Part 9: Redemption

Dean drove as close to the edge of acceptable speeding as he thought he could get away with in a small town. He felt a rush of urgency now that he understood what was going on, but he also knew he had to be rational, which wasn't always an easy thing for Dean. It was hard to be rational knowing you had stared the beast right in the face but hadn't known to strike a blow. Dean had had suspicions but not enough to be sure. Now he knew, and it didn't matter that the beast was just a man.

"Kronastic spells. They were Kronastic spells. I can't believe none of us got that," Dean ground out, slamming a hand against the steering wheel.

"Well of course they were chronastic," Shiarra said matter-of-factly, "You knew it was time based. There were all those rooms—"

"Not chronastic like chronological," Dean cut in, still angry that none of them had figured this out when they were touring the Animus House to begin with, "Kronastic like Kronos. Greek god of time."

"The Titan?"

Dean nodded. "All pagan gods had cult followings after their initial fall from popular worship. Kronastic occultists were some of the first people to come up with the idea of a fountain of youth. They believed that if they could decipher the teachings of Kronos properly they could attain eternal life. But of course…there would have to be a price."

"A sacrifice," Shiarra said with disdain, understanding immediately that the price in this case had in part been her nephew, "But why does it only affect their minds? If this Faust, Hollander, whoever he is used those spells to drain the life out of people shouldn't it have made the victims physically…older…" Shiarra trailed even as she said that because she knew that none of the victims had become mentally older either.

"It works differently than you're thinking," Dean explained, "When Hollander was still giving actual tours of the house the victims were always elderly. Followers of Kronos thought of memory as the only true gauge of time. It's memory. Memory is where he's stealing people's youth. It's like those stolen events never happened and their minds go back to a time before the place he took. That's why all the others are like newborns, but because we sorta had the Animus House collapse on us and things got a little messed up, Sam and Sasha managed to hang on to a few years."

"And the Latin?" Shiarra asked, "Finding that bit of Greek was one of the final hints for you, yes? So why were all the other spells in Latin?"

That was the other thing that had Dean grumbling, because he couldn't help thinking he should have realized all of this back during the time slips. "Latin is better for spells. Hands down. The oldest exorcisms were probably written in something ancient like Aramaic, but we use Latin translations. Everything was being translated into Latin at the peak of the Kronastic cult. Rise of the Romans, ya know. But Hollander still needed the original Greek incantation for channeling Kronos' power. All he needed after that was a likeness of himself—the picture—and…willing sacrifices." Dean struck the steering wheel again. "Damn it!"

Screeching to a halt at a red light, one Dean sorely wanted to run, he tried to take a breath and calm down. There was no point in beating himself up over this. Sam and Sasha had missed those initial signs too.

While Dean's mind was buzzing with all possible ways to approach the hunt now, he began to feel the soft, smooth warmth of skin on skin that for a moment almost had him believing Sasha had placed a hand over his. Dean glanced to the side just before the light turned green. Shiarra was smiling at him with something like fondness and sympathy. It was such a motherly expression that Dean eased immediately at her touch, still mourning the loss of looks like that even twenty-five years later. He knew right away that this particular expression was usually only reserved for Sasha.

"It's uncanny," Shiarra said softly, "The way you care for him so fiercely, for your brother too, the way you've been acting on this hunt, all your self effacing and self-sacrifice. I want to be angry with you. I want to dislike you. Just as I wanted to dislike him when we first met. But then you have to go and be like this, admirable really, so intent and in love so deeply with someone of my family that I can't help feeling happy for them. I always knew Sasha was too much like his mother. Apparently he has her same taste in men too." Shiarra's hand slid away and Dean just stared.

A honk from the car behind them brought Dean back to reality. Right. The light was green now. Dean continued driving down the road. He wasn't heading immediately out of town after Faust though. They needed to check on the rugrats for one, and Dean needed out of his monkey suit. It would also be getting dark by the time they got to Faust's; that required extra supplies.

The rest of the remaining five minute drive to the motel had Dean in a daze though. He wasn't an idiot. He knew what Shiarra had meant. Who she meant. He reminded her of someone, she had said, when he was so deep in case-mode for Sam and Sasha's sake that he didn't have time to be anything but serious. Dean already knew the smartass part was true too.

Deklin Kelly. No wonder Shiarra wished she could hate Dean. She saw the same story playing out again: sex vampire and hunter—teamed up and doomed. Dean wasn't about to let that happen. And he'd start by ending this current hunt and fixing things right now. He wanted Sasha back. He wanted his brother back.

They rushed into the lobby to find Ula reading behind the front desk. She looked up as they reached her, immediately startled. "Oh! Is everything alright? Sam and Sasha are in the back again. They've been wonderful all day. I've only had to watch the desk every so often. We're never that busy this time of year."

"Don't worry about it," Dean said, understanding that Ula thought they might be upset she wasn't in the back room with them, "I understand that you need to stay up here, but we need to move the guys to our room. We're gonna head out again but they…need to be in a room." Dean cringed at how little sense that made, but it couldn't be helped. There was no way to know what kind of aftereffects ending the spell would have when he and Shiarra took care of Faust. It would be pretty hard to hide things from Ula then.

