Part 6: Repercussions

Dean was so comfortable when he woke up that he didn't want to move. It was almost as nice as when he had woken up that morning, with some obvious exceptions—Dean was on a couch in the main lounge, not a bed, and there was no incubus curled up against him.

Still, better than being put back to work.

After successfully dodging Sam and Jo until they had finally tired out and cooled down a bit, Dean had almost immediately crashed. His last dose of meds had kicked in and gone from slightly energizing to just plain comforting, which left Dean feeling like he had just eaten turkey on Thanksgiving. He really needed to learn to take it easy when he was still injured, but that probably wasn't ever going to happen.

Contentedly kicked back on the cushions, Dean blinked up at the ceiling for awhile as he came to. He had only planned to rest his eyes for a bit, but apparently his body had once again declared nap time without his permission. Dean wondered what time it was; he felt especially refreshed.

The first thing Dean thought of when he felt a gentle touch on his arm was Sasha. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Dean glanced down his body and saw two large blue-grey eyes staring up at him. Dean jumped a little as Wally climbed up onto his stomach. It took his brain a moment to remember her, still groggy, but only too quickly he did remember and he was reaching out to pet her furry head.

"Hey, fuzz ball. Come to wake me up, or just looking for a human pillow?"

That purring chirp responded and Wally started kneading Dean's stomach like a cat.

"Guess that answers that," Dean smiled, "Well, I can tell ya, Wally, I am definitely more comfortable than the attic floor. You behaving?"

Wally chirped again and pushed her head up into Dean's pets.

"Good. But you know, I can't help noticing how you keep flirting with my incubus. For the record, I saw him first, okay? You better not be looking for anything more than friendship." Dean had to smirk to himself at how Wally paused, blinked innocence, and then resumed her presses into his stomach, purring gently. "Getting on my good side, huh?" Dean chuckled, "Just like a woman to play it coy like that."

"Is that right?"

Dean looked up to find Jo peering at him over the back of the couch. "Hey. You don't…have a water balloon or a…gun or anything hidden behind your back, now, do ya? Coz you know I was just messing around."

The way Jo's eyes narrowed made her look remarkably like her mother for a moment. She raised her hands to show that they were empty and then placed them on her hips. "As a matter of fact, I just finished throwing in a load of your laundry. But I'd be more than willing to drop a sopping pile of clothes into your bed later instead of putting them in the dryer if you wanna push me."

"You did my laundry?" Dean said, amazed, and forever in Jo's debt now since laundry was one of the few things Dean hated doing above all else.

"Apparently it was way overdue," dismissed Jo, "Now are you going to be a lazy lump all day or what? It's almost six."

"PM?" Dean asked incredulously. He had been asleep for over four hours. He tried to sit up but he had still been unconsciously petting Wally and she was now curled up on his stomach in a perfectly round ball of fluff. "What are the others up to?" Dean decided on saying, remaining on his back for at least a little longer. He didn't have to get up that second after all.

"Mom's starting something for dinner, and…actually, I haven't seen either of your boys since they finished those shelves. Must be upstairs."

Dean considered Jo's wording and shook his head with a grimace. "Don't call them my boys. Sounds…wrong somehow."

A little smirk fitted itself onto Jo's face. "Well what should I call them? Your brother and your sex toy?"

Dean paused to think on that. "Better," he said with a nod.

At last Jo laughed and she reached over the couch to mess Dean's hair. "And you're still a perv. It's almost comforting."

"Says the lady with the camera phone," Dean grumbled.

"Aren't you due for more meds?" Jo asked, effectively ignoring Dean's comment as she plucked Wally from Dean's stomach suddenly, who, much like a cat, remained scrunched up and curled into a ball since she had been so happily sleeping before being disturbed.

Dean mourned the loss of the chimera's warm little body, but he considered it a good thing that Jo had stolen the thing. Otherwise he might have fallen back asleep with how Wally's purring sent soothing vibrations all throughout his body. "Overdue," Dean said, aware then of just how sore he was again. He longed for when he would no longer need medication for his body to feel normal. "Better go do that. You think Penn and Teller are upstairs, you said?"

Jo chuckled. "Yeah. And which one would be which exactly?" she commented on Dean's choice of reference.

"I know which one I'd like to be Teller," Dean grinned. Oh to have Sammy silent for a day.

Dean sat up finally and swung his feet around to stand up. Yep, he was definitely overdue for his next dose of medication. There was also the fact that he had been running around all morning as well as the whole beginning part of the afternoon. That probably hadn't been his smartest idea.

Which was probably why it took Dean several minutes to even climb the stairs, let alone to reach his and Sasha's room and search out his various drugs. He had been sure to keep some water in the room so he remedied his de-medicated state fairly quickly. There was no sign of Sasha though, in the bathroom or otherwise. Maybe they were in Sam's room.

Walking across the hallway to Sam's door, Dean was just about to raise a hand and knock when he picked up on faint voices coming from somewhere down the hall. Dean knew there was another smaller lounge on the second floor that still needed a paintjob—the last one too, Dean thought with some relief. Sam and Sasha must be in there. Maybe they were painting it already so Dean wouldn't have to be used for manual labor anymore.

The voices grew louder as Dean came upon the lounge, but he could tell that Sam and Sasha were trying to keep their voices hushed. This made Dean slow his pace, turning stealthy to better overhear them as he pressed back against the wall near the open entrance. Dean didn't like this. Even before he could make out Sam's words he could tell that his brother sounded off.

"But even that felt empty," Sam was saying, like maybe he was crying or at least close to it, "He keeps trying to be normal, to act like everything's fine, like everything's just how it's always been, and I know that's how he wants me to act too but I can't. Usually, I'm so happy when he…acts like an idiot or a jackass and we can just pretend for awhile, but…but we're running out of time. We can't keep acting like everything's okay because soon it won't be. Soon no amount of faking ease and laughs will mean Dean's still here. He won't be here. He'll be in Hell and it's all because of me."

Dean's breath caught in his throat as he heard Sam bite out the last of that. What had he missed while he was sleeping, damn it? This was stuff Dean didn't want to know about, stuff Dean didn't want to deal with, stuff Dean didn't even want happening.

