Part 4: His Wicked Ways

"No!" Dean clutched after Sasha's hands but they were already gone. Diving forward as if he could follow Sasha right into the wall, Dean called again and pressed his fingers to the spot his friend had vanished, "Sasha!" But all he found was hard plaster, cold and mocking.

Dean couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. There was no way that actually just happened. One moment Sasha was standing there talking to him, and the next he was gone, having completely disappeared into the wall. Dean might not know everything about Sasha, but he was pretty damn sure that phasing was not one of his friend's incubus powers.

The impossible was something Dean understood well—he saw it everyday—but this still shook him. Slowly, he rose from the ground, his fingers trailing up the wall as he went. He saw in his periphery that Sam reached forward to touch the wall too. It was solid, that was certain. Wherever Sasha had gone, they couldn't follow him the same way. Then Dean glanced towards the nearest door on that side of the hallway. He sprinted right for it.

"Dean!" he heard Sam call after him, but he wasn't listening. Sasha couldn't just be gone.

Dean was knocking on that nearby door vigorously the next second. "Uhh…hi there," he said to the elderly gentleman who eventually answered. Dean knew he was fidgeting something fierce, which wasn't exactly behavior that made people trust a stranger, but he had to get a look inside that apartment just to be sure Sasha wasn't magically on the other side of the wall—safe.

Attempting a rather poor excuse for his usual smirk, Dean continued.

"I, uhh…don't suppose anyone's…come through your apartment recently? Maybe? Unexpected…guest of some kind?"

The old man blinked at Dean with a furrowed brow. "Only person to come knocking on this door, son, was my Meals on Wheels this morning. You want something?"

Dean tried to look harmless as he peered inside, staring over the man's head to look to the left where Sasha would be if he had actually gone through the wall. It was more than obvious that that couldn't be the case, and Dean looked back at Sam with panicked, pained eyes and shook his head. "Nevermind," Dean said to the man, barely looking at him since he was anxious now to leave and figure out another way to look for Sasha, "Sorry to bother you."

As soon as the old man shut his door, Dean was back at Sam's side, just as frantic.

"What do we do?" he cried, a hand running hard through his hair and nails digging painfully into his scalp. He wanted to pace but there was only a few feet from wall to wall unless he wanted to trek down the hallway.

Sam was frantic too, Dean could see it in his brother's eyes, but he still managed to sound calm as he reached forward and grabbed Dean's shoulders to steady him. "I don't know, okay? We just…we just need to…use what we do know and figure this out."

"Well what pulls people into walls?"

"I…uhh…"

"Think, damn it!"

"Dean." Sam squeezed Dean's shoulders a little tighter and looked him square in the eyes. "I don't know. Just…calm down. We have to stay calm."

Right. Calm. Easy for Sam. He was always the calm one. At least outwardly. Dean no longer doubted that there was something supernatural going on in this apartment building, but what the hell did it have to do with Sasha? Was he trapped in that wall? Dean couldn't hear anything when he pressed his ear against it. But that left so many other possibilities.

Sam shook his head when Dean asked again—calmly—if he knew anything offhand about creatures that sucked victims into walls. Dean couldn't think of anything either. They needed a computer. They needed to sort through the things they knew so far. But somehow it was so much harder to concentrate when it was no longer just the family they were trying to save, but one of their own.

Back inside the Shaws' apartment, Dean explained what happened to Sasha as calmly as he could. He would have preferred Sam do the talking but he preferred even more to have Sam booting up the family's computer. Dean wouldn't let Sam go down to the Impala to get his laptop anymore, not when it felt too much like leaving Sasha behind, even if only for a moment. Sam didn't understand at first, argued even, but eventually he gave in, if only to appease Dean. Frankly, Dean didn't care if his brother gave him a look that spoke promises of discussions later. Sam could speculate all he wanted. Dean just wanted Sasha back.

It felt like hours passed but it had only been twenty minutes. Sam still hadn't found any leads and Dean couldn't stop pacing. Daniel and Tegen were in the kitchen making something for them all to eat, completely understanding of the brothers' desire to figure out what happened to Sasha before they worked on anything else. After all, there was way too likely a chance that the incidents were connected.

Dean didn't mean to hover over Sam's shoulder as his brother worked, but he just felt so useless. He was trying not to think about how worried he was, and he knew that if he kept pacing around the apartment he'd go crazy. He barely noticed at first when Esther started tugging on the sleeve of his shirt.

"Mr. Dean?" she said when he didn't respond.

That managed to force at least a small smile from Dean. He looked down into those large golden brown eyes and said, "My first name's not James, kiddo. It's just Dean."

Esther giggled, but Dean was afraid she'd bring up what had happened to Sasha, and he didn't think he knew how to answer. Ultimately, he was much more shaken by what she did say. "Sasha looks like an angel again."

"What?" Dean dropped to a knee in front of the girl. She didn't look worried like the rest of them. She looked perfectly content.

"He came through my wall," she said, as if it was the most normal thing that had happened to her all day. Considering her life over the past week, it probably was.

The gears in Dean's head clicked and he took off without another thought, not bothering to see if Sam had heard and was following behind him. Esther's room seemed leagues away, but when Dean finally reached it and ran inside, all the worry that had built up inside of him seeped away.

Sasha.

The incubus was indeed in his 'angel' form, as Esther called it, just as he had been when he was pulled into the wall out in the hallway. It looked like he had been thrown into Esther's room only to land in the same position he had been in when he was taken—collapsed on the floor, coughing into the carpet as if he hadn't been able to breathe the entire time he was gone.

Dean tried not to rush as he ran to Sasha's side, tried not to look like the weight of the world had just left his shoulders, but his body barely listened to him these days.

