Part 3: Miscommunication

Once Dean was well enough to reflect back on the past few days and the fact that Sasha had tearfully said the words Dean usually dreaded above all others, it was all Dean could think about.

I love you, Dean.

Dean didn't say those words. Sure, he said them to Sammy, but usually in an offhanded way that made it easier, casual, not all sappy and sentimental. Dean could barely ever remember saying those words to his dad. The one person he thought he was ready to say them to he had told he was a hunter first. Bad idea. Cassie thought he was so crazy that saying 'I love you' probably would have made things worse. It was worse when Dean saw her again. She knew then that Dean wasn't crazy or lying—ghosts and all those creepy crawly things in the night were and are real—but only because she had first hand experience. She had made it pretty clear that their reuniting during that hunt was a one time thing. She said she wouldn't wait for him, and no matter how Dean looked at their relationship after that, he knew it couldn't have been love. Not the kind that conquers all anyway.

But Dean had never wanted that kind of love—real, boundless, rip your soul out, what's the point of living without it love. It was scarier than any creature or demon Dean had ever faced. Scarier than realizing he had the hots for a guy for fuck's sake, and an incubus at that. Scarier than...well, Hell.

Dean's one consolation in the whole mess, besides the fact that he, his brother, and Sasha were all more or less healthy and alive, was that he was on three different kinds of medication, the combination leaving him numb and very tired. This meant Dean couldn't drive his baby on their way to the Roadhouse, but it also meant Dean could lie down in the backseat the whole time, slipping in and out of drugged-up consciousness. His sleep was dreamless but every so often Sasha and Sam's voices would drift into his hearing to remind him that he was safe and very much not alone. At least for a little longer.

Having long ago given up trying to fight his drowsiness, Dean was happily falling into a deeper, real sleep just about the time his baby's radio suddenly blared all around him.

Life is a highway
I wanna ride it all night long

"Sonuvabitch!" Dean shrieked, jolting upright in the backseat and actually thankful for once that he wasn't any taller since his head did not make hard contact with the ceiling.

Dean glared up at the front seats. It might not have been all that bad if the radio hadn't so obviously been turned up just to wake him and if Sasha and Sam weren't both singing along as loudly as possible. Sasha's voice Dean could handle, enjoyed even, but Sam had no ear for music.

"What the hell? Seriously, what the hell? Be nice to the invalid. I'm supposed to be resting, remember? Freaks…" Dean added with a grumble.

Through all these cities and all these towns
It's in my blood and it's all around
I love you now like I loved you then
This is the road and these are the hands

Sasha continued singing along to the radio, his smile blinding through the rearview mirror, while Sam had thankfully stopped and turned to grin back at Dean. "Time for your meds, man," he said, "Had to wake you somehow."

Oh Dean would so get them both back for this later. He rummaged through the bag on the floor, filled with all the things he needed to recover from a shotgun wound. Dean didn't have to ask which meds he was due for this time; his chest ached. Definitely the Vicodin. "Either of you got something to drink?" Dean asked. He had finished off his soda hours ago.

A plastic bottle was pushed back towards Dean and he blinked at it skeptically. "Lipton Green Tea?" Dean read off of Sam's drink of choice, "You're kidding me, right? Could you be more of a girl?"

Sam grimaced and retracted the offered beverage.

Thankfully, Sasha, who had been driving since Dean was last fully awake, produced a bottle of water, still mostly full. "Thanks," Dean said, but he reached a little too far forward to take the bottle and grimaced when his hand finally grasped it, "Fuck. Definitely time for more pain killers. I can take two of these things, right?" Dean was already planning to take at least two as he unscrewed the cap on the Vicodin and started shaking pills out into his hand.

"Yeah, two's fine," Sasha said, finally breaking off from his loud singing somewhere in the second verse, "Might give you a stomach ache though, and you've been complaining enough as it is." Sasha grinned. It seemed the common thing, to tease whoever was most hurt and recovering, because after all they were just hurt, they would be okay, and teasing that person made the possibility of their death seem further away. The fact that the possibility of Dean's death was growing ever closer, however, just seemed to make Sasha and Sam tease him more.

Dean couldn't have been more grateful. "I could still kick your ass if you wanna pull over, smart guy. I've been close to death more times than the both of you combined, I'd bet, and I'm still ticking. Takes more than a shotgun to take down the Dean man." Dean popped the pills in his mouth and took a long swig of Sasha's water. It was still cold. They must have stopped not too long ago and Dean slept through it. It was a good thing Dean wasn't hungry or that he had to pee, or he would have chewed them both out for that. "Where we at?" Dean asked, looking out his baby's window. The landscape wasn't familiar.

Actually, Dean realized, it did look familiar, just not like the route to the Roadhouse.

"Are we in Kansas? We've gone too far."

