Part 3: The Clock's a Tickin'

Dean woke up about the same time he usually did after a night of drinking, which contrary to what people might guess was not some time around noon. He got up before nine, took a shower, and managed to wake Sam from his drunken slumber before nine-thirty. Sam moved significantly slowly than Dean, but that was not unexpected.

Just as their watches moved beyond ten AM, the Winchester brothers were ready to hit the case. They gathered what they thought they would need for a day of investigating and headed out to knock on Sasha's door. In fact, Sasha was already in the hallway when they stepped out. Or at least halfway in it.

He was leaning out of his room in nothing but a pair of low-hanging sweatpants, saying his goodbyes to a disheveled looking woman that Sam and Dean eventually recognized as the female bartender from the night before.

How events had turned out as such did not reveal itself, so Sam and Dean simply watched as the bartender—giddy and looking ridiculously satisfied—walked off down the hallway for the elevator.

Sasha flashed the brothers a grin. "Come in," he said, gesturing inside his hotel room, "I'll only be a minute." He promptly disappeared inside, leaving his door open for them to follow.

With a chuckle beneath his breath and his admiration for their new friend growing, Dean accepted the invitation. He looked back at Sam and shook his head with a loud huff.

"What?" Sam demanded, following at his brother's heels.

A few more chuckles escaped Dean's lips before he answered, "Yeah, Sasha was hitting on me last night." And with that notion now thoroughly squashed as far as Dean was concerned, he entered the room.

Other than being a little smaller with only one bed instead of two, Sasha's room was identical to theirs. Dean found their new companion crouched on the floor, digging through his duffle bag for clothes. Since having vanished into the room, Sasha had ditched his sweatpants and was now wearing a clean pair of grey boxer briefs. He didn't seem to feel any shame over this issue and smiled at Dean as he came in.

Sam soon followed but upon seeing Sasha in this undressed state he promptly closed the door.

"I thought we'd start downtown at the place the last victim worked. See if there's anything I missed that you guys might pick up on," Sasha said, choosing a pair of jeans from his bag and tossing them onto the bed, "Sound good to you guys?"

Sam looked a little flustered. Their comfort level with each other had not quite reached this kind of off-handedness. For someone like Sam, who valued modesty a lot more than most, there probably would never be a time he felt that comfortable around someone who wasn't Dean. And even with Dean he would rather there was always more than just boxers in the equation.

Naturally, Dean couldn't care less, and elbowed Sam to wipe the mild grimace from his face. "Sounds great," Dean said, taking the one chair in the room so Sam would have to stand.

Sasha found what he deemed a suitable shirt, which was a simple white T-shirt much like the blue one he had worn yesterday. Dean assumed that, just like them, actually having clean laundry didn't happen as often as it should, and finding a clean shirt in a stuffed duffle was an adventure in itself.

Flashing another smile as he stood, Sasha threw the chosen shirt onto the bed with his jeans. Things were settled. They had a plan. Dean was still fairly certain it was going to be a good day. Of course that was when he noticed something that could only prove to make his day even better.

Now that Sasha was standing upright, the low-ride of his boxer briefs showed off his dark treasure trail, which was anything but red. Dean was about to comment on Sasha's 'natural coloring' when he realized rather abruptly that he was not looking at a treasure trail. Closer inspection showed instead a rather intricate tribal looking tattoo. It reminded Dean of the kind girls kept putting on their lower back, only this 'fuck me' tattoo was a little closer to the truth.

"Enjoying the view?" came an unexpectedly husky voice.

Dean jumped in his chair, not having realized how much he had been staring at Sasha's…yeah. "Just, uh…admiring the ink work, dude," Dean said quickly, "Exactly how far down does that thing go?"

Sasha now had hold of his jeans and was pulling them up over his legs. He let his hands linger near the zipper, catching Dean's eye. "Wouldn't you like to know," he said, and then zipped and buttoned his jeans quickly while wearing a teasing grin.

Then, as if he hadn't just acted like a cock tease towards Dean, Sasha grabbed his T-shirt and moved past the brothers for the bathroom. This gave Dean a clear view of how the tattoo wrapped low around Sasha's back. There was also a separate tattoo Dean caught sight of just before the T-shirt came down to cover it. This second tattoo had the same black tribal design but spread over Sasha's shoulder blades like wings. Then it was gone, hidden by white cotton, and Dean realized he had followed Sasha's movements all the way from one end of the room to the other.

