Part 3: Unfinished Business

Dean had three choices that night when Sasha went home with the woman from the bar. He could get angry. He could pretend he didn't care. Or he could let it go, let it be okay because Sasha was Sasha and Dean couldn't change that, wouldn't change that. He would just have to accept the incubus complications if anything were ever going to happen.

Thinking too hard about any of this still made a lump rise up in Dean's throat. So he wouldn't think. He'd just let things be. Dean liked being optimistic, because after all, he was going to Hell in a few months. He needed optimism. And Sasha was worth letting happen…whatever was going to happen.

Shameful blue eyes stared at Dean over the breakfast table the next morning. Dean couldn't say anything, not with Bobby and Sam right there, so he held Sasha's gaze for as long as he dared and grinned, giving the smallest nod possible. If Sasha could read emotions than Dean should be an open book right now, even if he didn't fully understand all of the feelings stirring within him. He just needed Sasha to understand they were okay.

After a moment Sasha nodded back, just as subtly, attempting a smile of his own though it still carried regret. Just like Sammy, Dean thought, kicking himself for things he has no control over. Dean decided it would be his mission to rid both brother and friend of that horrible trait. They really needed to lighten up.

The trio started out for Texas after breakfast, thanking Bobby for the free stay and food, and for their pictures, and agreeing to call—as always—if anything came up. They had the Colt now. It was a whole new ballgame. Dean just prayed this lead in Texas was real demons and not another wild goose chase.

It was weird having Sasha in the back and Sam beside him again. It had only been a few days, but as far as Dean was concerned their crew should always be a trio. Though it was nice to be rid of Sam for a little bit.

Dean smirked to himself at that, passing a glance over at Sam, who was buried in their father's journal. Then Dean realized something. Sam wasn't reading. He was writing in a place near the end of the book where there were added pages for new entries.

"I miss something?" Dean asked, keeping a wandering eye on the road as well as on his brother's face. They were halfway into Nebraska, nine hours from Childress, Texas where they were headed, and with all the open road they could ask for spanning before them.

Sam didn't look up from his writing, but said, "Just making a list so I can keep track."

"Of what?"

"My powers."

That made Dean pause, even if he was generally on the power bandwagon. After all it was better to have control over them if they were going to pop up anyway. Sam just said it so calmly, so off-hand, like it wasn't freaky that he had powers—plural. "Oh. So right now…we're looking at…how many?" Dean asked.

This time Sam did look up. It seemed he had finished jotting things down, so he gave Dean that little unsure smile of his before turning back to the journal. "Well, there's the visions, even though I haven't had one since the Devil's Gate opened. There's telekinesis. Strength. Control over demons. And energy concentration."

"Energy concentration?" Dean didn't know what that meant at first. Then he remembered the chipmunk. Really, he couldn't help smirking. "So you figured that was better than just saying 'my melting power'."

There was a chuckle from the backseat, but Sam turned to Dean with raised eyebrows, all holier than thou again. "It's not melting. I mean…okay, it melted the chipmunk, but it was more than that. It's…heat or electricity, I don't know, but…" Sam trailed off, more than likely because Dean was looking all bemused in his direction. "Fine. Melting power." Sam conceded, crossing the old line out of the journal.

Dean loved getting under Sammy's skin like that, especially when he won.

He was going to ask whether or not Sam had practiced any of those powers at Bobby's, before or after his miraculous resurrection of the true Colt—which Dean still hadn't heard full details on—but Sasha spoke up first.

"What power do you plan to work on next?" the incubus said. He sounded calm as hell too, probably because he also had powers, which, Dean realized, actually made him the freak in the group.

Ironic.

Sam set the notebook between the seats, done for now, and leaned back, hands folded on his lap as if he were thinking very hard about Sasha's question. He even closed his eyes, centering himself, Dean imagined, since his breathing immediately began to even out.

This made Dean fear suddenly for the safety of his car. Sam wasn't seriously about to practice a new power right now, was he?

Then Sam's voice came calm but severe from the other side of the car. "Dean, turn on the radio."

Dean had not yet decided which of his tapes he felt like listening to since they had finished off some Queensryche before the last pit stop. He didn't even question Sam's command though, he just reached over and flipped on the knob.