"New Roadhouse is just over the Missouri boarder," Sasha explained, "Right smack dab in the middle of the country. Ellen didn't think it would be too smart to rebuild the old one in Nebraska. Too many baddies knew the location. Starting fresh, ya know, but still somewhere any hunter might pass through going from one part of the country to another."

Dean nodded vaguely, catching Sam's eyes when the younger Winchester glanced back at him briefly. It was sort of an unspoken rule that they avoided even driving through Kansas unless they had a job there. Too many reminders of a life not lived. Dean assumed Sam had decided not to mention that to Sasha, or maybe Sam had allowed it on purpose. These days they were facing their demons more and more everyday. Hell, they were hunting demons down. Driving through Kansas should be a cakewalk.

They weren't in Kansas for long anyway. The drive from Bobby's only seemed long to Dean because he was still half out of it, but it was really only an eight hour drive total by the time they reached their destination, just outside of Rushville, Missouri, population less than 300. It was four o'clock, plenty of time to get the lowdown on what they were needed for before they would want dinner.

"I'm not imagining this, right?" Dean said as he got out of the car, hating how slow and careful he had to move to avoid cringing. He glanced up at the building. There were only two cars parked visibly, which Dean assumed belonged to Ellen and Jo. "I know I'm hoped up on some of the best drugs around and all, but…is this place really…" Dean just couldn't say it.

So Sam did. "A renovated Bed and Breakfast?" Sam said with some surprise, "Not exact the second coming of the Roadhouse I was expecting."

"I like it," Sasha shrugged, "A little homegrown charm. Hunters don't get that too often. Might be nice." Fiddling with Dean's keys like they belonged to him, Sasha moved to unlock the trunk and grab some of their stuff. Dean hated it when Sam took control of the car like that but he was too tired to give Sasha a hard time. Besides, he sort of liked the whole not having to carry anything in part of being injured. Sasha and Sam would be put to work while they were here; Dean could relax. He hoped the new Roadhouse had cable.

Dean was reminded of the first time they met Ellen and Jo as they entered the building. It was quiet inside with only the natural light spilling in through the windows to illuminate the rooms. He was almost expecting to get ambushed and made a fool of again by Jo with a gun.

Something Dean took some solace in though was that the inside did not resemble a Bed and Breakfast nearly as much as the outside did. The entire front lobby and check in area had been turned into a bar resembling the old one Dean was used to and very much liked. The place was also huge, which meant there were probably tons of useful rooms downstairs for hunters to relax and gather together, as well as places upstairs to sleep.

"Anybody home!" Dean called, walking a little ahead of Sasha and Sam as they piled their stuff next to the door, "Handsome hunters checking in!"

"Hn," came a huff from a doorway to Dean's left, "Could have fooled me."

Arms crossed over her tank top covered chest despite the cold weather outside, Jo Harvelle sauntered into the main area with a smirk. Dean hadn't seen her in a good while, not since Duluth when Meg-possessed Sam almost sliced and diced her. She looked good though, Dean had to admit. Snug fitting jeans, blonde hair gently curling at the ends like usual. Dean was surprised at how she smiled warmly at him until he realized she wasn't looking at him at all.

"I see one handsome face I haven't seen in a while though," Jo said, her tone considerably different as she addressed Sasha, who came around Dean with a beaming smile and dove right into Jo for one of his all encompassing hugs. Jo's smaller size made the young female hunter completely disappear in Sasha's embrace.

"Hey there, Joanna Beth," Sasha greeted, and Dean almost gasped at Sasha's boldness. The only time he had ever heard anyone call Jo by her full name like that was when Ellen was yelling at her. Dean was rightly surprised then when Jo just smiled wider. "How's the prettiest hunter in the pack?" Sasha added.

Dean wasn't really sure why, but his stomach did a few angry flips. Probably the Vicodin kicking in, he thought.

Jo and Sasha pulled out of their friendly hug finally, but Jo kept her hands on Sasha's arms like they were old friends meeting up again after a long hiatus. Dean knew that was kind of the truth. Sasha had mentioned on the road at some point that he only saw Ellen and Jo face to face once or twice a year and only when he absolutely needed to go to the Roadhouse for something. The Roadhouse itself was a dangerous place for Sasha, filled with hunters and all, one of which at any point might have done something or noticed something that could have given Sasha way. But apparently Sasha had made enough of an impression the few times he crossed paths with the Harvelles that Ellen kept pretty regular contact with him over the phone and Jo was always thrilled to see Sasha again.

Dean hadn't pressed for details, afraid he might walk into an explanation of that time Sasha was close to frenzy and had to feed off Ellen, but he got the feeling there was something Sasha hadn't mentioned about his encounters with the Harvelle women. The way Jo's eyes flitted happily over Sasha's face didn't make Dean feel any better about his suspicions either. The one thing he did know for sure was that unlike Ellen, Jo did not know Sasha was an incubus.