"Uhh…okay," Ula blinked, "I can keep watching them though. My mother was going to come in and take the rest of my shift in a few minutes."

It almost pained Dean how nice this girl was. "No, we don't…you don't have to. Really. It's sort of complicated. I don't have time to explain." Dean glanced beseechingly at Shiarra and then started to move behind the desk to go into the back room. "I'll grab them. Two seconds," Dean called behind him as he went.

Really, it shouldn't have surprised Dean to walk in on the sight that he did. Kids will be kids. And kids with adult superpowers couldn't be expected not to try living out a few childhood fantasies.

Sam and Sasha were each sitting cross-legged on the floor on opposite sides of the room. It was relatively empty except Ula had obviously brought in a few extra things for them to play with. Like a ball. Yellow. About the size of a head. Clearly one that would usually be used for games that needed it to bounce such as kickball. Currently, that ball was suspended in the air between the boys, sailing so slowly that it went against all possible physics. It got close enough to Sam for him to touch it and he flicked it with his finger, sending it back again with the same impossible slowness towards Sasha. Both boys were giggling.

"Look, Dean!" Sam called happily, apparently having known all along that Dean was there, "I can control it real good. See?"

"Sammy," Dean said sharply, walking briskly up to the yellow ball and snatching it out of the air, "I told you not to mess with your powers in front of Ula. Do you have any idea how dangerous it could have been if someone else had walked in here just now?"

Instantly, Sam's entire face became one giant pout. "But, Dean, I never let Ula see. I'd know if someone was coming. I didn't stop the ball coz I knew it was you. Promise."

There had to have been a time in Dean's life when the puppy eyes didn't make him decompose into a puddle of goo, there had to have been, but Dean couldn't really remember one. Besides, even this barely five-year-old Sam had some logic. "Okay. Okay, it's okay," Dean said, tossing the now normal moving ball to Sam, "I forget how smart you are, pal. You practice any other powers?"

When Dean moved his gaze from Sam over to Sasha he saw that the incubus was biting his lip with a secretive grin. Sasha laughed a little before admitting, "We arm-wrestled. It was cool."

"Yeah," Sam chimed in, "Sasha's really strong too, like me, so we tried hard as we could. We both won sometimes."

Dean had to smile imagining what that must have looked like. "Sounds awesome. But I don't have time to hear about your day yet, okay? Shiarra and I figured things out so we gotta take off again. We need you guys to go back to the room though so Ula doesn't see when you change back." Dean had this awful image in his head of the motel collapsing like the Animus House even though he knew that was ridiculous.

"You know how to make us grown up again?" Sasha asked.

"Yep," Dean said, even though he couldn't be entirely sure about the details. He hauled Sam to his feet and then went over to Sasha and helped him up too. "I just need you guys to hang out in the room for like an hour. Then before you know it everything will be back to normal." Dean sincerely hoped he was right about that.

It wasn't really all that surprising to Dean that Sam and Sasha looked apprehensive. Growing up was always scary.

Before Dean could lead them both out and back to their motel room, Shiarra and Ula came through the door to join them. There was this air of female unification about them that made Dean nervous. Surely Shiarra hadn't told Ula the truth. "What's up?" he asked.

Ula gave a huge sigh of resignation and Shiarra looked at Dean as if to say they weren't as unified as they seemed and that this was all Ula's doing, not hers, even if she did seem perfectly fine going along with it all. "I…I just wanted to say that I know you're not being entirely honest with me," Ula said, "And that's okay. I can tell you're not bad people and that whatever you're doing it's so you can protect and help Sam and Sasha somehow. So…I'll look after them while you finish whatever you need to do. You really can trust me to help."

"It's not that we don't trust you," Dean stressed; they didn't have time for this, "It's just that—"

"Sam and Sasha aren't usually like this, are they?"

Dean froze. His gaze became immediately sharper as Ula said that. He looked to Shiarra who shrugged and then at each of the boys, both of whom seemed genuinely surprised that Ula had figured things out.

"It's not their fault," Ula said gently, "But they sort of gave things away when I asked what their favorite TV shows are. I liked Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Duck Tales too. When I was a kid in the late 80s. Not that I wouldn't enjoy them now, mind you, but I could tell Sam and Sasha weren't talking about DVD packs." Ula paused, looking at Dean squarely. Her face wasn't bearing even a hint of redness. "You're talking to someone who grew up on stories about fairies living in her garden. I can believe in the weird and abnormal pretty easily. That house did worse to those other people, didn't it? The one that collapsed? I know it's all related but you don't have to tell me anything. I'll watch them," she finished firmly.

On the rarest of occasions they would come across people like this, people ready to believe and desperate to help. It always made Dean so angry because they were the ones he least wanted part of the fight. "I don't know what's going to happen when we get them back to normal," he explained to Ula evenly.

"Better to have someone looking after them then," she answered much the same.