Sasha was winded but not hurt. Sasha was okay. Sasha was there, right in front of him. And when the incubus rolled onto his back, morphing into an exhausted heap of his human form, he looked up at Dean with a strained smile.

"My cousins suck," the incubus said.

Dean was so relieved to have found Sasha alive and well, he barely heard that. "What?" he said as he reached down for Sasha's hand to hoist his friend to his feet.

"You're not delirious, are you?" Sam broke in, having followed Dean after all, leaning against the doorframe and smiling as big as they were.

Sasha was unsteady on his feet and continued taking slow, gulping breaths. Still, he was smiling. He was okay. "Brownies," he managed, "In the walls. Well…kind of."

"So that's a 'yes' to the delirious question?" Dean said. Brownies in the walls?

A choked laugh left Sasha but he shook his head. He was still getting his breath back, so Sam came forward on his behalf, ever the knowledgeable one, and said, "Brownies are household fairies. They do and don't live in the walls because it's more like a dimensional rift, right? They're good though. Usually. They look out for a family. They like humans."

"They do," Sasha nodded, but since staying on his feet was proving to be a very bad idea right now, he finally fell limp and heavy against Dean's side.

Dean caught him with some difficulty given the incubus' larger size, but he managed to guide his breathless friend over to Esther's bed anyway. Sitting himself down next to Sasha, Dean didn't mind at all the way Sasha's body continued to lean into his. It felt solid. Real.

"Thanks," Sasha smiled wearily up at Dean, his body slouched, "Brownies…hobgoblins…whatever you want to call them…they…aren't our bad guy," he explained, "They wanted to…warn me."

"Warn you? Why you?" Dean asked.

He was looking right at Sasha with Sasha looking right at him. They seemed so impossibly close on that little bed. It brought new heat to Dean's face and he suddenly had no choice but to turn away or risk being burned. He wasn't thinking straight, he knew that. Par for the course with Dean when he was worried about someone he cared for.

As he looked away, Dean caught Sam's eyes, having almost forgotten his brother was there, and he was not oblivious to Sam's confused and gauging look. Dean decided to ignore it, looking instead to the door where he saw all three Shaws standing there listening.

Sasha laughed a little before finally answering, "Do you see any other…fae related creatures in our company?" he teased.

True, Dean thought, as he turned back, more collected now at least even as those same blue eyes captured his. So that explained why they took Sasha, but not for what purpose.

"What did they tell you?" Sam asked.

Again, Sasha let out a laugh. "That we're idiots."

"Marisol wasprotecting the family?" Even as Dean said that, disbelief clear in his voice, he felt a pang of inevitability. It was just the sort of thing that would happen to them. Why the hell did they have to keep getting things so wrong?

"I guess she thought she could scare them away," Sasha went on. They were in the living room now, Sasha kicked back in the recliner though he kept swearing up and down that he was fine. Tegen seemed to enjoy extending her mother role to the men who were working so hard to help them, especially with Sasha being the one who dove off a building to save her daughter and all.

Dean had to admit that it did add up, the part about Marisol anyway. Her haunting was scary as Hell, but never the kind that actually hurt the family. They were on the case before things got to the point where they believed the family would be hurt, and then…well. Apparently, the family that dove out of the apartment to their deaths in the 60s was scared a little too much, but not enough for them to just move out of the damn building.

Already Sam was working vigorously on the family computer, looking up everything he could about the real culprit. It wasn't the 'brownies in the walls', but they had warned Sasha of the real threat when they pulled him into their realm—something that would have been painless if Sasha was a full fae instead of only part.

"So this thing's a what now?" Dean pressed. He didn't really care about their screw up or the good fairies watching over them. He wanted to know what needed to be hunted. That's the part of this job he understood; shoot and kill.

The color had completely returned to Sasha's face and he was breathing normally. Only Tegen's continued looks of disapproval when he tried to get up kept him in the chair. "It's a lutin," Sasha said, "Like an imp. It's a French term. They're most common in Quebec and other parts of Canada. I don't know much else about them though," hence Sam's researching even as they spoke, "but it could be really bad. These things are mischievous by nature. They'll stop at nothing to get what they want, whatever it may be. Some of them can even be…well…"

"Evil," Dean supplied, and it wasn't a question.

Sasha didn't nod, probably out of a service to the family, but the focused look he gave Dean said enough.

"Isn't it dangerous to stay here then?" Tegen asked. She was passing out the grilled cheese and tomato soup she and Daniel had made for everyone. It was warm and homemade, so even if they were in the middle of a hunt—which they…were—nothing could have kept Dean from accepting his share of the food.

A slight glare from Sam got Dean to keep his bowl of soup on the coffee table as he ate, not that he would spill anyway. He wasn't nine.

"If this…imp thing wants to hurt us…" Daniel said, looking around like the very walls would attack them.

"It's okay for now," Sasha said, kicking the footrest down despite Tegen's stern expression, "Marisol must have been keeping the lutin enclosed to the apartment even before she died, that's why she had all those things in her will, and why she stayed behind to watch the place. With her gone the lutin is free, but we'd know if it was with us. They can't turn invisible like other fae. It must be hiding on the other side of a portal somewhere, a door between our world and where Marisol was keeping it trapped. It would be in a place Marisol was particularly protective of." Sasha looked at Daniel and Tegen who had taken their places on the loveseat again. "Can you think of anything?"

The couple looked to each other but neither seemed to find an answer in the face of the other. "It's such a small place compared to a house," Tegen said, "It felt like we saw her everywhere. I don't know if I could pinpoint one place."

"Then we'll have to search for it. Now that I know what I'm looking for, there's a spell I know, real simple, that helps reveal fissures to the fairy plane. We'll find it. And the lutin. I promise."

"How do we kill it?" Dean asked. The rest of the information floated over him. It may have been one of the reasons they got so turned around with Marisol, but Dean didn't care about the creature's motivations or any of the details. He just wanted to know what it took to bring the thing down. Now he knew who the bad guy was and that was good enough for him.