"Almost didn't believe it when Mom said who you were working with these days, Mr. I Hunt Alone and Only Alone," Jo teased, glancing briefly past Sasha at Sam and Dean, "Trying to make me jealous? You said you'd rather face the business end of my Mom with a rifle than hunt with me."

"That's because I know you'd distract me too much," Sasha replied, "And you know how easily distracted I am." Dean just knew Sasha was smirking all suggestively, even though Sasha's back was to him and he couldn't actually see it. It made Dean's fingers twitch.

"Right," Jo was saying as she pulled her hands away from Sasha finally to cross them over her chest again, "Distracted having to save the poor, defenseless girl from the big baddies, right?"

Dean snorted, remembering the hunt in Philadelphia for H. H. Holmes, America's first serial killer. "Would he be wrong?" Dean couldn't help saying. Aspiring hunter or not, Jo had still needed to be rescued by the Winchesters.

Sharp brown eyes turned on Dean instantly with that impressive glare Dean somehow always forgot Jo was so adept at giving him. "You saying you've never needed a rescue, Dean?" Despite the taunt implied, Jo's words were very serious. It couldn't be forgotten that Jo had probably saved Dean's life after Meg in a Sam suit shot and nearly killed him, leaving him to the mercy of Lake Superior. "Hey, Sam," Jo added, her smile returning.

It should have been more awkward for Sam and Jo to see each other again, it really should have, but Dean had discovered that Sam, being Sam, had called Jo on a number of occasions after his possession to patch things up, even though none of what Meg had done while she was in Sam's body had been anything Sam could control.

Which meant in the long run that the most awkward award once again went to Dean. At least Jo seemed to have gotten over the whole our dad got your dad killed thing.

"Hey, Jo," Sam was saying, walking around Dean just as Sasha had to tentatively go in for a hug. Jo allowed it, though it was obvious that the contact wasn't the most comfortable thing for either of them. "Where's your mom?" Sam asked when he pulled away, "It's been awhile since we've seen her too."

"Working on one of the upstairs rooms," Jo said, "Probably be done soon. I'm sure she heard you pull up. I suppose I could give you all the grand tour," she smiled, even a little at Dean. Dean wasn't really sure why he deserved the mostly cold shoulder routine. It's not like they were a couple or something that had a falling out. It just felt like that.

"Yeah," Dean said, "Let's get a look at this glorified B and B. Gotta admit I had my doubts, but the bar's pretty sweet." It also looked completely finished. The work Ellen needed help with must be on the other rooms or maybe even only upstairs.

Jo led them over to the bar and slipped back behind it, running her hands over the smooth mahogany countertop. Dean liked the stools, red leather tops and all neatly lined up. The three boys each grabbed one next to each other, leaning over the counter as Jo showed them the bar, just as well stocked as the old Roadhouse, of course.

Eventually, Jo brought them around the rest of what had once been a lobby. There were keys for the rooms upstairs but they kept all that front desk-like stuff behind the bar. It seemed fitting that way and Dean wasn't surprised at all how Ellen had designed things. Dean was also pleased to see that the jukebox still existed and had been placed in an easily accessible corner of the bar, but as Jo brought them over towards it he realized that it wasn't the same machine.

"This is the best part," Jo said, smiling as she walked up to the jukebox and started fiddling with what looked like a touch screen. The design of the jukebox otherwise was like most Dean had seen, but this was in the new technology era. It made Dean instinctively scowl. "Works more like a playlist on a laptop," she continued, "You program in the songs and people can just come over and look up the artists or titles they want by typing them in. Holds as much as the newest Ipod. Much more for variety," she added, glancing over her shoulder at Dean, "If you're not the REO Speedwagon type."

Dean might have flinched if that had sounded like a barb, but strangely—thankfully—it didn't. It sounded more like a gentler tease. Dean could handle that. Maybe things weren't as tense between him and Jo as he thought. Dean hoped so. It wasn't that he hadn't ever been interested he just knew how bad of an idea it would have been. Jo was also two years younger than both Sam and Sasha, which made her seem a lot younger than Dean, at least when Dean was searching for excuses.

Shaking his head to get himself to stop thinking so much, Dean smirked back to acknowledge Jo's tease and took it as a good sign that her expression softened.

"Breaking Benjamin?" Sasha said excitingly, leaning over Jo's shoulder to get a peak at the screen. Jo stepped aside to let Sasha have a go at the jukebox and the incubus started typing in a song title. "Trying to be ironic with the hunter crowd, Jo?" Sasha said. Dean peered at the screen and saw the title Sasha was choosing. He had never heard of this Breaking Benjamin group, but the song 'Dance with the Devil' would definitely be ironic in the hunter world.

"The old crowd needs to learn a few tricks now and again. Well," Jo said, smirking at Dean, "The old crowd and Dean. Don't worry, there's plenty of Metallica in the playlist too."

