth baritone voice. Dean wasn't sure he understood what it meant, but he felt safe there, and that was definitely better than crazed incubuses or brothers with yellow eyes. Definitely.

It was a day's drive from Danville to Bobby's place in South Dakota, and since Dean was anxious to get to his brother, they had already decided to take turns driving and sleeping so they could get there by the next morning. It would be the first time Dean allowed Sasha to drive the Impala, which Dean impressed upon his friend was a very big deal.

Sasha assured Dean that he had driven everything from a '65 mustang to a minivan and a Harley Davidson. He just preferred not owning a vehicle himself. This Dean couldn't understand, but he trusted Sasha enough to handle his baby for a few hours. If anything went wrong, however, there would be hell to pay, he had been quite clear about that.

Twenty-four hours in a car was very different with family than with a friend. There was still all this stuff Dean wanted to know about Sasha, but being a guy he couldn't just come out and ask. It had to come more naturally, so it didn't feel like bonding even though it was.

A competition of what movie is this quote from informed Dean that "Fight Club" actually was one of Sasha's favorite films, which of course left Dean to full teasing rights over how Sasha chose to wear his pants. Dean also discovered something about Sasha that he never thought would be true of a hunter. It was Dean's inability to guess the origins of an apparently famous quote that started the discussion.

"I have no idea."

"Come on, we're talking classic here."

Dean laughed and shook his head. "Sorry, man, I'm drawing a blank. I've never seen any flick with the phrase, 'They're coming to get you Barbara.' What's it from?"

A glance at Sasha showed that the incubus was highly scandalized by Dean's lack of pop culture reference on this one, but Dean really had no idea where the line could be from. "Dean," Sasha said with a touch of patronizing in his voice, "Night of the Living Dead. George A. Romero. Most famous zombie movie or horror movie line ever. How do you not know that?"

Dean was full out laughing before Sasha even finished the film's title. Sasha had to be kidding. "Dude, a zombie movie? You can't honestly be telling me you watch those cheesy horror films."

Again, Sasha looked scandalized if not downright offended. "You mean you don't? We're hunters, it's like…our lives on camera. Why wouldn't I want to watch?"

For a minute there Dean had almost forgotten Sasha never worked with other hunters before attaching himself to the Winchester duo. "Okay, I'll give you the Evil Dead movies, but only coz I caught them on cable while hold up with Sam waiting for Dad way back when. Watching them on purpose though? Dude, hunters never watch that crap. It's fiction. They get everything wrong. I watch slasher films, sure, for the hot chicks and shower scenes, but zombies? I just don't see the point in watching something about stuff I know the truth about. People watch horror to get scared, right? Sorry, but movie zombies don't scare me."

Although Sasha no longer looked affronted, he eyed Dean with a scrutinizing gaze for a long time before finally speaking again. "Okay, I see what you mean. I think you're wrong, but I get it. I'm not saying movie zombies scare me or anything. I mean, I am an incubus."

Dean snorted.

"But come on, Dean, what about watching them for fun?"

At that, Dean turned to stare at Sasha with a raised eyebrow. Horror movies for fun?

"Give me one chance," Sasha said, smiling half like he was up to something and half just plain amused, "One movie. If Slither isn't right up your alley, I'll admit defeat. It's newer so you won't have to make fun of the horrible effects. And it's not even really zombies. Technically it's an alien."

Dean had to laugh at that. Sasha was sincerely preaching the merits of zombie movies to a born hunter. Since he had to give the guy credit for even trying, he figured he pretty much had to give in. "All right, all right. One movie. Slither?" he repeated. That title just spoke volumes of cheese.

"Trust me," Sasha said.

They hadn't had much opportunity to hang out like friends since Minnesota, what with searching for demons and that ghost in Danville. Dean kind of liked the idea of getting some junk food, a few beers, and watching a flick. He smirked to himself about it being kind of like a date, but didn't dare ask if Sasha meant it that way.

A thought occurred to Dean that he was giving in a little too easily, so he decided he needed to even the playing field a little.