"Find something Classical," Sam said then, his eyes still closed and hands still docile on his lap, "I've had enough metal and classic rock for a lifetime let alone this morning."

Again, Dean did as he was told, not even really thinking about it. He just reached over and started searching the airwaves for a Classical station. But Dean hated Classical music. He didn't see the point to any music that didn't include singing, guitar or drum solos exempt, of course.

Once Dean had discovered the somber tones of some unknown Classical song, he pulled his hand away again and continued driving. "Good," Sam said to him, "Now…why don't you tell Sasha all about your fear of flying."

"I hate flying," Dean said at once, catching Sasha's eyes in the rearview mirror. They looked very wide right now, though Dean didn't want to wonder why. He had to tell Sasha about flying. "It scares the shit out of me. Every time I'm close to a plane I think it's gonna blow up or crash. How do they stay in the air anyway? It's not natural. The food's not so bad but the flight attendants are fake as hell, everything's small and cramped, and you can't stretch your legs out at all, so I just feel like shooting open one of those God damn windows and—"

"Okay, Dean," Sam broke in, sounding thoroughly amused and proud of himself, "You can stop."

Dean cut off right there, mid-sentence. Sasha was gaping at him through the mirror. Sam was trying not to chuckle. And Dean didn't understand any of it. Was something funny? What was going on?

A few moments later, when the haze started to leave Dean's brain, he finally got it. He doubted he had ever turned on Sam so fast.

"Son of a bitch, you just mojoed me!"

Sam was too busy full-out laughing now to respond.

But Dean was not happy and he slammed his hand against the steering wheel. "Not funny. You wanna be Andy and use that mind control stuff, be my guest, butdon't use it on me." Dean was rightfully pissed. It's not as if Sam had asked permission or anything, he just went ahead and messed with Dean's mind.

Practically snarling, Dean reached over and flicked the radio off. Stupid Classical music.

Sam's laughter subsided and Sasha's wide eyes returned to normal, although both of them were smiling way too much. It wasn't funny, God damn it!

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam said, hardly sounding sincere in Dean's opinion, "I couldn't help it. I tried it on Bobby before, but even though I asked him first, I know it freaked him out. I figured you'd just tell me no if I asked you."

"Damn right I would," Dean grumbled, "Doesn't mean you get to do it anyway." It was bad enough when Andy did that, but that Ansem Weems kid made Dean put a sniper rifle to his chin without even having to use words. Dean understood why Bobby would get freaked out; it freaked the hell out of him too.

"Dean, really, I'm sorry," Sam said again, and this time there was something almost desperate in the words, like Sam had finally picked up on Dean's fear and realized his joke hadn't been taken anywhere near well, "I promise I'll never use it on you again. I was just…curious. It didn't work at first when I tried with Bobby. But like the others, once I wake one of these powers up…it's second nature."

That almost sounded like a confession. Dean wondered what else Sam wasn't telling him. Now he had to ask. "You practice the other powers at Bobby's?"

Sam looked away. All humor was gone from him now and Sasha was so quiet in the backseat he might not have even been there. "Yeah," Sam said, "Not the…melting one, but…the others. I picked up one of Bobby's junkers."

"Picked up?" Dean questioned. "With your hands or your mind?"

"Both."

Naturally.

Dean wanted to ask about the crossroads demon, but not with Sasha in the car. He wondered if Sam had tried to use his powers on her. Maybe he did, but since she didn't hold the contract it's not as if Sam could mojo her into releasing Dean from the deal. He might have forced her to say who did hold the contract though, preferably before shooting her.

"Forget it," Dean decided on saying, since there was nowhere to go with this conversation but places Dean didn't like, "Just…prepare me next time okay. And if you ever try and get Classical shit over these speakers again…" Dean's expression was serious and deadly, but also amused. He knew Sam hadn't meant to upset him that much, and he did have to give the guy at least a little credit. If it had been someone else who got mojoed Dean would have found it pretty damn funny too.

Something about Dean's expression, the familiarity of it, Dean figured, made Sam relax. "Sorry," Sam said again, "Driver picks the music."

"Ya got that right."

It was quiet in the car for a while after that, but the tension hadn't completely dissipated. Dean waited for Sam to say or do something that might break it up again, but he wasn't surprised when Sasha did so first.

