Part 5: And Crazy Makes Two

"How the hell did Gordon get out of jail?" Dean grumbled, a nervous hand coming up to run through the spikes of his hair. One thing Dean hated more than anything else was being caught unprepared.

"Gordon?" On the other side of the room Sasha sounded just as shocked as the brothers.

Oh, God. Sasha.

As if suddenly remembering Sasha was there, Dean looked back to the bed where Sasha was now standing and pulling on a T-shirt. For a moment Dean had almost forgotten what they had been doing before Sam came in.

Oh, God, oh, God. Dean had just made out with Sasha on the guy's own bed. Was he out of his fucking mind? Granted the kiss had been significantly more enjoyable than the one in the alleyway. And the dream. So much better than a dream…

"Dean," Sam said in an exasperated voice, the one he used when he had asked Dean a question and then been left waiting way too long to receive an answer.

Now was not the time for Dean to dwell on this. He turned to his brother, noticing easily the sharp glance Sam gave to Sasha and then back to Dean. The gears were spinning in Sam's head finally, of that Dean was certain, and they clicked together practically screaming: Sasha. Without a shirt. Sasha and Dean. On Sasha's bed. Together.

That couldn't be good. Dean was almost grateful for Gordon and their sudden crisis. He was so not ready to deal with Sam and his inevitable questions. Not now.

"How did you even spot Gordon?" Dean asked, reminding himself that they did have a crisis and it was pretty serious, "I mean, you were pretty much dead when I left the room."

Sam's eyes slipped out of calculating brother mode to the much safer mode of trained hunter. "Call it divine precognition or just dumb luck. All I did was glance out the window coming back from the bathroom and there they were out by our car."

"They?" Sasha questioned, his voice full of nerves Dean knew had nothing to do with almost being caught. Sasha was the one who seemed so damn sure about the whole thing, while Dean still felt like he was floundering in the dark.

The incubus was putting on his shoes now since a fast getaway was pretty much guaranteed. It made Dean grateful he had kept his on.

It was then that Sam started moving to the door. "There was someone else with him," he said.

The door was still open from when Sam had broken through it, leaving it half off its hinges. Dean wondered if Sam even realized when his super strength snuck out to play for a bit. At least Sam's wits never left him, Dean thought, since he could see that Sam had brought along both of their duffles, already repacked and ready for them to hit the road. Thank God for quick stays, when they only brought in the least of what they needed.

"I didn't recognize the other guy," Sam continued, tossing the bags into the room and shutting the door as best he could, "I say we wait until they come inside. They'll head for our room, since Gordon would look for our aliases, and we can sneak out the window to the car."

Dean was about to suggest that they just stay, gear up, and take Gordon head on, but he thought better of it before opening his mouth. They were in a frickin' Holiday Inn. Civilian casualties were way too likely.

Sasha did speak up, however, and if Dean hadn't seen that particular look a few times before, he never would have believed Sasha could look so suddenly panicked.

"What did the other guy look like?" he asked, walking right up to Sam and grabbing him by the arm, "Was he older? Maybe fifty? Curly dirty-blonde hair?"

Hazel eyes blinked back at Sasha. "Uh…yeah. Just like that. How'd you know?"

"Shit." Sasha stomped away from Sam, his hands forming into tight, dangerous looking fists, "Shit."

"What?" Dean prompted, not liking this particular twist in Sasha's mood one bit, especially considering the situation they were in.

Sasha looked up at Dean with tightly knit brows, then to Sam, pursing his lips. Shaking his head finally as he fought for words, the poor guy looked like he was caught somewhere between guilty and just plain pissed. "Kubrick. An old friend of my dad's," he said, "Well…acquaintance. He always seemed a little weird to me. Bit of a Jesus freak. He's…" Sasha blinked several times and his gaze drifted to the floor, "…who I kept thinking I saw by the Shaws' place."

"What!"

"I didn't know he was in league with Gordon!" Sasha defended, looking back up again with wide eyes and even taking a step back from the brothers as if he thought they might suddenly turn on him, "I didn't even know he knew Gordon. Believe me, if Gordon was the one I thought I saw, even if I wasn't sure, I would have told you. I just…I thought I was imagining it. I haven't seen him in years. I just…I just didn't think about it."

Well that was just perfect. Dean couldn't help feeling a little ticked that Sasha had been so quick to brush off having spotted another hunter around, but he also didn't like the cornered animal look Sasha was sporting right now. Sure, Dean was mad. But he wasn't about to string the guy up. Hadn't Sasha learned that by now?

"I'm sorry," Sasha went on, "I should have told you anyway."