"I'll watch your film, but there's gotta be a trade off here."

"Sure," Sasha said easily, "What do you want?"

That was a dangerous question. Sam would never have been foolish enough to say something like that. It made the mischievous side of Dean cheer. "Let's say you owe me one. Something comes up and I ask you to do something, you gotta do it. No questions asked."

Now Sasha was grinning, and Dean sensed the inevitable coming long before it did. "Is that sexual harassment?" Sasha teased.

Ha. "Only if you're working for me now," Dean threw right back. They shared friendly smiles, eyes lingering on each other until Dean had to look away. Still, it wasn't as scary as it used to be. "Besides, I think I have something in mind already," Dean said, not trying to hide the deviousness to his smirk at all, "Trust me."

Dean woke up with an hour left in their drive. It was nine in the morning he noticed with some surprise, since Sasha started driving at about eleven the night before and said he would wake Dean up in a few hours. Dean's initial instincts were to smack Sasha one for being such a damn martyr—again. But when Dean looked over he saw that Sasha hadn't noticed he was awake yet, and was quietly singing along to the song on the radio. Sasha had Dean's Screaming Trees tape playing, singing soft but clear to one of Dean's favorite ballads, 'Look at You'. Dean lost all urge to hit the man. He was starting to like hearing Sasha sing.

It was halfway into the second verse that Sasha glanced over, laughing a little at being caught. "Sorry," he said, "Did I wake you?"

Typical. "I think the main problem here is that you didn't, jackass." Dean said, though of course he was smiling, "You know what time it is?"

"I can read time, yes," Sasha smirked back, "You just…sounded like you were having a good dream this time. I didn't have the heart to ruin it for you."

A good dream? Dean didn't remember dreaming at all. He had the same feeling as the first time Sasha heard him dreaming, and wondered if he had said something incriminating. He decided not to ask. Good dreams were good. Even if he didn't remember them.

"Sit back," Sasha smiled, "We're not far now. I can finish the drive."

"Must be my baby," Dean said, deciding he would sit back and enjoy the rest of the trip if Sasha insisted so much, "Nothing rides as smooth as she does."

"Oh, I don't know if I'd say that," countered Sasha.

Dean looked over and caught Sasha's eyes, seeing that same heat in Sasha's expression he had seen last night. It almost made Dean shiver, but somehow he managed to turn it into a laugh that continued well into the rest of their drive.

Bobby and Sam had coffee waiting for them when they arrived, along with doughnuts and good company. It took Dean awhile to get Sam alone, but when he did he didn't waste any time.

"Any more bright ideas floating around in that head of yours?" Dean asked. Bobby was so pleased to have Sasha at his place for the first time in so many years, he insisted on showing him a few more things he had of his father's, which Sasha was more than willing to investigate.

"I'm working on it," Sam replied, sitting down on Bobby's couch as Dean came over to join him, "At least we have the Colt."

"Yeah. Try not to be so trigger happy next time though." Dean did and didn't mean his barb to be so harsh. He hated when Sam beat himself up over things, but damn the kid needed some sense knocked into him once in a while.

"Dean, listen, I've been thinking."

Oh great, Dean thought. Sam thinking either saved his ass or pissed him off, and since the deal still stood he doubted Sam had any way of saving him right now. "What?"

"Maybe we need to tell Sasha about the deal," Sam said, "It's going to start getting harder to keep it from him."

Dean was right. It did piss him off. "No," he said with finality. That was the last thing Dean wanted to do right now.

Sam looked surprised and gave Dean his 'you're kidding me, right?' look. "No?" he repeated, clearly unable to see the bigger picture here.

"Why make him worry over nothing," Dean said. Then he elbowed Sam a little and cast his most flashy grin, "You're gonna save me, right?"

"Dean." Apparently Sam wasn't in the mood to crack jokes.

Dean grimaced. Sam was so much easier to con when he was younger. "He doesn't need to know, okay?"

