Recommended song track for the end of this fic: "Almost Lover" by A Fine Frenzy. Lyrics at the bottom, but I wouldn't read them or listen to the song until you've finished reading the chapter, for your own sake.

Part 8: Almost Lover

"Gordon…" Dean said with distaste as he turned around. Then his eyes fell on Kubrick standing there beside Gordon, both of them so casual and calm it made Dean sick. "Guess being grappled by your buddy there wasn't enough to split you two, huh?"

Kubrick scowled. Dean was pleased to upset the guy since he had turned on Sasha without more than a second thought. It almost looked as though Kubrick was going to come forward and try to take Dean down right then, but Gordon held up a hand to keep his partner back.

Neither of them appeared obviously armed at the moment, but Dean knew better than to trust first impressions.

"You're luckier than you think right now, Dean," Gordon said, "We're not looking to fight you. Not you," he said again.

The simple stress on those two words was enough for Dean to understand Gordon's real meaning. "Right," he huffed, keeping his eyes locked tight on them both, "Let me guess. I'm s'possed to just step aside now and let you kill my freak of a brother and incubus best friend like a good little mindless hunter. Is that it?" Dean laughed bitterly and took a step closer to his enemies. He knew there was no point in being afraid for himself. "Sometimes, Gordon, what should and shouldn't be hunted isn't black and white. And it's thinking otherwise that got Deklin Kelly killed." Dean flicked his eyes over to Kubrick. "You looking to repeat that past with his son now?"

"That thing in there is not Deklin Kelly's son," Kubrick snarled, pushing past Gordon's shoulder, "I knew Deklin Kelly. He was a good man. A good hunter. He understood the plan God has for men like us. No son of his would let himself be turned into something like that."

Turned into? Dean laughed so hard at that it hurt. Gordon's expression remained benign, but Kubrick was so angry, fists tightening and knuckles white, that it just made Dean laugh harder. "You really don't get it," he managed through choked, bitter chuckles, "Sasha was born like that. And he is Deklin Kelly's son." Dean glanced pointedly at Gordon. "I have all the proof I need to know that."

Either Kubrick didn't understand what Dean was implying or he didn't want to, but regardless, he made another offensive move forward. Again, Gordon held him back. "The incubus is minor compared to Sam," Gordon said, "But it helps prove my point. Would you have ever allowed a creature like that in your company before Sam…changed?"

Gordon's question was calm and calculating. Dean didn't like it. "Maybe I've changed too."

"I don't think you have," Gordon countered, "I think you want to believe your brother is still a good, kind person so badly you'd tell yourself anything, even lie, to believe it. Even…allow yourself to be seduced by an incubus." Gordon's eyes flashed knowingly.

Now Dean really was angry and there was nothing funny in how foolish Gordon and Kubrick's ideals might be. Dean itched to grab for the gun in his coat. Ached for it. "Gordon…" he growled.

"This is the last chance I'm going to give you, Dean," Gordon said coolly, "You choose to help those creatures, to side with evil, then you will be counted among evil." Gordon almost looked mournful, sorry for him, and that just made Dean hate the guy more. "Let your brother go, Dean," Gordon went on, "I had to do it once too. I know how hard it is. I let my sister go rather than see her live as a monster. Think about who your brother once was. Think for a minute about yourself, about how much you stand to lose if you make the wrong choice tonight."

Okay, that was just too much—Gordon's ignorant words—making the same bitter, horrible laugh Dean hated but couldn't keep at bay start to pour out of him again. He imagined his eyes looked about as crazed and wild as Gordon's usually did. "Lose? What I stand to…lose?" Dean howled with laughter up at the sky. "Guess you don't know everything, Gordon. See, I don't have anything to lose anymore. Only them. Sorry I didn't call to give you the good news when it happened, but…Sam? He died months ago."

It was almost like a gunshot the way the words rang out and struck both Gordon and Kubrick. Gordon's eyes grew wide and unsure, maybe thinking Dean had finally lost it.

Maybe Dean had. "Knife right in the back," Dean went on, his face lit with a cruel smile and voice eerily calm, "Couldn't have lasted more than a couple minutes before he died, right in my arms too. So maybe you're right, maybe I want my brother to be good and whole and alive at my side so badly, I would do anything. After all…I sold my soul to the demon at the crossroads to bring him back, and I don't regret that in the least."

It made Dean bark out another laugh to see how Gordon and Kubrick both took a step back, as if they were afraid to catch his disease. The disease of caring too much. The disease of being a dead man walking—literally.

"So you see, Gordon, there's really nothing you can take from me other than them. A couple months from now I'm bound for that smooth, no stop signs Highway to Hell, AC/DC blaring like nobody's business too, if they let me." Dean took a step. Another. He didn't even God damn need his gun. "And Gordon," Dean grinned, "If you even think of laying a hand on either of them, I swear…I am taking you with me."