Sasha smiled somewhat sourly at Dean when he replied. "It's fae," he said, "So…same way you kill me."

Iron. Good. That they had plenty of.

A few minutes later, after eating their grilled cheese and soup unfairly fast, Dean and Sasha were up searching for hidden portals. It was clear now that Sasha was perfectly fine, having recovered from his dimensional ordeal. Dean wanted to ask more about it, but he got the feeling Sasha wasn't supposed to say any more than he had. Rather than risk the wrath of the creatures that had deemed them worthy to help, Dean kept silent.

Sasha's little spell took all of two seconds, but he assured Dean as they looked around the apartment that it would be enough. If there was a way into the plane the lutin was hiding, they would find it.

The kitchen was first. They left Sam back on the computer, still trying to search out something more helpful then 'find lutin; kill with iron'. The family stayed in the living room too, Daniel and Tegen down on the floor playing with Esther, who still seemed so amazingly calm. Dean chalked it up to the blind faith of youth again and left them to it.

"You don't suppose…" Dean started, eyeing the refrigerator as if it housed the very gateway to Hell itself.

Sasha's response of merely shrugging didn't quell Dean's anxiety. Now he had to check. Reaching for the handle to the fridge, Dean took a breath and pulled, all but expecting to see a tunnel of blood and bone and fire…but finding plain ordinary condiments, leftovers, and juice.

Dean closed the door again, trying to play innocent as Sasha chuckled at him. "One too many nights spent watching Ghostbusters, okay? Sue me."

They continued on. Everywhere they looked they found nothing but a normal apartment. They checked with Sam but he was having trouble finding anything about lutins that was more helpful then 'they're a type of fae, like an imp, disliking iron and salt'. Common knowledge stuff wouldn't help them at the step they were at now. They were still tracking the damn thing.

The parents' bedroom seemed likely since that's where most of the damage had been done, but it came up clean too, finally leaving only Esther's room at the end of the hall.

Before they even stepped inside, the fissure was clear, a vibrant, glowing blue light in jagged lines along the wall above Esther's bed. But it wasn't a portal; it was only a crack, as if it had already sealed itself up.

Sasha touched his hand to the blue light and it at once went out, closing tight like a zipper. "This is bad," he said.

"What's bad?"

"If the portal's sealed then the lutin has to be here in the apartment somewhere," Sasha shook his head, "And we've just covered every inch of the place."

"Can I still guess the kid?" Dean offered, smirking to prove he was only joking, though he still kind of liked that theory.

He was pleased when Sasha smiled back, unlike Sam who would have raised an eyebrow and given Dean that look he had perfected so well. "No, Dean." Sasha said, humor and serious intent both present in his voice, "But you've got a good start. It would have to be in plain sight."

"Esther, come back here!" came Tegen's voice suddenly, followed by the arrival of Esther's little form running into the room at Sasha where she clung to one of the incubus' pant legs.

"What's up, beautiful?" Sasha smiled, hand already smoothing back the girl's blonde hair with open affection. Such things came out of Sasha so easily it made Dean ache. The guy had to have a character flaw somewhere, and having to have sex to survive didn't count—not in Dean Winchester's book anyway.

Tegen ran in after Esther before the girl could say anything, looking very stern again as her hands came up to rest on her hips. "Young lady, how many times have I had to tell you today? Hand them over now. Your grandmother gave us those shakers."

Carefully prying Esther from his jeans, Sasha knelt down beside the girl and took her by the hands. They were empty, but the pockets of her jumper looked surprisingly plump. "Now, what could possibly be hiding in there?" Sasha said, smiling instead of wearing a scowl as Tegen was.

Dean watched, truly amazed, as Sasha's simple act and simple smile brought color to the girl's cheeks, and in the next moment she was pulling salt and pepper shakers out of her pockets.

"Why would you want to take those?" Sasha asked, winking up at Tegen who had lost her frustrated glower by now and was pretty much smiling too.

Esther shrugged, placing the shakers into Sasha's much larger hands. "I wasn't taking the shakers," she said, "I just want to pour the salt out."

"The salt?" Dean questioned. He never took any matters of salt lightly. Not in his line of work, and especially not when they knew this lutin thing hated salt about as much as a ghost did.

Esther nodded up at Dean before turning back to Sasha. "Mr. White doesn't like salt," she said.

Mr…White?

Shit. Sasha's head snapped back and his eyes met Dean's with the same look of panicked recognition Dean knew he was wearing too. Being idiots seemed a regular habit with them these days. Sasha was on his feet in a second, but before either of them could exclaim their realization, they heard Sam yelling for them in the living room.

"Dean! Sasha! Get in here now!"

They knew better than to waste any time. "Sam we just realized," Dean started as they both went running up to Sam at the computer, "The lutin, it's—"

"The cat," Sam said at the exact same time the word left Dean. They stopped then and the three of them just looked at each other for a moment before Sam finally went on. "How did you know?"

"How did you know?" Dean pressed, peering around Sam to look at the computer screen.

"I finally got a good lead," Sam explained, "Lutins in France are known to take the form of a horse. Not very helpful. But lutins in Quebec and areas of Canada…" Sam pointed to the place in the webpage where it showed a nice clear drawing of a white animal unmistakable for anything but what it was, "Those lutins take the form of a cat."

Dean heard Sasha's voice before he could even think to turn, sounding more driven and severe than he had ever heard it, "Daniel, get your family out of the apartment. Now."

Daniel Shaw was standing behind them in the living room. His expression was pure blind fear in the face of Sasha's words and he didn't wait to hear any more. He yelled for his wife and daughter, gathered them without explanation and ran for the door.