"Yeah, you should've," Dean growled, but when Sasha looked at him, all puppy-like again, God damn it, Dean had no choice but to soften his gaze, "Forget it. So Gordon has help. Explains how he got out of prison. But it doesn't change that our best bet right now is to make a break for it while they're over there tearing up the other room."

Dean stormed back to the window and peered outside again. Gordon was gone, and there was no sign of that other guy, Kubrick, either.

"Looks clear." Dean turned back to Sasha. "Just gather your stuff and we'll get the hell out of here."

Surely, that was the best plan. Sam tossed Dean his leather and slipped one of the duffles over his shoulder. Dean happily put his jacket on and reached for his own bag. This didn't have to be difficult. They could totally make it out of town without even confronting Gordon. Even if they hadn't been in a busier hotel it wouldn't be a good idea to fight right now. Gordon had the upper hand. Getting it back was always better than rushing into battle. Dean might not always follow that ideal, but he understood its importance.

A minute, maybe two ticked by. Sasha had his coat on now and was pretty much finished stuffing things into his bag when he looked up with fear filled eyes again.

Sam, concerned, but still a little rightly upset, said, "What's wrong?" They had to get a move on and get out of Danville before Gordon realized they weren't in their room.

"I just…thought…" Sasha's eyes glazed over and then returned sharply to look at Sam and Dean in turn, "Kubrick. If they were following us, then they know I'm with you. And he…might know some of my aliases too."

The door opened so fast Dean barely had time to register how screwed they were.

This was turning out to be a really bad day.

"My, my," Gordon said, pistol already drawn and ready to fire as he walked slowly into the room, gauging his prey like a true hunter, "And I thought this was going to be a challenge."

"Gordon…" said the man with him, Kubrick, Dean reminded himself, who had a gun on his person too but didn't pull it out and even sounded a little warning to Gordon as he spoke. He closed the door behind them and his eyes went immediately to Sasha. "Now, don't you forget our deal on this, Gordon. You really have it in for Sam Winchester, I won't stop you. But Kelly's son's got nothing to do with this, I'm sure of it."

Great. That granted Sasha a get out of jail free card, but didn't exactly reassure Dean about his or his brother's welfare. They were trapped, hands raised too much like surrender rather than risk reaching for their guns while Gordon had one pointed at them, and the other guy sounded like he was just going to let Gordon kill Sam in cold blood.

Like hell that was going to happen.

"Gordon, you've got this whole thing all wrong…" Dean tried, taking a step forward that awarded him having Gordon's gun pointed at his chest instead of Sam's. Better that way anyway, Dean figured.

"Wrong, Dean?" Gordon parroted, wearing a half smile that just made Dean want to hit the guy, "No. Sorry. Really, I am. I know what it's like when one of your own gets turned into one of them."

"I'm not a vampire, Gordon," Sam said with some exasperation, which naturally brought the gun back on him, "Not like the sister you killed."

Even Dean cringed at that. Really, Sammy, do you need to upset the guy currently pointing a gun in your face?

Dean was feeling really antsy now, barely able to keep himself still, but Gordon just went on smiling.

"No. You're not a vampire, Sam. You're something much worse. You've got most of the hunter community believing your story too. Bobby Singer. Your friend Kelly there. Kubrick couldn't believe the son of the great Deklin Kelly would hunt side by side with an abomination and not know it." Gordon glanced at Sasha, who was still by the side of the bed where he had been packing. "Well maybe he does maybe he doesn't. I don't really care. The only one I really care about, Sam, is you."

"Gordon—" Dean tried again, but the gun moved over to point at him even swifter this time. There options were too limited and Gordon was ready to end this. Dean went for the next best bet. He turned to Kubrick. "Dude, you know Sasha. You think he'd be stupid enough to get sucked into this if Sam was some demon messiah?"

"Shut up," Gordon warned, but Dean kept his eyes on Kubrick and didn't stop.

"Or even worse, you actually think Sasha would be in league with someone like that? Deklin Kelly's son?"

"Shut up!" Gordon called again, but Kubrick wasn't looking too sure.

"I told you, Gordon, that I didn't think this was right," Kubrick said, shuffling around Gordon with hands raised as if he might act if need be to rid Gordon of his gun. Dean tried not to grin. "Sasha's a good kid, no doubt about that. And Bobby Singer's not one to be easily duped either. I'm gonna need actual proof here before I can let you go through with this."

Inside, Dean was cheering. All this time Dean had been worried that Gordon would get out one day and raise an army of hunters against them. But with the support the brothers had in the few hunters they knew and trusted, Gordon hadn't even been able to convince the one guy he had managed to bring along.

Gordon's eyes flicked between Kubrick and Sam, wild, the way Dean remembered them looking when he had that vampire chick tied up, and when he was using Dean as bait to capture Sam in that trap.