It was possible that after spending so many weeks trying not to think about certain things that Dean had become a little too good at not thinking even when he should. He certainly wasn't thinking entirely clear at the moment, since he made his move without drawing the weapon he had tucked in his coat, and simply rammed forward into Gordon. Kubrick was standing close enough to Gordon that the impact knocked him back, but Gordon had the leverage of clinging onto Dean and he used that to his advantage. Pushing forward to stay on his feet, he made Dean think he was going to try and overpower him with his upper body when instead he lashed out with his feet suddenly, taking Dean's legs right out from under him.

Dean hit his back hard but it didn't wind him, not with his adrenaline running so high. He rolled up his lower body and kicked at Gordon's knees, sending the other hunter to the ground beside him. Kubrick had steadied himself by now, however, and finally he was the one who pulled a gun.

Starting a desperate roll towards his car, Dean avoided the first two shots easily, but a third grazed his shin and he cursed loudly as he rolled under the Impala and took a breath before rolling all the way out onto the other side. Standing was a chore, but Dean had to move. He pulled his own gun and waited for the firing to continue. He would kill Kubrick with a smile on his face if the guy put a bullet in his baby.

"You can still get out of this, Dean!" called Gordon's voice instead of a bullet roar, "Even a damned hunter can make a difference before he dies!"

Dean chuckled under his breath, couched down with his back against his baby's passenger side door. This was not a situation where Dean could take a high road. There was no fucking high road. There was Gordon and Kubrick on one side and Dean's family on the other. That was all. There weren't even decisions to be made, just a death toll to tick off one by one until someone came out the victor. And Dean always preferred to be on the winning side, damned or not.

"Dean!"

"Save your breath!" Dean called back, "I'm afraid blood is thicker than batshit, Gordon, and that is the only ammunition you've been throwing me!"

"Hn. So be it," Gordon said more quietly.

Then there was silence, and the slow movement of feet on concrete. Dean waited. He closed his eyes and he waited. He knew they could see him clear enough, even with the Impala mostly blocking him. He waited, a moment, another, until he was certain they had him just about surrounded, one coming from the front of the car and the other by the trunk. Another step and Dean made his move.

Kicking up off the ground, Dean hoisted his backside up onto the top of the Impala's hood, flattened himself, rolled off onto the other side, and came down again on his feet, weapon raised and ready. Kubrick was to Dean's right and he took that shot first, just barely missing him as Kubrick ducked around behind the car. Dean turned immediately to Gordon at his left then, but Gordon had already had time to take aim and was readying a shot of his own.

"Dean!"

The gun fired, a bullet disappearing somewhere into the sky as the blur of a figure knocked Gordon to the ground. Dean didn't have to guess who it was. No one else had hair that red.

First rule of hunting: eliminate all targets as quickly as possible. Sasha could handle Gordon, so Dean raced around the Impala to find Kubrick.

"Damn it!" Dean growled, finding the haunting sight of empty space as he ran around to the other side of the car. Dean dropped down, knowing that the only way Kubrick could have gotten out from behind the car without Dean seeing him was if the guy managed to pull Dean's own trick back on him. Sure enough, he caught sight of Kubrick just as the blonde hunter was rolling back onto his feet on the other side again.

Dean jumped back up, aimed at Kubrick as soon as the other hunter stood up straight, and took a shot. Kubrick cried out as a bullet hit his arm, but it wasn't good enough. Kubrick had started moving even as he stood, ruining the kill Dean had hoped for. He couldn't see Sasha and Gordon, which meant they were still on the ground, and Kubrick, despite being shot, suddenly dived down until he was unseen too.

Dean raced to the front of the Impala again, feeling almost dizzy with this game of chairless musical chairs. Gordon was on top of Sasha now, though Dean couldn't even imagine how things had turned out that way. Something glinted in Gordon's hand and Dean saw that it was a knife, Gordon's gun left on the ground nearby after Sasha tackled him. Kubrick had gone down to help Gordon keep Sasha still, holding the incubus by his shoulders.

The aim would be haphazard at best but Dean had to risk it. His finger was ready on the trigger when Sasha suddenly kicked his knees up into Gordon's chest and lifted, flipping Gordon over to slam him back into Kubrick, knocking them both away and to the side.

Risking a moment to actually breathe, Dean just stared forward and it seemed to take forever for Sasha to get up and start running towards him. Gordon and Kubrick weren't fazed enough for them to slow down either, though, and even as Sasha reached Dean, it was clear that they didn't have enough time, breath, or weapons to defend themselves in the parking lot.

Sasha grabbed Dean's arm as he reached him and Dean allowed it, both of them turning and sprinting back into the hotel. Sam, Dean thought with sudden panic, Sam was in their room right now probably passed out on the God damn bed, dead drunk. This was bad. This was really bad.

"How did they find us?" Sasha was yelling. Even his friend's voice seemed distant as Dean ran over possible escape plans in his head. He didn't know how to answer, but Sasha went on, "This neighborhood's quiet enough, but we have to get away from the hotel. Shit!" Sasha cried suddenly.

Dean glanced and saw that Sasha was looking behind them. Dean didn't need to look for himself. Reaching Sam was more important. If they lost this fight, Sam would be completely vulnerable, left up there for Gordon to gut like an animal.