"But maybe he could—"

"Just drop it, Sammy." If the look on Sam's face was any indication, Dean's tone had been a little too harsh just then. He couldn't help it. He was finally starting to figure things out with Sasha, if only a little. The last thing he wanted to do was mess everything up by saying, oh by the way, I'm going to Hell. "If we have to tell him one day, fine. But not before then," Dean said more calmly. He didn't care if there were more selfish reasons than logical ones. He wasn't ready for Sasha to know.

Sam didn't like this decision, that was certain, but he conceded anyway. At least for now. "Okay. So where are we going to go from here?"

Much better. Hunting Dean understood. "Sasha and I caught wind of a case on the way here. Texas. Could be demons. We'll fill you in over a couple of beers later. Right now all I wanna do is relax. You wanna research and all that, be my guest. I've been in a car for twenty-four hours."

"Whatever," Sam said, finally smiling, "You know love every second you're in that car."

Dean shrugged. "Can't deny that. Still feel like staying the day though. And night. If that's okay with you, Bobby?" Dean added, noticing that Bobby and Sasha had come around the corner and were making their way towards them.

Bobby had a small box in his hands, Dean noticed. He nodded amiably enough in reply to Dean's query. "Can't argue with company," Bobby said. He sat down in one of the chairs, Sasha took the one next to him, and Bobby gestured Sam and Dean to come closer. "See this?" Bobby said, opening the top of the box that looked suspiciously like a snuff box. Sam got up to move closer, but Dean's seat was near enough to Bobby and he could see easily that the box contained old pictures. "Don't go making fun now, but this one here was the first time I met Deklin Kelly."

Dean's ears perked at that. Sasha in the other chair was beaming. He loved hearing stories about his dad, it seemed, while Dean and Sam usually got pissed as hell with what they heard. Mainly because it drove them crazy to learn all the things John had kept from them. Sasha never got to know his dad. For him this was like Christmas.

Bobby plucked out the photo in question, holding it out for the boys to see. It was candid, not posed, something another hunter friend at the time had taken. Deklin Dean recognized, looking a few years younger than he had in the photo Sasha once showed them, but about the same otherwise. It was Bobby who was surprising and Dean understood why the man had told them not to make fun. Bobby was Dean's age and it was the late 70s. His hair was past his shoulders, his face wearing a longer beard than he wore now, and he was wearing a muscle shirt.

The most amazing thing, Dean supposed, was how good Bobby looked in that muscle shirt. The man was pretty fit back then.

"Shit, Bobby, you're almost attractive," Dean said, couldn't help himself really, "Well, for a member of ZZ Top," he added.

The others laughed but Bobby gave Dean a look that could have wilted a flower if there had been any in the vicinity. "Laugh it up, pretty boy. I have pictures of you in here too, so I'd be careful."

"What pictures?" Sasha asked before Dean or Sam could look worried about possible blackmail material Bobby had just admitted having of them. Sasha looked way too devious. "Are these baby naked in the bath pictures or more middle school geek with glasses pictures?"

"Hey," Dean resented that. He wasn't a geek in middle school. He couldn't deny the glasses though. "I didn't sign on to be ridiculed. Get back to the Kelly photos."

Bobby looked downright evil by now, looking through his little stash of various photographs, many of hunters Dean didn't know or at least didn't recognize, but quite a few of Deklin and many of little Sammy and Dean. They were some of the few hunter children after all, so on the rare occasion someone had actually taken a photo, Bobby had a copy. The ones of Sam and Dean were mostly school pictures, each one goofier than the next in Dean's opinion. Dean took small solace in how much more of a geek Sam was than he had been, especially around fourteen when he filled out for a couple years and was actually pretty chubby. By senior year the kid was a beanpole though, having shot up taller than Dean where he would stay.

They flipped through all of the pictures, stopping when one caught their eye. It was almost like reliving memories of a normal life, even though theirs hadn't been anything close to that. Even Sam was laughing when they'd find a picture of them as kids, though, one or both of them usually grinning like an idiot.