"Proof?" Gordon repeated, his mouth twitching as it tried to retain some form of a smile.

With his attention more on one side of the room, it made it easier for Sasha to move. Dean watched, anxious as Sasha inched his way closer to the rest of them. But then Gordon was looking at Sam and only Sam, and there wasn't time. There wasn't time for anything.

"I have all the proof I need."

The gun fired, dulled by the silencer Dean hadn't even noticed. Well, at least they wouldn't wake up the hotel. But that wouldn't save his brother.

The gun fired twice in the end, but Dean didn't hear either of the shots clearly. Time had slowed and Dean felt his heart constrict as if one of those bullets had found him.

God, please say Gordon hadn't really fired. Please, no. There was no way he had fired. But Dean watched, amazed, terrified, as Kubrick tackled Gordon back into the wall too late. He looked to his brother then, but he couldn't see him, he only saw the blur that was Sasha as he took the first bullet in the chest in Sam's stead. Then Sasha went down and as Sam fell with him the second shot struck Sam in the shoulder.

Time was back, fast, too fast, and both Sasha and Sam were on the ground bleeding. Dean didn't know what urge in him was stronger, the one to fall down beside them and make sure they were both okay, or the one telling him to fly across the room and strangle the life out of Gordon right now.

"Gordon, damn it!" Kubrick hissed, pinning Gordon to the wall still, though the gun remained gripped in Gordon's hand.

"Sasha!" Sam was shouting, ignoring his own wound as he tried to get Sasha to uncurl from the ball he had formed on the floor.

Kubrick looked back and saw Sasha lying there, turning then to press Gordon even more firmly back. "You see what you did! That's Kelly's boy you hit!"

Kubrick was yelling. Sam was yelling. Gordon was seething. But Dean still couldn't move. That hadn't happened. That hadn't actually happened. Dean was the one who was supposed to stupidly dive to catch the bullet meant for his brother, not Sasha.

But then maybe it hadn't happened, it couldn't have, because Sasha was suddenly uncurling and getting to his feet. There wasn't any blood at all, not from him. The blood was only Sam's, a simple shoulder shot. Sasha looked…fine.

"It's okay," Sasha said as Sam helped him to his feet, smiling as if nothing had happened even though his voice was ragged. He looked over at Dean who felt so stupid for just standing there. "I'm okay," Sasha said again, pointing to his shirt that was torn from the bullet hole but still, amazingly, not bleeding. Then Sasha was looking over to Gordon and Kubrick, staring at Kurbick especially—who looked as if he had just witnessed the original resurrection.

Sasha pulled at the tear in his T-shirt and the shirt ripped open, revealing a perfect little hole as the bullet pushed out of him from healing tissue, fell to the floor, and left behind perfect smooth skin.

"It was only lead," Sasha smiled.

Dean saw Sam start to grin even as a hand came up finally to press into the wound in his shoulder. Dean figured he was probably grinning too. But even though Sasha's smile had come first, his was the one Dean knew wasn't real. Sasha was staring at Kubrick almost like a challenge, and although Dean didn't understand at first, the truth struck hard when it finally dawned on him.

It was a challenge. A test. And by the look on Kubrick's face, Dean was fairly certain the guy wasn't going to pass.

"What…what are you?" Kubrick breathed. Already, his grip on Gordon was loosening.

Sasha was still smiling, but it looked plastic—dead. "Deklin Kelly's son," he said, "But somehow…I don't think that's going to be enough anymore."

There was a simultaneous eruption of shuffling and resounding clicks. Kubrick pulled his gun, releasing Gordon who immediately took aim again with his, and there was finally enough time for Sam and Dean to pull theirs. Dean thanked his lucky stars and his father for instilling the need in him to always arm yourself first. Dean had tucked a gun into his pants even before he put his jacket on. Sam had done the same it seemed, and thankfully it was his left arm that got shot.

Sasha was the only one who didn't have a weapon. The incubus hadn't even moved. He just stood there, centered between them all, his eyes straight ahead and staring right at Kubrick.

Dean glanced to the bed and saw Sasha's hand gun lying out in the open. A few seconds more than they had been given and Sasha would have had his gun safely tucked somewhere too. At least now they knew that Gordon wasn't packing iron bullets, but there was no way to know about Kubrick.

"Gabe…" Sasha started, using what Dean assumed to be Kubrick's first name.

"Possessed?" Kubrick breathed, eyeing Sasha as if he thought the redhead might change into something ugly and horrible at any moment, "I've seen demons heal their host and keep on coming after shots like that."

"I'm not possessed," Sasha almost growled. Dean was getting worried. They didn't have time for this. It was obvious Kubrick wasn't going to listen to the details. Couldn't Sasha see that?