A shot of white bolted from under the kitchen table, heading straight for the door as the Shaws went through it. Dean saw it clearly, but Sasha was faster. The incubus vaulted the chair in his way and leapt impossibly to the door where he fell against it hard enough to slam it behind the Shaws and keep the cat from escaping with them.

The cat stopped at first, inches from Sasha's foot, and hissed at him as it had before.

"Whatever you want from them, you're not going to get it," Sasha promised. He lunged down at the floor but even a cat was faster than an incubus. It slipped away and shot through the living room to the hallway. "It can't leave unless an opening is made for it!" Sasha yelled after Sam and Dean as they gave chase, "No matter what, we can't let it out!"

Dean heard that, and he had no intention of giving this thing the run of downtown Danville. Marisol had kept the lutin sealed in her apartment for 100 years. They were the reason it had free reign now, but that didn't mean they were going to let it out. At least some of Marisol's magic still made certain that the lutin couldn't leave without an invitation.

This was ridiculous, Dean thought, as he went into the master bedroom with all the knives still stuck into the mattress and headless stuffed animals sitting eerily at the foot of the bed. He was peering under the bed for signs of a little white cat after all. He couldn't believe he had actually pet the damn thing.

"Coward!" Dean shouted. Even if he couldn't see the cat, he knew it could hear him, "You're just gonna hide, is that it? Stay a helpless little cat instead of fighting us like a man! Not that you even are a man!" Dean taunted, "Fucking fairy," he added under his breath. He never liked hide and seek when he was a kid either.

"I don't think he really cares if you insult him, Dean," came Sasha's voice from behind him, close enough that it made Dean jump. Of course, Sasha simply smiled. "Think like a fairy," he winked, ignoring the prominent eyebrow raise Dean responded with, "Think playful," Sasha clarified, "He's not just a cat. He's Esther's cat. She found him, probably in her own bedroom and Tegen and Daniel just assumed she found it outside. He didn't do anything to Esther, only the parents. He just wanted to play."

Dean grinned. Oh Dean could play. Dean invented mischievous play. "Come on out, Mr. White!" Dean called, a completely different tone to his voice than before. He nodded assuredly at his brother when Sam peered inside the room, having gone for Esther's room when Dean went for the main one. "What would you want with Esther anyway when you've got an incubus and hunters to play with, huh? We've learned games from all sorts of crazy creatures! Ones you've probably never even heard of!"

Sasha nodded. This was a much better tactic, and really, it had to be Dean who called the lutin out. Mr. White didn't like Sasha, and after all, Dean had been the one to pet him.

"You want me to scratch your back again, man, just say so!" Dean continued, "But you gotta show yourself! We can stay like this all day, ya know, but it's going to be boring, I promise you that!"

The laughter that echoed over the walls was chilling, like a young boy's, fifteen at most, just before his voice would change. It resounded everywhere so that there was no way to know where it was really coming from. Still, Sasha gestured them back into the hallway, and Dean followed without thought. He figured one fairy would know another better than he would.

They made their way back to the living room, slowly, no longer hurried. There, lounging comfortably on the couch, was what very much looked like a fifteen year old boy, only his hair was shock white and wild. His eyes remained that of a cat's, green with slit pupils. His clothing was simple and white as well. Like Sasha in his incubus form, this boy fairy had a point to his ears and his grin was almost infectious.

"Do you really want to play with me, Dean?" he asked, his voice sing-song sweet as he stretched back on the couch, "I don't think you're up to it."

While Dean knew there was nothing sexual meant in the comment, it still put a squicky feeling in his stomach. "Dude, you're just a kid," he said. Half of him didn't even feel the need to reach for his gun, but he knew better than to trust visible forms. He didn't even try to hide how he reached back to clutch the weapon tucked into the back of his jeans. Thank the heavens he had a gun loaded with iron.

"You're to blame, you know?" the lutin said, at ease now, not even trying to run or protect himself as he had as the cat, "You took Marisol away from me. She promised to stay and play forever and you took her away. How can you blame me for wanting someone new to play with?"

"You want Esther," Sasha growled. It made Dean shudder to hear his friend sound so…unfriendly.

The lutin pouted, actually pouted as he turned to look at Sasha, who had pointedly taken out the iron knife he had been keeping in his jacket. "I don't like you. You're only half my kind. You only play with humans. You'd never play with me." He turned back to Dean then, ignoring Sam who had the Colt of all things as his weapon, having taken it out of the bag they left next to the computer. "But you, Dean, I like you. You'd play with anything as long as it was fun for you. I can make it fun."

Again Dean repressed revulsion at how sexual that sounded. Those were just not words he wanted to hear from a fifteen year old boy, even if it was only a guise. "I don't get you, pal," Dean said. He was keeping his brother and Sasha in his periphery as he moved. They were all in constant motion, trying to surround the lutin who stilled seemed so frustratingly calm. "You want a friend, is that it? Sorry about Marisol, really. Our bad. But you can't have Esther. And you're sure as hell not getting me."

"That's a shame," the lutin sighed, his arm dangling down to the carpet, "You would have been fun." Green eyes darted up at Dean and there was something deadly fierce in them as he said, "I guess I'll have to take your brother instead."

Dean pulled his gun and fired at the couch. No one threatened him or his like that and lived, and they sure as hell didn't get away with threatening to take Sammy.

Of course Dean shouldn't have been surprised at how easily the lutin avoided the shot. Mr. White, or whatever name he really had, was just gone, vanished, leaving a fresh bullet hole in the back of the couch.

Then Dean felt hands crawling up his back to his shoulders, small, gliding hands, and he froze. "I wouldn't be so mean," whispered the boyish voice of the lutin, "I can be mean too."

Pain shot through Dean's shoulders as the lutin dug what felt like knives deep into his skin. Dean cried out, crumbling on the spot to his knees. But when he reached up to feel the wounds he found nothing, not even tears in his jacket.