Part of Dean wanted to dissent further but he didn't have the patience or time for this fight. Before he knew it an older woman was manning the front desk and the rest of them were all in their one motel room.

Dean changed quickly in the bathroom and came out intent on gathering more supplies. If Ula had questions or concerns about the things she saw, she didn't speak up about them and Dean was grateful. He didn't notice until the moment he was ready to leave that Shiarra had dumbed-down her wardrobe too, ridding herself of her blazer and button down and leaving a tight white tank top that she accompanied with Sasha's leather jacket. Her hair had been taken down as well and Dean had to admit that she looked the part of a female hunter much more like that.

"Let's go," Dean said.

"Good luck, Dean!" called Sam from behind him, and suddenly there was a large body right there and long arms wrapping around Dean's waist.

After catching his breath, Dean carefully turned within Sam's tight hold to make the hug more proper. It was getting to be a bit much for Dean, all this open affection, but he could allow and enjoy it right now because he knew how much Sam needed it. "It's gonna be okay, buddy," Dean said, sensing Sam's anxiety, "Big brother Dean to the rescue, right?"

Sam giggled shakily and hugged Dean harder, pushing his face against Dean's neck. "Yeah."

When they pulled apart Dean saw how Sasha was hovering close by. He knew the redhead was looking for that same kind of reassurance, so he stepped up to Sasha and pulled his friend close for a quick hug too, holding the back of Sasha's neck and breathing in that familiar Sasha scent.

"Shi and I got this covered, so just sit tight and have a good time with Sammy and Ula." Dean felt Sasha nod and then heard a breathy whisper against his ear.

"I wanna be grown up for you, Dean."

An ache tore up Dean's heart to hear that. He couldn't even be sure if Sasha understood the full weight of saying those words, but god, Dean wanted that too. Feeding time for the incubus was so much more than just a mutual agreement between friends.

After that Dean couldn't get out of the room fast enough.

Dean kept clenching and unclenching his fingers around the steering wheel as he drove. He was twitchy and the forty-five minute drive to Faust's place was beginning to feel more like hours. Dean kept going over worst case scenarios in his head. Worst of the worse was that Faust wouldn't even be there, but the guy seemed too arrogant in Dean's opinion for him to run, if he even had reason to suspect something was wrong. Thinking about this so much, with all the silence currently raging through the car, had Dean twitching even more. He desperately needed distraction.

"Can we bullshit or something? I'm going nuts over here," Dean said, wringing his hands so that the steering wheel squeaked. Dean was never a nervous hunter but this was different, mainly because there wasn't a Sam or a Sasha to joke around with, and Dean didn't feel comfortable talking out loud to himself with Shiarra sitting right next to him.

"Well," Shiarra said, "Are you planning on reasoning with Faust at all or just going in for a quick kill?"

"No. Not about the case," Dean answered quickly, "Something else. Anything else. You can tell me your life story for all I care, just something."

There was a brief pause. "Is that your underhanded way of finding out my age?" Shiarra said through a grin.

That did the trick; Dean chuckled. "I could just ask Sasha ya know."

"Hn," Shiarra huffed, "My boy knows better than that."

Dean chuckled again.

"Besides, I would have thought you'd want insight on Sasha not me," Shiarra went on, "I know how men are. You never talk. You like to discover things yourself rather than make with the sharing and caring. And I recognize it can be difficult for Sasha to disclose things."

"It's not that. And we do talk. We do," Dean said more firmly when Shiarra raised an eyebrow at him, "Maybe not like a bunch of girls. And, hey, I wanna get to know Sasha better through him, not gossiping with his aunt. No offense. But," and Dean realized he would almost be contradicting himself with what he was about to say, "There is this…one little thing I've been wondering." He looked at Shiarra and her face held no reproach or mocking. "He's banished, right? Can't ever go back to the incubus/succubus plain or whatever again. But he could before. He would to see you. To fly. To be home. Almost nine of years of that…and he never once ran into his old friends?"

That question had been bugging Dean since they first met Lindsey and Charis. There would have to have been a lot of avoiding involved to pull that off, but Dean had the distinctive feeling that Sasha hadn't so much as glimpsed any of his friends since their falling out. Until that night.

A tight smile pulled across Shiarra's face.

"I would say that most of our kind between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five rarely if ever return to the home plain. It's the rebellious youth stage, the desperate for sex like an animal in heat stage, if you will," Shiarra laughed lightly, "But…I also know for a fact that Lindsey, Charismatic, all of them were home occasionally, and there was even one time where I know for certain Sasha was home too. It wouldn't have mattered though. Sasha stuck to the family house and secluded areas for flying. So to answer your real question," she said, "No, he didn't make any kind of effort either. Sasha hadn't called me since just before your run-in in Massachusetts by the way. But Charismatic did."

"The copper-haired chick called you?" Dean questioned, "Why? What did she say?"

"She told me what happened, quite upset about it all, and asked for Sasha's number. I don't know how she managed to get mine. It's not as though I can go home ei—" Shiarra cut herself off abruptly like she was literally biting her tongue.