Then it was Gordon's voice that broke through the rising tension, his words steady and certain. "An incubus," he said, shaking his head at Kubrick when the other hunter turned to him, "Hair like that. Eyes a little too bright. I know my vampires. How long's he been scamming you, Kubrick?"

Kubrick didn't respond, but his trigger finger looked a little twitchier. Sasha was close to actually growling now, but he didn't have time to reply either.

Gordon looked right at Sam again, gun unwavering. "I didn't realize you were recruiting, Sammy," he said with his insufferable smile, stressing the use of the nickname only Dean had the right to say out loud, "Seems we caught up with you just in time." Gordon gave a passing glance at Dean. "Put a demon in your brother yet?"

While it was Sam's eyes that flashed, Dean was the one who took a step forward, gun ready, just itching to fire and end this. But everyone had guns and everyone had them pointed at someone else. Even if Sasha didn't, four guns were enough.

There was no way this could end well. Someone was going to fire and it was going to be soon, Dean could feel it, feel the energy in the room becoming hot and menacing. Another moment more and—

"Stop."

Dean froze. Literally froze. He couldn't move if he wanted to. He tried to shake his head to clear away the sound of Sam's voice but he couldn't even do that. Damn it, he'd been mojoed again. And so had everyone else.

"Now," Sam continued, slow and calculating, "Everyone, put down your weapons."

Dean listened, placing his gun neatly on the ground in front of him. As soon as he was standing upright again he felt a snarl coming. He knew this was better than the shootout that had been about to happen, but he still hated his mind being messed with. Couldn't Sam be more specific and just focus on Gordon and Kubrick, for crying out loud!

Sasha hadn't moved, not having a weapon of his own currently, but Kubrick placed his gun on the ground as well. It was unnerving, however, that Gordon did not. In fact, he was still smiling.

"Gordon," Sam said warningly, but Gordon still didn't follow the supernatural order he had been given. Instead, he raised his gun a little higher, keeping it aimed squarely at Sam, the only other person still holding a gun.

"No," Gordon said simply, his head cocked just slightly. His free hand reached to a cord around his neck and he pulled up on a pendant that had been hidden beneath his shirt. "Think I didn't do my homework, Sam? Andrew Gallagher. Guthrie, Oklahoma. I'm not stupid. This charm protects against mental sway. I may not be able to predict all of your powers, Sam, but those mind tricks won't be working on me."

Shit. Way to go, Sammy, Dean thought. And you just made me put my gun on the ground.

Gordon steadied his gun a little more, promising a gunfight after all, albeit a little smaller. Strangely, that didn't make Dean feel any better.

"Gordon—" Sam tried.

"No. No more running. No more games. You want to shoot me, Sam? Go ahead. It won't stop me from getting my shot off too." Gordon glanced over at Dean again. "You didn't have to get yourself messed up in this, Dean. You could have let your brother go. Instead, you hook up with yet another monster and say I'm the one who has things turned around." Gordon shook his head and then his dark eyes moved to Sam again, wider, intent. "I'm thinking I got to you just in time, Sam, before you had the chance to gather that demon army you let loose. A shame there aren't any here to do your bidding."

Then Sam did the very last thing Dean expected. He lowered his gun. "Demons, Gordon?" Sam repeated.

Dean tensed to run. He knew that tone. He could feel what was coming.

Sam's eyes shimmered as he turned and looked right at Kubrick. "Who said I needed demons." No other words left Sam, but a message of control was sent, and suddenly Kubrick lunged for Gordon in a fury, truly tackling him to the floor this time and sending Gordon's gun flying from his hands.

On that obvious cue Dean was ready; no order needed to be given. He grabbed his bag, saw Sam do the same and Sasha rush to the bed to grab his things too, and then they were gone, all three of them bolting out of the room for the nearest exit. The Impala couldn't come into their sights fast enough, but when it did they didn't even bother with the trunk. Their things were thrown into the backseat beside Sasha and Dean took off without looking back.

It was barely thirty seconds later that Dean started cursing.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked beside him, holding tight pressure to his injured shoulder.

"That fucking bastard slashed my tires!" They hadn't seen it in the dark, but Dean could feel it now as they tried to drive along the road. They wouldn't get far like that. The rims would be bent before they made it to the next town.

"Turn up here," Sam said, out of breath but calmer than Dean at the moment, "We passed a garage coming back from the Shaws."

Dean gripped the wheel like Death and cast his brother a glare. "I can't put just any tires on this thing, Sammy. We don't even know if there'll be something we can use."

"Do you have a better idea?"

No. Dean didn't. He chewed his lower lip as he drove, hating every minute of this. They needed to get out of town now. He was going to have to work like lightening to put on a new set of tires before Gordon caught up with them. Their only hope was that Gordon would be grappling with Kubrick long enough that he wouldn't be able to get a clear trace on where they went.