Sammy breaking.

"He did it for me," Sam said again, and there was no mistaking the sound of tears now.

"And I bet he'd do it again," came Sasha's voice, just as soft and mournful as Sam's but stronger somehow, steady and solid the way Dean loved about the incubus.

Damn right Dean would do it again.

"Sam, you can't blame yourself for Dean loving you enough to do what he did."

"He shouldn't have saved me. I was supposed to die. He's such a damn hypocrite with his 'what's dead should stay dead' shit, and then he goes and does the same damn thing to me that Dad did to him. I'm the one who's supposed to die!" Sam's voice was a seething growl, angry despite the tears there too, "Dean had…he had no right."

"And what about you?" said Sasha, "Forcing Dean's hand to kill you like that in the warehouse in South Dakota? You had no right, but you did it anyway. Why? Because you were scared, Sam. Because you wanted to protect him. Just like Dean did with you."

"It's not the same," Sam dissented, "Dad told Dean he might have to kill me someday. I'm a liability. It's not the same as with you so don't try and lump as together like you understand!" Sam suddenly shouted when Sasha began to contradict him again. Sam sounded so vicious just then that Dean almost bolted around the corner out of principle to knock his brother down a few pegs. Instead, Dean managed to keep listening. "You know what you are," Sam said, softer, like maybe he realized what an ass he had just sounded like, "You understand the things you can do, the things you need to do, and you keep yourself controlled. I don't even know from one second to the next if I'm still going to be Sam or…or…something horrible…"

Sam was crying outright. Sam was sobbing. And he was doing it so hard that when the sound suddenly became muffled Dean knew Sasha must have pulled Sam in against him.

It wasn't right. Sam, he freaked out once in a while, yelled at Dean about the deal, told Dean completely heartfelt how he would save him no matter what, but Sam did not lose it completely. Did he?

Dean felt so stupid and in the dark just standing there outside the room, listening to Sam crying in Sasha's arms like a kid. Sam had always been the stronger one. Sam didn't think he was, but he was. So then how often did Sam want to break down and cry but never did? Was Dean just a fool to think that he was the only one who found ways to cry when no one else was around? Had Sam been trying so hard to be okay for Dean these last few days that Dean had completely missed how much his brother was slipping?

Apparently so. And Dean felt even stupider, even more useless, because Sam had been acting for him so effortlessly that he had assumed things were strained, sure, but not like this.

"I keep thinking…" Sam began again, so softly, his voice hitching on every other word and still muffled as if his face was pressed halfway into Sasha's shoulder, "…if I can just…save him…then at least I'll have made it right again, and…and there'll still be someone to stop me. But there won't. He won't. Even if I save him…even if I fix the deal just to turn on him later…he won't stop me. I know he won't kill me, even if I do become evil, even though he promised me he would. But someone has to…"

"Sam…" Sasha sighed, knowing where Sam meant to take the conversation now, this tearful confession, and Dean knew it too, hated Sam for it, for putting the burden on someone else, "You want to save Dean so we can all stay together, not to ensure an executioner. You're just scared."

"I…I do want us together," Sam admitted miserably, "But I know, one way or another, that we can't have that. I'll either…fail to save Dean…or turn into some…kind of monster. And if it's both…if it's both, Sasha, please…"

Dean sensed Sasha's growl even before it came out, more threatening than he had yet heard it and certainly not that warming purr. "Damn you for even asking," came Sasha's gruffer incubus voice so that Dean had to wonder if Sasha was showing fangs, "You've already given up. By even saying those words you're condemning yourself and Dean, like he's already dead and you're just going to sit here and let the demons have him."

Sam made no sound to defend himself so Sasha growled again.

"They can't have him. And you're not one of them," Sasha said firmly, "Say all you want that we're not alike, Sam, but we are. I didn't ask to be what I am and I don't always keep the control I should, not even close. Sometimes I wish I was human so badly…" Sasha trailed and for the first time Dean heard Sasha's voice hitch a little too.

Dean never would have thought the incubus felt that way; Sasha always seemed so comfortable in his skin, just a little lonely. Then again today seemed to be Dean's day for pegging the people he cared about wrong.

"But I know…I know that just because I'm not human doesn't mean I'm a monster. Because I don't want to be one. And that has to be enough, you hear me? Coz if it's not enough for you…than it's not enough for me either, and Dean needs both of us right now. We'll save him, we will," Sasha said with what Dean believed was every bit of conviction the incubus had in him, despite how close to tears he sounded now too, "I can't lose you guys. I need both of you. You can't give me a family just to take it away, Sam, I won't let you. We've already lost our families once. So don't you dare ask me to do what Dean can't, because I can't either. And I won't need to. We. Can. Do. This."

Another sob choked out of Sam and Dean heard a whole new wave of tears start for his brother. He thought Sasha must be crying with him, only silently, being the strong one for Sam because Sam couldn't always be the strong one by himself. It wasn't that Dean couldn't do that for Sam, he just did it differently. Dean would have told Sam to suck it up, maybe changed the subject, maybe made a stupid joke, but sometimes that wasn't enough. Sam needed to feel what he was feeling, but he needed to be comforted that everything would be alright too. Dean just wasn't good at that kind of stuff. He couldn't have been more grateful that Sasha was.

When it finally sounded like the waterworks were slowing and the two of them were just in there, quiet as anything, Dean walked a ways down the hallway and called out.

"Hey! Where you guys at!" he said, as if he had only just made it upstairs to search out his brother and friend, "Sam! Sasha!" Dean made his way slowly to the lounge then, giving them time to disentangle and dry their eyes, even though Dean knew he would be able to see the redness like a painful reminder.

"In here!" Sasha called back, just about the time Dean was upon the lounge anyway.

"Geez, been looking everywhere for you guys," Dean said as he entered, finding them just as he imagined, sitting next to each other on some ratty looking couch, Sam's eyes all red-rimmed while Sasha's managed to look almost pristine, "Not fooling around behind my back, are ya?" Dean smirked, "Coz ya know I'd have to kill you both, right?"