Dean was reminded of why he was happy he only had an annoying little brother to put up with and not any accompanying little sister. Before he could offer any smart remarks of his own though, Sasha's song started playing over the bar's speakers.

Here I stand, helpless and left for dead

Definitely an ironic song choice for the hunter crowd.

"Hey, Jo," Sasha smiled, stepping away from the jukebox towards the blonde huntress, "You know what I love about this song?"

Jo raised a wary eyebrow. "What?"

Dean knew that smirk, that 'I have something planned for you and there is no way you are getting out of it' smirk. "It's a waltz," Sasha said, reaching a hand out to take Jo's arm.

"Oh, no," Jo said immediately, backing out of Sasha's reach and almost plowing right into Sam in her haste.

"Come on," Sasha insisted, making chase, "It's been like three years."

"And I'm more than happy with that so keep your mitts to yourself."

"Am I missing something here?" Dean broke in. He always hated inside jokes or anything that left him out of the loop.

Sasha paused in his advance towards Jo and planted hands on his hips. "I passed by the Roadhouse right around Jo's twentieth birthday and taught her how to waltz. We made a deal."

"A deal?" Dean questioned.

"She told me her dad had this special way of making silver bullets, specifically for catching shapeshifters. I asked for the details and she said only if I'd teach her something in return. So I did."

"It was supposed to be something hunt related," Jo complained, obviously still somewhat sore about the whole thing. Dean wasn't surprised. Jo was a pretty little thing, but she was no girlie-girl. He couldn't really imagine her ballroom dancing.

Sasha rolled his eyes. "You didn't specify. Besides, you know you enjoyed it," he smirked, and this time he moved so fast towards Jo that there was no way she could have escaped his grasp. He pulled her close into a dancer's hold, starting the waltz whether she was willing or not, and singing along as the song, some strange but pretty cool cross between metal and a ballad, burst into its chorus.

Say goodbye,
As we dance with the devil tonight
Don't you dare look at him in the eye
As we dance with the devil tonight

Dean backed closer to the jukebox and Sam joined him, keeping themselves from being bowled over by the dancing pair. Jo had looked surprised and dissenting at first, but she couldn't seem to resist that remarkable allure Sasha had that somehow made it impossible not to give in to whatever he wanted. Jo was laughing by the time the chorus moved into the second verse, stumbling a few times but keeping up with Sasha fairly well before long.

The incubus looked very at home in a waltz and Dean thought Sasha looked actually a little silly in jeans, a long sleeved T-shirt, and his spare non-leather jacket when the rest of the package had all that elegance Dean remembered from Sasha's aunt. Dean himself could only pull off suave, not elegant.

I believe in you
I can show you that I can see right through
All your empty lies, I won't last long
In this world so wrong

Say goodbye…

In the end, however, irony was why Dean wanted the song to end, not the fact that Sasha and Jo looked so good together dancing. He could see in the way they moved together, laughing, faltering but still graceful, that whatever there was between them it had nothing to do with romance. He couldn't help wondering though if it ever had in the past.

"Waltzing must be part of the incubus handbook," Sam commented in a low whisper, smiling crookedly at Dean, the jukebox wedged between them both as they leaned back against the wall, "You know, all the skills you need to better seduce your newest conquest."

Fucking hilarious, Dean thought. "You think you're funny?" he said without meeting gazes.

"Gotta take those opportunities to drive you crazy when I can," Sam said, as if he knew, and he probably did, that Dean had really strange feelings buzzing around his gut while watching an almost but not-quite old flame and his still a little rocky new flame dancing.

It was no surprise then that as the song left an instrumental section to barrel one last time into the chorus and Sasha and Jo spun around towards one of the doorways practically right into Ellen that Dean felt a grin spread across his face.

That was priceless, made so much more so by the deathly look of motherly disapproval on Ellen's face, and what Dean could only assume were hand-caught-in-the-cookie-jar expressions on Sasha and Jo. Dean only wished he had a camera to document this for further blackmailing purposes.

"Hey, Ellen," Sasha said, having instantly released Jo as a hand came up to scrub nervously through his hair, "Just testing out that new sound system of yours. Great setup you've got here."

Dean could practically smell the bullshit.

Ellen's arms were crossed over her chest much like Jo's had been, that calculating look on her face that Dean would readily admit scared him. Ellen was very attractive for a woman old enough to have a daughter in her twenties, relatively long brown hair past her shoulders, and well-fit jeans and a long sleeved shirt to compliment her curves. Dean wasn't fooled by attractiveness though; he knew very well just how deadly beautiful could be.

"Really, Ellen, this place is great," Sam came to Sasha and Jo's rescue, pushing from the wall to approach the others a few yards away, "Out of the way but centralized, bigger, places for hunters to sleep. It'll be great to have a place like this around. We're really happy to help you out."

Bullshit indeed. Dean admired Sasha's charm and all, but Sam still won the award for being the best at diffusing a tense situation.

