Part 10: Deal Breaker

The sensations traveling throughout Dean's limbs were intensifying every second and spreading. Dean could feel that same tightness everywhere like he was being stretched in all directions all the way down to his feet and pulsing up into his temples too. He could feel that, all of that, along with a nauseating knot in his stomach, but still he could only stare at his hands, gazing horrified at the black taloned fingers that were fine for Sasha's but not for his. Not his.

The world continued to lurch around Dean, pitching, spinning. Soon he was falling back, pulling from Sasha completely and crumbling at the foot of the mattress. At this strange departure from their activities Dean heard a questioning utterance of his name call after him followed by a shriek of it as Sasha finally took notice of what was happening. Then the incubus was beside him, morphed human and sputtering too quickly for Dean to catch everything he was saying.

There were words of apology, of "…didn't mean to…" and "…never…never without knowing you wanted it too…" and then quite distinctly, "You must have wanted it, Dean. It wouldn't be possible if you didn't."

Part of Dean wanted to ask what Sasha meant, to ask what was happening to him, but the other part of Dean already knew. The world was stabilizing and focusing better now that he was lying back, though he could still feel those strange sensations wracking his body as they changed him. He could remember well, even though it was six months ago, what Sasha had said when the brothers asked how an incubus initiated someone.

The person being initiated has to willingly accept the change. There's sex involved, but it's still a conscious choice by both parties.

Conscious. Right. Dean may consciously know he loves Sasha but he didn't intend for this. In fact he very recently spoke out against this. It wasn't that the transformation was painful—if this was initiation then it would be pretty cruel if it was—but it was all so foreign and strange, like supernatural growing pains Dean was never supposed to experience.

How transformed was he, Dean thought. What did he look like? The only things Dean could see were his hands when he lifted them to his face again. His arms were white, fading to black and to sharp black talons for fingers just like Sasha. Apparently, initiates took on the same coloring as their maker.

There was more than a mere echo of panic in Dean's mind as he thought of all this. Had even a minute passed since it first started? Dean couldn't be sure. He couldn't speak, didn't know what he could possibly say as he heard Sasha ranting out anxious words. Dean wasn't angry with the redhead—he could tell from Sasha's voice that this was hardly anything planned. But since Dean wasn't speaking, Sasha couldn't fully tell what Dean's reaction was, so he just kept on rambling.

"…so sorry…never meant…god…should have explained."

Dean tried to listen more carefully, but his head felt like it was filled with cotton and Sasha's words floated around him.

"Marking…means…want this," Sasha was saying, one hand on Dean's chest while the other combed human fingers through Dean's short hair. "…do. I want this. But only…you want it too, Dean," he said somberly, his words becoming clearer the more Dean focused, "You accepted it…marked me back. That's why…scratches stayed. I should have known. I didn't think we were this close. I didn't think you really wanted this."

I didn't think you really wanted me, Dean heard, though Sasha didn't say that. The truth was Dean didn't know what he wanted. He hadn't been lying when he told Sasha that. But for a moment back there, when they were tangled together, connected and whole because they were together, Dean did know. He knew with every breath in him that he wanted Sasha for the rest of his life, however long that was, and that final realization had been enough. Like a contract signed, another deal had been made.

"…take it back," Dean heard from Sasha suddenly, having faded out again, succumbed to the whirlwind of what was happening, "…not complete…can still…Dean," Sasha said more firmly. He grabbed Dean's face with both hands to ground him. "Dean," he said again, "You can take it back. It's not complete. I know you have doubts. You can still take it back."

Take it…back, Dean repeated slowly in his mind. He could take it back. This didn't have to be final. Dean didn't have to just give in and allow himself to be changed. But then he couldn't help wondering if he really wanted to stop it. Sasha had already said so himself; Dean had to want this on some level for it to even be possible. If he could be certain for one moment then why not another, and the one after that, and the one after that?

Dean looked up into Sasha's eyes—blue, they were blue again with Sasha human—and the only doubt he had left was the part of him that didn't believe he deserved this. He didn't. He knew he didn't. But if there was really less than three months of his life left then what room did he have for doubt, for 'not yet' or being unsure?

"What…if I don't…want to take it back?" Dean whispered, surprised by his voice and how gruff it was. Sasha smiled sad and hopeful above him when he said that, the hands on Dean smoothing over his cheeks as they held his face.

The world wasn't spinning anymore. There was no nausea. Dean could feel his body still changing, knew that he was not yet an incubus but that he was no longer human either, and because he wasn't fighting, afraid, or unsure, the pressure and tightness began to feel different. Dean could still feel the circuit even though their bodies were side by side instead of interlocked. He could feel how much Sasha loved him. He could feel it the way Sasha felt it.

"Baby…" Dean breathed, his own clawed hands moving to grip Sasha's face, the black so stark against Sasha's pale but not white skin. What a parody they were just now. Dean kept his grip gentle, though he knew he could never hurt Sasha, and pulled their heads together. "I know. I know what I—"

BAM.

Dean jumped, his claws releasing Sasha's face as he flinched towards the door and the loud thump that had just sounded from it. Sasha had been startled too and was also staring. It must be Sam, Dean thought, living up to his title as King of the Bad Timing. Sam probably heard Sasha's shriek and was coming to investigate.

"Sam…" Dean tried to call, but his body was still in overdrive, still changing, and he couldn't really call out all that loudly.

BAM, came another thud. It sounded strange, not like a normal knock.

Then suddenly, before either Dean or Sasha could call to Sam more effectively, the door pushed open. Well, it was more like Sam had managed to turn the knob and then simply slumped forward into the door to move it. He nearly fell, clinging to the knob and the side of the door, his face pale and sweaty, his eyes pleading, unfocused.

"D-Dean…" he said at the bed. It was clear he couldn't really see, that he didn't really know where Dean was. Suddenly, what was left of his strength dropped him and he slid down the door, crumbling hard and half on his side face down into the carpet.