That was what Dean did, because that was what he could do, and he felt the greatest relief when both of them broke into smiles. He knew it would be too obvious if he feigned complete ignorance though.

"I miss anything?" he said, looking hard into Sam's eyes that already looked a lot better but still wet and puffy. If Sam wanted to tell him anything then the kid would, and if not then Dean would understand why.

As Dean expected, Sam just smiled a little wider and shook his head. "Nothing big," he said, "I was just telling Sasha not to encourage you with the pranking. I'm staying out of it, but I can't promise anything about Jo."

"She loves me," Dean said dismissively, "Course I'll be sure and carefully check my food tonight. Speaking of which, Ellen's down whipping up dinner. Figured we better get down there and offer some help. Wouldn't want to look like loafers, now, would we?"

Again, the pair looked at Dean with such mutual relief that Dean knew he had walked in at the perfect time. They were successfully purged for at least a little while. He couldn't help it if he'd rather goof around and get them laughing about something rather than talk out his feelings on the matter. Any thoughts he had on the deal or Sammy going 'dark side' were equally unpleasant and Dean just didn't want to deal with any of it. Not on his vacation.

"Come on, boy wonders, let's eat!" Dean said, heading back towards the door with a quick look back to make sure he was being followed.

"Can I at least be Nightwing?" Sasha said, making a face.

Dean grinned. "I might be persuaded."

"Why do you always get to be Batman?" Sam asked with something like a pout.

It reminded Dean of the first time he had ever sat behind the wheel of the Impala—age 8—and said loudly to Sammy beside him in the driver's seat as they waited for their dad to come out of the store, "Atomic batteries to power!"

Even back then Sammy had complained about being Robin, but his little voice had still risen with, "Turbines to speed!" as they pretended they were in the Batmobile off to fight for justice.

Dean grinned a little crookedly, thinking that that's exactly what they did now, only for real, and in a car just as cool as Adam West's too, or Michael Keaton's for that matter.

"I get to be Batman because I drive the car," Dean said matter-of-factly, "And coz I'm older."

"So? I'm bigger than you."

"Not in all ways, Sammy," Dean snarked as they made their way down the hallway. It earned him a hard smack in the arm, but there was a smile at the corner of Sam's mouth despite his best efforts to hide it, and Sasha belted a laugh, making Dean feel overall accomplished.

After all, someone had to keep these sentimental guys in one piece.

Dean redoubled his efforts to lighten things up all throughout dinner. Sam could complain about Dean acting like everything was okay all he wanted; Dean knew that deep down Sam needed the familiar banter and brotherly affection that came only when Dean was embarrassing him to no end.

It had started innocently enough as a discussion of when the prank wars first began—apparently hitting puberty had given Dean a lot of excess energy to expel. It was when Sasha asked what Dean considered to be the best prank ever pulled that Sam gave Dean his death glare in warning. Well Dean just had to tell the story now; a pissy Sammy was better than a brooding one, after all. Besides, it was a fucking hilarious story. Even Ellen had a smirk on her face by the time Dean finished, and Jo and Sasha were beside themselves with laughter.

"I hate you," Sam said with a sour smile, his arms crossed over his chest defensively.

"Aw, come on, Sammy," Dean said, kicked back in his own chair and smiling wide, "I admit it was mostly on accident. Total default win on my part. Why do you think I never used that same itching powder again? I couldn't have known you'd have an allergic reaction to it." Dean snickered, remembering only too well that the look Sam was currently giving him was the same one a just thinned-out freshman Sammy had given him all those years ago, "Or, ya know, that you'd be freaked out enough to strip off all your clothes during first period English." Dean burst out another laugh.

Sasha and Jo fell into renewed guffaws as well and Ellen shook her head.

Dean was feeling pretty accomplished by now. Sam couldn't over think Dean's demon deal or any demonic future for himself while he was steaming over Dean's antics. Of course Dean should have expected prompt retaliation.

"What about my best prank, Dean?" Sam broke in suddenly, a sly smile on his face, "I think it put your fun with magic markers ones to shame, actually, what with your date that night and all."

Crap. Dean had safely repressed that memory, damn it, but now it came charging to the surface. That had actually been a couple years before the prank Dean had just described, while he was still a senior in high school and Sam was newly hitting puberty himself.

The smirk on Dean's face fell as Sasha and Jo leaned over the table towards Sam.

"Oh this I gotta hear," Jo said happily.

"And it was just before a date?" Sasha joined in.

Sam was all smiles now. "Dad was taking Dean along on hunts all the time then, but he still went alone on night hunts if he thought it was too dangerous," Sam explained, "So Dean asked…what was her name?"

"Wendy Laughton," Dean said automatically, just remembering himself actually and how she had worn those really short skirts. Usually the only reason Dean even remembered a girl's name was if there was some kind of strong memory attached. Unfortunately this was not one of the good memories. "For the record I actually really liked that chick, ya know," Dean grumbled.

"Sure, Dean," Sam smiled, "Anyway. So Dean asks Wendy over and tells me not to tell Dad about it. Well I'd had this one prank in the works for awhile, but I was waiting for the right moment. Low and behold, Dean gave me the perfect chance. Wouldn't have worked out at all though if he hadn't fallen asleep on the couch just before she came over."

"Oh God," Jo giggled, "What did you do?"

If Dean wasn't so relieved that Sam was enjoying himself right now he probably would have punched the kid. "Let's just say I blew my allowance on Cover Girl that month," Sam grinned.

The table erupted in laughter at the thought of Dean fully made up by a thirteen year old Sam armed with lipstick and blush. Dean's grumbled, "Called me Deana for weeks after that, the brat," was therefore never heard.

"It suited you, Dean," Sam chuckled, successfully ducking away when Dean swatted at him from his side of the table, "Girls dig guys in eyeliner, right?"

"You got a pretty enough face," Jo snickered.

"Mmmm," Sasha hummed, raising his eyebrows thoughtfully as his focus drifted, "Dean in eyeliner, huh…?"

"Alright, that's about enough for me," Ellen interrupted, effectively saving Dean from any further embarrassment, "Will a couple of you help me out with all this?" Ellen got up from her chair and indicated the array of empty dishes and cups. They were in a real live dining room that had one long table, separate from where Ellen had smaller tables set up for hunters staying there normally, and who usually preferred to eat alone anyway.