Ellen moved her gaze from Sasha and Jo long enough to nod a welcome. "Sam. Dean," she added as Dean walked up with his brother. Then Ellen turned back to the redhead with raised eyebrows. "Sasha," she said, also by way of greeting, though there was so much subtext implied that Dean was thrilled beyond belief that he hadn't ever been stupid enough to do something like that with Jo. Maybe Ellen was a little overprotective. Well, she was. But Dean still never wanted to cross her.

"Mom…" Jo almost started in, but Sasha interrupted to avoid any of the dangerous places that conversation might go.

"Good to see you, Ellen," the incubus said, "I know we're here to be put to work, not to mess around so…what have you got for us? The bar here looks all set."

Since her message of disapproval had been received, Ellen softened—well, as much as Ellen ever softened—and led the group over to one of the tables to sit down. She demanded a little recap of what the boys had been up to, and it surprised them all how easily they told of their hunts after Minnesota up until recent date while still effortlessly leaving out details that would invite too many questions. Gordon and Kubrick were lumped together as crazed hunters that had come after Sam just because of his growing powers, and who had thus ended up dead. Ellen and Jo knew about Sam's powers, to a very small extent, but although the new plural—powers instead of just the visions as a singular power—made Ellen and Jo both stare for a minute, neither pushed for more information.

The most the boys were able to find out in return was that Jo had still been in Duluth until now and that Ellen had been working on the new Roadhouse. There weren't any other hunters around right now, but those who had helped out so far were spreading the word covertly to the other hunters they trusted. If all went well, the Roadhouse would be back to its old self before long.

"Just got some painting and a little hauling down here, and minor construction on a couple of the rooms upstairs," Ellen explained, "Nothing you boys won't be able to handle. Already finished with the electrical and plumbing stuff. Shouldn't need you for more than a few days, though you're welcome to stay as long as you need. Lodging and food's on the house as long as you're still working. Booze you gotta pay for."

Dean snorted. Fair enough. "And—" he started.

"And the recently shot and injured will be on hunting duty," Ellen cut right in.

Dean understandably blanched. "Uhh, what? Hunting duty? Wanna clarify that?"

"It's a raccoon," Jo said, half smirking.

"Possibly a raccoon," Ellen amended, "Something keeps swiping bits of food, stealing small things, moving things about. I wouldn't pay it much mind if it wasn't so constant, and if it wasn't for a few of the more trigger happy and twitchy older hunters. Sounds too much like a haunting when you just give details like that."

"But I saw it," Jo jumped in, "No bigger than a cat, definitely had fur, and more afraid of me than the other way around, believe me. It's a raccoon."

For some reason the more Jo said that the least likely Dean believed it actually was a raccoon. "So I'm playing Animal Control. Great," Dean said, quickly smiling when Ellen gave him a look, "Couldn't be happier to help," he added, even though he had been hoping to spend most of his time on a couch or bed somewhere watching TV.

"Right then," Ellen said, standing up from the table, "Jo honey, you take Sam and Sasha around to the rooms that need work, give them an idea of what they'll be doing. I'll get Dean settled with their rooms."

Jo nodded and led Sam and Sasha out through one of the doors, while Ellen gestured Dean over to the bar. She slipped behind it and pulled out a glass for Dean as he took the same stool he had sat on before.

"Any preference?" she asked.

"Sadly, it's gotta be coke or something," Dean admitted, "Apparently mixing three kinds of meds and alcohol is a bad idea. Who knew."

Ellen raised a single eyebrow, what Dean took to be as close as the woman got most days to laughing. "Pepsi products," she said.

"Dr. Pepper?"

Ellen nodded, filling his glass from the tap and setting it down in front of him, cold and refreshing at least if not the kind of drink Dean was hoping for. "So," Ellen started in as soon as Dean was taking his first swallow, "You seem to have taken finding out Sasha's secret well enough."

Dean choked a little as some of the Dr. Pepper went down the wrong pipe. "What?"

"He wouldn't still be working with you and so at ease about it too if you didn't know. I met the kid right after he started hunting, about seventeen years old only, and he avoided other hunters like the plague on hunts. Only went to them for advice or info on his father, and even that was as brief as he could make it. Guess you and your brother are a bit more enlightened than I thought."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean said, a little offended.

Ellen didn't even blink. "Your father had a run in with an incubus once, years ago, came to the right conclusion but not without the truth smacking him upside the head a few times first. Figured it would take just as much for you, even with that journal you keep. Glad to know I was wrong. Sasha's a good boy, incubus or not."

"Damn straight," Dean said, taking another drink to clear out some of the remaining soda in his windpipe, "Course it's nice to know you're so…enlightened to," Dean said, trying not to smirk as he thought of the other secret he knew.

Bad idea.