The first thing Dean saw then was blood, red and ugly looking on the back of Sam's shirt as if…as if a knife had stabbed into his spine. "Sam!" Dean could shout now. He pushed Sasha away and was off the bed in a second. Dean almost sank straight to the floor then when whatever connection that had been between him and Sasha suddenly snapped like a cord and lashed back at him, giving one last mad rush of those sensations and then they were gone.

Dean wasn't thinking about that though. He hardly noticed that his arms were tan again and his fingers were fingers as he fell to Sam's side and grabbed his brother's shoulders to hold him.

"Sammy!" It had to be a dream, Dean thought, because it was too much like Cold Oak, too perfectly replicated. Even the wound was the same. "Sammy!"

Sam wasn't moving. Sam wasn't even breathing, Dean was sure of it, as suddenly gone as he had been almost a year ago. But then, somehow, miraculously, the picture changed. As Dean turned his brother over and pulled their bodies close, Sam's eyes fluttered open.

Relief soared through Dean's chest. Sam was okay, not just conscious but fine. He sat up and looked at Dean like he had no idea what had just happened.

So many thoughts filled Dean's head of things he should say or do—embracing his brother like he had upon Sam's first resurrection was certainly on the list—but he could only watch in joyful fascination as Sam sat up and reached back to touch his shirt, finding blood, yes, but no wound. Sam turned, twisting his body to better see and lifted both T-shirt and flannel. They stuck to his bloodied skin but the blood was all there was. If there had been a wound it was gone.

"What…what the hell just happened?" Sasha asked in a shaky voice, crouched right next to them though Dean had no idea when the incubus had joined them on the floor.

"I…I have no idea," Sam said, his forehead slick with sweat and his breaths coming understandably uneven. He was sitting up but still leaning somewhat against Dean with Dean's arm supporting him—holding him. "I…was sitting on the couch and…and suddenly there was just this pain. I tried to get to you but…I could barely move. It was just like…god, Dean," Sam said in horror, his hand coming up to squeeze Dean's bare bicep, "It was just like…"

"Cold Oak," Dean finished, voicing aloud what he had already thought but with a creeping realization far more chilling than his body's almost transformation and then sudden reversion back. It wasn't just like Cold Oak. It was Cold Oak. Same wound. Same panic. Same death…

And then the Crossroad Demon's voice was ringing in Dean's head.

If you try to get out of the deal in any way…Sam dies.

"Fuck…" Dean choked, realizing what he had almost done. He scrubbed his free hand down his face. "Fuck. Fuck. What the hell was I thinking?"

"Dean…?" Sam prompted worriedly. Dean could feel Sasha's confused and hurt eyes on him too. It was so unfair. Dean would never trade Sam's life for his own happiness. Never. But he shouldn't have to choose.

"I tried to get out of the deal…" Dean breathed, shaking his head at his stupidity.

There was a gasp from Sasha almost immediately. The incubus understood. But Sam, who had only vaguely glimpsed what must have looked like one human and one incubus on the bed when he came in, just as there should be, did not. "Tried to get out of the deal…? What are you talking about?" His eyes were only looking into Dean's. There was just so much weight behind them that Dean felt entirely crushed. How was he supposed to explain that he had almost killed his little brother because of some really good sex? Okay, so obviously it was a little more complicated than that.

It was while Dean was trying to work out the syntax that he noticed Sam's eyes beginning to wander. Maybe Sam had finally noticed what he must have already seen and just forgotten, or maybe he was finally feeling that all the places his body was leaning against of Dean's were bare. Because suddenly Sam's puppy eyes of concern went wide with embarrassment and color flushed to his face.

"Err…" he coughed and discreetly averted his eyes from looking at Dean and especially Sasha, "You do know that you're both a little, uhh…naked. Right?"

Crap.

Actually, naked was the good part. The fact that both of them were still about half-mast had to be significantly more traumatizing. Dean promptly left Sam to his own devices, since Sam appeared to be perfectly fine anyway, and began searching for the nearest thing to cover himself with. Before he even really had to look for anything, however, Sasha thrust a pair of sweatpants at him. The incubus was already wearing sleep pants that he had seemingly pulled out of nowhere—or maybe just materialized with a glamour. Both articles of clothing at least allowed for more room and coverage than boxer briefs.

Sam was on his feet, eyes still averted, when Dean turned back to him. The taller Winchester was peeling the flannel off his body and was probably deciding whether or not he should just ditch the T-shirt too since it was soaked in the back with blood.

"Sammy…" Dean tried, coming up blank for more to say as soon as Sam's eyes turned to him. Dean didn't want Sam to die. He didn't want to go to Hell either. He wasn't even really sure if he wanted to be an incubus even if it would mean being with Sasha forever. He hadn't been lying when he told Sasha he sort of liked being Dean Winchester, human hunter. But it was all so much more complicated than any one of those. It was all of them. All tied together and it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.

There had to be some way out.

SLAM.

Dean jumped clean out of his skin as the bedroom door slammed shut. Sam was clearly just as startled, his head snapping to the door with every muscle tense on alert. Dean made to walk over to his brother, assuming there had been some gust of wind from somewhere or something, but Sasha had come up behind him and had a firm grip on his arm that stopped him dead. Dean peered over his shoulder, his brow furrowed. Sasha wasn't looking at him; he was shaking, his eyes filled with fear Dean had only seen a handful of times as he stared at the now closed door.

This was getting freaky. "What is it?" he asked the incubus. Then he turned to face Sam again and saw that his brother was swiftly backing away from the door as if something were about to explode through it. Sam backed right into Dean before he knew to stop. "Sammy?" Dean said quietly, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. Sasha was still holding Dean's arm so for that moment all of them were connected.

"Something's coming…" Sam breathed.

BAM. Dean jumped again, glad for the supportive presence in front and behind him even though Sam and Sasha had both jumped too. That was louder and more resonant than Sam's fumbling thuds. Still, Dean didn't understand why his brother's utterance that something was coming had him so fearfully glued in place. Maybe it was because Sam sounded so afraid and that he and Sasha were both trembling like children as if they knew some awful truth Dean didn't.