Dean had heard more than enough though. "They banished you too? Guilt by association or what? Sasha never mentioned anything about that."

"Sasha doesn't know," Shiarra said sharply, "And I'd prefer it stayed that way. No guilt by association either. Let's just say…I argued his case a little too forcefully and paid the price. Good riddance. It was my mess anyway and they banish him for cleaning it up."

Of course. That stance was perfectly understandable to Dean; Sabine was Shiarra's younger sister—her responsibility. So Shiarra had known Sabine was killing, Dean surmised. He could wholly sympathize with how she hadn't been able to track her sister down herself and strike the killing blow, necessary as it had been. Dean could understand that better than anyone.

"Anyway," Shiarra continued, "Charismatic or one of the others might come calling at some point. It's a big mess of course. But they're good children. All of them."

"Yeah," Dean nodded, thinking of how angry Lindsey had been but not at all out of hatred, "I don't doubt that." He hoped for Sasha's sake that something would happen. Now he just had to make sure Sasha was in his right adult mind if something did.

Dean's heart sank when they finally reached Faust's place and parked the Impala hidden off the side of the road. Faust's little country home was completely dark. The sun had set right after they left Ellsworth so their surroundings were near pitch black too. There weren't exactly street lights out this far.

That worst of the worse thought that Faust wasn't home struck Dean again, but intuition told him otherwise. "If he really is gone," Dean said, "We'll still get a look at the house and hopefully pick up a trail on where he went. If he's there…"

"Then it's probably a trap."

"Seems likely. He knew to get passed your whole read emotions thing. Maybe he figured out more about us than we thought."

"Which brings me back to my original question," Shiarra said.

"We go in for the kill," Dean answered, not needing to hear the question again as he checked one more time to make sure he had his knife and that both his guns were loaded, "If this guy's been doing this for as long as I think then he doesn't have any sympathy for his victims. He may be human but as far as I'm concerned that just means there's more than one way to kill him."

Approaching the house was easy. Shiarra moved almost as much like a trained hunter as Dean did—silent and swift—that by the time they reached a promising looking window Dean had no doubt they could finish this hunt together. There was no sign of movement inside the house. Dean used his knife to slide underneath the old wood of the window and unhook the latch. It blessedly didn't creak when he pushed the window up and they climbed quickly inside.

Dean reached for Shiarra's wrist in the dark once they had their footing. He had only ended up bringing one flashlight since Shiarra had insisted she would be able to see just fine. Her senses were sharper than Sasha's, being much older. They waited a moment for some sign that they were not alone but Shiarra shook her head at Dean—she couldn't hear anything and neither could he. Taking out the flashlight then and flicking it on, Dean passed it slow and careful over the room they had climbed into. It was the living room Faust had brought them into, which was exactly what Dean had been aiming for. It was always better to start off on familiar territory.

First thing's first, Dean thought, remembering the basics of hunting his father had taught him. If the quarry isn't immediately visible, always secure the area first before continuing on its trail. Besides, Dean hoped he might find something to back up his suspicions about Faust being a Kronos worshipper, just to be certain.

But as it turned out, they didn't get very far into their searching or securing of the house before things started getting complicated.

"Dean," Shiarra whispered harshly while he was heading for the roller desk in the corner.

Dean cast her a quick glance, already irritated. "What?"

That was when Dean noticed the large rug he had just passed over that hadn't been there the day before. Shiarra was standing near the edge of it, her body jerking strangely as if she was trying to step off the rug but couldn't get passed some kind of invisible barrier. "I can't move," Shiarra all but hissed, stating the now very obvious.

Returning to the middle of the room, Dean knelt at the edge of the rug and motioned for Shiarra to move back a bit. She did, unable to go too far before she met another barrier, and Dean folded the rug over as much as he could to see if his hunch was right. Underneath the part of the rug he had moved was a still partially hidden devil's trap. Shit.

The light to the living turned on just as Dean was realizing how accurate their 'maybe it's a trap' thought had been. Dean stood quickly and turned to face the nearest entrance. Faust was standing there looking all smug and pointing an old rifle at him and Shiarra. Dean didn't have to guess what kind of bullets were in it.

"So you're not both one of them then," Faust said absently, looking completely assured of having the upper hand even if Dean was still free to move about, "I thought it was strange to have an incubus and a succubus working a case like a couple of hunters. So it's what, a strange partnership of hunter and demon? That still doesn't explain why you're all covered in incubus pheromones," he said with a sneer at Dean.

This guy was pretty sharp, but just because Shiarra was trapped and all but useless, and Dean had his flashlight out instead of one of his guns didn't mean Dean felt outnumbered. "What can I say," Dean grinned, "Sometimes I just can't help bringing my work home with me." Dean dropped his flashlight at the same time he reached for the gun tucked into his jeans. He had it out and steadied on Faust before the guy's eyes had even left the rolling flashlight on the floor.

"You're quick for just a human," Faust said.