The incubus leaned forward in his seat and reached for their dad's journal. He didn't pick it up, but merely motioned to show what he wanted. Sasha knew the rules now. With some things you had to ask first.

"Mind if I take a look?" the incubus said, "I've been meaning to get my hands on it for awhile now, if that's okay, maybe compare with what I have in my dad's notes."

"Go ahead," said Sam.

Dean nodded as well. They knew Sasha would be careful with it.

Most people flipped right to the middle—it was haphazard anyway, not alphabetized. But Sasha started right at the beginning. Dean almost said something, and since he saw Sam give a little twitch, he knew Sam was thinking the same thing.

The very beginning of the journal was just that, actual entries John wrote like writing in a diary. There were sixteen separate entries spanning over two months where John just wrote about losing his wife and how crazy he was going trying to figure out what really happened. Dean only knew about that because Sam mentioned it once, very briefly. Dean himself had never looked. Still, neither brother said anything to stop Sasha.

The car was silent again as Sasha read, turning pages slowly as he got caught up in those entries, unable to stop once beginning, even if he had looked up at one point, wondering if he was crossing a line. When he was finished, he closed the journal rather than continue into the hunting aspects.

After a few minutes, he spoke up. "Have you ever read the beginning?" he asked.

"Nope," Dean replied. He didn't feel like elaborating more than that.

"I did once," Sam admitted, "It's a whole other world than the rest of the journal."

"Yeah," Sasha agreed, even though he hadn't actually looked through the rest yet, "There was something particular that struck me. This one part, the first entry in December," Sasha said, opening the journal again.

Dean felt a moment of panic seize him as he realized Sasha was going to read something from that entry aloud. Dean didn't know if he wanted to hear it. He knew Sasha would never intentionally hurt him or Sam, so it couldn't be anything too bad. Still, Dean felt his whole body tense as Sasha read.

"Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he's trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night." Sasha stopped there but kept his eyes on the journal. "You were…four years old, Dean? Almost five? It's funny, but…I don't think much has changed with you two since your dad wrote this. He taught you to protect each other and others, to always watch out for each other. That's kind of…beautiful in a way." Sasha looked up and laughed very softly. "But maybe I'm just a sap."

Dean chuckled then too. "Yeah, you're at least a quarter girl by my calculations. Might wanna work on that."

Again Dean met Sasha's eyes in the rearview mirror and they smiled. After all, Dean couldn't admit that the journal entry made him feel like tearing up. He didn't remember much of back then, but it made a lot of sense to him, and it was a sweet image—little not-quite-five him with little not-quite-one Sammy, sleeping in a crib not big enough for both of them.

Since Dean could feel his brother's eyes on him—big brown-green wet eyes that took everything too seriously—Dean just had to turn and say, "Quit looking at me like that, Bambi. Beg all you want, but there is no way I'm crawling in bed with you tonight. Dean cuddles don't come cheap."

While Sam did laugh in response to Dean being, well…Dean, Sasha laughed considerably harder. "Dean cuddles?" he managed through chuckles, "So tell me, how much is your going rate these days?"

Real funny. Dean couldn't admit defeat after a comment like that. "You figure that one out on your own maybe I'll give you a discount," he said. He was just continuing the banter after all. It didn't have to mean anything. "Check out the incubus entry," Dean said then, since Sam was looking at him all judgmental again, "Dad only had a little in there. Sam's added some since we met you, but maybe you can think of stuff we've missed." It was almost like a trick, Dean thought, a way to find out more about Sasha without actually asking again. Genius.

Sasha looked almost eager as he flipped through the journal. It took a while to find the entry, but once he did he devoured it just as he had their dad's thoughts. While waiting for Sasha to finish reading, Dean could still feel those judgmental eyes boring into him. He glanced angrily over at Sam and mouthed, "What?"

Sam just shook his head.

Dean replied by rolling his eyes. Sasha was right, things hadn't changed much since they were kids. They had bigger, tougher bodies, and that was about it.

"There's plenty I could add," Sasha said suddenly, having entirely missed the brothers' exchange while he read, "But I wouldn't want to be self-indulgent here. What things do you want to know?"

Was Sasha actually saying that? It made it so easy. Dean could ask anything and it wouldn't matter because he had been invited to ask. Seamless.