As his eyes followed Sasha further into the bathroom they came to rest finally on Sam, who looked about ready to bust out laughing. Dean wasn't about to give Sam the pleasure of enjoying this moment. Not again.

"Shove it," he said, and left things at that.

It didn't mean anything. It was just the way Sasha was—the casual flirt, who threw out innuendos like tossing confetti. Dean was certain that when it came down to acting on such things, Sasha stuck to the female species. The bartender leaving Sasha's room earlier had certainly proven that. Dean didn't know what was making him so nervous. He assumed it was because he had never met someone so openly sexual other than himself, and Dean certainly never used his powers on other guys. Part of Dean felt that the best way to counteract Sasha's surely harmless advances was to play along, but he couldn't get past the squicky feeling in his stomach when Sasha looked at him like that. It just didn't sit well with him.

Especially since he liked the guy so much.

"Are you doing calculus in there," came Sam's voice suddenly, accompanied by a very annoying rapping of knuckled against the side of Dean's head, "You look way too intense, man."

"Quit it," Dean countered, swatting Sam's offending hand away, "I was just thinking."

"About…?" Sam's leading tone clearly suggested something Dean wasn't even about to entertain.

"This is getting real old, Sammy, okay? Can we concentrate on the case?"

Sam held up his hands in defense. "Okay, okay. I'm the younger brother, remember? I have to grab these opportunities when I can. Sue me. Sasha's just messing with you, man, I know that."

"Yeah…" Dean said, but he still felt a little funny about it.

Once Sasha joined them again and had gathered his supplies for the day, however, whatever had been bothering Dean seemed to vanish. The three of them got on as well as they had the night before and any uncomfortable innuendoes were forgotten. Dean didn't know what he had been so worried about. Therefore, he decided to blame it on alcohol and lack of sleep.

"I have died and am being driven to Heaven," Sasha crooned, passing his hand over the upholstery of the backseat, "This beast is damn sexy."

Considering Dean whole-heartedly agreed with that statement it was no wonder his grin grew a few sizes. "My baby's seen us through everything, right, Sammy?"

Sam just shook his head, allowing Dean to bask in the glory of his Impala.

Lovingly, Dean caressed the steering wheel with the hand not currently directing them through downtown Minneapolis. "Had a nasty accident awhile back and basically rebuilt her. There's something special about being a part of a car's life that way. Can't imagine anything like it."

"Uh, giving birth?" Sam offered incredulously, "Or does that not fall under the same spectrum of great moments in a person's life the way getting an old muscle car to run does?"

Dean huffed, "Not even comparable, Sammy. The Impala's like…a part of me."

Sam tried not to laugh. "Yeah, a baby's not like that at all," he mumbled.

Sasha gave a loud chuckle from the backseat, enjoying every minute of the interactions between Sam and Dean. "Well, boys," he said, "We all remember what we're dealing with here, right?"

While Dean simply gave a nod, Sam reached between the seats for their father's journal and the papers Sasha had originally sent them about the case. "Last victim, Meryl Jorgenson, twenty-five, bartender," he listed off, continuing with the description of how she had been found and then reading further into the police report's details, "As victim number five, Meryl continued the pattern of recent killings by her age and coloring, brunette with blue eyes. Hmm," Sam mulled over those final details, "All the victims had dark hair and blue eyes. Does an incubus usually have an MO like that?" He was already leafing through their father's journal when Sasha answered from the back seat.

"Sometimes," he said, "But not too often. It'll be more like they always go after college girls, or girls from big cities, or maybe girls with low self-esteem, not so specific as all having the same coloring and general look. This sounds like a serial killer. If it is an incubus, he's got an agenda. Wouldn't be killing otherwise." Sasha's voice got a little lower and he leaned forward between the front seats. "Listen, I don't know if you guys'll believe me on this…but…"

"These things aren't always evil," Dean rattled off, "Heard it. And maybe it's true. Personally, I don't care. This thing's killing, incubus or not. Besides, I don't know if it's possible for things like this not to be evil. We've been proven wrong before, but…an incubus? Thing's a frickin' sex vampire. A demon."