"You too, I'd imagine."

"Oh," Faust smiled slyly, "I'm much more than human. I'm going to live forever. And no one, especially not you, is going to stop me." Faust said that but he didn't blindly fire at Dean or Shiarra, not with a gun also pointed at him.

"Funny thing about eternal youth," Dean said, nodding at his own gun, "Doesn't make you immortal. And I gotta say, pretty hard to live forever when you handed your precious curse over to the State."

A snarl twisted Faust's face. "It would have worked better than ever if I had had time to finish the new spells before someone made the place collapse." Faust spoke with anger now, circling Dean while Dean remained between Faust and Shiarra. "I suppose I have you to thank for that," Faust sneered, "Those fools that lost their memories while the place was locked down had it coming. I was just looking for early retirement. I actually prefer maintaining an age a little older than this. One person's memories are only worth a few years for me. The last couple were certainly a surprise, incomplete as they were." Faust grinned. "Friends of yours?"

Shiarra made an angry 'ouff' behind Dean, trying unsuccessfully to throw herself out of the devil's trap. "You bastard!" she snarled, "At least my kind understands the preciousness of life."

Faust laughed out loud to hear that. "Of course you do," he said snidely, "And I'm sure your immortality has nothing to do with making that easier."

"So let me get this straight," Dean said before Shiarra could retaliate; he had to keep Faust occupied the way he wanted, "You got sick of playing things out with the tour, maybe too many people picked the right door, so you figure to hell with it, I'll just get the State to turn it into a real museum and I won't have to do a damn thing." Dean huffed. "That place would have been torn down in no time. People are freaked already after what happened to those squatters and the cop."

"It wasn't going to be like that," Faust nearly growled. He was continuing a constant circle around Dean with Dean as the pivot point trying to keep Shiarra protected behind him. Just a little further, Dean thought. "The spells would have been altered before they opened the house again," Faust said, "The lower rooms would have seemed more like a parlor trick and the choice to view the future would have ended differently too. It would have taken scattered memories from people, barely missed, not whole chunks. A good enough crowd like that, coming constant, would have kept me young for decades."

"No memories are expendable. You don't even care about the people you hurt," Dean snapped, "The people it's hurt up til now…you took their whole lives from them." Dean watched Faust's movements with deadly precision. One more step. Just one more.

And then Faust stopped.

Damn it.

"I never forced anyone through that door," Faust said, his head held a little higher as his grip adjusted on the rifle. It amazed Dean how much he really did look like that picture they found—surfer blonde hair that had looked white in the faded black and white photograph, handsome clean-shaven face, fit body in jeans and a flannel shirt, much like Dean really.

Maybe it was unfair to lose one's youth, but it was still wrong to steal another's just to keep your own a little longer.

"Everyone chose for themselves," Faust went on, "Those squatters. Your friends."

"My friends didn't choose shit," Dean bit out, "They were sucked into that damn room when we tried to burn the place down and cleanse the curse."

A smile quirked at Faust's lips again. "Then they must have wanted it. They must have seen. Why do you think you were spared?"

Dean didn't want to hear this. He needed to get Faust to move that last step; this standoff couldn't last forever. Dean shifted, pivoting again in hopes it would cause Faust to move unconsciously forward. "Kronos," Dean said, "He was a neutral god. So I guess for you…as long as people always chose for themselves the sacrifice was willing and you weren't responsible. Right?"

"That's the idea," Faust agreed, "People look too much to the future these days and forget to live the now they are in. You can't even begin to imagine how many people over the years have chosen the wrong door. And why? All the people who took the tour saw the same thing when they went inside. Death."

Those victims were all elderly so that wasn't surprising to Dean.

"Death is all that awaits any of us," Faust said as he at last took the small step Dean needed in order to make his move.

"Well," Dean said with a grin, "You are right about that."

Faust was standing near the roller desk and one of those chairs with wheels. If Dean could be proud of anything it was that he was one hell of a sharp shot. He fired, hitting one of the wheels of the chair and moving it just enough to hit the back of Faust's knees and trip him, also successfully re-aiming the rifle to shoot into the ceiling instead of at Dean or Shiarra.

Dean moved in immediately. Satisfying as shooting Faust right now would be, the smart thing was to get the rifle away from him first. Dean had been right about Faust being fast though, because the guy was steady again by the time Dean reached him. Faust tried to reposition his gun but Dean grabbed the barrel with his free hand to keep it pointing up and tried to jerk it away. The barrel was hot from having just fired, making Dean grit his teeth.

While Dean tried to reposition his own gun onto Faust, Faust took one hand away from the rifle to grab at that too, making it an evenly matched struggle for control.

Right. Even.

Dean head-butted Faust in the forehead and ripped the rifle free. He lost his own gun to the floor in the process but it was worth it. Faust recovered quickly again, however, and suddenly charged Dean, causing him to back-peddle away from the desk and for the rifle to slip from his fingers. It was a man's fight now so Dean still had the upper hand as far as he was concerned. He'd been trained how to fight by a god damn Marine.