"There's one of Dean," Sasha said, near the end of the pile, but when Bobby picked it up Sasha didn't look so sure anymore, "Wait…"

"That's Dad," Sam filled in, much more easily visible now as Bobby held the photo up to the light. John looked younger than Sam, younger than he was when he hunted even. His hair was dark as always, which was one of the first signs it couldn't be Dean, but since his face was shaven and thinner, the mistake was understandable.

"I've never seen this picture," Dean said, reaching over to take it from Bobby, "He looks barely nineteen."

"Senior picture of high school, I think," Bobby explained, "Fell out of his wallet one day and told me to toss it. Well, I'm not one to throw memories away as easily as all that. Figured maybe one day someone would want to remember John was a normal kid once. You go ahead and hang onto that. More your property than mine anyway."

Dean studied the picture for awhile, holding it over for Sam to give it a good look too.

Their dad was smiling so big, those same dimples Sam had in abundance were showing proudly. Dean couldn't remember ever seeing their Dad smile or laugh hard enough to show dimples.

"I used to think you looked the most like him, Sammy," Dean said, indicating the dimples especially, "Scary seeing this picture though. I almost thought it was me for a second there too." Dean didn't have those dimples. He just had one, on his left side, and it only showed if he was laughing so hard he might as well just go ahead and fall over. But the rest of his face, yeah, there was some of Dad alright. Maybe more than Dean liked to admit.

They finished going through the pile. Bobby only gave up two pictures. That one of John to Sam and Dean, and that first one he had showed them of him and Deklin Kelly to Sasha. The rest he tucked away again, though Dean swore he would steal his eighth grade picture some day—pretty damn geeky, big 80s glasses and all, he couldn't deny it—though he was even more afraid Sasha would try and beat him to it.

They were lazy for half the day and diligent in looking into possible cases and telling Sam about the one in Texas the other half. Dean stuck to his word, and said they would finish telling Sam about Texas over dinner and some beers.

"Join us, Bobby?" Sasha asked as he slipped on his jacket. That was a good sign if ever there was one; Sasha actually instigating more contact with Bobby. It made Dean almost proud, like he had to give himself credit for the whole thing.

"You boys go ahead," Bobby said, waving his hand, "Got a few things to work on here. I'll have beds for you when you get back."

"Thanks, Bobby."

Dean half wondered if Bobby let them go out alone because he felt left out, no longer being one of the young bucks or whatever, though Dean knew they would have made him feel just like one of the boys if he had come out. Sam mentioned the same thing in the car, being Sam, but they drove on anyway, to a little bar and grill they had come to know pretty well with all their time spent at Bobby's.

Getting settled, ordering food, sipping his first beer of the night, Dean felt good. Really good. These chances to be normal, or at least pretend they were, came so few and far between that he liked getting a few extras thrown in whenever he could. Sam needed it. Sasha needed it. Damn, he needed it too. It was harder to convince Sam to have fun when it was just the two of them, but Sasha was a good influence.

"Dean, you didn't know 'They're coming to get you, Barbara'?" Sam laughed, only on his second beer while Sasha and Dean enjoyed their third.

"How do you know it?" Dean pressed. Sam wasn't exactly into horror movies when he was a kid. He used to crawl into Dean's bed over that 'Are You Afraid of the Dark' show and the kid was frickin' nine years old. Granted, Sam had only found out those things in the dark were real a year before then.

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean, already looking more smiley what with the company and a couple beers warming him. "I went to college, remember?"

"And yet I can still drink you under the table. Go figure," Dean smirked back. College boy had nothing on him.

"Slither when we get to Texas?" Sasha asked. He clearly wasn't going to let Dean forget about that. "It can be how we celebrate ending the hunt."

"Slither?" Sam questioned.

"All right, you're on," Dean said, not about to forget that he had something in the works for Sasha too. He had awhile to wait until the incubus' birthday, but when the time came Dean knew exactly how he wanted Sasha to repay him.

"What's Slither?" Sam asked again.

Dean took another swig of his beer and gave Sam a look. "Who said you were invited?"

Sasha chuckled into his Blue Moon then downed the rest of it. "Next round?" he said, getting up from the table.