"An incubus is not a demon," Sasha countered, "I don't want you walking into this with the wrong idea. You can't exorcise an incubus. They come from another plane like demons, but when they're here their form is as solid as you or me. They don't possess people. It's true that like with demons iron is one of the best weapon against them, but you know the legend behind that, right? Where these things came from?"

Silence from the front seats. Dean and Sam had never actually encountered an incubus or succubus before. This was uncharted territory, and although they usually had stores of information like this somewhere in the back of at least one of their brains, this time they drew a blank.

Sasha didn't comment on their lack of information, he just leaned forward and told them the story from between the seats. "You see, thousands of years ago, a demon found a way to come to this world in solid form. Pretty frightening thought. What the demon didn't expect was that being solid in the human world leaves you more open to being human yourself, more than taking over a person's body ever could. At first he was just pretending to be human to better carry out his grand schemes, but then, like in all good stories, boys, there was a girl."

Sam and Dean concealed grins, listening to the tale their friend told with seemingly practiced words.

"This girl, little did the demon know, was pretending too. She wasn't human either. She was fae."

"Fae?" Dean questioned.

This time the one who had the stores of knowledge was Sam. He turned to Dean and said, "Faeries, dude. The fair ones?"

Dean's eyes blinked un-recognition. "Right," he covered, clearly having had no idea that fae meant faerie until Sam told him, "I knew that."

While Sam rolled his eyes, Sasha smiled and continued the story. "So this fae, she didn't know the new guy in town was a demon any more than he knew she was a faerie. Faerie's aren't like the stories, but they aren't evil. They're…the good version of tricksters. Their powers are great, but they use them to help people in need or cause trouble for people who need to learn modesty. All without hurting anyone. Usually. So low and behold, because this is a fairytale after all, our fae and demon fell in love." Sasha's voice was on the edge of patronizing, like he was telling the story to a couple of amateur ghost hunters, or maybe a room full of preschoolers.

Considering some of the mistakes the brothers had made lately, they didn't call him on it.

"One night, after making love several times," Sasha said with a grin, "So moved by his feelings for what he believed to be a human woman, the demon told her the truth. Horrified at the thought of a demon having solid form and having used her this way, since the faerie didn't believe for a second he wasn't evil, she revealed her true form to him and…let's just say one hell of a fight broke loose."

Dean snorted. "Demon kicked her ass, right?"

"No, Dean," Sasha said evenly, "A faerie and a demon are actually pretty evenly matched."

"She killed him," Sam said, and it wasn't a question. He always seemed to figure out the punch lines in a story before they were revealed. It was really annoying at movies.

Sasha nodded. "He was solid, which meant he could be killed more easily. Of course, this story wouldn't mean anything…if there wasn't a baby."

"Dude, the demon got the faerie pregnant?" Dean asked, and it sounded so remarkably juvenile that both Sam and Sasha started laughing. "What?"

They decided not to comment.

"Well," Sasha tried to continue, "Being a faerie with no real malice in her heart, as the story goes, she raised the child with all the love she had once had for the demon. Some say she regretted killing him, that she thought maybe she had made a mistake. So she brought her child up believing that hurting people was wrong, the way any good mother should. And of course…"

"The child was the first incubus," Sam concluded.

"Yep. Part demon, part fae. In his true form an incubus looks like a demon, but he can take the appearance of a human easily. Because he is also fae, most do not hurt when they feed. The theory goes that these things feed from sexual energy because the first was born from such potent love between two mystical beings. They don't kill by nature. If the demon side gets out once in a while, that's no more unique than the same thing happening to a human being." Sasha sat back again, looking pleased with himself after telling the tale. "So you understand. This isn't a demon. It can trick you, and fool you, and take you in far more easily than any demon ever could, because at its core there's something beautiful there too. And that is more dangerous than anything."

Dean shuddered. He didn't say anything but he thought immediately of Meg and that damn she-demon. They took the bodies of beautiful girls, played on your desires, sometimes even got you to trust them. Dean always believed that when it came to demons he couldn't be fooled for long, if they managed to fool him at all. An incubus or succubus though…their guise was stronger because they weren't supposed to be evil anymore than people were.

And it had looked like it was going to be such a nice day.

"Haha…you're kidding, right?"

"Nope. Victim number five was a bartender, remember?"