Barreling ahead, Dean saw the elevator and pushed forward that much harder. Their rooms were on the fourth floor. They had to make it.

Sasha was faster than Dean. He reached the elevator and had the button pushed before Dean even got inside. The doors started to close and Dean dived forward, his chest aching from sprinting. He looked back just as the doors shut completely to see Gordon and Kubrick's angry faces.

"Never a dull moment…being a hunter. Or is it hunted?" Dean gasped, trying to grin as the elevator moved slowly up. It wasn't late enough for them to get away with running through the hallways with guns, so Dean tucked his gun into his coat again, praying that even if Gordon and Kubrick waited and watched to see where the elevator stopped that they would take a long time finding their actual rooms.

Sasha smiled weakly at Dean and said, "I was coming to get you. So much for a happy birthday." Sasha tried to laugh at that but he suddenly fell against the side of the elevator and almost dropped straight to the floor.

"Whoa, you okay?" Dean said, grabbing hold of Sasha by the arms to steady him. That's when he noticed the cut on Sasha's arm, just below the cuff of his T-shirt. Then Sasha turned over his hands, both of which had long jagged cuts in the palms. "Iron," Dean said through clenched teeth. The poison worked fast enough when Sasha wasn't fighting for his life and running a marathon. Damn it.

"Sam," Sasha said firmly, shaking his head when the elevator doors opened and Dean tried to turn them to the left towards Sasha's room, "We have to…wake him."

"And we will. After we get—"

"He has…some of the antidote in your room," Sasha insisted.

The elevator doors dinged closed behind them and Dean just stared for a moment.

"He said…it would be smart if…he carried some too…in case…" Sasha lifted his bleeding hands again and smiled.

Thank God for Sammy, Dean thought. "Come on," he said, guiding Sasha down the hallway towards his and Sam's room now with one hand around Sasha's waist for support. At least Sasha could still walk.

The room was dark when they entered, and they hadn't yet heard any sounds of galloping feet or the elevator returning.

"Sam, wake up!" Dean called loudly at the figure planted face first into the pillow of one of the beds. Dean didn't stop to shake Sam though. He helped Sasha sit on the unoccupied bed and then went over to rummage through Sam's duffle. "Wake up!" he called again and then glanced back at Sasha, "Any idea where he keeps the stuff?"

Sasha shook his head.

Wonderful. Dean spent all of thirty seconds looking through the bag before he gave up. "Sam!" Dean yelled right in Sam's ear, having practically flown across the carpeting to the side of the bed.

A groan responded and Sam's arms came up like they were trying to swat Dean away.

"This is serious, Sammy! Sasha's hurt. Where do you keep the antidote?"

Another groan.

"Sam!" Dean grabbed his brother and flipped him over none too gently, met by a twisted, resentful face that squinted up at him, "Sam, Gordon is coming up to our room to kill you right now! Sasha has iron poisoning his veins, and I am done with this! We do not have time for you to sober up!"

Finally, Dean's bellowing seemed to knock some sense into Sam's alcohol riddled brain. "What?" he said, eyes wide with panic but still glazed, "Gordon? Here? But how did he—"

"The antidote!" Dean yelled. They didn't have time for Sam to ask questions either.

Sam blinked a few times, looked over to find Sasha pale and shaking on the other bed and immediately turned back to Dean with clearer eyes. "Coat pocket," he said, "Always keep some in there."

Dean didn't stop to ask why Sam hadn't thought to mention this brilliant idea to him earlier, but went straight for Sam's coat hung over one of the room's chairs. He found a vial in the first pocket, beautiful luminescent green.

It had only been a few minutes, but already Sasha didn't look good. Those sickly veins Dean remembered from so long ago were already spreading out over Sasha's arms and up his neck.

Opening the vial, Dean poured some on his finger and ran it over the cut on Sasha's arm, watching it fizzle and disappear. He did the same to each of Sasha's hands and then handed the vial to Sasha for him to drink the rest. Sasha's hands were still a little shaky though and Dean had to help guide the vial to Sasha's mouth with his own hand wrapped around Sasha's.

"Twice now," Sasha smiled as the green shot through him and his eyes flashed red for just a moment, "My knight in…sexy leather jacket."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, well, you saved me first. Gordon might have gotten that shot off if you hadn't tackled him. Now let's go." Dean stood and glanced over at his brother, who was sitting up now but rubbing his temples like he had the worst headache. "We are so fucked," Dean grumbled. Sasha would be off his game now and Sam was still halfway to shit-faced. How the hell were they supposed to defend themselves let alone plan an assault?

"We just need to get away from the hotel," Sasha offered, standing a little unsteadily after Dean, "There are a lot of warehouses in this neighborhood. If we could lure them to one…"

"And then what?" Dean said, turning back to him, "We're unprepared again and no one," he said, lifting his leg up onto the bed to show where he was bleeding from the bullet that grazed him, "No one is at their best. I say we make a break for the car again and get the hell out of here."