Sam and Sasha rushed to him but Dean was already getting to his feet again, the pain gone, an illusion that felt only too real. Unfortunately, the lutin was gone again too.

"Fuck," Dean cursed through clenched teeth, "How do we fight this thing?"

"The only illusion I can weave is the one you're looking at," Sasha said, reminding Dean of what Sasha had told him once about glamours—illusions so real you can feel them, "This thing…he's pure fae. It may not be real, not the way a trickster makes reality out of nothing, but it'll feel real enough." Sasha's eyes lit up then and he grabbed Dean's arm. "Rock salt. Do you have your sawed-off?"

Dean blinked, still thinking about how much his shoulders had hurt when the lutin pulled that stunt on him, "Uhh…yeah. In the bag. Loaded even."

Sam was grinning beside them then and things quickly started to click with Dean too.

"Let's bring this brat down," Dean said. If junior wanted to play hide and seek, then he was in for a hell of a surprise when he got found.

Dean took his shotgun from the bag, Sam had the Colt, and Sasha had his knife and his blessed incubus strength. Dean had to restrain himself from yelling a 'come out, come out, wherever you are,' but he was sorely tempted. It reminded Dean of why he hated kids. Usually. Esther he could handle. She was sweet and small. This teenager wannabe was goddamned annoying.

The apartment was small enough that even if they split up there would be plenty of time to rush to someone if they needed aide, so split they did, each with their weapon of choice. Dean called out to the lutin again as he moved back into Esther's room, leaving the parents' room to Sasha this time.

"I just don't get things like you," Dean said, not even bothering to yell. Sasha said the thing couldn't turn invisible, so it was simply hiding and fast as hell. Dean hoped he found it first. "You want a friend, right? You want someone to play with you? Why not play with Esther then, as a good little kitty or whatever, and leave her parents alone."

"Not good enough!" came the reply, echoing again so that Dean turned sharply in each direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of white, "They'd take her away. They wouldn't let her play whenever I wanted. And she'd grow up. Grow old, like Marisol did. Oh no, not again. I'm not waiting this time. I want someone who will stay forever, right now."

Dean got the gist but he still couldn't understand the crazy going through this kid's head. "You wanna kill your playmate so their ghost will stay with you forever? Dude, that is just messed up. Moderation, man. Moderation and we might have let you live through this."

"Oh really?" The voice came soft but clear, as if the lutin were speaking right into Dean's ear.

Then Dean felt breath hit the side of his face and he knew he wasn't imagining it.

Dean turned and fired, and this time he hit his mark. The lutin had tried to run again with his incredible speed, but a shotgun was different than a pistol and it sprayed rock salt at a much larger area than a shell.

The lutin howled as little pellets of salt stuck into his body, sizzling and burning him. A few pieces hit his face and it left angry red welts where his smooth, youthful skin had been. Teeth bared as he clutched at the places where the salt was hurting him, he really did look like a wounded, wild cat. Dean would have felt pity if he hadn't learned firsthand the sinister ideals hiding inside that childish shell.

The kid didn't even get why what he wanted was wrong. He wanted a friend, but not so much that he would give up his cruel, impish ways. It was like a fairytale, Dean thought, like the real ones, not Disney's 'G' version. A lesson had to be learned, and with it came pain and gore and agony. Even then the villain never really understood why it had to die.

Sasha and Sam heard the shot and were in the room before the lutin even started to fall to the floor. It stared up at them, furious. Suddenly, it lunged for Sam with such speed that the Colt flew from his hands as they tumbled to the floor.

"I'll have one of you yet!" the lutin cried, and his voice, although still young, sounded shrill with age and maddened loneliness. He clutched at Sam's throat with those small hands, and despite his size, seemed only too capable of besting the larger man.

Dean couldn't fire more rock salt without hitting Sam, and Sasha didn't dare take the risk with his knife either. Instead, just as Sasha threw his knife away and looked as if he was going to lunge for the lutin and pull him off of Sam with brute strength, the lutin started screaming.

Those little hands left Sam's throat as the lutin reared back, his forearms burnt where Sam's hands had gripped him. Points to the melting power, Dean thought. Even the lutin looked amazed, despite his pain. He looked right at Sam, completely calm for a moment.

"Aren't you interesting…" he said.

But Sam wasn't wasting time, and he kicked out with his legs, forcing the lutin back into the wall where he crumbled. This was their chance, but as all three of them rounded on the lutin to attack again, those green eyes looked up with such remarkable light that Dean found himself sucked in.

Dean blinked, seeing nothing but emerald everywhere for several moments. When he finally shook the light from his eyes, he was still in the room, but Sam and the lutin were gone, leaving only Sasha. Sasha…

Who was bending down to pick up the knife he had dropped and walking calmly over to Dean with the wickedest grin Dean had ever seen.

"Sasha…?" Dean felt fear rise up in him so fast, he thought for certain he had found his way back into one of his dreams again.

Then Dean heard Sasha's voice, faintly, but not coming from the figure of Sasha in front of him at all. "Don't believe it!" Sasha's voice cried, "Whatever you're seeing, it isn't real!"

By then the form of Sasha was upon Dean and Dean couldn't move, not even when Sasha grabbed him viciously and stuck the knife deep into his gut. "Feels real," said the Sasha in front of Dean, still grinning cruelly, "Doesn't it?"

Understatement.

Dean had been shot and stabbed so many times, he lost count years ago. But this was different. This just hurt so much, like the way Dean's shoulders had hurt under the lutin's power before. How cold the knife felt inside him, so cold it burned. How Sasha twisted it and made him cry out against the renewed pain. How Sasha…looked at him.

"Dean! Sam!" called Sasha's other voice, the one without a body, "Don't believe it, please!"