There was another loud bang on the door. Dean was getting sick of this. If whatever this thing was wanted in then Dean wasn't about to wait for it to burst in on them. Uncharacteristically scared or not, Dean pushed around Sam, freeing his arm from Sasha's hold so he could walk to the door. Both brother and friend called after him but Dean wasn't about to let some beastie with good parlor tricks get the better of him. He grabbed the door knob expecting resistance but found it surprisingly easy to turn the knob and pull.

The sight that suddenly stood before him almost had Dean laughing. There was nothing frightening on the other side, not in appearance anyway. It was just a man.

Okay, so he wasn't standing anywhere near the door where it would make more sense since something had been pounding on it, but again, Dean thought, parlor tricks. The guy was a demon, surely, but not one that evoked much fear in Dean now that he could see him. Guy looked like a pussy. One of those metro bastards with manicured hands, a tailored suit, and perfect GQ hair.

Admittedly, Sasha had a little natural GQ going on, but this guy? He had neat, impossibly blonde hair and a trim, never-worked-a-day-in-his-life kind of build. He was average height, nothing special. The suit was all black—black jacket, pants, and button down—with a blood red tie. He was standing in the middle of the living room, leaning casually against the back of the couch with a satisfied grin.

Dean disliked him immediately.

"Well done," the man said, flicking blue eyes over Dean's form in the doorway that Dean was just waiting to suddenly turn full-on black, "You are rarely frightened into inaction, Dean, and tonight you do not disappoint. You are quite unique, I can assure you." He looked past Dean then into the room and Dean couldn't help looking behind him too.

Sam and Sasha hadn't moved. They were both still back by the foot of the bed, frozen and staring horrified at what to Dean was just a man or at the very least another random demon. "What's with you guys?" Dean asked, angry now because he needed them to be on their toes like they were supposed to be, "Sam?" Dean pressed.

"Don't be too hard on them," the man called, getting Dean to turn back to face him with a glare, "They simply sense something you cannot. And only because I am allowing them to. It's often more prudent to stay under the radar but sometimes…I find this so much more entertaining." His smile was wicked and smug, entirely self-satisfied.

"Dean…" called Sam's voice from behind him, closer but strangely and frustratingly small. Dean looked back again. Sam and Sasha were closer now but still seemingly transfixed.

"Damn it, will you two snap out of it already," Dean nearly growled, "It's just another—" but before Dean could fully turn and say "demon" the pale blue eyes of the man in the suit suddenly changed. But not to all over black. The whites of his eyes were black, like any demon, but there was still clearly an iris with color. They were red. Red on black, like the Crossroads Demon but not mottled. That seemed familiar to Dean for some reason.

"Dean…"

Then Dean almost laughed again. He couldn't help thinking of Gambit from X-men, who had the same red on black eyes in the comics. He allowed himself to chuckle. "Dude, really?" he said, "I think Marvel might have some copyright issues with those."

The demon echoed Dean's laugh with a full-throated reply. "In that case…" he said, trailing purposefully. The air seemed to ripple in front of him like a mirage and before Dean could even blink the demon had switched bodies. He was no longer, well, even a he. It was a woman now, eerily similar to the man but also very opposite. She was equally average in height and slight in build, wearing a classy black dress with a gold belt and heels. But her hair was red, red as Sasha's and curly past her shoulders. Her eyes were also different, because instead of red like the blonde man they were yellow. Yellow on black. "Do you prefer…this?" she said, grinning in the same manner as the man, all pleased with herself and smug.

"Shit," Dean said, frowning now, "Never known you guys to be so cavalier about throwing away hosts for a new one. You send that poor bastard back to where he came from at least?"

"Dean," Sam was still repeated, clearly much more anxious now to get Dean's attention since he sounded more insistent.

Obligingly, Dean looked behind him again. This time he could see that Sam and Sasha were right there with him at the door. Even as Sam spoke, both of them continued looking at the demon. It really annoyed Dean. "What?" he said without patience.

"Dean," Sasha answered, not really answering, his head shaking back and forth like he didn't want to believe whatever it was that was running through his head.

"It's not…it's not a host," Sam finally explained, eyes quivering, "It's not a…body, it's just…" Sam shook his head too.

"It's just a demon…" Sasha finished.

Now that was just plain ridiculous. Demons couldn't manifest whole and real in bodies of their own. They needed to possess. Every hunter knew that. Dean turned once again back to the demon in question as he thought that, knowing it couldn't be possible because no demon had ever accomplished such a thing—unless that incubus legend Sasha told them was true—and thank goodness because the sheer magnitude of problems that would quadruple for hunters was terrifying.

Then Dean realized the demon was still smiling.

"I have no need for a host," she said, her voice bearing the same tone as her male version, simply higher in pitch, "I grew beyond that a long time ago. I'm afraid most of your usual tricks will be quite lost on me, Dean. Better if we talked this out like civilized men." She grinned to herself at her mistake. "Well, civilized people anyway. Shall we?"

Once again, Dean was starting to feel Sam and Sasha's anxiety creeping into him, and it disgusted him with the unfamiliar tremors that built inside his gut. A demon that didn't need a host; it wasn't supposed to be possible. Dean had to stay calm. "Sorry, pal. Or…sweetheart, whatever. I don't have sit-downs with demons. Sam," Dean turned to his brother. Just because this thing didn't have a body to exorcize it from didn't mean Sam couldn't mojo the damn thing. Right?

Sam shook his head like he had read Dean's very thoughts. He didn't speak though. He just shook his head and kept on staring. It really wasn't helping Dean's nerves. "They…" Sam said like an afterthought, "Because it's…both."

"Now, now," the demon interrupted with a dainty hand raised into the air, "Not both, darling. Either/or. I just don't see the point in limiting myself. There are benefits and good points to either gender." She batted those awful yellow on black eyes at Dean and her tongue darted out at her bottom lip for a moment. "You understand that quite well these days, don't you…Dean?" she said, glancing pointedly at Sasha.