"No," dissented Sam from the bed, his voice scratchy and low. Dean looked to his brother again, meeting tired eyes that couldn't quite focus, "He'll just come after us again, and…and we'll be right back here a third time and a fourth, and…Gordon needs to die." Sam's eyes flashed not unlike Sasha's, the green in them suddenly more intense, "I could…use my powers. Sasha's still stronger than either of them. And you…well…you got the guns."

Dean tried not to roll his eyes at his inebriated brother. "Yeah, I have guns and Sasha's strong. But Gordon had a charm against your powers, Sam, remember? I'm sure Kubrick has the same thing by now."

"Not the…not the mind stuff," Sam said, shaking his head a little too wildly, "Maybe…maybe the TK," he suggested.

Dean didn't have time to comment on that before one of the water glasses Sasha had set on the nightstand for Sam shot across the room and shattered against the wall.

Sam grimaced. "Mmm…maybe not."

"Oh for crying out loud!" Dean said in exasperation, dropping to his knees in front of Sam on the bed and placing a hand on each of Sam's thighs. "Sammy, you are drunk, Sasha and I are both hurt enough that it could slow us down, and we have no time. We need to get out of the hotel."

"If we get them to an alley," Sasha broke in, "Somewhere we can hide, wait until they come close and then ambush them—"

"No," Dean said firmly. Why were they arguing about this?

"But…but he's right, Dean," Sam said, his hands sliding into place over Dean's to grip Dean's wrists, "We…we leave our stuff. Just take what we need for weapons. We can end this."

Bad idea, Dean thought, definitely a bad idea. But when he looked up into Sam's eyes, despite them being hazy from drinking, he saw the same determination he could see in the sober eyes of Sasha. It wasn't a good idea, but maybe it was better than running.

Dean pushed back up onto his feet, looking from brother to friend, and then over at their bags on the floor. They didn't have much, but they still had guns.

"Okay. But we have to go now. And pray we're not absolutely out of our minds."

Getting back down to the first floor wasn't the hard part. Their car was parked outside one of the exits that was thankfully nowhere near the front lobby. Despite Dean's slight limp now that his adrenaline was cooling, Sasha's fatigue from recent poisoning, and Sam's drunken stumbling, they made it out to the Impala without incident. Dean had his same gun, reloaded with an extra clip in his pocket, and Sasha had a gun as well. The Colt, however, didn't sound like a good idea when all of them were a little off their game. Besides, Gordon and Kubrick weren't demons or any other supernatural creature. They were just human, and normal human weapons would work just fine.

"I don't see them anywhere," Sasha whispered, looking sharply around the parking lot. They walked with Sam between them just in case he crumbled to the ground. At least Sam's eyes were looking a little more alert as time went on.

"Why doesn't that make me feel any better?" Dean grumbled.

The parking lot was empty of people. They had chosen a hotel in this specific neighborhood because it was quieter. Dean glanced at the Impala's tires, remembering Danville. They looked fine.

"We can still make a break for it," he suggested.

"But our stuff…" Sam said, looking up at the hotel. They had left most of their things in their rooms so they wouldn't be slowed down any more than they already were.

"It seems too easy," Sasha added, bending over to look at the Impala more closely, as if he half expected to find a bomb hidden under the carriage.

Dean understood the incubus' concerns. He didn't like any of this either.

Looking away from the Impala while Sasha inspected it a bit more, Dean noticed suddenly that Sam had started wandering out into the more open part of the parking lot. He was looking up, almost as if he was enjoying the few dim stars, but Dean recognized the worrying look on his brother's face.

"They're watching us…" Sam said softly to the air. Then he jerked suddenly to the side, just in time it seemed since a bullet whizzed past and struck one of the cars behind him.

"Sam!" Dean called, racing for his brother.

Sasha's voice yelled after him. "Dean, up there!"

Dean risked a look but not before he had reached Sam and started to pull him aside. Gordon was visible in a window on the fourth floor of the hotel, maybe he was even in their room, and he had his gun steadied on Sam.

All Dean cared about after seeing that oh so reassuring sight was moving fast and getting out of the line of fire, even with Sam's feet stumbling along beside him.

Dean saw Kubrick come running from around the other side of the building just as he and Sam reached the Impala again. Kubrick's arm was still bleeding from when Dean got a shot off him, but like all good hunters, he didn't seem to be paying his wound much mind. Kubrick didn't care about Sam. Not really. He had his sights on Sasha whom he believed to be nothing more than an abomination that soiled whatever warped imagine he had of Deklin Kelly.

Sasha saw Kubrick coming too and with a quick look at Dean they made the decision to run for it. A corner that turned down a narrow alley was right in front of them at the edge of the parking lot. Dean moved fast to meet up with Sasha at the mouth of that alley and they ducked down it before Kubrick or Gordon could find a clean shot.

"At what point did we think this would be a good idea?" Dean said bitingly as they ran. Hauling Sam along with him was getting easier, but a completely sober Sam would be so much more helpful. "Any more brilliant plans, Starsky?" Dean called ahead to Sasha.

"Does that make me Hutch or you Hutch?" Sam asked. How Sam could manage to dodge a bullet on instinct but still act like a drunken idiot was beyond Dean's comprehension.