Dean didn't believe it. He knew this wasn't Sasha. He knew it. And yet…he couldn't look away from the blue eyes, the fierce hate hidden in a smile, the pain of the knife, God, it hurt so much. Dean started slipping, started falling to the floor. He knew he couldn't let this happen. He couldn't let himself believe it. It wasn't real. It wasn't even Sasha.

It was the damn brat!

And he wasn't taking any of them.

Fighting the pain of the knife and the weariness in his legs, Dean lifted himself back to full height and stood steady. He grabbed the hilt of the knife, its edge right against his skin, and he pulled, fighting Sasha's strength the entire time. But it wasn't Sasha's strength. Not really.

The second the knife was free Dean was back in the real room, Sasha across from him, real and worried, not at all cruel. And Sam was still on the floor, looking flushed and breathing heavy, as if he too had been fighting an illusion. Dean imagined he had been, and he was pretty certain he didn't want to know what Sam had seen.

Beating the illusion looked as if it weakened the lutin even more, for he was still crouched by the wall, marred from the salt and gasping.

It was Sasha who moved. Sasha who reached down not for his knife, but for the Colt Sam had dropped. "Dean was right," he said, staring cold and unflinching at the beaten lutin who had fallen so easily in the end for being too proud, "I just don't get you. I don't understand why the friendship Esther offered and would have continued to offer with as much as she was able, couldn't be enough for you. You expect everything but are willing to give nothing back. No compromise, just your needs met. It doesn't work that way."

It was a shock to Dean's ears to hear the lutin laugh, though it was a poor excuse for how it had sounded when they first heard it. He looked right up at Sasha, green eyes dulled now, as if the salt worked as much like poison as iron would. "You'd know," he said, and there passed a secretive smirk as if the lutin were telling Sasha something only the incubus could understand.

Sasha fired, no warning, just the trigger pulled, the roar of the Colt, and the unnatural burn of the bullet in the lutin's skull. It was dead as anything would be dead from the Colt's shot, the first time Dean had seen it work like that since he fired the last original bullet into the yellow-eyed demon. Sasha's hand was shaking when he lowered the gun. Something had hit too close to home again and Sasha's expression was grim.

Naturally, Dean had no choice but to banish it. "God, I'm starving. You think Tegen will make me another grilled cheese if I ask nicely?" He grinned over at Sasha.

By the time Sam had collected himself from the floor, Sasha was Sasha again, no fierce expression. But Dean would remember that look and maybe one day he'd learn what it really meant.

Looking down at the lutin's body, Dean did a double-take at first before realizing that there was no body anymore, only gathering glittery dust, as if they had just poofed a vampire in one of those old movies. When Dean looked back at Sam and Sasha, they were both just as dumbfounded as he was, which actually made Dean feel a lot better about things.

He moved over to stand next to them and smacked each of his companions on the back. "Think they got a Dirt Devil around here somewhere?" he said.

It was after dinner before the boys left the Shaws' apartment. At first they had stayed to help clean up and put the apartment back to normal—they removed the knives from the main bedroom's mattress, knowing how difficult that would have been for Daniel or Tegen—but Tegen just kept wanting to feed them and thank them in every way possible. Dean certainly wasn't complaining. He got homemade chocolate chip cookies out of the deal, something he hadn't had in…God, maybe ever.

It turned out that Esther had indeed discovered Mr. White in her room, and that Tegen and Daniel had just assumed she found it outside. Dean spent a good half hour explaining all the ways that was stupid. He didn't care if Sam and Sasha both gave him scolding looks for how tactless he was being; he just hoped this made the Shaws smarter and safer.

Esther was sad her new 'cat' had been so naughty. But when Sasha took her aside, whispering something to her that Dean couldn't hear, the girl was suddenly fine. Dean asked Sasha later what he had said to her.

"Just that she'll have a new cat soon. A much better one too."

They were making their way down the stairs of the apartment building, a gifted Tupperware container full of leftover cookies tucked under Sam's arm. Sam and Dean exchanged a look and Sam said, "Uhh…why does that sound like there's more to it than a simple trip to the Humane Society?"

Sasha laughed. "The brownies," he said, opening the door for the others to exit before him, "they consider what the lutin did so horrible, so against their ways—considering they're different species—they're going to do an exchange."

"Exchange?" Dean repeated. He didn't like how much that sounded like how changelings worked. He breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his car though, as he always did when he left it alone in a strange place for a long time.

"An exchange of one of their own in place of the lutin," Sasha said, smiling brightly.

Sam and Dean both paused again to look back at Sasha.

He shrugged. "I told the Shaws that when—not if but when—a new little cat appears outside their apartment door, it's okay to accept it in. It'll keep an eye on things in case anything ever tries to harm them that way again. It's rare that these types of fae offer a guardian. But good. Purely good, believe me."

At this point Dean didn't even want to think about the possibility of Sasha being wrong, so he gave a shrug of his own and unlocked his baby's driver's side door. "Whatever you say, man. But if we ever get called back to this place for something other than food, you're riding in the trunk from that point on."

It looked as if Sasha was going to laugh again, his smile broad and filled with humor, but his eyes darted down the alley for a moment and the expression immediately dropped from his face.

Sam was already getting in the Impala, but Dean noticed his friend's pause and waited. "Hey, not still seeing things, are you?"

Sasha's brow furrowed, but when he turned away from the alley finally he shook his head. "I think I'm just tired," he said, heading for his door and tossing Dean a smile, "Long day. Sleep sounds good. In a real bed preferably."

They got into the car together, their doors slamming shut in unison so that Dean got a slight chill thinking about how much Sasha had acclimated to the group. Usually that kind of synchronization was something Dean only ever managed with Sam. It was Sam then who said, "If you can even call the beds we usually find real."