"Yeah, but…here?" Dean looked up at the neon sign. It wasn't lit, being barely noon, but it was still daunting, especially considering the place's name. "The Gay 90s?"

Sasha didn't even bat an eyelash. "It's a club. Been here forever. What? Afraid of drag queens, Dean?" A smirk danced around Sasha lips.

Attempting not to grumble too loudly, Dean clenched his teeth and plastered on what was definitely a dangerous looking smile. "Just…shut up and go in already," he said.

As he had done only twice before—at least as far as Dean was aware of—Sasha gave Dean's whole body a once over with his eyes. "Whatever you want, Dean," Sasha said in a low voice. Then he winked, frickin' winked, and headed for the door to the club.

A shudder racked through Dean's body. How did Sasha do that to him? Or more importantly, why? The guy was as straight as Dean was, right? Dean just kept reminding himself of the girl that had left Sasha's room that morning. There was no mistaking what had gone on there. Sasha was just messing with him. Definitely.

Ignoring the chuckles from Sam, who Dean swore to get back at in some very interesting ways later, Dean pushed past his brother and entered the club behind Sasha.

Upon initial inspection The Gay 90s looked like any club. It was empty, and didn't have the charm it would probably usually have since all of the overhead lights were on and there was no music and no dancers on the floor. The club wouldn't open for real for several hours. Sasha had called ahead though, having already introduced himself to the place as a private investigator when the last victim died.

Apparently the guise of private investigator worked a lot better than some of the other aliases the brothers tried. As it turned out, Sasha had honest to god licenses as a private investigator under five different names in five different cities. None of them were his real name or a city he considered home, but they were legit, and that made everything easier.

A bouncer met the three boys at the door. He looked like he had been waiting for them, which would explain why the door had been unlocked.

"Hey, Curtis, thanks for letting me do this again," Sasha greeted the bouncer, shaking hands and smiling with the same charm he used on everyone.

Curtis nodded approval and then passed his gaze over Sam and Dean.

"These are the other investigators I told you might be coming," Sasha explained, "Mind if I take them around, ask whoever's here a few questions again? I'm hoping these guys will have a fresh take on things."

Gay club or not, this bouncer was as intimidating as any Dean and Sam had come across. He was as tall as Sam and twice as large. Dean thought the guy's hands looked like oven mitts and realized it might be a bad idea if he showed any fear. A guy like this could probably smell it.

Luckily for Dean, Sam took the initiative and outstretched a hand in greeting.

"Hi, we're really sorry to bother you like this, but if it can help solve the murders we'd like to be sure we cover all possible bases." It looked like Sam was hiding a grimace when the bouncer shook his hand, but he didn't let on.

Curtis cast Dean a penetrating stare then and the most Dean could do was force a smile. He was more than happy to duck away when Sasha started leading them further into the club. Dean knew he could hold his own, but that didn't mean he had any desire to get his face smashed in. As was Dean's motto, monsters and demons he understood; humans were another matter.

Looking around, Dean couldn't fathom where anyone to talk to could be hiding. The club looked pretty small. Just one main area, dance floor, little stage, a bar. There wasn't anyone in sight. Sasha led them across the room though, seemingly knowing the place well enough to take them through it, and Dean assumed they were heading for some back area where the employees hung out.

Dean was wrong.

Sasha brought them into a small hallway past the bathrooms and up a flight of stairs. Once they reached the top, Dean saw where he had made the mistake. The room below was just one of the areas of this club. By the looks of things there were several, all with dance floors and their own bar. It was huge.

On this next level there were a handful of people cleaning up and wiping down counters. No one looked like they were obviously gay, and there weren't any boys in dresses, but that didn't mean Dean was at ease. He considered himself an equal opportunity man when it came to laws and whether or not people could marry whoever the hell they wanted, but that didn't mean he felt comfortable in a place like this. He never went to college. He had probably never met a gay person in his life. He certainly couldn't think of any. It made him feel strangely protective of his body. He would be fine, as long as no one tried anything.

They went for a guy at the nearest bar first, and it seemed that Sasha had met this man before as well. "Hey. Jeremy, right?" Sasha said, flashing that smile of his. He took a stool at the bar and leaned over the counter. Sam and Dean did the same.