Therefore, he decided to blame it on momentary dumbfounded-ness that Sam managed to ask a question first.

"I've…actually been wondering something," Sam said. Judgmental had fallen from his expression thankfully, but left in its wake that hesitant, soft-hearted look Dean also hated. "I wouldn't want to ask anything…inappropriate, but…this kind of is."

"Sam," Sasha said, smiling reassuringly and with a touch of humor, "I doubt there is anything you could ever ask me that I would consider inappropriate. I'm an open guy. I'd happily answer just about anything. Really."

Dean would have to remember that, not that he was surprised. "Okay," Sam said, stealing himself for whatever it was he was about to say. Then it came, and Dean felt the same twinge his brother was probably feeling. "Can you feed off rape?"

The car went so silent Dean had never before longed for his radio as much as he did right then. Why the hell had he turned the damn Classical off? It would at least be better than this. What was Sam thinking asking that?

But as always, Dean should have known better, because despite the dulling of Sasha's smile, it was still there. He wasn't offended, just somber, and his voice was very even when he spoke. "Yes," he said, no hesitation or attempt at glossing things over, "Indirectly like hotel runs and…directly too. But it wouldn't be enjoyable for us in the same way. The human body always gives off sexual energy during sex, whether you're really enjoying it or not, but…well. If an incubus or succubus was doing that, chances are they'd be pumping pheromones into the victim too, so it would be more like…consensual rape? Temporary insanity rape maybe. Like…well…like with me and Dean in Nebraska."

Damn. Just what Dean wanted. Another reminder of that.

Sam seemed to realize that his question had gone further than intended, so he spoke up quickly to steer them away from the topic completely.

"Never mind," he said, "I was just wondering. It was stupid."

"No, it was a valid question," Sasha replied. He was leaning back in his seat again and had the journal set down beside him. "There's a reason people fear us. A reason people call us demons. The bad eggs had to go and ruin it for the rest of us," he grinned, an at least half-real expression, "But for me…there's nothing worse,nothing than taking someone who doesn't want it. Most of my kind would agree with that. But not all."

Great, Dean thought, Sasha's aunt wasn't the only rogue succubus or incubus out there. It was a scary thought, though Dean hadn't really let himself think about it until now. Then again, how many psycho humans were there out in the world? That should be scary enough.

Dean decided more action needed to be taken to change the subject.

"Dude, you gotta askgood questions," he said, giving his brother his most incredulous look, "Serious discussion and road trips do not go together. For instance," he began, glancing up at Sasha in the mirror with a grin, "Any illegitimate half-incubus kids running around with that pretty red hair of yours?"

As was the desired reaction, both Sam and Sasha laughed. "No," Sasha managed, "No kids. FYI, what is known about my kind can be split into two camps, the one that thinks our main purpose is to feed from sex, and the one that thinks we feed from sex with the ulterior motive to procreate. The first one is correct, so anything that may seem like it would only work if the second was correct is wrong. No children. It is physically impossible for me to have children with a human. Thank God," he added with wide, mock-horrified eyes, "Imagine how many illegitimate cambions there'd be otherwise. Scary."

"Cambions?" Dean repeated.

"Just the term humans thought up," Sasha said, "Legend says Merlin was one, son of a human woman and an incubus. If he did exist, which would be way cool since I like the Arthur stuff, I'd bank more on Merlin being half-fae. Most pure fae can have children with humans, they just don't usually want to."

See, that was informative and interesting, Dean thought. Sam and his serious questions. Dean almost sighed. Serious questions made things way to heavy for Dean's liking. Real life got heavy enough.

Apparently, Sam thought they were taking turns or something, because he immediately spoke up again.

"Can I ask about that…what did you call it…hearth spell?" Sam said. Dean remembered that was what Sasha said when he poofed his aunt back to the incubus/succubus plane. He hoped it didn't bring up yet more serious discussion.

"It's simple enough," Sasha said. He actually seemed to be enjoying this extra attention. That shouldn't be surprising. This was probably the first time Sasha had ever talked about being an incubus to people who weren't also an incubus or succubus. In fact, when he was on the road before, he never had anyone to talk to about…anything. "Like I said, it's a fae spell, a way to bamf us back to our point of origin or birthplace. Generally that means the place our people gather."