Ellen placed both hands on the counter in front of Dean and leaned into his personal space, gauging his expression, Dean imagined, with hard calculating eyes. She seemed to come to a conclusion then and her eyes narrowed into a glare.

"He told you, didn't he," she said, not at all a question.

Shit. Dean had certainly handled that well. "Uhh…maybe," Dean admitted, "But don't be mad at him or anything, it was an accident."

Ellen was seething and rightfully skeptical.

"It just slipped out," Dean defended again, "I'm the one who pressed for more. Not his fault. And no big deal. You probably saved his life."

"And happily too," Ellen said, challenging, just waiting for Dean to say something smartass so she could ream into him, Dean figured, "No point in losing good hunters over stupid things like that. But I swear if Jo catches even the smallest wind of this…" the way Ellen trailed off was more than promising with her threat.

"I know nothing," Dean said with his own ready promise, then under his breath, "Really, really wish I didn't…"

This seemed to appease Ellen well enough but she still looked pretty pissed. Dean just hoped he hadn't gotten Sasha in as much trouble as he thought. Ellen had already looked upset over that whole waltzing thing, innocent as it had been.

Eventually, Ellen was convinced that Dean was not suicidal enough to bring that topic up ever again, and she started explaining to him more about the 'raccoon' problem. They thought it had a nest or something up in the attic. The building didn't have any kind of cellar. Dean was just supposed to set a trap or something and catch the thing. Ellen didn't really care if the creature got caught humanely or not, just so long as it was gone before any other hunters stopped in for a stay.

Jo and the others were back before Ellen had even started talking to Dean about rooms, which was good since Dean wouldn't have been able to carry too many of their things himself anyway, and he certainly didn't want Ellen to have to do it. She was being hospitable enough, all things considered.

The others were chatting amongst themselves as they approached the bar and Ellen asked Dean, "Rooms? Just us right now so you're welcome to each take your own. Sorry we don't have any down here but the stairs shouldn't be too hard on a chest wound. Three rooms then?" she asked, already digging around for keys.

Dean obviously wasn't thinking very clearly, and he would definitely blame his lack of judgment on the medication later, but before he could stop himself the most mutinous possible words left him. "Nah, two's fine," he said. His heart stopped in his chest the same second he spoke, realization hitting him with how odd that sounded, especially considering the look Ellen was giving him, like she thought he was being a smartass after all. "Uhh…"

"Two?" Jo questioned from behind Dean, sliding onto a stool next to him, "Don't you and Sam get sick of each other? Or do I not want an answer to that question," she snarked.

Okay, Dean could totally use the fact that Jo was teasing him and Ellen thought he was goofing around anyway to steer this disaster back on to a safe track. He was joking. Yeah, definitely joking. Only he couldn't think of anything to say right now to make that sound believable.

Then Dean felt an arm slide around his shoulders as Sasha walked up next to his stool on the opposite side of Jo.

"That's not what he means," Sasha said, smile clear in his voice, and Dean could only pray that Sasha was about to save him, "He means one room for Sam…and one for us."

Yep. Dean could die right now. Right now, God, please.

It wasn't that Dean cared what people thought of him, coz he didn't, and it wasn't that he was ashamed or anything stupid like that, he was just still a little weirded out by how everything had happened, especially with Sasha saying those words before. Sam was one thing. Bobby was one thing. But now the Harvelles too? Dean was still getting used to the idea himself; he was not ready to explain things to others.

"You wanna run that by me again?" Ellen was saying, all stoic-faced like she still wasn't sure if this was an elaborate prank or not.

Dean glanced up at Sasha's face just above his shoulder and the incubus looked down at him, those damn too blue eyes questioning in a way that made Dean feel like a jackass for hoping Sasha would make up some lie just to make things easier on him. "Yeah," Dean found himself saying, still looking up at Sasha, "Just…two rooms." Dean felt his throat close up on him. This was insane. But he kind of didn't want to care.

"Two rooms," Ellen acknowledged, setting two keys on top of the bar's counter with a clink. If she was still skeptical or at all freaked out by this development she didn't let on even a little.

Whatever anxiety Dean was feeling—and there was no doubt he was feeling a lot—it didn't matter nearly as much as the grateful look that appeared on Sasha's face, like Dean had just made his world a little better simply by being honest.

The incubus grabbed the keys from the countertop and tossed one back to Sam, who was very unsuccessfully trying to hide a smirk of his own. They started for the door to pick up their things that were still neatly packed in front of it, and Ellen offered to show them upstairs.

Dean felt a little trapped being left alone in the bar with Jo, who he could feel staring at the side of his face while he tried to ignore it, look forward, and drink his Dr. Pepper. He was almost thankful he was recently shot; maybe it meant Jo wouldn't punch him.

"Sasha?" Jo started when she finally began to speak, "You and Sasha?" her voice was unreadable, "You and the young male hunter Sasha Kelly? I'm just clarifying here in case I've, I don't know, lost my mind. Dean?"