Sam looked ready to protest but was too busy scowling at Dean. Sasha was gone then and Dean smacked Sam on the shoulder. "Dude, stop being a girl. We're just teasing you."

Sam's voice was very plain and very sober when he replied. "Teasing me…or teasing Sasha?"

What the hell? "What's that supposed to mean?" Dean didn't like that look of Sam's, that holier than thou expression he knew too well.

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "Dean, you know Sasha likes you. It's not exactly nice the way you're leading him on."

"Who's leading who on?" Dean grumbled, "Mind your own business."

"I'd just hate for him to get the wrong idea and…I don't know…"

"What? For me to break his heart? Come on, Sammy, lighten up." Dean finished the rest of his beer then, and frankly couldn't wait for Sasha to bring round four. Why did Sam have to go and talk about this? Dean didn't need anything pointed out. It was much easier to just let things happen.

Sam trying to play Good Samaritan mediator wasn't helping. "Just…be careful, Dean. He may need to feed regularly from other people, but just because he's an incubus doesn't mean his feelings for you aren't real."

Damn it, Dean knew that. He wasn't trying to lead Sasha on at all. But if he came right out and said that, then Sam would ask questions, and then Dean would have to really think about it, and then everything would go to hell.

Wait. What had Sam said? Feeding? Dean couldn't remember the last time Sasha had actually fed. Hotel runs lately, sure, like back in Minnesota, but Dean remembered well that Sasha said he needed to have actual sex at least once a month or things got scary.

The last Dean remembered was that Ian kid. It had certainly been a month since then.

"There's a relief," Sam said, nodding towards the bar, and apparently having been thinking about the exact same thing as Dean, "I was starting to worry Sasha was pining over you so much he'd forgotten to feed for real. That wouldn't have been good."

Dean glanced up at the bar, finding Sasha easily in the crowd what with the red hair. He was talking to a girl, dark wavy hair, big smile, leaning in towards Sasha like she was very interested in getting out of there, and not alone. Sasha was leaning right back, smiling right back, and there was no denying what the ultimate goal was for both of them.

There was a twinge in Dean's chest that started small but quickly grew the more he watched Sasha chat up the girl. At the back of Dean's mind he knew the right reaction should be relief. Sasha needed sex to survive, for crying out loud, and he had already gone dangerously long without it. It's not as if Dean was about to offer himself, and surely Sasha knew that. It shouldn't bother Dean. It wasn't fair, it made Dean think about this when he didn't want to think at all, he just wanted to let things happened, God damn it, but fair or not, it was necessary.

Sasha was an incubus. Dean didn't care. Dean liked him regardless, liked the incubus part within itself even. But it still came with complications.

Dean almost laughed at that. His whole fucking life was complicated. His brother was the possible antichrist, his best friend and…whatever else Sasha was…was an incubus who moonlighted as a hunter, and Dean himself was only a few months from an eternity in Hell. Dean hated all of it.

He stared at Sasha at the bar and for a moment Sasha looked right back at him. Maybe if Sasha had smiled, waved, anything else, Dean could have just forgotten everything and pretended they could be friends without adding confusion. But Sasha's eyes flashed with that sadness, with regret he could do nothing about, and Dean knew right then how screwed he was.

There was no turning back now.

tbc...

A/N: I guess all I want to know is whether or not Dean's chaotic mind over all this made sense. I wanted to convey that Dean is trying to see where his feelings for Sasha lead him without really addressing those feelings directly but also without being afraid. In the end there then he is recognizing that Sasha being an incubus could ruin everything, but doesn't have to because Sasha clearly would rather be with him. That leaves Dean still confused, liking someone who has to sleep with other people, but unable to leave things alone and let them just be friends now that he knows Sasha regrets what he can't control. Hell, did that even make sense? Sigh. Let me know folks. Dean's head makes mine spin.

Anyway, this is going to be difficult as Dean works on this, but I do know exactly where things are leading. Try to imagine being Dean and how needing to work through this slowly also makes it harder since Sasha has to have sex with other people along the way. I never said anything would be easy.

Crim