Jo, probably from trained habit, got up immediately, and Sasha got up too, all grabbing a few handfuls. Sam was about to get up as well, but Dean reached over and grabbed his arm to stop him. He nodded towards the others as they chatted on their way out of the room, signaling that he had something to say but only after he and Sam were alone.

Sam must have thought Dean was going to chew him out or something because his look was completely incredulously when the others had gone and he pulled his arm away.

"Don't you dare," Sam said, "You started it. Stripping in front of thirty High School Freshman is way more traumatizing than greeting your date at the door in makeup."

Dean actually didn't agree with that but he just smiled crookedly and shook his head. "Just doing my job, Sammy," he said softly, "Don't be too hard on me, huh? Only way I know how to deal with this shit. So…don't go burning out on me…okay?"

At first Sam just looked confused, like he must have missed something and probably assumed Dean was still talking about divulging details of their prank wars. When it finally dawned on Sam that Dean meant something deeper and that Dean therefore had to have overheard him and Sasha upstairs, Sam's hazel eyes went wide and his mouth hung slack.

Typical. When they broke, neither wanted the other to know about it.

"Dean…"

"Proved my point about thirty seconds ago what with all that backstabbing you just did," Dean grinned, "So you see? You're still Sammy."

The expression on Sam's face was like some kind of anguish, but it was happy too and Dean really didn't have any idea how Sam could pull both off at the same time like that. The kid had done that for as long as Dean could remember though, so it proved Dean's point even more. Sam was Sam. Period.

Ellen, Jo, and Sasha came back in for more dishes only a moment later, so Sam never got to make any kind of comeback. Dean was fine with that. He could only take so much of this crap, which was why he usually stuck to driving Sam crazy. He just stood up and gathered some plates, and soon Sam was doing the same.

Dean thought of what he had heard Sasha say in that room. We can do this. Dean had to believe that was true.

After dinner when Ellen announced that her next project for the boys was knocking down a wall between two rooms, Dean was all over it. Unfortunately, his crash on the couch earlier had led the others to believe that he might not actually be well enough for all that hard labor, and he was denied. Dean could not sit still though, not after napping that long, and he ended up helping Ellen organize a few of the rooms.

By the time Dean realized his body's fatigue really was catching up to him, he had almost nodded off and Ellen was shaking him back to alertness. With a scowl she ushered him up to bed with a, "Be sure and get those other two to call it quits too," and then Dean was sauntering exhaustedly up the stairs. He really hated how tired his body felt from what he would normally consider light labor and relaxation, even though it was pretty late. He knew this was good for him and that by the time they left and got back to real hunts, he'd be tip top shape again, more or less. He just wanted to get there already.

Dean waved tiredly to Jo as he passed her in the upstairs hallway, asking if she knew where Sam and Sasha had run off to this time since they hadn't been in the rooms they were working on—which had a successfully knocked down wall and would require their continued assistance to clean everything up the next day.

"I think they went out onto the roof to get better reception. Sasha's wireless hasn't been picking up too well out here. Bad for phones too."

Dean nodded vaguely. He knew that actually finding wireless was pretty ridiculous in all of the places they usually frequented. Which was why Sam and Sasha both had that deal where all they had to do was plug in one of those USB thingies and they picked up a signal wherever they got service on their phones. Cost their credit card scams more each month, but it was definitely worth it when they were hunting in podunk nowhere.

Jo explained there was this little flat area of the roof that you could get access to from out Sam's room window, so Dean headed there. As soon as he walked in he could hear the two of them talking, the window having been left open to let in all the cold air from outside.

A snort rose in Dean's throat. He could see the two of them out there on the roof, huddled around Sasha's laptop as they sat wrapped up in the comforter from Sam's bed. It was late December, for crying out loud, and Missouri was not known for being tropical.

"You are so not getting any sympathy if you two get sick," Dean said as he reached the window and started climbing out after them, "Just what the hell do you think you're doing out here, geniuses? Coz if you're watching porn, move over," he had to grin a little at that, especially since Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean and rolled his eyes.

Dean came up on Sasha's other side, already shivering at the cold temperature even though he was actually wearing layers today with a button down thrown over his T-shirt. It didn't take long at all to notice what the two of them were working on, what with all the mapping of demon activity.

"So you two diving back into work or wasting your time on me?" Dean asked. He nudged Sasha in the arm then. "Shove over, dude, I'm freezing."

With a quirked smile, Sasha lifted his side of the comforter and allowed Dean to snuggle in beside him. They adjusted the blanket accordingly to accommodate a third person, but they still all managed to fit underneath it, and with three male bodies it was actually pretty warm. "It's not a waste of time, so stop being an ass," Sasha stated simply, "Besides, you should appreciate the two birds, one stone approach here. We need to track down these demons anyway, and chances are they're our best bet for finding out who holds the contract to your deal."

"Sure," Dean nodded, "Assuming it'll even matter if we find out who holds the contract."

"Dean," Sam said in that frustrated voice he used so well whenever Dean was being difficult, "If we can track down who the crossroads demon was working for, I might be able to force them to release you from the deal. No repercussions. If I have to live with these powers then I'm going to use them to save you."

Right. Dean knew better than to push Sam on that issue. And it actually was about as sound a plan as they could come up with. "I'm not arguing. Just don't want either of you getting your hopes up too high with all this stuff. So what are you thinking?" Dean asked, staring at the screen. All this technical stuff never made much sense to him.

"My vote's for Texas," Sasha said, clicking away on the keyboard to bring up more windows about a little town just over the border into Texas, "Booker's our best and closest hotspot. We were also thinking Massachusetts since we never got there either, but there's something…I don't know…intuition maybe that makes me want to head to Texas first."

"I'm with Sasha," Sam said, "More demonic activity anyway. The crime rate alone has doubled since the Devi's Gate."

Dean shrugged and then used the gesture to scoot a little closer to Sasha under the blanket. The incubus was so warm he seemed to radiate heat. Dean shivered against him. "Crime can go up. Not necessarily demonic."