Only a few minutes had passed, but Dean wasn't oblivious to how quiet Sasha was being in the backseat. Not a single sound left him as they pulled up to the garage, made quick work of the locks, and broke inside. It was riskier than a simple smash and grab kind of B&E. They needed to bring the Impala into the shop and put the tires on there. Dean set to work immediately.

Even as Sasha helped him raise the car to make things go faster, the incubus said nothing but one syllable grunts of acknowledgment. Once the car was raised and Dean could set to work stealing the tires off the corvette next to them, Sasha disappeared from beside him.

Sam had gone to find a first aid kit to do something about his shoulder. When Dean saw his brother come back into view, he called for Sasha, wherever the guy had gone, to help Sam with the bullet wound. When Sasha didn't even so much as grumble, Dean looked over at Sam. Dean was half-under the car; he couldn't see anything but what was right in front of him. Sam nodded his head somewhere over to the left, looking all concerned and unsure, and Dean knew things were worse off than he had wanted to believe.

Pulling himself out from under the car, time ticking away be damned, Dean headed over to where Sam had gestured and spotted Sasha standing amongst the hubcaps. Dean was about to ask what the hell was going on when Sasha suddenly lashed out at a display, his hands morphed into incubus claws that caused a great crash of metal to skitter over the floor.

"Fuck," Dean cursed, sick of this already and not in the mood to deal with any of it. He walked up behind Sasha and grabbed him by the shoulder, "Are you out of your fucking mind? We need to get the car fixed and out of here. What we don't need is every Good Samaritan on the neighborhood watch calling the cops on us. Sasha," Dean pulled harder on Sasha's shoulder to get the incubus to turn towards him, but he wouldn't budge.

Then suddenly Sasha turned on his own, and it was his hands gripping Dean, holding him by the arms painfully and staring with red eyes and fangs like he was halfway to frenzied. "I don't care! I don't even care anymore!" he growled in Dean's face, fierce and angry, "Let them come! Let every hunter out there come for me! Let every last one of them!" But even though Sasha was yelling and holding Dean so tight, his voice broke and his eyes were swimming.

Dean couldn't believe how quickly Sasha's tone changed from furious to close to crying, but it did, and as Dean listened he couldn't breathe let alone think about how much his arms would hurt from this tomorrow.

"One day it won't…it won't matter," Sasha said, and his grip on Dean finally went slack, "You'll look up…and it won't matter that we're friends. You won't care anymore." Sasha pulled away completely and stared at the hands he had let turn into claws. "You'll only see this."

Dean's hands formed into fists so quickly and so tight, he almost cut himself with the flat of his nails. His nerves were shot and all patience was non-existent. Dean knew he might regret it later when he was holding his hand in a glass of ice water, but in that moment the idea of punching Sasha as hard as he could sounded like the best idea in the world.

So Dean did it. Hard as he could. Harder. His hand throbbed the second he connected with Sasha's jaw, but damn it was worth it. Sasha morphed back to being fully human and all he could do was gape back at Dean with wide, too blue eyes.

"You ever say shit like that to me again…I'll dip my hand in iron first. You hear me?" Dean's words were acid, his tone dripping with it, and his eyes left no room for negotiation. He had already had to deal with Sam's 'everyone thinks I'm evil so maybe I am' speech; he would not sit through this. "Now get your ass over to Sam and help him with his shoulder. I have four tires to remove and replace and we are out of time. Are you hearing me? Or do I need to hit you harder?"

Sasha's eyes were swimming even more now, liquid blue, and as much as he had looked menacing and powerful a moment before, now he just looked broken. "Dean…I…"

"Save it," Dean snarled, "Just…just go help Sam." And with that Dean turned away. He didn't miss the matching gape Sam was now sporting as he moved back under the car, but he didn't acknowledge it either. Why the fates had decided he was the one destined to babysit two of the most ignorant, selfless idiots ever to walk the earth, he didn't know, but he'd be damned if he'd put up with their shit anymore.

Didn't they understand how much Dean needed them to stop falling apart so he wouldn't fall apart with them? Nothing would make him turn away from them. Nothing. But that didn't mean he wasn't ready to knock some sense into them whenever they tried pulling stupid shit like that. Dean would punch Sasha again if he had to. Gladly. He told himself that his throbbing hand was a sign of victory.

He'd get those tires on in half the time, God damn it.

Halfway through the second tire, Dean risked a glance over at Sam, seeing that Sasha was right where he was supposed to be—sitting on the same tabletop, helping Sam clean out the wound so they could get the bullet out. It was about damn time someone started listening to what Dean said.