That was true enough. Dean shifted into drive, pleased to have another hunt behind them and to have both brother and friend along for the ride. "At this point, I'll take whatever I can get," he said.

What they did get wasn't all that bad. A cheap Holiday Inn on the edge of the city, proving they would at least escape the amazing decorating patterns of more generic hotels, at least for a night. Back to Texas the next morning they had decided, though Dean secretly hoped they would get some kind of lead along the way so they didn't have to drive another day and night straight through again.

It was nine o'clock and Sam was already in bed, softly snoring. Dean took it as a blessing. He feared Sam would start right in with questions when they reached the hotel. Thankfully, Sasha had kept them company until about a half hour ago when Sam mentioned how tired he was, and then Sam simply took a shower and crashed.

Dean, on the other hand, couldn't sleep this early, even if it was the only chance he was going to get for a full night's sleep in probably a while. He flipped on the TV, keeping it muted for Sam's sake—something he would only ever do if he knew Sam was actually sleeping—and checked out the movies on Pay-per-View.

One of the titles Dean came across made him grin. He didn't care if he woke Sasha up. They had an arrangement to keep and tonight seemed as good a night as any.

Dean knocked on Sasha's door only a few minutes later, a six-pack in his hands and a prominent smirk on his face. Sasha answered the door in only his jeans, but although he looked tired it was clear by the sound of the TV playing in the background that he hadn't been sleeping.

"Think fast," Dean said, half tossing and half pressing the six-pack of beer into Sasha's bare chest. Sasha hissed at the sudden cold, too stunned to stop Dean from entering, which Dean did and then went straight for the remote. "Guess what I found?" he said, flipping the channels until he found what he was looking for.

Sasha came over, staring at the screen, and laughed when he saw the selection Dean chose from Pay-per-View. "Slither?"

"Since we didn't get to Texas," Dean said, hitting the play button and tossing the remote aside.

The smile on Sasha's face was all the reassurance Dean needed. The incubus pulled one of the beers free and tossed it to Dean. He took his own then and joined Dean on the edge of the bed. "You're gonna love this," he said, "Not coz it's scary, coz it's not, and not for the gore either, even though it is impressive."

"Then why am I watching this?" Dean joked, opening his beer and taking the first of many long drinks for the night.

Sasha grinned, gesturing to the screen as a man with his hat tipped down over his eyes came into view, "Nathan Fillion. Trust me."

Not ten minutes in they had already settled themselves back on Sasha's bed, sitting up against the headboard side by side as they drank their beers and shared laughter over the horror movie that was more like comedy dipped in horror than anything really. Dean didn't even need those ten minutes to know he was going to enjoy himself tonight.

He was starting to get that when Sasha said, "Trust me," he really could.

"Oh! He did not just do that!" Dean laughed, nearing the end of the film now as Nathan Fillion's character, Bill Pardy, fired his gun at another character. The six-pack was all but gone and Dean was somewhere between buzzed and blissfully exhausted. He lolled his head to the side and grinned over at Sasha. "Promise you'll shoot me if I ever turn into a zombie. No sentimental crap, just BANG, Bill Pardy style. Got me?"

It would have been a morbid subject if they weren't watching Slither right now. Sasha laughed, and his head lolled in much the same way. "Deal, but you gotta promise the same. Course I don't know if there's such a thing as an incubus zombie."

"Well this movie proves there can be alien zombies, so why not."

"You got me there, my friend."

They laughed so hard at that for a while that they almost missed the start of the final fight. Dean bust a gut when Nathan Fillion went flying out a window with the same perfect comedic timing the whole film had possessed. Sasha had been right. This movie was just Dean's style. It was nice to watch something that made light of the supernatural. When you lived it, things got way to real sometimes. Why else would Dean crack jokes so often, if only to alleviate some of that?

The film came to an end, very walk off into the sunset like, and Dean found the remote to flick the TV off. He was tired and warm from the beer, but he didn't feel like sleeping quite yet.

"I concede," Dean said, laying his head back on the headboard, "That was a winner."

Sasha's grin looked twice as big as usual, though Dean assumed that was also because of the alcohol. "Told ya. You really gotta learn to take my word for it, Mr. Winchester."

That got a laugh out of Dean. "Ha! I'd get in so much more trouble that way though," he said.

They were really close, Dean realized, not that they hadn't been the entire time they were watching the movie, but it seemed much more important now that the TV was off. Sasha's single bed wasn't all that big after all, so with their legs stretched out on the mattress, they practically touched, and so did their shoulders.

Dean turned his eyes away from Sasha's, afraid he would drown in them if he looked too long, and took another drink from his last beer. Blowing through a six-pack wasn't that big a feat—Dean bet they could polish off a case together easily—but the late hour and the proximity of their bodies made Dean feel twice as drunk as he really was.

"That girl in South Dakota was pretty hot, huh?" Dean said as he heard Sasha taking a long drink beside him. He didn't know why he said that, but then he was hearing Sasha choke on his last swallow and he knew he was being an idiot. "Never mind," he said quickly, staring into his now empty can, "I'm an asshole. Forget I said anything."

Sasha coughed for a few moments around the beer that had gone down the wrong pipe, followed by the tensest silence Dean had ever sat through. Then Sasha was speaking, and his voice was very quiet. "You're not an asshole. I am. It was stupid the way I waited so long to feed. I could have put you and your brother in danger if I went any longer like that. So…don't apologize."

For the first time, Dean actually listened. He didn't say anything else. But he lifted his eyes finally and smiled as best he could over at his friend.

Sasha turned to look at him too and Dean didn't miss the touch of sadness in the blue eyes. "Hey, did I ever tell you about my type? What my type is? As an incubus, I mean," he added with a slightly wider smile.