"It is in a town of fifteen hundred, and when most of the crimes are being committed by its most upstanding citizens. Besides, we have a lot more than that. Look, using some of what Ash used to—" Sam had begun to reach over Sasha and click on some of those windows the incubus opened, but Dean reached too, grabbed the laptop right off of Sasha's lap and pulled it out of both of their reach to his other side. He clicked the thing closed.

"Dean," Sasha said in irritation.

"This is important," Sam added.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, "And you've done a fine job. We also have several more days of our vacation, and I'm not sitting through the Monster Squad's geek meetings for any of them. We know where we're headed next and you've got some of the finer points down. Good. Good enough. Now, can we get back to the mindless indulgences? It's New Years in like thirty minutes and we don't even have any booze up here."

Maybe the others had forgotten, but Dean had been paying a lot more attention to the days since he almost missed Christmas back in the hospital. He had planned for, well, something today, but everything got complicated on him again and the next thing he knew Ellen and Jo were off to bed and he had almost forgotten about New Years himself.

It really wasn't all that big of a deal, but Dean couldn't help thinking he might not get another year to usher in. Besides, he had Sasha and Sam, his companions for the rest of his miserable life whether he always wanted them both around or not, and he kind of thought that was something worth celebrating.

"Actually, I can come through more often than you think, Dean," Sam said with a large smile instead of chewing him out further, "We were about to come get you in a bit anyway. I figured up here was a good place to let them chill." Sam reached over back behind on his far side and snagged a bottle from under the window ledge, where another bottle lay in wait for later. It was wine instead of Champaign but Dean was more than okay with that. "Couldn't risk grabbing glasses. Figured Ellen might notice," Sam shrugged, "Still hoping she won't notice the bottles are missing since she had a couple extras of this kind."

"You swiped 'em?" Dean realized, not even trying to hide his admiration. He loved when his finer points rubbed off on Sam a bit. "Dude, that's not even just halfway to awesome. That's full blown awesome times three. Pop that baby open."

"We're not waiting until midnight?" Sasha asked.

Sam shrugged and Dean let out a laugh. "That's for tourists. Real men can drink whenever they want. And hey, how exactly are you getting that thing open?" he asked Sam who still had the bottle in his hands.

"Well," Sam said with something of a blush as he switched his gaze onto Sasha, "I was kinda…hoping…" he passed the bottle to Sasha and the incubus laughed.

"Just call me a parlor trick," Sasha grinned, taking the bottle in his left hand as his right formed into claws. He stabbed his taloned thumb into the cork and pulled it cleanly out, "I also do parties," he joked as Sam politely plucked the cork off of his thumb and chucked it, "Bottle opener gets first drink," Sasha finished with a grin, downing back a long swallow of the wine. He licked his lips appreciatively before handing the bottle back to Sam.

Dean read over the bottle's label as Sam took his first drink. Dean didn't know wine but he certainly didn't mind drinking it, especially when he didn't have to pay. This was a white of some kind with one of those German names. Not an expensive bottle, but tasty. Dean found that out after his first swallow, and couldn't have been beaming at his brother any bigger.

Sammy never failed to pull through when Dean really needed him, and this definitely wasn't just about the wine.

Of course, Sam cut Dean off before he could even form all that much of a buzz, worried that too much alcohol and his meds would be dangerous. That was the reason Dean hadn't had a beer in more days than he could count, but damn it, this was a special occasion. He managed to steal at least a few more drinks from the second bottle without Sam noticing, and by the end they were all pretty well equal, what with Dean's meds helping him along, Sam being Sam, and Sasha taking longer pulls.

"Yep, totally slept with her," Sam was laughing, "In her own trailer. How did that even happen?" Sam laughed again and downed the last of their second bottle of wine, to which Sasha whined and then snagged the empty bottle afterwards.

"What can I say Sammy, I got a way about me," Dean grinned, "And I can totally vouch for the scream queen being a screamer. Heh." Dean had fond memories of that trailer. Definitely made being a PA worth it.

Sasha tossed the empty wine bottle over to where they had tossed the first and then cast a scowl at Dean. Since he had downed the most of the wine overall, even his bright blue eyes looked glassy. He frowned at Dean and said, "So ya want a screamer, huh? Coz I can totally pull off…pretty much anything sexual. I mean…it's what I was built for, right?" Sasha's smile was crooked. Apparently wine did wonders for the incubus. After all, being drunk off wine was entirely different than being drunk off beer. A whole other experience.

Dean waved a hand dismissively, "All depends on who you're with."

Sam started nodding consistently as Dean spoke on.

"I mean, I've had a lot of sex. Maybe not as much as you," Dean said, waggling a finger in Sasha's face, "But enough to know what I like."

"Oh?" Sasha prompted, rolling onto his side facing Dean, "And what's that?"

Dean grinned and reached out towards Sasha's face. "Strangely enough, it seems to be you, baby. A frickin'…incubus," he laughed, "It's…what's the word? Kismet! I've been acting like an incubus my whole life. 'Bout time the real thing showed me a few tricks, huh?"

"Well," Sasha said in a low, growly voice, "Tricks I got." Then, before Dean could even hope to react, Sasha was climbing up on top of him, even still under the comforter, and he kissed him hard as anything.

That was just fine by Dean and his wine and medication riddled brain—Sasha's larger body on top of his, that warmth and enveloping presence. Not to mention how Sasha's sweet-tasting tongue plunged deeply, and his hands traveled down Dean's sides like he wanted to strip Dean down right there on the roof.

While Dean had forgotten about his wounds, Sasha was careful enough not to press their chests together. He just laid there gently on top of Dean. It wasn't long before Dean felt that familiar heat beginning to pool either, especially with the way Sasha's tongue moved against his own, those soft hands slipping up underneath Dean's shirts to feather up his belly.

"Hey," came Sam's dissenting voice suddenly, "None a that while I'm still here," he said, and before Dean could complain Sasha was being pulled off of him and rolled back onto his back between the two Winchesters.

Dean almost pouted he mourned the loss of Sasha so much.

But Sasha was giggling and when Dean glanced over he saw that the redhead had rolled onto his other side now, facing Sam.