Dean had no idea what his brother had been going on about, but now he was getting angry and that always trumped any feelings of fear. "Look, princess," Dean snarled, stepping out of the doorway finally to approach her. He kept his distance—he wasn't a complete idiot—but he wasn't about to stay cowering with the others. "You got some interest in us you better spit it out before we kick your gender-confused ass back to Hell."

"Oh?" she said without moving an inch, just leaning back casually still, "And…how would you go about doing that? You'll find no exorcism would be quite the right…flavor for me. And Sam's powers? Very nice for a beginner but he has a lot to learn before he even comes close to a fraction of what I can do let alone being a challenge for me. Where do you think all that power comes from?" she said looking at Sam who along with Sasha had slowly followed Dean out of the room, "Some heavenly gift? Hardly."

Like the cruelest of temptations, Dean suddenly noticed the Colt lying in the open on the side table next to the sofa. Sam must have had it out for some reason since otherwise it would always be safely tucked away, usually in the hotel safe if there was one. Somehow Dean knew his brother and maybe Sasha as well were thinking just as he was even if none of them dared look at the Colt directly. Right now it was closest to the demon though. She had to know it was there.

And then she moved, walking the direction away from the Colt as if taunting them to go for it. "I'm actually a very reasonable person you'll find if you cooperate. For example, I could allow myself to be very angry right now with young Sam for dispatching my emissary so rudely a few months ago…and yet, as you can see, I haven't touched him. Well, not since you corrected that little…mistake a few moments ago…Dean." She paused halfway to the kitchenette and glanced back with a wider smile. "I'd say that's very hospitable of me, wouldn't you?"

Realization clanged in Dean's head like a gong. Shit.

Before Dean could think to say anything or come up with some kind of plan, Sam was already moving. She had given him what he believed to be his best opportunity and he took it, sprinting past Dean for the side table, grabbing the Colt, aiming it at the demon and cocking it assuredly. Dean had felt the same surge of panic and expectancy as Sam must have. Sasha probably felt it too. They knew this demon. They had been looking for her…for they, them, whatever, for months now.

"Let Dean go," Sam demanded shakily. His hands were steady, his aim perfect at her head, but Dean knew how much his brother had to be panicking.

This was the contract holder and she didn't even need a host to step foot on Earth. They were out of their league. Somehow Dean knew it was a mistake to point the Colt at her because she hadn't even flinched when Sam made his desperate dash.

"Let him out of the deal!" Sam demanded more firmly, "Or I shoot."

Sasha had moved when Sam did, close on Dean's other side like maybe he thought simple proximity would make it easier to protect him. The sofa was between Sam and the demon. In other cases Dean might consider that a bonus, even an advantage, especially since Sam had the Colt. But something was wrong. The demon looked too impassive.

"Let Dean go!" Sam cried again, bordering on hysterics at having this sudden chance, this unexpected encounter. Much as they had hoped for this, they really never expected the contract holder would come to them.

She tilted her head at Sam, a small smirk on her lips as she simply said, "No."

Dean saw Sam's face change into that sneer, the only expression of Sam's he really hated and remembered well from when Sam shot and killed Jake at the Devil's Gate. Dean hated it because it was too reminiscent of how Sam looked when Meg was pulling the strings. That expression marred Sam. He was sneering, the demon was smirking, and something about it all was just wrong.

Dean called out to Sam, "Wait!" just as the gunshot fired, his voice drowned out by the distinctive sound of the Colt. Dean didn't know what he expected. Maybe a little Magneto action and for the bullet to just stop mid-air before meeting its mark. Maybe for the bullet to just go poof. What he certainly didn't expect was for the shot to reach its goal clean and unchallenged.

As sure as Dean's shot had struck the Yellow-Eyed Demon, Sam's shot was also true. It hit her forehead with a burst of arcane energy, the little jolts of electricity like an internal thunderstorm spasming through her body. It was too easy. Too easy. It couldn't be that easy.

And of course Dean only had a few seconds to feel the beginnings of joy and relief before it became quite plain that it wasn't that easy at all.

The little shocks fizzled away as always but the demon did not drop to the ground, wide-eyed or at all dead. She blinked full consciousness, gave herself an almost pleasured shake, and grinned slowly at Sam as the wound left behind by the bullet began to close. In a moment there was nothing but smooth skin again.

Raising her left arm, her palm out facing Sam, the demon tilted her head at him again as she said, "Now that, my dear Sammy…was rude."

Sam flew backwards across the room, striking the far wall painfully hard. The Colt was knocked from his hands and the picture that had been hanging along the wall fell with a thud. Sam remained pinned an inch above the floor, grimacing within the demon's hold.

Sasha and Dean stood frozen, not knowing what to do. The Colt could kill anything. Anything.

"Well, clearly I am not merely anything," the demon said snidely at Dean, unrepentant of the ease with which she slipped into his mind, "Honestly, do you think Samuel Colt made that gun on a whim with only his own devices and ideas? He was just a man. Even great men need a little help now and again."

What she meant by that was too impossible to believe. "You taught that guy how to make the Colt?" he said somewhere between distasteful and disbelieving, "A gun that can kill demons? Why would you do that?"

The demon shrugged. She had lowered her arm but Sam remained pinned against the wall. He seemed unable to speak because of the strain on his body though it looked as though he had a few choice words that were bubbling up within him. "How else was I suppose to make things more interesting," she said.

This did not bode well. The demon turned her attention back on Sam after speaking and her head tilted slightly again, as if she were merely regarding him. Sam's slowly building cry that finally ended in a full blown scream proved very quickly that she was doing much more than just that. The fact that whatever she was doing wasn't physically visible disturbed Dean even more.

"You have become quite irritating, Sam," the demon said, "And Azazel had had such hopes for you."