"Wait," Sam broke in, his wide brow crinkling into several fine lines, "What does 'bamf' mean?"

Yeah, Sam was an idiot. "Dude," Dean said, because sometimes he wondered what genes he and his brother actually had in common, "Tell me you at least saw X-2."

"The second X-men movie? Sure."

"Blue guy? Nightcrawler?"

"I know who Nighcrawler is."

"Yeah? Well, when he goes poof, that's bamfing." Dean had the strangest feeling he had described this very thing to someone else once. Probably some annoying kid while they were on a hunt.

Sam looked unconvinced. "Why 'bamfing'?"

"It's how they write the sound effect in the comics," Sasha supplied. Common knowledge if you knew Marvel, or comics at all. Sam grew out of that a long time ago though, which was a damn shame as far as Dean was concerned.

"Okay…" Sam said, deciding not to add anything though he clearly considered Sasha and Dean to be twin geeks now, "Back to what we were walking about."

"Right," Sasha smiled. He caught Dean's eyes in the mirror yet again and they shared another secretive smile. "We use the spell to get home whenever we need to, and we can do it anywhere. Later, when it's time for us to leave again, we return to the same spot we used the hearth spell from."

Sam mulled over that a minute before asked a question Dean actually had to give the guy props for. "So hypothetical," he said, "You 'bamf' from here, right now. When it's time to come back, would you return to your spot in the car, or to a point in the road back there?"

Sasha's mouth opened only to close again. His brow crinkled, much as Sam's had, proving he had absolutely no idea how to answer that. "Huh," he said, "I don't know. I guess I've never really thought about it. Shi might know. She's much more…" Sasha trailed, his eyes widening even larger than they had when he stood by and watched Sam unexpectedly mojo Dean, "Shit. I haven't called her since Iowa. She's gonna murder me."

Immediately, Sasha snatched his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and flipped it open. Then he stopped, frozen, and looked slowly up again, like he didn't know how to dial.

"What the hell do I say? Sorry I bit your head off when you tried to be supportive of my exile? Sorry I got myself banished for killing your sister? Sorry I haven't called in weeks because I teamed up with other hunters, something you hate more than anything, and I just forgot? She…she must be so angry if she hasn't called first."

"Nah," Dean said, giving his best dismissive expression. The last thing he wanted was for Sasha's eyes to go all sad and Sam-like again. "I bet she just wanted to give you a little breathing time. Let you cool down. It's why she's waiting for you to call, so she knows you're ready." Dean smiled up at the mirror. "Wait any longer though and I'll bet she'll come after us like a harpy, so hurry your ass up back there."

Sasha laughed a little, which was always a good sign, and Sam gave Dean an approving nod. Dean really wished his brother would decide whether he was upset with him or not. The changing faces of Sam Winchester could get really annoying when you were constantly wondering which one you'd see next.

A few moments later Sasha had dialed his aunt's number, and judging by the conversation that followed, Dean had been entirely right. He liked that feeling. He also liked that he hadn't accidentally set Sasha up for disappointment.

It felt a little like an invasion, hearing Sasha's conversation in the backseat. They couldn't exactly step out for a moment in the middle of the highway, and turning on the radio would no doubt award Dean another glare from Sam instead of a smile. Dean tried not to listen too closely then, though of course he really couldn't help it. What caught his attention most was how insistent Sasha's aunt seemed to be about meeting him and Sam.

Sasha's cell phone was turned up enough that Dean heard very clearly when Shiarra said, "I should think I have the right to meet the men who have stolen my boy away from me."

Dean almost reached back and offered to talk with the succubus himself. He thought better of that quickly enough considering the nervous look on Sasha's face. Dean wasn't quite sure who his friend was more worried about, Shiarra and how she'd react around them, or vice versa.

Eventually, Sasha was wrapping things up, after several apologies and promises that one day they would all get together somehow, and that he would never forget to call like that again. Just as Sasha was hanging up though, he pulled the phone from his ear and glanced surprised down at it. Dean could see the screen blinking through the mirror and knew Sasha had someone on call waiting. Then Sasha was off with his aunt and had indeed picked up another call.

"Mr. Shaw?" he said, sounding as shocked as he looked.