As Dean continued to work, he could hear Sam and Sasha talking, like a faint humming that drifted over to him in pieces.

"…sorry…not…good with my hands."

"Isn't…oxymoron for an incubus?"

Light, strained laughter.

Sam hissed loud and clear then and Dean heard Sasha mumble an apology. Then Sam said something like, "Let me try something," and Dean couldn't help glancing at them again in curiosity.

They were sitting side by side. Sasha's hands left Sam's arm and shoulder as Sam closed his eyes in concentration and started worrying his bottom lip just the way Dean knew he was probably doing right now. The wonders of learned family traits.

At first Dean couldn't imagine what Sam thought he was doing just sitting there, but then short breaths and a few pained moans slipped from his lips and Dean suddenly got it. Sam was using his TK to remove the bullet. That would actually be pretty cool if it didn't look like so much strain.

A second later the bullet clinked onto the table between the two of them and Sam released a deep, held breath. Sasha's voice floated very clear across the garage. "That was amazing."

Sam chuckled through a few more deep breaths. "Now if only it would close up nicely like it did for you." Sam looked at the hole left by the bullet, bleeding only lightly but still red and angry looking. He looked back up at Sasha and smiled. "Guess I'm not quite as lucky." It was the simplest thing but Sasha's whole face lit up to hear it.

Dean grinned to himself and turned back to his work. Leave it to Sam to know just the right thing to say, all subtle-like, and everything was okay again. That's why Dean liked it being all three of them; he could never have managed that. Sasha would have had to brood for a few more hours, like Sam usually did, until Dean finally just hit him again and things awkwardly slid back into normal. This made it so much easier.

By the time Dean was finished, Sam's shoulder was neatly disinfected and wrapped up, there had been no sign or sounds to indicate they were going to get caught, and Sasha looked fairly back to normal.

Dean gave each of them a smirk as he patted his baby's hood. "Do you love me or what? Now come on. I want to put as many miles between us and our new best friends as we can. We good to go?" Dean cast his gaze so much more obviously on Sasha than on Sam that his real question was clear.

We good?

Sasha nodded.

"Then let's put this place in out rearview mirror. Pronto."

Dean drove until none of them could keep their eyes open. After four hours with the clock quickly passing three AM, they made a unanimous decision to stop at the next town. Topaz, Nevada wasn't as out of the way as Dean would like, rounding off over 2000 for a population, but it would have to do.

While Sam and Sasha checked in to their motel, Dean made a quick run to Walgreen's for some pain medication for Sam's shoulder. Much as Dean hated all chain stores on principle, he couldn't bring himself to dislike any place that stayed open 24 hours. He also picked up what would hopefully pass as breakfast in the morning and some sodas for the road. They planned to set out early and put at least two more states between them and Gordon before they slowed down. They had also decided to get only one room, just to be safe.

"Is he breathing?" Sasha asked jokingly as he came out of the bathroom, finding a now drugged up Sam collapsed on one of the beds.

Dean raised an eyebrow in his brother's direction and shrugged. "Probably. You should have seen him the one time we managed to snag some Vicodin. I don't think he moved for twelve hours."

An easy laugh fell from Sasha's lips and he went to sit beside Dean on the bed Sam wasn't currently passed out on. "Look…um…I'm…really sorry about before," Sasha said, having left a good foot between them when he sat down. Sasha sagged forward to rest his arms on his legs. "He just made me so…mad, ya know? Kubrick. The way he looked at me." Sasha shook his head. "Promise you'll never tell Bobby what I am. I don't think I could stand to see him look at me like that."

"Bobby wouldn't look at you like that," Dean affirmed, trying very hard not to let the frustration show too much in his voice now that Sam wasn't awake to mediate, "Don't you get that by now? Sam and I, we're not going to wake up one day and decide liking you isn't worth our time. And Bobby isn't like that either. I won't tell him. But you should. And you shouldn't be afraid to do it."

Sasha didn't say anything. A sigh left him though, and he nodded noncommittally. At least it was better than an all-out refusal. Not that Dean had any right to judge someone for keeping some things a secret.

Dean was fairly certain he let out a sigh too, slouched there on the bed with Sasha beside him. He was so tired he didn't think he could sleep. With his eyes drifted off somewhere on the other side of the room, Dean jerked back to himself suddenly at the feeling of warm fingers taking his hand.

"Does it hurt?" Sasha asked, his voice barely above a whisper. That foot between them lessened as Sasha turned over Dean's right hand, pressing lightly with his thumb into Dean's palm. Blue eyes fluttered up to look at Dean and Sasha smiled. "You know, from when you punched me so hard I heard your knuckles crack. It did hurt, in case you were wondering."