"Stop," Dean said, trying to find some leverage, some way to talk them out of this steadily worsening situation. Whatever this demon was it had just survived a direct shot from the Colt, had supposedly helped build the original, and Sam's powers were useless against it. As a real demon and not just a host they couldn't exorcize it. That meant their only hope was compromise. With the damn demon that owned Dean's soul. "Just tell me what you want?" Dean said slowly, casting Sasha a quick, careful eye to tell his companion that any action would do them no good right now, "You came here so you obviously want something. What?"

Gaugingly, the demon turned to Dean, and Sam's pained noises lessened. "Oh, so I came here for you, did I? And here I thought it was you who were seeking out me," she said sharply, though she still wore a smile. She was beautiful in a way that just seemed cruel and Dean hated her for it, hated her even more for that red hair that was so like Sasha's. "I don't think you fully comprehend yet," she went on, "What your place is in this, Dean. After all, it would appear your brother is still alive. I do believe that was our deal. Now, I cannot guarantee that he won't get himself killed sooner than you might want, but I carried out my part of our bargain. Why then, I ask myself, do you insist on trying to swindle your way out of yours." The demon's eyes snapped to Sasha with a flash of her yellow on black eyes.

"Wait!" Dean cried before he had really thought about it, stepping in front of Sasha to somehow block him from her, "That was an accident. I wasn't thinking. I don't want to be an incubus." Dean didn't have time right now to care if Sasha was pained to hear that, he needed to say what would get them out of this until they had more time to come up with something better. "Caught up in the moment, ya know? You can't take Sam back. See? All human again. One human soul for another, just like we said." Dean understood that that was where the problem had started. The deal was for his human soul; as an incubus his soul would be something different.

Also, now Sam knew what he had walked in on and understood the sudden reappearance of that knife wound. But again Dean didn't have time to deal with that.

The demon did not yet look swayed.

"If not for the consequence of losing your brother, you would have gone through with that little ritual tonight, I think," she said, "Perhaps it would be better if I removed the temptation. Tell me," she said with a cruel quirk of her lips, "Do you know what it looks like, Dean…when an incubus staves to death?"

Those words were all it took for Dean to completely forget how to breathe. He flipped around just in time to see Sasha go pale, not just from nausea or pain but because he was morphing into an incubus, something that was clearly being forced upon him. Sasha's eyes went red as he changed and he growled suddenly like he was frenzied. Then Dean understood. That was exactly what was happening.

"Of course you remember the first stage," came the demon's voice, calm and unfazed.

Sasha lunged for Dean as soon as his vision cleared enough to see that a warm, prone body was in front of him. Yeah, Dean remembered this stage. But before Sasha could do more than grip Dean's arms painfully and tower over him, the incubus began to falter. He shook his head, his vision clouding again while his breaths came slow and shallow as if the energy was draining right out of him.

"After that things get more interesting," the demon went on, like she was explaining something out of a textbook, completely detached from what was actually happening, "What happens if a frenzied incubus, starved already, fails to get what he needs? They don't just remain frenzied. No, it's actually quite fascinating what happens next."

As Sasha began to stumble away from Dean, disoriented and confused, Dean dove for him, uncaring to the possibility of harm to himself. Sasha looked so suddenly weak and frightened. When Dean reached him again and grabbed onto his waist, Sasha almost instantly crumbled in his arms. He started to change back to human but only halfway, like his body didn't know what it should be. He was left with slightly longer hair, fangs, the eyes Dean loved, slightly pointier ears, and blackened fingers. He stared at Dean as they fell to the floor together, recognition having returned.

"Exactly," the demon said, a voice in the distance, "It seems they find their way back to themselves in the end. Just long enough to be aware…as their insides rot from inside of them." She bit out the last of it, a curse and promise from an angry tongue.

"Stop," Dean choked out, on his knees with Sasha in his lap, just as it had been when he thought Sasha had died in his arms the first time. He couldn't handle it again. Not for real. Not with Sasha looking at him the same way, frightened and unsure of what was happening. And this was worse, because she wasn't lying. Dean knew everything she was saying was true. The part of Sasha that wasn't seeking help was looking at Dean in pure anguish. He couldn't speak for all the pain he was in, just gasping and whimpering, trying to say anything so that Dean would hear him somehow and know. "Please…" Dean pleaded of the demon even though he was looking at Sasha, "Leave him alone," he cried. This power was too great for them. They couldn't defeat this. They couldn't. "I'm here. I'll talk," Dean said, turning back to her finally as he held onto Sasha tighter, "Whatever you want. Just stop."

"Ah!" sounded an audible cry, this time from Sam. Dean's head whipped to his brother still against the wall. The demon had increased the pain for Sam as well, killing them both from within their bodies where Dean couldn't do anything.

"Sammy!"

"De…D-Dean…" croaked Sasha in Dean's arms. His eyes were red but they were faded when Dean looked down, caught between brother and friend, neither of which he could do anything to save. Sasha did not look like he eventually had in the factory, resolute and ready to say his goodbyes. The incubus gripped Dean's arms, clutching at him, pleading with choked off cries at Dean to save him, to make the pain go away, anything. Dean could see it in his eyes, and in Sam's too when he looked up again at his brother. Whatever the demon was doing to them it was robbing them even of their pride and they just wanted to be rid of it, whatever way made that happen faster.

"No…no…no, just…just stop. Whatever you want. Whatever…you want. Just…leave them alone. You want me, you have me. You can fucking take me right now, just…don't do this to them, please. I won't try to get out of the deal. I won't, I…won't. Just stop!" Dean yelled the last of that at the demon, meaning every word. If it would save them, if anything he could do, anything could just save them then he would gladly go to Hell right now.

"Well…I don't think we need to go that far."

Dean was startled at the sudden gasp, loud and followed by sharp, ragged breaths that came from Sasha. Just as suddenly there was a thud as Sam fell to the floor. Dean looked and saw that his brother was coughing into the carpet, shaking and sucking down air. He had been released. The pain was gone; Dean could see the relief on his brother's face. When Dean looked down at Sasha who he was still holding tightly in his arms he saw the same, that the incubus was breathing in gulps of air and shaking like leaf, but whatever the demon had been doing to him it was over and Sasha was okay again.