He decided to ignore him.

Meanwhile, Sasha seemed to be looking for a place they could hide, which Dean didn't really consider a better alternative to running.

"They have to regroup again," Sasha said, not bothering to look back at Sam and Dean as he rushed on ahead, "Kubrick will wait for Gordon before they come after us."

"Even if you're right about that," Dean began, slowing his run since he was winded, Sam was heavy even with the guy moving mostly on his own power now, and Sasha did appear to be right since there was no one rushing down the alleyway after them, "We still don't have enough time for this. Do you even have a plan?" Dean asked, grabbing Sasha's shoulder when the incubus stopped in front of him. Then Dean realized what Sasha was staring at. "A dumpster?"

There was a moment, a pause, and then Sasha was grinning as he turned around. He reached over and grabbed Sam's face gently, turning it towards him to be sure he had the taller Winchester's full attention. "Sam," he said, "All I need you to do when I give the word…is concentrate as hard as you can."

Only one or two agonizing minutes passed before Gordon and Kubrick came running down the alley, weapons both at the ready. They were quiet, moving swiftly with ever-watchful trained eyes on their surroundings.

Dean could feel Sasha's breath on his hair as they waited, and Sam's more labored breathing against his cheek that smelled faintly of alcohol and lemonade from the Long Island. They were huddled tight together on the hidden side of the dumpster, easily visible once Gordon and Kubrick got past it, but not until they came further down the alley.

Sasha had placed Sam's coat across from the dumpster against the other wall. If Gordon and Kubrick took the bait, it wouldn't take them long to spot where the trio was hiding, but if all went well that wouldn't matter.

"Gordon!" came Kubrick's voice in a harsh whisper. Dean couldn't see either hunter just yet, but he imagined that the coat had finally been spotted.

Gordon came into view first, reaching down to pick the jacket up. If he turned just slightly he would be able to see his quarry right there beside the dumpster. Dean knew they couldn't act yet though. They had to wait for Kubrick. They had to try and get them both.

Sam's breath hitched and Dean tightened the hold he had on his brother's shoulders. Another moment. Just one more moment.

Gordon's head started to turn, slowly, so slowly that Dean couldn't breathe. But then Kubrick was there, right where they wanted him, and Sasha's voice rang out clearly in the dark of the alley.

"Sam, now!"

The grating of metal on concrete was deafening. Sam focused one half-drunken scattered thought on the dumpster, and just like what had happened with the water glass in the hotel room, the dumpster went flying fast and hard into the opposite wall.

Kubrick was crushed back, giving a pained howl as he became pinned from the chest down. Almost instantly he slumped forward, half-unconscious from the blow to his ribs. But Gordon had seen them, giving him just enough time to move out of the way and crush only his hand. Thankfully, this removed him of his gun, but it wasn't enough to hold him, and he pulled his hand free again with a growl on his lips. Gordon was no fool though. Realizing he was now at a disadvantage, he took off running further down the alley. Dean wouldn't have minded that at all either if Sam hadn't immediately jumped up to give chase.

"Sammy, no!" Dean cried, amazed that Sam had slipped his grasp so easily.

"We can't let him get away!" Sam called back.

The alley cut off just ahead and turned into darkness, swallowing Gordon and Sam up like a hungry creature. Dean had no idea where it led, but he hardly cared as he got to his feet and followed.

Not even pausing to look back at Sasha, though Dean knew the incubus was on his heels with Kubrick forgotten at the mercy of the dumpster, Dean hurried to catch up to where Gordon and Sam had disappeared. As soon as he turned that corner, however, no curse could have done his frustration justice. The alley opened up into a comb of others, splitting in several different directions that were equally dark from lack of street lamps. The whole throng of alleys led into the warehouse district and any of the passages seemed as likely as the next.

Dean was just about ready to pick one at random and go for it, when Sasha grabbed him from behind. "I have a better idea," he said, pointing up at the tall building they were next to, "Better vantage point. Climb on." Sasha positioned himself as if to scale the wall, despite there being absolutely nothing he could use as leverage.

"Uh…what?"

"Just hang on to my neck," Sasha insisted. He pulled back one of his hands and it morphed into dangerous claws just before he punched taloned fingered into the brick of the building, creating his own form of holds.

Dean didn't exactly like this idea, but they didn't have time to stop and discuss possible routes. Wrapping his arms around Sasha's neck, Dean braced himself as Sasha began to climb, using his claws like grappling hooks. These alleys were too narrow for Sasha to get any kind of wingspan without starting high, but apparently the incubus had built in ways around that.

Despite feeling frighteningly weightless, Dean knew that as long as he didn't look over his shoulder at the ground below, he could handle this. Of course that didn't stop him from curling his legs around Sasha's waist for extra support.

"Climb over me," Sasha said once they reached top.

Dean obliged, carefully climbing up off of Sasha and over him onto the roof. Sasha hoisted himself up easily after that and his claws faded back into smooth, pale hands.

"Can you see them?" Sasha asked, coming to stand beside Dean as Dean stared down into the maze of alleyways below.