That name clicked in Dean's head immediately. Daniel Shaw, the father of the family they had just saved in Danville.

"Calm down," Sasha said after listening for some time, "Everything will be fine. I promise. We're heading your way right now," he added, glancing up at Dean with an expression that was commanding and pleading at the same time.

As if Sam had mojoed him again, Dean didn't even think. He turned his baby around on the spot, looking for the closest way onto I-80 W towards Danville, California.

After a night of driving, which they had at least planned for—though they didn't plan to be heading towards the west coast—the boys arrived in Danville mid-morning. The Shaws had stayed the night with friends, but were going to meet them at their apartment to explain things. Sasha had passed on to Sam and Dean what little information he got out of Daniel Shaw during the drive, but it wasn't much to go on yet.

Their haunt might be over, but the family was certain something else was playing tricks on them in their apartment. At first the tricks seemed harmless, like dirt in the coffee grounds, but something had happened the other morning that was much more serious.

"And that's all he'd tell me," Sasha said, stepping out of the Impala after Sam and Dean. He looked up at the apartment building and shook his head. "It can't be Marisol. She was cremated. The bone in that hex bag was it for her."

"Then what?" asked Sam. He hadn't met the Shaws but Sasha had warned Daniel in advance that there would be one hunter extra.

Sasha shrugged. "We'll have to get more information to know anything. He sounded really scared though. He never sounded that scared when we were dealing with Marisol."

The way Sasha's voice sounded so serious, so worriedly thoughtful made Dean feel that much more worried over the issue too. They had just driven nineteen hours to return to an apartment they had already exorcised of its ghost. Dean had been skeptical at first—sometimes people were more likely to think they were haunted if they had been haunted in the past—but Sasha's insistence was enough for Dean to allow the benefit of the doubt on this one.

They were heading inside, right on time for when they said they would meet with the Shaws. Dean stepped ahead to push the buzzer, Sam close beside him. While waiting for a response, Dean looked back and saw Sasha still standing by the Impala, staring off down the alleyway.

"See something?" Dean called. Sasha's face looked even more pensive.

For a minute Sasha continued to stare, searching for something it seemed, but he soon shook his head and made way for the stoop. "I don't think so. Just shadows or something. Thought I saw someone I knew."

The abrupt noise of Daniel buzzing them in shook Dean back to attention, enough that he forgot Sasha's comment and instead starting thinking of all the ways he could call Daniel stupid for buzzing them in without checking to see who it was first.

Amateurs.

"Like I said, it was silly at first. Harmless," Tegen Shaw was saying as she passed each of the boys a cup of coffee. They were supremely grateful for that, since none of them had been able to sleep too well on the drive there. "We even thought it might be Esther. Her stuffed animals were all lined up on the foot of our bed the first morning. When she said she hadn't done it we just assumed…" Tegen shook her head.

The couple was on the loveseat in the main room while Dean and the others sat on the couch, the coffee table between them. They had been remarkably welcoming of Sam, Dean's little brother, and Esther had taken to him much better than she did to Dean. Of course Sasha was the one she kept trying to get to go play in her room. At present she was sitting on the floor a few feet away, pulling a string around for their cat.

"Things started getting a little more…well…scary before nightfall," Tegen continued, "Furniture would be moved so that one of us tripped over it when it had been fine before, like with the ghost. Dangerous things would go missing and end up somewhere else, things Esther knows not to go near, like Danny's box cutter. I didn't want to think anything was wrong. I told myself it was a coincidence. The ghost was gone. But then…then…yesterday morning…" Tegen couldn't say it, whatever it was, but tears welled in her eyes so quickly that Daniel pulled her in close beside him.

"Look," Daniel said, casting his gaze on all three hunters respectively, "We'll have to show you. I will," he corrected himself, looking down at his wife who nodded appreciatively, "Tegen hasn't been back in the room since. Me either to be honest." He stood up then and motioned the boys to follow him to the main bedroom.

This was getting a little too "Sixth Sense" for Dean. They had freed Marisol's spirit. Nothing should be happening. Unless she had somehow left some unknown curse should her soul ever leave the apartment. Dean didn't like that thought. He was still hoping the Shaws were overreacting.

Then they entered the main bedroom and Dean felt his breath hitch.