Even still, neither of them looked to Dean with grateful expressions once they had a hold of themselves. They looked at him with horror on their faces, neither knowing nor wanting to know what the price of their lives would cost. It was the inevitability of their trio to always save each other, willing to give up themselves, and to always worry that the next time they would be the one saved instead of the sacrifice, having to watch as the one that saved them gave up too much.

"You're not going to Hell yet, Dean," the demon said, "Not yet. But honestly. You people wonder why I use such tactics." Haughtily, she moved to the cushy chair across from the sofa so that she was still facing them. As she sat down, the same ripple as before moved across her form and by the time she was seated, lifting a leg to rest one ankle on the opposing thigh, she was the male version again in that nice black suit. "If you don't mind. I prefer to sit this way and it just isn't lady-like in a dress," he grinned.

Sam was already making his way over to them, slow and stumbling. Dean helped Sasha to his feet and then turned immediately to the demon. He wasn't going to give either of the others the chance to scold him with their eyes. Surely, they were doing so anyway, they couldn't help themselves, but he didn't have to look at them.

"Come," the demon said, gesturing to the empty sofa, "Let's chat. Of course the others can join us. I understand how impossible it is for any of you to do anything without each other these days," he added nastily.

Much as Dean was pleased that Sam and Sasha would not be rotting from the inside out or whatever it was this thing had been doing to them, Dean was now very confused. Regardless, he moved to the sofa as asked and said, "So…you actually want to talk? Why? If you just want to make sure I'm not going to renege on the deal again then we're good." Dean sat down cautiously, taking the middle since he knew some deep-seated sense of over-protectiveness in both Sam and Sasha would make them want to sit on either side of him. They did.

"Just like that?" the demon said with a touch of mocking. He looked so damn comfortable in that chair, leaning back with one leg still propped up. "And I thought you were so adamant to get out of the deal. What happened to all that bravado, hmm?"

Dean's fists clenched tight. It was a good thing he had only had claws for a few minutes because if he had them now he would be doing excess injury to his hands. "Dude, are you…trying to drive me crazy?" Dean said, struggling to hold his tongue, "Two seconds ago you were torturing my friends to get me to swear I'd behave. Just what the hell do you want?"

If possible, the grin on the demon's face stretched wider. His eyes were red on black again. Dean didn't know which pair he hated more. "Just because I want obedience doesn't mean I don't have a proposition for you."

"What?" It was Sasha who spoke, not having said more than a handful of words since the door slammed. He was still shaky, more so than Sam who was on Dean's left.

"Don't you know?" the demon sneered at Sasha, seeming to have a particular distaste for the incubus, "Half-breed or not it should be common knowledge that there is no way out of a devil deal once one has been made. Freedom of choice. A truly wonderful gift. Well…of course there is one way out of a deal," he turned back to Dean.

Already Dean knew this was a trick, that he was somehow being set up even before any terms were spoken, but that couldn't stay his tongue. "You're offering me a way out?"

"Oh, there is no way out," the demon said simply, "There is no way to break our contract, anyway. Renegotiation on the other hand…"

"At what cost?" Sam asked right away. Apparently, Sam and Sasha had both decided to avoid looking at Dean since Dean wasn't looking at either of them. Dean could feel the absence of Sam's peripheral gaze more than he ever felt the presence of it. "Renegotiate for what?"

"Normally, I would ask that others be silent in this kind of meeting," the demon replied with a sharp look at Sam, "But given that you'll be necessary to carry out my wishes, I'm sure Dean will want your input before making his decision."

"You can't have Sam," Dean said without another thought. No more souls were being traded.

It was almost funny to see red on black eyes roll. "You can't sell back the soul that was bought in the first place. Do try to keep up. I'm talking about a task. The rest of the deal remains. Sam stays alive unless his own means foil that on his own terms. And you belong to me come May. Unless…you do me this small favor. At the rate you've been going I'm sure it will be no problem for such…apt hunters."

"You…you need us…" Sam said like a slow realization, leaning forward and scooting to the edge of the sofa, "Why else would you even ask or offer this?"

Something in the air instantly crackled. "Do not presume to think you hold any power over me, boy," the demon snapped. Even Dean felt the rise in dark energy that time besides seeing the flare in the demon's eyes and hearing the slightly more resonant voice. And then the demon smiled again, brushing that off as if it were nothing. "I simply don't want to waste the effort. It's just become a nuisance, you see. All those ungrateful little wretches Azazel let loose on the world without a proper leader waiting for them. He hoped it would be you, Sam. I knew that if it wasn't the plan would fail. It was always supposed to be you. But I let Azazel carry out his plans as he wanted them, knowing he would more than likely fail. You weren't ready. And now we have all these demons out running amuck without purpose. It…disturbs me at their lack of vision. I would like you to remedy that for me."

Now Dean saw where this was going and there was no way in Hell he would agree to it. "You want Sam to step up and be the boy king, is that it?" he growled, "No fucking way. I'll take my chances with Hell before I'll allow that."

"Dean," Sam said firmly.

"Sammy, shut up."

"But—"

"Both of you could shut up, if you don't mind," the demon said with a wave of his hand, and Dean found in that moment that he couldn't speak. Neither, it seemed, could Sam. "Entertaining as that might be, no I do not want Sam to gather up the demons and lead them anywhere or to do anything." The demon looked very steadily at Sam and Dean in turn before saying, "What I do want is for you to send them back where they belong. All of them. If you can capture all of the demons that escaped the Devil's Gate before your time is up, Dean…we'll call it even." The demon situated himself in the chair again, comfortable, confident. "Sound fair?"

Again, it was Sasha who spoke, but maybe that was because Sam and Dean still couldn't and therefore couldn't beat him to it. "You want us to send all the demons back to Hell?" the incubus repeated, "You, a powerful demon higher up than the one that planned all this, want us to save everyone from the demon menace? No offence but…you gotta be fucking kidding me."