"Sorry, Sammy," the incubus said, "I'd say you can join in, but I don't think Dean would appreciate that very much."

Dean lifted up a little to better see the others and watched as Sasha planted a sloppy kiss right on Sam's cheek before pulling away again. The reaction from Sam, an expression somewhere between a grin and a grimace, was enough to send Dean into a fit of giggles. Sasha soon joined him.

They had definitely drunk that wine way too fast.

By the time their laughter had stilled and they were silent again, Dean's head was buzzing, and thinking clearly or not, he knew just where he wanted the conversation to go. Drunken confessions were always the easiest to weasel out. "Hey," he said, pushing Sasha's shoulder with his hand, "I wanna hear that story."

"What story?"

"The one about you and Ellen," Dean said, grinning mischievously.

Sasha's face went instantly white. "No, you don't wanna hear about that," he said.

"Sure do," Dean nodded, "Unless you'd rather tell me about you sleeping with Jo."

A laugh erupted from Sam but it soon died into silence. Sasha was biting his lip like he had just been caught doing something very, very naughty.

Dean knew that tactic would work. "So you did sleep with her!" he accused, even though he didn't really care about past involvements, especially not when he was halfway to drunk, "I knew it. She was being way too obvious. Either you're telling that story or you're telling the other one. Next thing I know you'll be saying you slept with Sam!"

This time both Sasha and Sam let out loud, rancorous laughs. "That'd never happen," Sasha assured Dean. Then he turned to Sam. "Not that you're not hot, mind you," he said.

"Appreciated," Sam nodded.

Dean snorted—right, his baby brother was hot—and then said as Sasha turned back to him, "So which is it then?"

"If you really wanna know," Sasha began, "I'll tell you both. After all, Jo's story's short enough, and it was only that one time."

"That time you taught her how to waltz, right?" Sam asked.

"Actually…it was about two years before that."

"Ha!" Dean had to laugh, "Dude, she was eighteen! Were you out of your mind? I'm surprised Ellen didn't shoot you."

"Ellen doesn't know," Sasha said, suddenly looking serious, "And Jo doesn't know about Ellen either. It better stay that way too, okay?" he said, turning his head to each of the brothers before continuing, "Jo was…well, Jo was more like a regular feeding. Someone who needed me. That's all. And I was happy to be there for her. She was a good kid, cute, sweet, sexy…" he trailed a little and Dean had to punch him lightly in the side since he didn't like Sasha getting that far away look over anyone but him. Sasha grinned at Dean though and everything was forgiven. "It was what it was. Don't make a big deal out of it. We never did. Ellen though…well, that was a different story."

"You were almost frenzied, right?" Sam prompted. They were all sounding more serious now, wanting to hear this story told finally, "How'd you manage to get Ellen to sleep with you when it was that dangerous?"

Sasha lay fully back and stared up at the stars above them. "To be honest…I should have died that night."

"Joanna Beth, I swear to God, girl, you better get a move on and lock up those doors or you got something else coming!" Ellen called into the back at her daughter. Sometimes that girl just didn't think. Ellen could have sworn she heard something in the storage room earlier where the back door led to, and damn it, if some animal had managed to sneak its way in because Jo hadn't locked those door again, there would certainly be a talking to in store for that girl later.

Ellen was tired. It had been another long night, what with so many hunters moving in and out of the place. Only a couple had chosen to stay the night, but they were a couple Ellen trusted, enough that she was more than ready to lock up early and leave them to their business.

After locking away the more expensive alcohol, just to be certain, Ellen excused herself into the back to search out her daughter. She ran into Jo just as the girl was coming out of the storage room.

"Well?"

"It was unlocked, but I swear I had it all set earlier, Momma, really," Jo affirmed, big brown eyes taking on that damn doe look. She was still just a kid, only sixteen, but Ellen knew she wouldn't be calling her 'Momma' for much longer. Jo had her sights on places beyond the walls of the Roadhouse and damned if Ellen was going to stop her forever.

"Well, it's locked up now, is it?" Ellen asked. She was too tired to get on Jo's case all that much tonight since it seemed everything was under control.

Jo nodded vigorously. "Cleaned up the shelves a bit too, Momma, I swear. Won't ever happen again."

Oh, it probably would, and Ellen would deal with that too, but for tonight she was placated enough. "Get on up to bed now," she said in what she hoped was a softer voice as she pulled Jo in and kissed her girl's forehead in a goodnight, "Might let you sleep in if you promise to get all those chores done tomorrow."

When Ellen pulled away, Jo was beaming. "Every last one," Jo smiled, "Night, Momma. Love you." Jo pecked Ellen quickly on the cheek in return and then darted away towards her own bedroom.

Ellen couldn't help sighing. It was never easy raising a little girl, and certainly no easier raising her alone. The most Ellen could hope for was that Jo continued to be the strong girl she was turning into. Really, Ellen had no doubts that would be true, even if she lost her girl in the end to the wider world.

Lights were shut off and doors all closed and locked when Ellen made her way to her bedroom finally. It never seemed to come soon enough—the end of the day. Tired as Ellen was though, she was still a hunter at heart, a hunter's wife once certainly, but a hunter herself, and she knew immediately that something wasn't right when she entered her room and shut the door behind her.

Before Ellen even took another breath she pulled the gun out of the back of her jeans. "Now you better just come on out quietly," she said to the darkness, watching it carefully rather than throwing on the light, "I know you're there. You mean no harm you better say so. I'm inclined to shoot first and you better believe I mean that."

At first nothing responded, but then out of the darkest, furthest corner of the room, Ellen began to hear gentle sobbing in a voice she knew she recognized but couldn't yet place.

"I mean it!" Ellen said more firmly, "You better say who you are if you're a friend, or I swear…"

"I…I'm sorry…" came a soft, tear-ridden plea.

Ellen froze. She definitely knew that voice. Regaining her bearings, Ellen slowly started for that corner on the other side of her bed. She kept her gun out and squinted into the darkness. Even without much light it wasn't hard to eventually make out the red hair of a boy she had met not too long ago. "Sasha…?" Ellen prompted, "Deklin Kelly's boy? That you?"