Jeremy, unlike the bouncer, smiled warmly in regards to Sasha's appearance. He gave the same smile to Sam and Dean. "Hey, nice to see you back here. I hope that means you're getting closer to finding Meryl's killer," the guy said.

Sasha had to shrug, because they hadn't figured out anything yet. "I hope so," he said, "Actually, that's what these friends of mine are here for. Fresh eyes to cover more ground. Do you mind if they ask you a few questions?"

Although Jeremy was still willing to help, it was clear he didn't feel completely comfortable talking about this. "Yeah…I guess. Don't think I can tell them any more than I told you, though."

"That's fine," Sam broke in, "We don't want to take up any more of your time than we have to. But if you could just answer a few questions for us, it might really help the case."

There was that 'I'm here for you' look again. Because they were on the job, and only because they were on the job, Dean managed to keep from cracking a smile. "So," Dean said, "You mind telling us a little about Meryl. You know, personality, what she was like, the kind of…people she liked." Dean didn't mean to make the last of that sentence sound so awkward, but it did.

"Kind of people she liked?" Jeremy repeated, clearly picking up on Dean's discomfort. The guy's friendliness fell a little. "Well, she liked a lot of people. You might have to be more specific."

A faltering laugh fell from Dean's lips before he could help it. Maybe he should just not speak when he was feeling so off, but then he had already started, and they needed this guy to trust them. "I just meant…you know…if there was a boyfriend in the picture. New guy. Something like that."

"New guy? But not a new girl?" Jeremy countered.

Crap. Dean was not trying to start a fight.

Thankfully, Sam jumped in to his rescue.

"A new anything," Sam said, "Someone hanging around her you hadn't seen before."

And as always, because Sam's concern didn't know how to be anything but genuine, the guy's willingness to help returned. He looked at Sam and shrugged. "Hard to say. We were friends, but…most nights we worked. And in here everyone's someone you haven't met before. If she was seeing someone, I don't know. Maybe. Could have been, I guess. And I'm sure it'll only make things more complicated for your case," he added, stressing that word with a sharp glance at Dean, "But if she was seeing someone, it could have been a guy or a girl. Meryl wasn't choosy in that area."

Sam smiled, so picture-perfect it made Dean sick. "Thanks. That's really helpful."

Right. Helpful. They weren't looking for a girl, they were looking for a damn incubus. It didn't matter if this Meryl was bisexual. Dean had said boyfriend and guy because he knew they were looking for a man. Or at least a male. What did he care if the victim swung both ways?

Instead of letting it get to him that the guy at the bar had pegged Dean for a homophobe, Dean chose to stay quiet and only ask questions he knew he wouldn't screw up. The rest of their talks went much better. They had spoken to everyone in the club by the time they realized how much they needed to eat lunch, and they still had nothing to go on.

Meryl worked almost every night. She was a bartender in the 80s music section off in one of the last corners of the club. The other people that worked there didn't see much of her. The person who sometimes worked that bar with Meryl was the type of girl—straight and clearly an airhead—who only paid attention to herself. If Meryl had been seeing someone, no one knew the guy.

"Nothing. No strangers hanging around, no new boyfriends," Dean grumbled, happy they were finally leaving as they headed down the last set of stairs to the main area.

"None that they knew about," Sasha reiterated, "Unfortunately, the incubus pheromone is pretty strong in the suggestion area. Subtle, but…one of them could convince their victim to keep their relationship a secret easily. Safer that way on all counts, even if an incubus or succubus is good."

"Well that's just great," Dean said, "What do we do now? I'm guessing the info you got on the other victims is just as helpful."

They reached the bottom of the stairs and came to a stop outside the bathrooms. Sasha did not look happy. "Same thing as with this girl, no one knew of any new flings. Damn it. I was afraid this would happen. Even two more pairs of eyes still see what I'm seeing. I hate to think I wasted our time here, but at least we know for sure this guy likes to stay in the shadows and keep his relationships with these women a secret. Continuity is better than nothing. And we also have this."

Out of his pocket, Sasha revealed a map of downtown Minneapolis. The places the victims had worked were marked in red. He had sent a copy of the same map to Sam and Dean.

"There's not much of a pattern, but it still looks like this area here," he said, pointing to a section currently unmarred by red marker, "would be the most likely place for the next victim to come from."