Dean would have snorted if the demon had returned his ability to speak. He was also a little worried that the demon would snap at Sasha again or worse. He didn't, but he did turn rather annoyed eyes on the redhead. "You know…I never planned for you. That…bothered me originally. But then I saw the potential of your presence. You see, you make this a team instead of a duo. You make them stronger than they are alone. That will be very useful in the future…" the demon said with an appraising tilt of his head, "But until that time comes…you're still a bit of a nuisance and as dense as these two. Contrary to what you might think I do not revel in chaos. I find that a well carried out plan, a purpose, is much more lasting and effective than sheer carnage. Call me…" he shrugged, "Lawful Evil."

Oh, how Dean wanted to speak again. "Look buddy…" and was therefore a little surprised when he found he could. He started over. "Look, you expect us to believe you want us to get rid of all the demons that got out? And let me guess. All we need to do to accomplish this…is for Sam to go a little more overdrive with his powers. Am I right?"

Again there came that slow, satisfied grin. "Well, you don't expect to track down over a hundred demons in less than three months just going on the level of power he has now, do you? That would be…rather difficult, I think."

He was leading them. Where Dean wasn't sure, but he knew the damn demon was leading them along. It knew things they didn't and was exploiting that. Dean had the nauseating feeling that no matter what he did this guy would still win.

The demon's smirk twitched. "I don't see the problem," he said, "You do what you would do anyway, just a little faster and more efficient. If you succeed, you go free. No more ticking clock. If not then you're no worse off than you are now and at least the world is left a little safer. Just the way you want it, right, Dean? To go out saving as many as you can. So noble. So caught up in your white knight persona. I'm merely sweetening the deal."

"For yourself," Dean shot back, "Win, win for you. We succeed all your little minions are back to start over, maybe do it right next time since Sam will be supped up and maybe…hell, I don't know what. We fail, we've still done most of your work for you and you still get me. Pretty good set up you got, pal. But if you're so smart then I'm sure you already know my answer." And Dean was happy to give it. He raised his right hand and thrust his middle finger out in front of him. "Fuck you. I'll take my chances in the pit without your renegotiation."

"Dean," Sam jumped right in, apparently also with the ability to speak again, damn it.

"Sammy, don't you even—"

"Dean, think about this," Sasha jumped in next. Both of them were turned in towards Dean now, ganging up on him with their anger and their puppy eyes, "What have we got to lose?"

Dean wanted to throw that line right back at Sasha. What have they got to lose? Sam. It was obviously what the demon was counting on. Somehow that had to be it. Maybe they were wrong and Sam using his powers more really would lead down that path none of them wanted him to go.

"Dean," Sam said again, in that no-nonsense Dad voice he used better than Dean ever could, "You don't get to make this decision alone. You keep saying that you're the one who gets to decide if I lose myself too much to be worth saving. Then let me decide when it's too late to save you. I can take care of myself, Dean. I can handle this. I know I can."

Dean didn't want to meet Sam's eyes, because those puppy-dogs were the worst and would almost assuredly sway him, but then Sam was looking at the demon, not Dean, and Dean couldn't help glancing at his brother.

"Freedom of choice," Sam said to the demon, "You said it yourself. Great gift. I agree. And I choose whether or not I own the powers or the powers own me. If you think accepting this offer will end things differently…you're wrong."

A week ago Dean would have been proud to hear Sam talk with that kind of conviction that he could just be Sam and control the powers within him. Hell, yesterday Dean would have been proud. An hour ago. But something about this demon made Dean doubt even though he never wanted to doubt Sam.

Maybe Sam could feel that, read it right out of Dean's head, because Sam turned back to him then and Dean was caught. Those eyes said 'trust me'. Those eyes said 'this is Sammy and I'll always be Sammy'. God damn it.

"I can do this, Dean," Sam said, his voice wet with tears that weren't there, "Please let me. I know you have to make the decision but…but if this is how I save you then you have to give me that chance. I know you'll be there to save me…if it comes to it."

Dean grit his teeth to hear that. He knew what Sam really meant—I know you'll be there to kill me if it comes to it. "Sammy…"

"Dean please," Sasha said behind Dean, a warm hand grabbing his bicep and squeezing, "All of us together…we can do this. If it's a trick then he doesn't know who he's dealing with." Sasha turned angry blues that were finally looking their usual brightness on the demon, who was patiently waiting while the trio talked things out, smug as ever.

But how could Dean make that decision for all of them. It wouldn't just be about him anymore. He could be putting them all at risk by making this deal.

He had made that mistake once already.

"Don't think you're so above this, Dean," the demon said from his throne, "You made a deal with me once before and I held up my end of the bargain. Now I'm giving you another chance. Mutual satisfaction, that's all. No catch. Anything that may or may not happen outside of the terms is entirely up to the three of you." He grinned as he said that and Dean hated that it made him doubt even more and yet it also made him want to prove the bastard wrong.

Then the demon was getting up, and as he did so he shifted once again into the redheaded woman in the classy black dress. She smoothed out her skirt and then placed a hand coyly on her hip.

"Think, Dean, before you so carelessly leave yourself to your fate. I know I won't mind either way, of course. I do hope you won't be able to wrangle in all of the demons in time. Mmm, the plans I have for you…" Her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip again. "But I'd still come out better were you to agree with the new deal. Perhaps a little…incentive?" The demon's eyes flashed with their once again yellow on black color.

Therefore, Dean was surprised when nothing happened. He had expected pain, excruciating probably, like whatever she had put Sam and Sasha through. Dean even looked down at his body to check for open wounds. He looked back up at her ready with a scathing comeback when he was suddenly pushed back into the cushions of the couch by hands that came from either side of him. One hand was Sam's. The other Sasha's.

Dean turned to each of them with questioning on his lips but his words fell away to nothing as he saw them. Their eyes. Dean remembered with the worst kind of recollection as he looked over at each of them and saw Sasha with the demon's red on black eyes and Sam with the woman's yellow.