Positioned in perfect outlines of where Daniel and Tegen's bodies would have been on the bed were what Dean assumed was every knife in the house. They were stabbed deftly into the mattress and bedding, deep enough to stand up, though half of the knives were butter knives. To make matters even creepier, Esther's stuffed animals were positioned at the foot of the bed just as Tegen said they had been the first morning, only now they had all been ceremoniously beheaded.

"There's just…no way Esther could have done this," Daniel said, holding a hand to his face as if he might retch at any moment, "And Tegen and I were both asleep. I woke up to her screaming. We had trouble enough getting out of bed without cutting ourselves. It just…it's just too much. Nothing like this ever happened with the ghost. It was as if…she was always trying to scare us not hurt us. This is…this is different."

Dean knew the last thing any of them needed to do right now was look freaked, because the Shaws were freaked enough. But damn if Dean didn't want to freak, if just a little. Beheaded stuffed animals? Knives doing some chalk outline thing around the parents while they slept? This was serial killer shit, for crying out loud.

Catching Sasha and Sam's eyes, Dean motioned his head back out of the bedroom. Both of them nodded.

"We're gonna…take a look around," Dean said, putting on his toughest face as he turned to Daniel, "See if we can figure this out, okay?"

Daniel nodded gratefully and took his cue to leave, heading back into the living room to sit with his wife and daughter.

Meanwhile, Dean and the others went into Esther's room to talk more privately.

"Dude, she's totally a changeling, one of those evil fairy kids Sam researched," Dean said, looking around at the stuffed animal devoid kid's room, "Only thing that makes sense."

"Esther?" Sasha stressed, skeptical on the borderline of being offended. He took way too many things personally. "Dean, Esther is not a changeling. You saw her out there. She's fine. No strange behavior, nothing. Besides, I can sense she's human. Some things can fool an incubus, but not a changeling."

Damn. Dean had really liked that theory. "Then what are we dealing with here? We've gotten nothing for EMF. Sammy?" Dean looked over at Sam, who was continuing taking readings of Esther's room as he had with the entire apartment.

Sam shook his head. Not even a blip.

"See?" Dean said, "Marisol is ashes, so we know we're not dealing with a ghost anymore. What does that leave us? Creepy things happening to parents, in parents' room, with kid's stuffed animals looking on to enjoy the show. You put the pieces together."

Sasha bent down and grabbed a bear head that had managed to remain in Esther's room, the stuffing seeping out where its body had been. "Yeah…I'm sure they're really enjoying themselves."

"Just hear me out," Dean said, "Let's go watch her awhile. I'd bet my baby's new paintjob it's the kid."

Sam was putting the EMF meter away as he went to stand next to Sasha. Both of them just had to look all doubtful. What was worse was that they were doubting him together, leaving Dean out in the cold with his theory despite all his better judgment telling him he was right.

"Do either of you have any bright ideas?" Dean was experiencing some major déjà vu here.

And déjà vu continued as Sasha and Sam both shook their heads.

"Then let's go."

On that Dean walked into the hallway and headed for the living room. All he needed for proof that Esther was a changeling was some out of the ordinary behavior. It had only been a couple days. Daniel and Tegen might not have noticed yet. But Dean was a professional.

"Hey, kiddo," Dean said, smiling at the parents as he passed before turning his most charming grin on Esther. Dean could feel Sam and Sasha following behind him. They could look on with those matching judgmental stares all they wanted. Dean knew better than to trust pleasing guises. "So," he said to Esther, sitting cross-legged beside her on the floor, "Mind answering some questions to help us figure things out for you and your folks?"

Esther was smiling to herself as she continued to pull the string along the carpet for her cat. She looked at Dean sideways, giggled, then looked away again. If the kid was twenty years older and had done that Dean might have taken it as a sign of success. Unfortunately this was very different.

The movement of the string, so constant as Esther pulled it around, was distracting. Dean couldn't help looking down at it to watch the little white paws of the cat bat away with every movement.

"Cute cat. Must have been hiding from us those times before, huh? Afraid of the ghost?"

Esther giggled again and shook her head. "Tabby hid from the ghost, not Mr. White," she said, still keeping her eyes on the string as she trailed it.