"You mean you have one?" Dean teased back, nudging Sasha with his shoulder, "Coz I know it has nothing to do with gender, coloring, or age. That kid in Minnesota was no more than twenty. And Miss South Dakota had to be in her thirties, pretty as she was."

Sasha couldn't deny any of that. He shook his head. "No, it's nothing physical. See, my aunt, she always told me that the way things are really supposed to work for us is like those, ya know, symbiotic relationships. We give something, we get something in return. I like that idea. So for me, I'm always looking for someone who…" Sasha trailed a little and his eyes lowered to the mostly empty can in his hands, "Someone who needs me," he finished.

"Needs you?"

"Total sentimental crap, right?" Sasha said, still staring down towards his lap, "You know, someone who maybe just came off a bad breakup, or their self-esteem is shot to hell, or maybe they just need a night to feel beautiful or like someone actually gives a shit about them. Those are the people I feed from, and it's not to give them some one night stand they'll regret in the morning, but something…simple that they need…and will never regret taking. At least…that's what I try to do."

Again, Sasha looked so sad, his eyes shimmering but dim somehow, and his mouth smiling without the expression being at all capable of actually being real. Dean wanted to do something, reach forward, say soothing words, something, but that just wasn't Dean.

Sasha looked up after a few minutes of strange, lingering silence, and although the sadness still haunted his eyes, there was that longing again, that heat Dean was growing so used to. "But you know…I've never, not once in my whole life, gone for someone I needed. I've never chosen someone just for me. I always figured I'd save that…for someone I didn't want to leave in the morning." Sasha's voice fell to a whisper as he said the last of that, and Dean realized again just how close they were, sitting on Sasha's bed.

That closeness disappeared as Sasha took Dean's empty can and placed it and his own onto the nightstand. Then it was back, Sasha was back, and Dean knew they were even closer now. Dean wasn't thinking, which was good, he was just staring at Sasha, at Sasha's lips that were just slightly parted as they moved closer and closer to his.

Awareness struck when Sasha was only an inch or so away and Dean gasped, pulling himself just slightly back. Sasha paused, staring hard and heated into Dean's eyes that Dean imagined had to look terrified because that was how he felt. Whatever it was Sasha found in Dean's eyes though, it wasn't enough to deter him. He just kept leaning forward and this time Dean didn't pull back.

Their lips met. Was Dean dreaming? It could be the dream. It could so easily be the dream for how peaceful and perfect it was to feel Sasha's lips justthere. But not this time. This time Dean was awake, and God, he was letting this happen.

Dean pressed forward first, moving, needing, searching out those lips, that tongue, this kiss happening right now. Dean physically felt his heart pick up speed, heard it up in his eardrums, and he knew his lips were trembling even as they moved. Don't think, he told himself. Don't think. It would ruin everything.

But Dean did think, not about how crazy this was or how much he'd be agonizing over it tomorrow, but about how much he loved the feel of Sasha's tongue. Sasha kissed the way men kissed, not the way most women do. Women like to kiss with little flits of their tongue, like licking a damn ice cream cone instead of actually kissing. Sasha kissed deep. Deep. Feeling everything there was to feel. Dean didn't think he could ever get enough of just that moment they were in, caught together.

Sasha's hand found a hold on Dean's thigh, the other moving around his waist to the back of his shirt where it pushed up underneath the fabric and found skin, just like in the dream when it was so right. This was right. This had to be right.

Then it was ending. Sasha was pulling back. But his hands stayed where they were and Dean saw how much Sasha was smiling at him. Dean was pretty sure he grinned like an idiot because he couldn't think of anything else to do or anything to say. Even the heat of Sasha's eyes on him made the whole thing feel like it was about to unravel and Dean just wanted to kiss again.

He reached up to grab the side of Sasha's face and started to pull them back together.

"Dean!" shouted Sam's voice suddenly from outside the room, followed by several fierce knocks. "Dean, Sasha, open up!"

Dean all but laughed, his lips so close to Sasha's he felt every exhale his friend released.

But Sasha was still smiling so Dean knew it would be okay. For now it would be okay.

"He really has…remarkable timing, doesn't he?" Sasha grinned.

Dean had to grin back, his hand still holding Sasha's face as he said, "You have no idea."

They pulled apart and Dean started scooting down the bed, having a much harder time of not thinking now that the moment was over. He turned his head to the door then and shouted.

"Dude, what the hell is your—" But that was all he got out before Sam burst through the door hard enough to knock it from its hinges. "Jesus!" Dean exclaimed, "Where's the fire?"

Sam turned panicked eyes on them but moved almost immediately for the window. "Out by our car," he said by way of explanation, parting the drapes and peering out the window from a flat position against the wall.

That made absolutely no sense to Dean right now, so he simply got off the bed and moved to join his brother. "What the hell are you talking about?" Dean reached the window and parted more of the drapes to look outside himself, not bothering to hide as neatly as Sam was.

They had clear sights on the Impala from their room, something Dean liked about smaller hotels. But something Dean didn't expect—for several very sound reasons—was to see the figure of Gordon Walker checking out his paint job.

Just as Dean was looking, Gordon turned towards the window and Dean flattened himself against the wall opposite Sam. "Shit. Okay. This is bad."

tbc...

A/N: So, do you love me or hate me? There's another chapter to break records as far as length. There are a few odes to some of my readers in there, I'm sure those of you who know who you are can find them. Also, one of those being deangirl1, please check out my favorites and read her ficlet "Incubus Redux," an alternate chapter for the pheromones section. It's a fun read.

Gordon has shown up yes, but not arbitrarily. You'll just have to wait and see. Things will certainly not be over quickly. I believe this arc will be 10 parts total, so that should give you some idea. Thanks so much for all your supports, my wonderful readers. You make Sasha happy. Let me know what you thought. ;-)

Crim