Using Faust's own momentum against him, Dean spun them around and threw Faust towards the back of the couch where he struck hard and all but crumbled straight to the floor. Part of Dean wanted to go for one of the guns again but that would put his back to Faust. Never a good idea. Dean had another gun inside his coat but by the time he thought to grab for it Faust was already coming at him again.

Dean hunkered low and swerved to avoid the first of Faust's blows. He came up with an uppercut of his own then right into Faust's stomach, winding the other man, but even with that Faust managed to drag Dean down with him by hanging onto Dean's jacket and going limp. They fell to the floor together and with wild struggles Faust finally managed to get Dean into what Dean recognized was a very experienced and effective hold. Faust had been taught well too.

"Dean!" Shiarra called from what seemed so far away within the devil's trap, but her cry was not what was going to get Dean free.

"You have…what? Less than…thirty years experience? And you think…you can beat almost two-hundred?" Faust scoffed. He had an arm hooking both of Dean's arms behind him and all of his weight in a leg that was thrown over Dean to keep him pinned to the floor. "When you've seen what I've seen, touched magic and curses as much as I have, you start seeing everything differently. Like being able to recognize a succubus and fool her senses. Or weaving tapestries of memory just to steal a few meager years. But you…I knew there was something about you. Maybe the house would have taken you after all, like your friends. But the thing is…" Faust's voice fell to a whisper beside Dean's ear, "You can't steal life from the damned."

Dean's eyes went wide with fury, so angry for some reason that Faust just knew, that he could tell as if 'this soul belongs to somebody else' was written across his forehead. He could see Shiarra from this position too and he knew she had heard Faust even though he whispered. Her face was filled with the most awful confusion. Dean didn't want her to understand. He didn't want pity from her too. He was not something to pity.

Another of Dad's rules: when left with nothing else use your enemies own tactics against them.

There wasn't any way to be sure what Faust planned to do just holding Dean in place. All of their weapons—at least any Faust knew about of Dean's—were too far away. But Dean stilled struggled, hard as he could, and when he was sure Faust was confident in his ability to keep Dean pinned, Dean went suddenly limp. Just like Faust had done to him. This unbalanced and surprised Faust enough for Dean to slip just one arm free. That was more than he needed.

Reaching back, Dean grabbed a handful of Faust's hair and pulled as hard as he could, rolling forward at the same time so that Faust flipped over onto his back in front of Dean. Quickly, Dean straddled Faust to hold him down, using one of his own effective pinning moves. "Guess that makes me more Faust than you," Dean said dangerously, "You didn't sell your soul to the Devil. You didn't have to. You're just like those damn demons."

And as always, because Dean just didn't get his own species, he was surprised when Faust started laughing. "The thing about Faust, kid, is that even though he makes a pact with the Devil in that story he still receives the gift of everlasting life." And with a broad grin, Faust slammed his body upwards, something that takes a lot of lower abdomen strength with a two-hundred pound Winchester on top of you, and just like Dean had before, Faust managed to get one limb free.

Before Dean knew it they were struggling again, but Dean was sick of this. He was done. Some crazy youth-stealing geezer was not about to one-up him. Dean got in a good kick to Faust's stomach, much more effective than just a punch, scrambled to his feet, hauled Faust up with him, and rushed for the nearest wall, slamming Faust back hard. They were both breathing pretty heavily by this time but Dean could tell Faust was much more dazed now than he was.

"For the record…" Dean gasped, "Faust gets…redemption…you limp-dick. Not the same thing." Dean held Faust with one hand while the other reached into his jacket for the knife he had used to open the window. Faust immediately tried to struggle again, one of his hands grabbing Dean's wrist to prevent the knife from coming at him.

Dean just grinned. He knew he was stronger.

"You know…with the right weapon…you can kill almost anything if you stab it in the heart," Dean said in a low voice, fighting against Faust's hold on his wrist as he brought the knife closer and closer to Faust's chest, "Even a man." One final surge forward was all it took and cool metal slid cleanly into Faust's body. He stared at Dean wide-eyed but he would get no sympathy in the replying look. Dean may not take joy in killing, but there were some people you just couldn't feel sorry for.

Faust slid slowly to the floor when Dean pulled the knife free again and stepped back. The actual moment of his death was made quite clear when Faust's body started to turn ashen, aging years within moments until there was bone and then nothing but dust that crumbled to the floor.

That was disturbing.

"How very Portrait of Dorian Gray," came Shiarra voice from behind him.

Dean turned back, a little surprised, and managed a half grin. He had almost forgotten she was there. "Well…I was gonna say…how very Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade," he shrugged, "But whatever floats your boat." Dean wiped his knife clean on his jeans, retrieved his lost gun, and then walked over to the devil's trap. He sliced through the circle with his knife, flicking the paint until the seal was broken.

"Thank you," Shiarra said simply. Dean didn't miss how her tone was a little too soft.

"I'll…get things set here so we can burn the place. Better if there's nothing left. Normally I'd take more time but…I'll do all that. You call and see if we saved the day or not."