"What?" Dean said, trying to remain as cryptic of voice as Jo was, "We hit it off, okay?" Dean still wasn't really looking at Jo even though he had turned his head slightly, but even in his periphery he could see the completely flabbergasted look on the girl's face.

"So let me get this straight," Jo went on, "Before, way back whenever when I thought I was getting all these annoyingly mixed signals, I was really picking up on a…whole other frequency. Is that it? Coz at least that would explain a few things."

It dawned on Dean immediately what Jo was implying and his strong machismo kicked in to defend him. "Whoa there, okay? No other frequency. Sorry for any mixed signals, I'll admit, coz I'm an asshole, but I am not…I mean…I'm…well…" Shit. Dean kind of got his foot caught in his mouth there with what he was going to say because he was sort of trapped what with the whole sleeping with a guy thing.

"You're not what?" Jo taunted, knowing Dean well enough to understand exactly what juvenile thoughts were racing through his head, "No offence, Dean, but unless you're full of it or this is some really bad joke, what would you call sharing a bed with a hot guy? Male bonding? Maybe in the literal sense…" Jo mumbled loudly, and Dean suddenly realized she was enjoying torturing him, not just purely upset like he had first thought.

Scrutinizing green eyes looked over at Jo, finally, really looking at her and meeting gazes. She was enjoying herself. "You little brat. You already knew." Dean seemed to come to that realization even as he said the words.

Jo shrugged. "Sasha was afraid I'd hate him or something if I found out some other way, so he gave me a call. Like I would hate him over this. Water under the bridge. Maybe bridge over troubled water really, but…I'm fine with it."

Dean tried to process that. "So…Sasha knew about…" Dean didn't really know what to say, so he kind of did a half-assed gesture with his hand motioning between himself and Jo.

She got the drift and rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I might have mentioned you. This was way before you guys all met though, so keep that in mind."

"And…" Dean pressed on, still finding this all a little unsettling, or maybe just weird, "You're okay with it? You don't…care?"

"Why would I?" Jo said with another shrug.

There was something a little haunted in her expression but more like resolve and acceptance than any real sadness. Dean took that as a good thing. She was smiling, she wasn't hitting him, and now the cat was out of the bag with all the people Dean considered his…friends. It made a few things feel a little lighter.

Then Jo was getting up from her stool and she smacked Dean maybe a little too hard on the back so that Dean hissed with the jolt that caused in his chest. "Besides," Jo said, "An incubus has to eat."

Dean sat up instantly straighter, turning back around to watch Jo walk away. Did he just hear her right? "Wait," Dean called after her, "What…?" But Jo didn't turn, didn't even acknowledge him, just disappeared off into one of the other rooms.

Turning back in his stool to his Dr. Pepper, Dean thought about how damn complicated things got when people weren't honest with others about what they did and did not know. He wished he wasn't in for any more surprises like that. Picking up his glass for a long gulp, he also wished that his soda would suddenly turn into something a lot harder, but he doubted any gods or devils—or Heaven forbid, djinns—were listening.

After dinner, which somehow managed not to be awkward and was so wonderfully home-cooked that Dean felt better about all things considered, the group split to start in on a few simpler tasks for the evening. Tomorrow would start in Sasha and Sam's more aggressive work, but there was still plenty of hours left in the day to get a few things done. Dean was hoping he could postpone any raccoon hunting until tomorrow, but Ellen pushed an honest to god raccoon trap into his hand before Dean could try and slip off to his room.

Dean wasn't all that tired, even with a few more doses of his various medications in his system, because he had spent the majority of the morning and afternoon sleeping and to be honest he was kind of restless. That didn't mean he wanted to go foraging about in the attic for some damn raccoon though.

The attic was definitely the last place Ellen had thought to renovate. It was dusty, filled with boxes and other storage, and had only one overhead light that was simply a bare bulb activated by a string. Oh, Dean just loved this idea.

The smart thing to do would be to investigate around a little, see if he could find where the raccoon mostly nested—since the thing would more than likely be hiding—and then set up the trap near there. Dean had some scraps of meat in a baggie to use as bait. Part of him just wanted to set up the trap and get the hell back downstairs. His biggest phobia may be flying but he wasn't too keen on tight spaces either, and the attic's ceiling was so low Dean had to crawl.

"Here, kitty, kitty," Dean whispered under his breath. He felt partially degraded as a hunter; he wasn't part of frickin' pest control, he was a warrior, damn it.

Crawling along the floorboards that creaked in ways that made Dean's stomach flip for fear of falling right through the ceiling to the floor below, Dean squinted through the meager light the single bulb offered him. There was definitely a lot more clutter off to Dean's left, so headed over there. It looked like some of the boxes had been arranged into a fort or something. Were raccoons always that ingenuitive?