It was better than nothing, but it wasn't much to go on either. "So we scour all places of business in that area for attractive brunettes with blue eyes?" Sam asked.

The sarcasm was not lost on Sasha. This time, he reached into his coat pocket. "Not blindly," he said. He didn't pull anything out, but kept his coat open and lifted what looked to be an EMF meter out of his pocket just enough for them to see it. He closed his coat then and said, "It reads more than EMF," already deducing what the brothers would assume, "I have it set up to detect pheromones and readings from all sorts of things. When an incubus marks a victim it usually keeps its sights on her for a week. That was my first clue, because the killings kept happening a week apart."

"And it marks its victims with pheromones?" Sam asked, more than likely wishing they weren't still in a public place so he could get a look at that scanner.

Sasha nodded. "It's not mind control, just…suggestion. With these things though, they usually don't need to use pheromones to get someone interested. It's more a way of keeping an eye on the victim and making sure the victim thinks of them even if they're not around."

"Smooth," Dean commented, musing idly that he wouldn't mind having a store of pheromones like that.

"They wear off after twenty-four hours, so usually these things go back to their victim everyday until it's time to close the deal. But this guy's good. No one's even noticed him. That was what got me thinking it might not be an incubus. They're people pleasers. If one's hanging around, other people usually remember them. It may just be because he's actually killing his victims and doesn't want extra attention, but I'm still not sure."

The three stood in silence for awhile, each thinking about various aspects of this case that royally sucked. In the end they came to the only conclusion they could.

"So…we scour all places of business in that area for attractive brunettes with blue eyes, and who make waves on your scanner?" Sam said.

None of them were fond of this, but they knew it was all they could do. They had a few days, but it was a large area, and waving around an EMF meter, or in this case pheromone detector, was going to be difficult without attracting too much attention.

They had their work cut out for them.

Dean made the best suggestion he could. "Lunch?"

Sam and Sasha almost answered in unison. "God, yes."

The main problem with the boys' plan, of course, was that they had no idea what places to look in and which shifts to look during. The other victims had all worked different times, some at night, some afternoon, some morning, some various combinations. There wasn't a pattern there. If they went to one place in the morning and another in the afternoon, they might miss the actual victim because they weren't at her work during her shift. It made splitting up the schedules and places very difficult.

By the time the day the next victim would be claimed arrived, they still had absolutely no idea who they were supposed to be protecting.

"Maybe there's something we missed about the other victims. Maybe we asked the wrong questions," Sam tried, drinking from his beer gladly after the long week.

The boys had settled in a restaurant on Nicollet Avenue and were enjoying high class burgers, fries, and imported beer. They figured they deserved it, and it let Sasha try out a new credit card. Scamming came with the territory as a hunter; they couldn't afford to feel bad about it.

Literally.

"I asked everyone that new these girls if they were seeing someone. All single," Sasha sighed. Single they could understand, it was how no one had noticed the girls with anyone at all that didn't add up. Then again, people don't notice things unless they have something to look for. If this guy was as good at subterfuge as they guessed, they might never find him.

"So, tonight's the night. Our plan?" Sam asked.

Dean gave a shrug and reached for his oversized burger. "We're here for this shift. Then we split and try any of the other dozen or more we still have to hit. And there's still shifts we've missed. I hate this needle in a haystack crap. Every girl I look at s'got dark hair and blue eyes."

It was true. In their current line of sight there were several girls fitting the description they were looking for. Unfortunately, Sasha's scanner hadn't even jumped.

"Next shift starts soon," Sasha said, smiling bemusedly at Dean while the elder Winchester took a bite far bigger than should be possible from his burger, "Once we've checked those girls, we can head out again."

Minutes passed as the boys finished their food. They barely realized when the shift started changing and the girls they had been watching were different. They didn't even notice at first that the girl that came to collect their empty plates was not the same waitress who had taken their order.

"I'll be back with your check," she said, reaching over the table to take the empty dishes.

Sam smiled noncommittally.

Dean sat back to give her room to take his plate.

Sasha…stared. Dean noticed immediately, and turned to look after the waitress before she could get away.

Black hair. Blue eyes.

As soon as she was gone, Sasha gestured the brothers to huddle together. He didn't say anything, he just opened his coat and gave them a peak at the scanner.

The lights were blinking.

tbc...