"Probably not as much as I wanted it to," Dean grumbled. The words came out so fast and breathy, however, that Dean was pretty sure they lost most of their bite.

Sasha turned his touch into gentle rubbing, massaging Dean's hand with both of his. "I deserved it. I can get…kind of intense. One of the many reasons I used to work alone. Sometimes it's easier when someone isn't there to yell at you for being an idiot." Sasha scooted closer to Dean on the bed. "But I like this better."

"Haha…" That old uncomfortable laugh found its way out of Dean like it hadn't since Sasha first hit on him. Time was inching towards four in the morning and Dean was not in the right mind to deal with this. "So…I take it that means you finally get that you can trust us, right?" Dean decided on saying. He wasn't done picking on Sasha yet for that stunt in the garage. "Coz if you don't…"

"I do," Sasha said, sighing himself back into a slouch, "I always have. It's just…I've never been able to trust anyone before. Obviously, I was right to keep the truth hidden from some people," he added with downcast eyes.

Damn, Dean really wished Kubrick would show up right now just so he could punch the guy. And he really needed Sasha to stop rubbing his hand like that. Did the guy even realize he was still doing it? "Well…we're not Kubrick. Sounds like your dad was the kind of guy who put a lot of faith in people. Sam's that way too. Me, I hate to admit it, but I'm not. People suck. Most people aren't worth trusting any further than you can drop-kick 'em. But you can trust us. We're a whole trio of freaks now," Dean grinned, taking the opportunity of Sasha being slouched down to pull his hand away and hook his friend into a headlock, "Keep adding all these chick flick moments and we'll be able to sell tickets."

Sasha laughed so hard he practically fell onto the floor, unable to disentangle himself from Dean's hold. When Dean finally released him, all the lingering sadness in Sasha had been banished completely and things felt…normal. Dean needed normal right now.

"You know we're gonna have to kill them, right?" Dean said, not needing to elaborate on who he meant, "They haven't exactly left us much choice."

"Would it weird you out if I said 'good'?"

This time it was Dean who laughed, though he knew it wasn't really meant to be funny. "Not at all. Coz I've been thinking the same thing. Gordon wants my brother dead. Kubrick wants you dead now too. Sorry but neither of those is gonna happen. Not on my watch."

"Your watch?" Sasha repeated, grinning sideways at Dean. He nudged Dean in the shoulder then and Dean took a moment to notice that the once foot between them had become pretty much nothing. "I sincerely hope you don't think of me too much like a brother."

There it was again, the subject Dean didn't want to touch right now, and again the uncomfortable laugh tumbled out of him. "Uhh…you know…about that."

"So you're thinking we'll wait a while, let Sam heal up, and then hunt them next time?" Sasha switched the subject effortlessly, as if he hadn't said anything even remotely suggestive, "We need to have the upper hand with this one. They know even more now what to expect from us."

"Yeah…" Dean said mindlessly at first, still stuck back on the subject he wanted to stay away from, "Yeah," he said with more conviction, "Exactly that. Believe me if I thought it was a good idea to just head back in the morning and hunt them down right now, hell, I'd be all over that. But because I know it wouldn't be a good idea, I say we move on and regroup later. Give it a few weeks for Sam's shoulder to heal and…" Sasha had already said that, "…yeah." Dean really needed to get to sleep.

"You know…it's my birthday in a few weeks," Sasha said, purely casual.

Dean blinked himself back to alertness, grinned, and smacked Sasha on the back. "December 17th. See? I remember the important things. Don't let Sam try poisoning you with lies. I am so ready for this."

Blue eyes were brightly lit up now, as if Sasha couldn't believe someone besides him was excited for his birthday. "Great. But I gotta tell you something. See, my aunt wasn't too thrilled I said I already had plans to spend the day with you guys. She wants me to spend the whole week beforehand in Seattle to make it up to her. She has a loft there, since I…can't go to our other home."

"A whole week?" Dean thought he'd go crazy without hunting for a whole week. The expression on Sasha's face made him pretty sure his friend felt the same way.

"A whole week," Sasha echoed, "You two can manage not to get yourselves killed for that long, right?" he winked, "I'll be back the day of. Still a while til then anyway, but I'd hate for something to happen with Gordon while I was gone. Keep a low profile for me, will ya?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Don't I always?" We, he thought to himself after he had said that. Sam was included. It really should have been a we. God, Dean needed sleep. "We'll wait for you," he added, "Find a nice quiet haunting or something. How're you getting there? Need us to—"

"Greyhound," Sasha said a little too quickly, "Safer. I mean…it's just…" Suddenly, Sasha's face had gone about five different shades of red, all of which were different than his hair color.