"No," Shiarra said, touching Dean's arm with a firm hold, "You call. I'll take care of this." Her tone allowed for no objected and Dean had the silliest urge to just hug her. She could say anything right now, ask him about what Faust meant—even though he was certain she had already figured it out—say something about how cold he had been while killing Faust—even though he was pretty sure she didn't mind—or who knows what else. But she just took the last of his burdens and told him to call home.

Dean would have been truly grateful too if he had been able to get any kind of signal out there. He hated not knowing if Sam and Sasha were okay, but Faust's country home didn't have a damn phone either, the freak, so there wasn't much more they could do after torching the house other than drive back to Ellsworth hoping. All of Faust's books, spells, and tools of worship had been found in the basement. They were making a clean getaway. Even if someone did find something in the wreckage later, it would be nothing but dust and ashes.

The place was ablaze and they had to get out of there quick before any neighbors, far away as they may be, noticed the fire and called for help. Dean knew that: never leave evidence and never ever get caught. But when Dean slid into the driver's seat of the Impala and Shiarra slid in silently besides him, he found he couldn't drive. He just couldn't. He knew she knew now and that she was waiting for him. It wasn't at all like how Sam and Sasha had dealt with this, and he kind of had to respect that.

Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, Dean didn't even take out his keys. There wasn't time for this but he knew he couldn't drive until he got it out. So he just stared forward, took a few breaths and started speaking.

"A year ago…Sam, he…he got killed. Stabbed in the back. I couldn't…save him. And I…couldn't…let him die, so I…I made a deal. Crossroads demon. You know, the usual sad, stupid story."

"Ten years?" Shiarra questioned without an ounce of obvious emotion in her voice.

Dean had to chuckle darkly. "Nah, see…I'm special. She gave me one. Got about three months left."

"Sasha knows this?"

"He does."

"Trying like mad to save you somehow I imagine." It wasn't a question really.

"Yeah. Him and Sam both. Crazy freaks." Dean smiled sadly to himself and clenched his eyes shut. He was the one that was supposed to save them. He'd done it tonight—he hoped, since they couldn't get a hold of them—and he'd done it before, but it wasn't right how much they were both willing to give up to save him. He didn't want them getting caught up in something that would bring them down with him when his fate was his alone.

"Dean," Shiarra said, and still her voice was just plain calm, not angry or sympathizing or anything else Dean had received when someone found out about the deal, "I've been around a long time. And one thing I can tell you about demon deals…" she trailed a little, maybe waiting to see if Dean opened his eyes and looked at her. He didn't. "There is no way out of them. It's a choice you made. A contract."

Dean swallowed thickly. "Yeah. Guess they're hoping they can kill the contract holder or, I don't know, beg him, her, whatever to let me go. Not too fucking likely, huh."

"I can't begin to guess who holds the contracts, but no, not too fucking likely." There was the hint of a smile in that and this time Dean did open his eyes and look at Shiarra finally. She was smiling and there was no pity there just a certain kind of understanding. "You didn't need me tonight. Or at all today really. I thank you for indulging me, but you were successful solely on your own. It's not that I doubted that, it's only…well, there are things Sasha can do, things your brother can do that sway people more easily or give them an advantage in a fight. You have none of those same abilities and yet you accomplish all the same things…as just a man. Deklin would have liked you."

Whatever weight had resettled on Dean's chest it lifted at least a little and he couldn't help grinning to hear that. He grew up on stories of Deklin Kelly, a great hunter even John Winchester had hoped to emulate. Okay, so now Dean was fucking the guy's son, but there were other things to be proud of.

His smile sank pretty quickly though as he looked at Shiarra squarely to reply.

"There's never been a question whether or not I can do this job alone. Even Dad thought so. But I certainly know one thing about Deklin Kelly that I can be sure we have in common. And that's in knowing that having someone you can do this job with is the only thing that makes it bearable. If that means I have to put up with the super-twins stealing my thunder once in a while, well…at the end of the day I'm just happy they're there." Dean sniffled and realized his eyes were way too wet for after a successful hunt. "Okay," Dean said, fishing out his keys finally and getting the motor running, "That's enough of that. You tell those idiots that I got all weepy around you and this friendship is off, ya got me?"

Shiarra laughed. "Dean, though I know it may not be much consolation…if there is anyone who can prove both me and the universe wrong…it is most definitely you."

Dean knew without a doubt that Shiarra meant those words for more than just his relationship with Sasha and it made him feel just a little bit lighter again.

The drive should have felt like hours the same way the drive before had been, but instead it flew by, and in what seemed like a blink they were back at the motel. By the time they were within good cell phone range they were so intent on just getting to the motel they didn't even think to try calling again. Dean parked as sloppy as he ever had and bolted out the door of the Impala as soon as the keys were out of the ignition. He was almost to the main lobby door when Shiarra grabbed his arm.

"Wait," she said.

"What is it?" Dean almost yelled. He wanted to get inside. He wanted to know if it was okay. It had to be okay.