"We had a cat before. Tabby," Tegen spoke up, "She just…wasn't the same with the ghost around so we gave her to some friends. We didn't think she'd want to come back after everything that happened so we let Esther keep this one. We took it as a good sign how he seemed so at home. But then Esther hasn't noticed anything scary either, and animals and children are supposed to be good about sensing this sort of thing, aren't they?"

"Most of the time," Dean said, not wanting to let the parents know he suspected Esther.

After watching a few moment more, Dean reached over and snatched the cat up. It struggled at first but gave in when he started stroking its back with firm scratches. The cat was small, young still but not as little as a kitten.

"Mind if I barrow this little guy?" Dean asked Esther.

She was smiling at how the cat took so easily to Dean and gave him a shy shake of the head. If the girl really was an evil creature in disguise and not the same girl they had dealt with before, than it was one damn good actor.

Dean smiled at Esther regardless and stood up with the cat to walk over to Sasha and Sam. "Maybe we should take Mr. White around. See if he hisses at any suspicious corners or anything."

"Dean," Sam said chidingly, "We're not using the cat as an EMF meter." Sam smiled apologetically down at the parents.

"Why not?" Dean started to say, but while he was holding the cat out towards his companions, Mr. White suddenly started struggling wildly again and hissing at Sasha. "Okay…" Dean said, pulling Mr. White back into his body to calm the cat down, "Something you wanna tell us?" he smirked at Sasha.

"Very funny," Sasha replied. Of course they had told Sam that the Shaws knew Sasha's little secret so there were no surprises there. "He knows I'm not human. Animals don't like when things look one way but are something else. I think I've managed to befriend a grand total of three pets in my entire life. Guess that's good though," he added, giving Dean a look, "Seems the cat would know if any people around weren't human."

Dean got the reference. So much for his Esther theory.

After looking around a bit more and coming up with absolutely no further ideas, the hunters excused themselves to go back to the car and collect more equipment—mainly Sam and Sasha's laptops for research since they were drawing a complete blank. They powwowed a bit outside the apartment door.

"Let's give it a while longer before we call Bobby," Sam said, since that had been one of the first suggestions Dean gave when they were outside, "There has to be something we're missing. Something obvious."

"Well Esther's human, the parents are freaked, and we're getting zip for readings," Dean said, "No sulfur either, not that I expected to find any. Maybe it really was just pranks. Neighbor kids or something. Sasha?" Dean turned to his friend for corroboration, but Sasha wasn't paying attention. His head was turned, looking down the hallway, and his eyes seemed distant. "Yo!" Dean said more loudly, causing Sasha to jump back to attention, "You with us, pal?"

The blue of Sasha's eyes cleared from their haze and he smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. Thought I heard voices."

"Voices?" Sam repeated. His expression spoke of worried understanding since he had experienced so many waking visions in the past.

Dean, however, doubted this was worth getting worried over. "First you're seeing things outside, now voices?" he teased, "Dude, that's not good no matter how supernatural you are." He shared a smile with his friend and then smacked Sasha good and hard on the back. "You need sleep, man. Or you're thinking too much about this case. We'll figure it out."

"Yeah," Sasha nodded, looking just as tired as Dean had pointed out, "I just get the feeling something's—" Sasha stopped with a jolt, his eyes bulging suddenly as he lurched forward, right into Dean's side. Dean tried to keep his friend upright, but Sasha fell too quickly, collapsing right there on the floor.

Letting himself fall with Sasha, Dean tried to keep a hold on him, but it was as if something was attached to Sasha and trying to tug him away. It was lucky there was no one in the hallway, because Sasha started shifting into his full incubus form as soon as he hit the ground. Then, before either Winchester could even begin to understand what was happening, Sasha stared at Dean with wide, pained red eyes before being pulled—impossibly—into the wall where he vanished without a mark left in the plaster.

tbc...

A/N: Hehehe. I would like to thank one of my readers-you know who you are-for commenting on how much more I could do with Marisol than I had. This inspired a great deal just by mulling that over, and has been a great help in helping me solidify how I will be eventually getting to the Gordon aspects. Hee. This should be fun. Any guesses?

Also, that journal entry of John's is real. You can read those first few pages of his journal at the official site, though I recommend going to the 'Winchester Journals' site because you can read them there in easier print. Love you all!

Crim