Light was meager, but movement was easier to make out from their new height. After a few moments, Dean spotted what looked very much like two running figures down one of the alleys leading to a larger building. "There! Come on!" Dean turned and headed back to the edge they had come from before remembering they hadn't used a ladder.

"We'll never catch them on foot," Sasha said, "But now that we're high enough…"

Dean turned to look back at Sasha and saw the gradual shift as Sasha's clothes faded and his incubus features took over, the horns gently curling, the wings out and ready. There was still some obvious fatigue present in Sasha's body, but not the way it had been the night Sam almost killed Sasha with a knife to the stomach. Sasha held a claw out towards Dean like an offer, smiling.

"Come on, we have to hurry."

"Wait," Dean said, suddenly understanding what Sasha had planned, "You go, I can…I can just walk."

"Dean…"

"You can catch them. Don't worry about me." Dean would have backed up a step if he didn't know the edge of the roof was close beside him.

Sasha looked incredulous in a way that didn't fit his incubus form at all. He stomped over to Dean with all intentions of grabbing Dean by force if necessary. "I know you're afraid of flying, Dean, but this is me, okay? I'm not going to drop you."

Dean swallowed, his arms stiff as Sasha grabbed them and started to pull him towards the edge. "Yeah, well…the plane's not gonna crash either but every once in a while…BAM!"

"Dean," Sasha said chidingly again, "I'm not going to drop you." And then he had Dean at the edge and he was coming up close behind Dean, taking tight hold of Dean's biceps and pushing off, no warning, just that horrible free-falling feeling with Dean's feet dangling and Sasha flying above him.

"Oh fuck…fuck." Dean closed his eyes. There was just so much space down there, black empty space.

"I don't like this…" Sasha said softly, after a few moments of air whipping past Dean's face.

You don't like this? Dean thought maddeningly, but he couldn't quite form the words.

Sasha continued, his voice that comforting growl that normally Dean would enjoy if he wasn't dangling from the incubus' arms. "I can see Gordon and Sam pretty well now, but it just seems too…convenient. It's like Gordon's keeping just enough ahead of Sam so Sam doesn't lose him, but still fast enough not to get caught. Like he's…"

Sure it was scary as hell, but now Dean had to peak an eye open. He could see the moving figures of Sam and Gordon too, and there in the distance lay that building Dean had noticed before. "Like he's…leading Sam somewhere," Dean said, finishing Sasha's hanging thought. God damn it, they were so fucking stupid.

"Sam's moving a little steadier," Sasha said by way of placating Dean, "Maybe without his jacket the cold is helping sober him up."

That was possible, but that didn't mean Sam was in any condition to fight.

Now that Dean had convinced himself he wasn't going to plummet to his death, he allowed himself to look around. If Dean didn't hate heights it might actually be pretty. The landscape of New York City lay in the distance, sparkling up towards the sky. It reminded Dean of just how many people lived in New York City and its surrounding suburbs.

"Have you thought about people seeing us?" he said to Sasha, as if his chiding would make them land faster.

A low chuckle escaped the incubus. "People lie to themselves all the time about what they see. Besides, who'd believe the guy who said he saw a gargoyle carrying someone off to his lair?"

"One of the people who watched the cartoon?"

Sasha laughed, but when he spoke again he was entirely serious. "Okay, they haven't reached the building yet and we're almost there. I'm going to go in low so I can drop you."

Dean's head snapped up to look at the incubus' face above him. "You're gonna what!"

Red eyes glanced down at Dean with amused affection. "I'm talking so low you'll be able to touch your feet down and start running before I even let go. It'll just propel you. Trust me."

Okay, that did sound better than 'so I can drop you,' but Dean just wanted the ride to be over. It was going to be close anyway. Sam and Gordon had almost reached that one building, and there was no telling what Gordon might have planned for them, waiting inside those walls. Dean could see that Sam was running straight and steady, but he remembered how glassy those hazel eyes had still looked when they were crouched together by the dumpster.

"Ready?" Sasha prompted. The ground was mere feet below them now and Sam and Gordon were only a few yards in front of them.

Dean braced himself, feeling a little ridiculous when the ground came up fast and he started pumping his legs even before his feet touched. Then he was running almost as if Sasha was no longer hanging on, and suddenly that was true and he felt the rush as Sasha let go and he propelled forward.

Dean had forgotten one thing though, and so had Sasha. Dean's adrenaline was up again, but his leg was still injured, hurting more now than originally since it hadn't been treated. Dean only made it a few feet before pain shot up his body and made him trip over his quickly moving feet.

Sasha had already soared over Dean, landing more easily and keeping up the chase. Dean tried to push back up onto his feet, watching as Sasha caught up to Sam and stopped him just before the younger Winchester could follow Gordon into the building. But they weren't waiting. Sasha gestured Sam to go around and find another door—at least Dean assumed as much since he couldn't hear them—and Sasha took Sam's place, heading into the door Gordon had just gone through.