Shiarra just stood there, looking up at him. Dean was too anxious for this and he was about ready to turn and run whether Shiarra had something important to say to him or not. He was thankful she hadn't ripped his head off after finding out about the deal but he wanted to get in there and check on Sam and Sasha.

Therefore, maybe it was because of that, because Dean was so distracted by other things, because he didn't notice Shiarra's lips pressing firmly against his until after the first five seconds.

When Dean did finally realize, he couldn't help giving a little gasp, and that brief parting of his mouth gave Shiarra the very opening she had been waiting for as she turned the kiss intimately deep. Dean had no intention of kissing back, it was just so hard with how much those soft lips and the way her kiss was so damn deep…reminded Dean instantly of Sasha.

And that made him instantly nauseous because he was basically being kissed by his boyfriend's mother and that was just wrong. Even if she was an exceptionally good kisser. Dean was thankful when Shiarra pulled away before he had to give her a good hard push. He fairly gaped at her then for at least a minute.

"Hmmm," Shiarra hummed contentedly, giving Dean a somewhat crooked smile, "I guess that explains it then. Never did get to manage that with Deklin." She wiped the corners of her mouth a little, fluffed back her hair, and then made to move around Dean and go inside the motel.

Dean was physically incapable of moving. He just stood there. "What?" he said to himself. He managed to turn his head and found that Shiarra was at least waiting for him just inside the lobby door. "What?" he mouthed at the glass, "What?" He couldn't form anything more coherent than that. Then he thought over the look that had been on Shiarra's face and the words she had said.

I guess that explains it then.

Weirded out as Dean was, he realized that he probably had just been given the biggest compliment possible from an incubus or succubus. So it wasn't just Sasha that Dean could make weak in the knees. That had to count for something.

Striding past Shiarra with a hard look and then turning quickly to hide the smirk that was still building, Dean moved quickly passed Ula's mother behind the front desk and went for their room. The apprehension he had been feeling returned, dancing through him as he got out his key and reached for the doorknob. He could knock but he was fairly certain he needed to do this himself.

Opening the door, Dean took stock of the room before him, seeing that both Sam and Sasha looked as though they had been sitting but had then stood abruptly upon hearing a key in the lock. Ula was sitting at the table. She was smiling. She was smiling. Sam and Sasha were far beyond just that, both looking caught somewhere between joy and great relief. Dean barely made it all the way inside the room to permit Shiarra behind him before Sasha was right there in front of him, grabbing him by the folds of his jacket and kissing him hard enough to bruise.

Unlike Shiarra's kiss, this one had Dean instantly melting. It wasn't just because it was Sasha and he had missed this for those couple of days, it was…well, everything really. That firm press, the way their mouths just opened and found tongues without thinking or fumbling, the way Sasha's hands gripped so hard, just…everything.

They pulled apart and Dean was breathless. He stared into those too blue eyes, eyes that looked back at him with love not just blind childish devotion. "Hey," Dean gasped out, "That better have been a twenty-five-year-old you doing that coz otherwise it'd be kinda creepy."

A laugh erupted out of Sasha immediately and Dean heard Sam chuckle too. "All grown up," Sasha said with a smile, "You had us so worried. Why didn't you call?"

"We were in rural frickin' Maine. You try finding a signal," Dean shot back.

Already Sam was coming up behind them and Dean knew his sap of a brother wanted his affectionate moment too. Sasha moved to hug his aunt and Sam didn't give Dean any chance to protest as he pulled him in for a hug too. It was tight. Too tight, like maybe Sam had forgotten he had that super-strength.

Dean didn't want to think about dealing with powers or anything like that right now. He just wanted this. What he had right here. Sam. Sasha. Right now all of them were okay. That was such a rare thing he wanted to savor it. He had so many questions, like whether or not the guys remembered being rugrats or if they had just snapped back to normal and not known who Ula was. Dean was banking that they remembered everything though and he knew they would get to talking about it all soon enough. He just wanted to let Sam squeeze the life out of him for one second longer.

"So…just so I know I'm not going crazy," came the somewhat annoyed but otherwise humored voice of Ula, "I'm guessing one of the other things you didn't mention was that you're not actually married to Shiarra. Either that…or you have a very open relationship."

Shiarra barked a laugh at that, then Sasha, and finally Sam, hot against Dean's neck. When Sam pulled away and Dean had enough air in him to actually release any kind of chuckle, he laughed long and hard too until he was out of breath all over again.

tbc...

A/N: Opinions on the end of that hunt? One more chapter for this Arc to finish things off, so you'll get to know what the boys remember and goodbyes and...well, some other things. :-) Then begins Arc 6 and by the looks of things I may yet again have more planned than I thought. I'm sure you don't mind.

Head on over to deangirl1 again, folks, for another new chapter. This one is called "Feathers" and is the plot bunny I have been waiting for. So good! Thanks for all your wonderful support! My wedding is less than a month away now, but I'll stick with you right up until. I'm afraid there won't be any writing during my honeymoon though. ;-)

Crim