Finally, Dean had his chance. "Okay, are you embarrassed of us or your aunt, coz I can totally be on my best behavior—"

"My aunt," Sasha broke in, half laughing, "Believe me, I'm more afraid of what my aunt might do, not you guys. Geez, you can be kind of sensitive, huh?" Sasha nudged Dean like he had before, and Dean waited for the suggestive pun that was sure to follow. He breathed relief when it didn't come, and instead Sasha went on. "She just really hates hunters. Still lectures me about being one every time I see her. She'll…say something or do something and you'll all end up hating each other and…" Sasha trailed with an exaggerated sigh. "I so don't want to deal with that."

Dean knew the feeling. "So we'll drop you at the nearest Greyhound station come the day. I'm not offended. She'll make you introduce us all eventually, though, you know that right?"

Sasha's eyes closed and he nodded in defeat. "Oh, I know. Believe me, I know."

Maybe it was that particular sigh of inevitability Sasha breathed out, maybe it was just that they were so close on the bed again, but regardless of the reason Dean's hand ended up moving to rest on top of Sasha's in a gesture of comfort. Dean blamed nerves and fatigue, because there was no way he would have done something like that if he was in his right mind.

When Sasha looked up and their eyes met, Dean thought 'I can do this, I can have a Sam moment and be supportive. It's just a fucking hand'. But then Sasha's hand was turning beneath Dean's and he laced their fingers tightly into a much more intimate hold. All the while blue eyes stared hungrily back at Dean, heated and steady.

Dean wasn't going to panic. He wasn't going to…panic.

"Bed?" Dean croaked, tearing his hand out of Sasha's grip, "I mean…we should probably…sleep. Yeah. Sleep…would be good." Well done, Dean thought with a mental grimace. Perfectly smooth.

Sasha's eyes shone with a little disappointment, but he didn't look upset. His smile was more placating than anything. "You can have it," Sasha said, reminding Dean that they had never actually bothered the front desk for an extra cot, "I've slept on worse than a motel room floor." Sasha started to get up but Dean, almost unconsciously, reached up to grab Sasha by the arm.

"No. You have it," Dean said, and then realized that he might be implying something he didn't actually mean, "Not that I…I just meant…you. You have this bed, and I'll…I'll just shove sleeping beauty over." Dean nodded back towards Sam in the other bed. "Haven't slept with him since his last grade school nightmare, but I think I can handle it. None of us deserve the floor after tonight." There. That wasn't so bad.

Sasha was smiling, like he knew how hard this was for Dean and had all the patience in the world to deal with it. "Okay. We should probably hit the hay then."

Dean tried to make a point of not watching Sasha shrug out of his clothing, despite there being so little left of his T-shirt anyway, but somehow his eyes kept drifting. Then Sasha was down to his boxers again and climbing under the covers, while Dean was still in his jeans.

Kicking his pants into a corner finally, Dean couldn't help noticing that Sasha was also watching him. Dean didn't really want to rummage for a clean T-shirt to sleep in, so he stuck to just his boxers too. Moving to the bed, though, knowing Sasha's eyes were following him though he wouldn't have been able to look up and meet those eyes for anything, made Dean's blood temperature sky rocket.

They kissed. They really kissed, no bet, no pheromones. And if Sam hadn't come in with that warning of Gordon, Dean would have…

Jesus.

"God, what a day," Dean said aloud, giving Sam a good—but careful—shove over to the other side of the bed. As expected, the younger Winchester didn't even twitch. Dean climbed under the covers since Sam was sprawled on top of them, and tried not to think too hard. Then it hit him. "Day. Fuck. It's the same God damn day." Dean groaned up at the ceiling. "Shoot me in the head."

Laughter filtered over from Sasha's side of the room. "No," he said simply.

"Spoil sport."

Again, Sasha laughed. A moment of silence passed, but when Sasha spoke again, it was casual. Easy. "Slither was fun," he said, "We should do it again some time."

Shoot me in the head. "Sasha…"

"Goodnight, Dean."

Right. Sleep. Sleep would be good. "Good night." But Dean knew that when he woke up in the morning, he would still have absolutely no idea what he was doing.

tbc...

A/N: The excitement mounts! The more I think of it though, this wouldn't have to be called the Gordon arc, since most of the parts don't have him in it and all, but he is the catalyst for many things, and that is very important. Halfway through the arc! Woohoo! Maybe more than half or less, you never know how these things will work out in the end. Anyway, you guys are so wonderful, sticking with this. I understand how all of you are getting fangirl twitchy (fanboy twitchy for a few of you), but I can promise that things will happen as they are meant to. As I told one of you lovely readers recently, I may break your heart in chapters to come, but I promise...what's meant to be will be. And no hints! Much as I enjoy you guessing. ;-) Please review, you know it's like chocolate, and who can live without chocolate. Love!

Crim