Dean wanted to yell at both of them, but he was still limping when he got to his feet; the impact had been too much, enough to tear the wound open and start it freshly bleeding again. Sasha should know better. He had been conscientious enough to move Sam out of harm's way—just as he did when he took a bullet for him, for crying out loud—but he didn't seem to know how to keep himself in the clear at the same time. Dean pretending he didn't recognize the irony in being angry at Sasha for that.

Pain be damned, Dean got to his feet finally and raced after Sasha into the building. The first thing that struck him was that the door had been unlocked despite the building being an in-use factory. How Dean knew it was in-use was because of the second thing that hit him: fumes. He almost choked on them at first, the smell was so strong. He couldn't pinpoint what the fumes were, but he didn't have time to care.

Already, Dean could hear sounds of fighting, indicating Sasha had caught up to Gordon and there had to be some kind of open area behind all the hanging machinery and storage.

"You're like every other hunter I've met, Gordon," Dean heard faintly from Sasha over the factory's hum, "The only big picture you see is black and white. But it's not that simple."

Dean heard grunts and thuds in the distance as he took a wrong turn back into a rack of spare parts. Damn it. He needed to slow down. He needed to stop, take a breath, think and focus on where the voices were coming from.

The sounds of fighting were close. Dean took another turn past stacks of boxes that towered over him up to the high ceiling above, listening carefully as Gordon answered.

"Dean said the same thing," came the louder voice, closer than Dean had heard Sasha's, "Makes me wonder. Who's really poisoning his mind these days? Sam? Or you."

Dean rushed ahead, spotting movement in front of him, but it was dark, and as Dean approached he came up to shelving that only gave him a tease of what was happening on the other side. He could see Sasha and Gordon, neither visibly armed as they traded blows. That should have made it easy. There was no reason Sasha shouldn't be able to take Gordon down, even if he wasn't at his best. Worst of all was how pleased Gordon seemed to be about it.

"You're starting to slow down," Gordon taunted, and it was true. Sasha looked sluggish, tired. Gordon sidestepped a punch and pushed Sasha into another set of shelving, causing a cascade of clinking, clanging metal.

Metal. It dawned on Dean like a bucket of ice that the fumes he could smell all around them had to be metal.

"You know what they do here?" Gordon was saying as Sasha recovered and they started circling each other again, "It's a manufacturing plant. Odds and ends. That scent in the air?" he said, as if he knew just what Dean had been thinking, "That's molten iron."

Dean was no stranger to panic lately, but tonight was breaking new records. He had to get to the other side. Now.

Following the path of the shelving, Dean moved as fast as he could. It was taking him away from the fight, but he knew if he could just find an end he could go around it out into the opening with Sasha and Gordon. The voices grew dimmer as Dean hurried through the factory, but he could still make out most of what they were saying.

"It's like Kryptonite for you, isn't it?" Gordon said, his tone dripping with a grin Dean could picture perfectly, "Little by little it's slowing you down, eating away at you. I couldn't be sure if this place would have affected our dear Sammy, but it sure seems to have an affect on you."

There! Finally, Dean could see an end to the shelves and he tore around to the other side, running, desperate now that he could finally see Sasha and Gordon clearly. The light was brighter where they were fighting since they were so close to the conveyer belts. Dean could see every move they made, but he was still so far away. Sasha was throwing weak punches and being struck by blows he should have easily been able to avoid. Gordon wasn't even trying now. He was playing. He was having fun. It made Dean so angry he almost screamed.

Dean was close. He was so close. He could reach them. Gordon didn't even see him coming.

Internally, Dean cheered when Sasha got in a good hit finally and Gordon went down, landing amongst the various finished metal parts Sasha had knocked over earlier. It was stupid but understandable the way Sasha rubbed at his eyes then, stopping to take a breath he desperately needed with how the iron in the air was affecting him.

With his attention unfocused though, Sasha didn't see Gordon pick up one of the sharp, jagged pieces of metal beside him and start to get up.

"Sasha!" Dean yelled. He could make it. He could still reach them in time.

And then Dean realized what a fool he was for calling out, because Sasha turned to look at him, turned away from Gordon completely, and it was all the opportunity Gordon needed.

Dean was two yards away…when Gordon stabbed the piece of metal into Sasha's chest. Suddenly it was months ago, and Dean was so close to Sammy, so close, but not close enough. "No!" Dean cried, reaching them finally, too late, and descending on Gordon with the fiercest hit he could manage. Gordon went down hard, dead weight, but Dean immediately forgot all about him.

Sasha.

"No, no, no," Dean chanted, dropping down beside Sasha who was already on his knees and falling back. Dean tried to help, tried to hold him up, but Sasha was so heavy, dead weight just like Gordon. Dead weight…

Dean choked back a swallow and did his best to ease Sasha back. As the incubus lay down, he reached up towards Dean's face, but his hand couldn't grip and his fingers slid down Dean's cheek in a desperate, failed attempt to touch him. Those bright blue eyes were so wide, Sasha's whole expression one of shock, disbelief. Dean was right there with him too, because this couldn't be happening. This wasn't happening.