Red eyes that burned unnaturally in the darkness looked up, tear stained but still jarring. "Ellen…please…"

Immediately, Ellen renewed her aim, cursing herself for letting her guard slip in the first place. "What…what are you? You some kinda shapeshifter? You do something to that boy?" she all but growled.

The figure of Sasha on the floor just shook his head, and as Ellen got closer she saw how he was crouched on the floor, knees pulled into his chest. His eyes were indeed inhumanly red and in his mouth were fangs like those of a vampire in the movies. "I…I'm just me. Just…one more…stupid… monster. I was such an…idiot. I knew not to go so long without feeding. I knew."

"Feeding?" Ellen repeated, feeling understandably nauseas over the whole thing. She had met what she thought was a sweet, albeit foolhardy and far too young hunter. But he had seemed sincere. The truth dawned on Ellen then and though she felt slightly more at ease, she didn't move her gun from being pointed at Sasha on the floor. "An incubus, am I right? Is that what you are? I know you're no vampire."

Miserably, Sasha shook his head. He wouldn't look Ellen in the eyes, just stared down at his knees, shivering. "An incubus," he admitted, "Worth shooting?" he asked then, glancing up only briefly.

"You tell me," Ellen asked back.

Sasha just shivered harder and pulled his knees in a little tighter to his chest. "I don't want to hurt anyone. I was afraid…afraid I wouldn't make it."

"Make it where? Here?"

Sasha nodded. "Had to get to the Roadhouse. Had to know…that if I lost it…I'd be near people who could stop me. Ellen," Finally Sasha looked up again and for the first time he really looked into Ellen's eyes, "Please don't let me hurt anyone. I waited too long. It's been too long. I need to feed, but I can't…I can't keep the glamours, I can't…can't be sure I won't take too much. I'm losing it…I'm…losing myself…"

The way the boy's voice broke, the sincerity in his despair and his pleas to Ellen were enough that Ellen couldn't believe Sasha had come in here to hurt her. He was looking for an executioner. "You just need to feed? You feed and you'll be alright again?" Ellen asked.

"Too dangerous," Sasha shook his head.

"Just answer me."

Red eyes darted up again and Sasha nodded. He was shaking harder but in his eyes Ellen still saw control, much as he didn't believe he had it. "I…I just need to feed. But I don't…I don't know—"

"Do you kill your victims?" Ellen asked without sympathy.

Sasha looked up at her with complete horror on his face. "Never. I'd…I'd never," he shook his head vehemently, "I never want to hurt anyone."

"Well then," Ellen said, lowering her gun finally and tucking it back into her jeans, "Guess we're going to have to do something about this then." She was close enough to Sasha now that all she had to do was hold out her hand. He could easily grab it if he chose to.

"What are you doing…?" Sasha asked, blinking red eyes that just looked so pitying, not at all frightening.

Ellen sighed. "A hunter's business is to help, not to kill. Seems you need some help, boy, and it isn't my nature, not one tiny bit to turn away a hunter when he's the one in need of the helping. You came to me for a reason, I imagine."

While there was a moment of recognition on Sasha's face, he shook his head again and kept his limbs tightly together and very much to himself. "No…too dangerous. I wouldn't…couldn't ask that. I just…I don't wanna hurt anyone."

"Then you won't. Seems the best way to make sure of that is to get you fed."

Ellen wasn't nearly as confident and sure of herself as she was making out, but she couldn't back down now. She liked to think she knew people, and short a time as she had known Sasha, she certainly didn't peg him for a liar or a cheat. Leaving out that little detail about being an incubus was just plain smart in the hunter world; she couldn't blame him for that. But from what she knew about his kind they weren't usually hunted because they didn't usually show up on the radar as killing anything. Sasha confirmed that by saying he didn't kill to feed, and she wanted to believe him.

No point in losing good hunters over stupid things when they got themselves killed often enough for good reasons too. Ellen had learned that herself only too personally.

"Now you listen to me, boy," Ellen said, crouching down beside Sasha since he had made no move to accept her offered hand, "You wanna die, I can sure as hell shoot ya. But I don't think you do. You got enough control in you to have come this far. I believe you can control yourself just a little longer and save us both the trouble of dealing with your corpse. That sound fair enough?"

Sasha didn't say anything, but he didn't dissent either, just looked up at Ellen with those sad red eyes.

"You feed off sex, that right? That all you need?"

"Y-Yes…"

"Then stop being such a damn fool and take my hand," Ellen said firmly.

It probably seemed like longer than it was, but eventually Sasha reached out and Ellen saw that the tips of his fingers were black, half formed into claws. She took his hand readily anyway and lifted him to his feet. He swayed just a little but then turned and looked at her squarely. "You don't have to do this," he said.

"No. I don't," she said right back.

Then Sasha was reaching for her and though Ellen tensed she trusted even the desperation she found in those strange, unfamiliar eyes. Sasha's hand came around Ellen's waist and he tapped the gun lightly. "Keep it close," he whispered as he leaned into her body.

The next second Sasha was hungrily devouring Ellen's lips and the world immediately spun. Ellen knew about the pheromones these creatures had. She figured they had to be stronger when one of them was this close to being out of control, and she wasn't just going to give in to that. "You keep yourself in check now," she said as Sasha kissed her, like she barely remembered being kissed it was so feverish and urgent. It sent swells of heat straight to Ellen's belly.

She must be out of her mind.

They were on the bed suddenly and Ellen didn't know how they had gotten there. She was in her late thirties and this young thing on top of her was just eighteen. There was a certain appeal to that she couldn't deny, much as it worried her too because her own daughter wasn't all that much younger. Sasha wasn't the type of man Ellen would have chosen to be her first go in over six years, but it was hard to deny the diluted and forgotten passion that spurned to life simply at his touch—a hand in her hair, another at her hip, hitching up her shirt and smoothing up her stomach.

Ellen's first thought had been that this would be over quickly since the boy needed it so badly, but apparently she hadn't thought too hard on what it was an incubus needed. It wasn't really the sex; it was the sexual energy from her. And Sasha seemed mighty hell bent on making it good for Ellen too.