Dean was almost afraid the raccoon would still be in the nest when he peered over the boxes, and he really didn't feel like getting his face scratched off right now. First inspection showed no creature, thankfully, but Dean was surprised by how otherwise organized the little nest was. There was a blanket, bits of leftover food and wrappers from candy bars, and a little treasure trove of things Dean could definitely imagine were stolen from hunters. What unsettled him the most was the bowie knife he would have been glad to take as his own. There was also a lighter, a watch, a few necklaces Dean assumed were Ellen or Jo's, and various other sparkly metal things that weren't obviously identifiable. At least Dean was sure about one thing—the Harvelles definitely didn't have a ghost.

Well, Jo had said the thing wasn't any bigger than a cat, so regardless of what it was, the raccoon trap would hold it, so Dean set to work getting the trap situated inside the nest. All of his movement unsettled some of the boxes around him though and he gave a great sneeze when too much dust wafted up around him.

It was then that Dean first heard scuffling. He jerked his head to the right and could have sworn he saw something fury scuttle across the floorboards back behind a few of the more distant boxes. At least it was only about the size of a cat, but Dean was positive it didn't have a tail.

"Here…kitty, kitty…" Dean whispered again, a lump in his throat now. He was at a big disadvantage and again, he really didn't want to have his face scratched off any time soon by some rabid fuzz ball. "Don't run, little fella…I'm your friend," Yeah that sounded convincing, "I just wanna play, huh?" Dean carefully finished setting the trap up and left the bag of meat open. If he could just lure the…whatever it was back to the nest, he still had a chance at capturing it.

Dean wasn't sure if it was better to crawl or crouch, but he figured he would be able to see over most of the boxes better if he was on his feet, so he chose the crouching route, having to keep his back curved to avoid hitting the ceiling. It made his chest ache just a little to be scrunched like that, but nothing he couldn't handle.

"Come on, little guy, Ellen may not care what I do with ya, but I promise we'll just go for a little ride out to some nice patch of woods somewhere. You'll love it."

Dean jerked his head to the left this time as he heard scuffling over in another corner. This thing was fast.

"I'm not here to take your stuff or anything," Dean went on, inching in that new direction, "Go ahead and check. All there." Dean felt a little silly for talking like the creature could understand him, but he had always had a way of attributing anthropomorphic characteristics to things, like his car. She was a living breathing being, Dean believed, and definitely understood him.

Suddenly, Dean heard scuffling from behind him, back where the nest was, and there was a large snapping of the cage door. Maybe the thing could understand Dean; it certainly seemed to have taken the bait.

Slowly, Dean snuck his way back over to the boxes that unclosed the nest and peered over. The trap had been triggered all right, but there was no sign of anything fury and cute inside of it. "Damn it," Dean cursed. This thing was good.

Too good really, because Dean barely had time to turn around when he heard scuffling again just behind him, and then the thing was already latched onto his leg and taking a painful bite. Dean cried out and instantly stumbled forward, falling flat to the wooden floor with an eruption of dust as he landed. Dean coughed and gasped heavily but much more form the eruption of pain through his chest than the one of dust around him. Every one of Dean's wounds had been impacted in that fall. He'd be lucky if he hadn't ripped any stitches, and he definitely wouldn't be moving easily for a while. It hurt so much that Dean could barely shove himself over onto his back.

He took painful gasps, his hand ghosting over his shirt, not wanting to actually touch his chest for fear of making the pain worse. Even if he was fine in the long run, he just knew he was going to get yelled at for allowing that to happen. As if he had a choice.

Suddenly, Dean realized that although the creature was no longer biting, there was still something warm clinging tightly to his leg. There was barely enough light to see by but Dean risked a glance down his body. Dimly, Dean could make out large bat-like ears, sharp little teeth formed into a growl, and round beady black eyes. It was almost entirely covered in fur, more the size of a large teddy bear than a cat really, and though Dean couldn't be sure, the grip on his leg made him almost think the thing had opposable thumbs.

"What the fuck!" Dean cried, shaking his leg furiously. The creature scittered off of him then back into the maze of dust and boxes, and Dean immediately scrambled to his feet and painfully made for the pull-down door and ladder. Maybe it was more scared of Dean than the other way around, just like Jo had said, but it sure had been pissed about Dean trying to capture it. And another thing. That was sure as Hell no fucking raccoon.

Great, Dean thought, grimacing as he landed back down on the floor below, so much for a relaxing vacation.

tbc...

A/N: So many points to the person who figures out the creature before its revealed. Hehehe. There's more fun and bonding ahead. This arc might end up being more than five parts, so we'll have to see. The rest of it will still be at the Roadhouse though. Thoughts? Anyone?

NO ONE, not even the person who asked for more time, or people I complained to about for not entering, sent me a Dean tells Sasha chapter other than deangirl1. So you, my dear, who entertains the masses with kisses when I'm not posting has the pleasure of requesting ANYTHING. Go crazy; I'll write it.

Crim