"You're okay…you're okay," Dean tried, looking down at the jagged piece of metal sticking out of Sasha's chest like it couldn't really be there, like it couldn't be real. The positioning was perfect. Of course it was; Gordon had struck the blow. Right in Sasha's heart. "No, no…you're okay…you're gonna be okay…"

"D-Dean…" Sasha said in a gasp, and immediately Dean's eyes went back to Sasha's face, that pale skin shimmering with waves of those horrible veins the way Dean remembered with Sasha's aunt. The way the poison of the iron worked through her body before she…

"No," Dean said again, shaking his head, crouched on the floor and holding Sasha in his arms tighter—clinging, needing, "The antidote," he said with conviction, holding a hand to Sasha's cheek the way Sasha had been unable to do with him, "Sam has some. He's around here…somewhere. He has to be. Sam!" Dean yelled. He didn't know what else to do.

Slowly, Sasha's eyes began to soften, no longer staring up at him with fear but somber affection instead and the small subtle traces of a smile. Dean knew that look. That look was resignation. That look was giving up.

"You'll be okay," Dean said in response, tightening his grip on Sasha's face and leaning in close, "We just…we just need the antidote and you'll be okay. Sammy!" He called up to the ceiling again. Why wasn't Sam here? Sam should be here by now. Where the hell was he! "Please…just…just…" Dean clenched his eyes shut a moment and felt a tear run hot down his face. He couldn't feel his own body. He could only feel Sasha, trembling against him and looking at him like he was trying to say goodbye. "You can't," Dean said, almost angry, "You just can't…" but he couldn't finish what he meant. He couldn't actually say the word, the awful truth of what was happening.

The veins shimmered over Sasha's face again, not really there but so much more imbedded then they had ever been from simple cuts. Sasha tried to lift his hand again but it flopped uselessly beside him, so instead Sasha lifted his neck, surely an even harder feat, and pressed his lips up into Dean's.

It wasn't even a real kiss because Sasha's didn't have the strength to give him one, so Dean moved his other hand underneath Sasha's head and helped, deepened it so he could feel that mouth warm against his. Nothing seemed more important than that kiss while they were in it. Dean wasn't saying goodbye, even if Sasha was, he was saying everything else, all the things he never said, maybe never would just because they weren't things Dean said out loud. But he could say them like this, knowing Sasha heard him.

When Sasha's lips went slack finally, Dean pulled away, hating how dim those blue eyes looked now, like real eyes, like weak fragile human eyes. Sasha's mouth quivered and Dean knew he was trying to say something, maybe Dean's name again, maybe something else, but it didn't matter. Dean just nodded, holding Sasha there, his body, his face, holding him.

The change was so abrupt, so final. Sasha was dead weight in Dean's arms for real, his head falling back, eyes closing, and as he hung in Dean's arms he slowly began to shift. The glamour couldn't hold—not any of them. Suddenly, Dean was holding Sasha the incubus in Sasha the hunter's clothing. It would have been funny to see him like that if this had been any other moment.

"No…you…you're okay….you're gonna be okay…" Dean said barely audible, thinking of Sam, of Sasha, of Sam, of Sasha. Not again, God damn it, not again! Not the same way. Not for the same reason. Not because he was right there but was still too late to save him.

"You know…I thought I understood when it was just your brother," came Gordon's voice, so dim to Dean's ears he barely heard him, "But this? Dean."

Such a condescending tone, it made Dean growl low in his throat as he turned back, seeing Gordon on his feet again and holding Dean's own gun that he had dropped so uncaringly when he raced to Sasha's side. Dean stared at the barrel. He should care more that it was pointed at his face. He should care.

"I was wrong, Dean," Gordon was saying, "You know what I think now? I think you were damned long before you ever made a deal."

And for a moment, Dean agreed so heartily he didn't even care when the hammer of the gun pulled back.

Your fingertips across my skin
The palm trees swaying in the wind
Images
You sang me Spanish lullabies
The sweetest sadness in your eyes
Clever trick

Well, I never want to see you unhappy
I thought you'd want the same for me

[Chorus
Goodbye, my almost lover
Goodbye, my hopeless dream
I'm trying not to think about you
Can't you just let me be?
So long, my luckless romance
My back is turned on you
Should've known you'd bring me heartache
Almost lovers always do

We walked along a crowded street
You took my hand and danced with me
Images
And when you left, you kissed my lips
You told me you would never, never forget
These images

No

Well, I'd never want to see you unhappy
I thought you'd want the same for me

[Chorus
Goodbye, my almost lover
Goodbye, my hopeless dream
I'm trying not to think about you
Can't you just let me be?
So long, my luckless romance
My back is turned on you
Should've known you'd bring me heartache
Almost lovers always do

I cannot go to the ocean
I cannot drive the streets at night
I cannot wake up in the morning
Without you on my mind
So you're gone and I'm haunted
And I bet you are just fine

Did I make it that
Easy to walk right in and out
Of my life?

[Chorus
Goodbye, my almost lover
Goodbye, my hopeless dream
I'm trying not to think about you
Can't you just let me be?
So long, my luckless romance
My back is turned on you
Should have known you'd bring me heartache
Almost lovers always do

tbc...

A/N: Just trust me.

Crim