There was a moment that passed where Ellen wondered if she had been swindled. Her gun was on the nightstand, easily accessible, and sure they were fooling around, but if Sasha had really just wanted to screw Ellen to death like how Ellen used to think of these creatures then he could have done that without the waterworks. No, she trusted that the boy was the same young hunter she had met and couldn't help liking not long ago. This was just going to be something they had to keep between them. Or he had better believe that she'd find a use for that gun on him after all.

"You're beautiful…" Sasha whispered, almost like a growl, after stripping Ellen down to her underwear with the vigor only a starved teenager could possess.

Ellen couldn't help snorting. "No need for the sweet talk now."

Sasha grinned, his eyes hazy and still red, and though his smile showed fangs there was something so sweet about it. "I never use sweet talk. Just truth," he said, before devouring her yet again with another kiss. There was so much passion in everything he did that it left Ellen breathless. It was almost relief when he finally had her naked beneath him, his own naked heat against her thigh and so demanding.

Still, Sasha didn't give in, instead drinking in everything he could as he fed from the experience, and forcing moans out of Ellen that she hated herself for allowing. His hands were just too soft, too tender even in their need, sliding up her ribs and ghosting over her breasts like every inch of her was precious. Only when his hands reached her hips did he grip more firmly, and even then he stilled himself and reached a hand between her legs to pull out more of those damnable moans before he even thought to take her fully.

It was slow, deep, and shuddering when it finally happened. Ellen imagined the boy must be going out of his mind trying to keep himself steady and controlled for her sake, and part of her just wanted him to lose it and take her the way she knew he could. It would be more fitting of Sasha anyway, she thought, what with how brash he was. When she couldn't take anymore of his slow thrusts, she grabbed him by the biceps and spoke very plainly.

"Do I look like a porcelain doll to you, boy?"

Sasha grinned widely; Ellen didn't need to say those words more than once.

When it was almost over, Sasha tried to pull out, but to be honest Ellen didn't want to deal with the cleanup and really didn't mind him staying right where he was. She told him so, locked her thighs around his hips and rode out his release. She knew enough about these creatures to know it didn't really matter.

The smile on Sasha's face after was so sweet, so relieved, and his eyes faded back to that familiar blue, his fangs gone too. He was trembling everywhere and Ellen figured she probably was as well. Sasha just hovered over her for awhile, smiling down at her gratefully. When he finally pulled away and rolled to the side, he even sighed out a "Thank you" before almost immediately falling asleep.

Ellen let Sasha sleep there in her bed because she didn't have the heart to wake him and make him move to another room. When she woke up the next morning he had moved on his own, having taken an empty room some time during the night. They never brought it up, never spoke about it, save the small whispered, "You really are beautiful," before Sasha left the next day. Ellen didn't let him see her shiver as he said that, but she felt it, still tingly from the night before.

Needless to say, she slept like a rock the night after and didn't regret saving the incubus from much less accommodating hunters in the least.

Dean was a little dizzy when he and Sasha finally headed back to their own room, leaving Sam tucked into bed with his somewhat chilly comforter after being out on the roof for a few hours. Dean was more than ready for bed as well, just bed, sleep, much as he wanted to give in to the little kisses Sasha kept planting on his face and neck as they made their way across the hall.

As soon as they entered the room Dean all but tripped over the basket of clothes Jo had set there. He had forgotten all about his laundry.

"I am so sleeping in fresh from the dryer shorts," Dean grinned sleepily.

Sasha laughed. "Dean, they've been sitting here for hours."

"Ah, but the ones on the bottom are still warm coz the heat can't escape with the clothes all scrunched together," Dean said matter-of-factly, and naturally he was right. He grabbed his one red pair of shorts, the one pair that actually seemed a little out of place among his usual greys, blacks, and blues, and stripped down to put them on.

Dean couldn't help noticing how Sasha eyed him hungrily, but Dean shook his head as he started pulling the shorts up his thighs. "Don't even think about. I'd fall asleep halfway through and you'd never let me live it down."

"Guess I'll have to find a nice way to wake you up in the morning then," Sasha promised, but Dean didn't really hear him. He was too busy trying to figure out why his shorts felt so damn tight.

"What's wrong with these things," Dean grumbled, getting them on finally, but feeling especially constricted. Looking down, Dean couldn't help noticing that his shorts were pornographically tight. "Did she shrink my clothes?"

Dean grabbed for a T-shirt out of the pile and held it up. The T-shirt looked fine. Dean looked through the basket a little more and didn't see anything wrong with his other clothing, but when he held up his shorts—any of his shorts, actually—all of them had been shrunk down at least a full size.

"I'm gonna kill her," Dean growled, throwing the shorts he had had in his hands down to the floor, "I'm gonna kill her!"

Sasha was trying very hard not to laugh, lounging back on the bed in just his shorts—that were the perfect size of course—and eyeing Dean up and down with a waggled eyebrow since Dean hadn't yet bothered to remove the too tight underwear he had first put on. "I don't know, Dean. Are you sure it's a prank?" he asked, "Or just a treat for me."

Dean acknowledged that comment with a quirked half smile but couldn't completely give in to the humor. He narrowed his eyes dangerously. It may have been the wine talking, but Dean knew he would remember his promise in the morning. "This so isn't over."

tbc...

A/N: I so had no plans for that chapter to be quite THAT long. Anyway, how'd I do on my first EVER het scene, huh? You'd think what with the practical experience I'd have written some before, but...nope. Less graphic of course since the idea was that Dean was imagining the story through Ellen's eyes as Sasha told it and getting too detailed seemed in poor taste. I've wanted to get in that scene for some time. Anyway, more pranks to come, but I think the next chapter will also be the end of this arc. Never know what the boys might do though. New Years? Totally them taking the story away from me. In fact, most of this chapter was. Those stinkers. Let me know what you think, oh faithful readers! And I just have to plug deangirl1's most recent chapter of the kisses, since it is my new favorite. Also, if anyone wants to read something about Sammy finding those tapes of when they were younger-in no way related to Incubus though-check out Kalira of the Flames fic "Winchesters in Technicolor." Hope I spelled that right. Anyway, gotta sleep!

Crim