Just like in Dean's dream.

"No…" Dean pushed up against those constricting hands but Sam and Sasha easily pushed him down again. They were both so damn strong. "Stop," Dean said to the demon, standing there with her hand still on her hip as she looked on.

"Oh, do you remember, Dean?" she said as Sam and Sasha held him down, "Good for you."

Dean didn't want to remember but it brought everything to a whole new light, and a whole new horror. "You…you're the one giving me all those dreams," he said through clenched teeth, unable to move as Sam got onto his knees on the couch, towering over Dean and holding him more firmly, while Sasha growled low and began licking and kissing Dean's neck.

"I'm just giving you a taste of the future, Dean," the demon said. Dean couldn't see her. He had clenched his eyes shut and was trying to struggle up against Sasha and Sam's hold, impossible as it was. "Whether with me in a few months…or with them in…maybe not much longer than that…I can assure you. Those dreams are worth more than you think. Which side you're on when it happens will be up to you…if Sam allows you to choose."

"Stop," Dean said more firmly, because he could feel his brother drawing closer and he just couldn't bear that. Her words told him he was making the wrong decision and yet the thought of escaping Hell, of at least being here to do something about what she was saying made him make it anyway. "I'll do it. I'll do it, okay, just snap them out of it!" Dean clenched his eyes tighter. They were pressing in on him so tight; he could feel Sasha's teeth and Sam's too close breath on his skin.

And then it was as if everything snapped back to where it had been. The demon was standing there and Dean was pushed back into the cushions, but Sam and Sasha were sitting normally, their eyes hazel and blue the way they were supposed to be and looking at Dean expectantly for his answer.

Dean could not possibly express how glad he was that they didn't seem to realize anything had just happened. He would have thanked the demon for that if the thought didn't sicken him.

Slowly, Dean sat up straight again, his pulse quick, his mind in turmoil even though he already knew his answer. He didn't look at Sam or Sasha, only the demon. "Okay. We have a deal," he said, glad that Sam and Sasha only looked relieved not pleased or something similar that would have just made Dean angry, "We'll do what you want. I'd ask how we're supposed to find all these demons but I'm guessing that's up to us to figure out, huh?"

The demon just grinned.

"Do I hafta…kiss you?" Dean asked with a grimace. He remembered well that the Crossroads Demon had sealed her deals that way.

"An offering of the flesh is necessary, I'm afraid," the demon said, always smiling, always so sure that everything was just as she wanted, "I used to take that by cutting out a pound of it, so be glad I'm so nice these days." She took a few steps towards Dean and stopped in front of the sofa.

Dean wanted this over with so he stood up, finding her to be somewhat short actually but right there so that he couldn't move without touching her. He grabbed her arms but before he could pull her in for the kiss she suddenly shifted again, taking on the other form in the black suit.

The male demon with blonde hair tossed Dean a smirk. It was strange to feel fabric now when Dean had initially grabbed bare skin.

At the mention of the kiss, a detail Dean had left out before when explaining things to Sasha, Dean had been able to palpably feel the incubus' disapproval. That sky-rocketed now, because Sasha knew somehow, just as Dean did, that this was a jab at both of them—one last win.

"I thought you preferred this these days," the demon said.

Dean really hated this guy. "You gonna at least give me a name I can hate too? Maybe a month from now I think of an even better renegotiation. Gotta have a way to contact you somehow. Unless you want us to just send all those demons to bug you again."

If Dean didn't know any better he would swear the demon looked pleased. "Of course," he said, "For you, Dean, I'd be happy to. Should you feel the…desire to call on me, and I can't guarantee I'll actually answer…"

Naturally.

"Then…" The demon broke from Dean's hold and had Dean's arms instead in an instant. He pulled Dean close, his lips brushing Dean's ear to whisper just loud enough that Dean was sure Sam and Sasha heard it too. "Call me…Malak," he said, "And please…use it wisely."

Then the demon's lips were just on Dean, possessive as any kiss Dean had ever felt. It was almost too deep, an invading tongue marking Dean as his. The whole thing was a bit of a rush, Dean had to admit, like kissing dry ice but not entirely unpleasant. It was a bit of shock then when within the kiss, before Dean even knew what was happening, the demon was suddenly gone, vanished into nothing.

Dean almost fell forward face-first into the carpet.

"Jesus," Dean grumbled, steadying himself, "Talk about wham, bam, thank you, ma'am, the fucker." Dean wiped at his mouth, still feeling the presence of that tongue and the taste of something he could only describe as sinister. He shuddered.

Sam was right next to him in a second and when Dean turned to his brother he saw a look that Sam usually only wore when Dean said a bad pun.

"What?" Dean had to ask, since he didn't really think their encounter warranted that particular reaction.

Sam tried to shrug it off but the nerd in him it would seem was ready to share. "That name. Malak? It means 'angel' in Hebrew. I guess he was trying to be ironic."

Dean huffed. Arrogant bastard. He realized then that Sasha hadn't stood up yet. He was still on the sofa. Dean turned to him and found an expression there as well that he hadn't expected but at least this one seemed more fitting. Sasha looked terrified. "Sasha…?" Dean said, because he hated that look on Sasha as much as he hated it on Sam. They had been through too much for one night.

It was obvious that Sasha wanted to hide his fear from them when he looked up, like he didn't want either of them to have to share in his terror. Damn martyr. "It's just…uhh…well…Malak…means something else too," the incubus said. With Sam and Dean both looking at him questioningly, the incubus had no choice but to finish his explanation. "It does mean angel, in Arabic and other languages too. But…for some it means…a very specific angel. In the Yazidi religion, Malak means…" Sasha swallowed deep in his throat, "…the first angel who fell."

Three pairs of eyes met across the small space between them and stared varyingly at each other.

"I think I need a drink."

"Me too."

"Fuck yeah."

THE END...of Arc 6! To be continued RIGHT HERE with Arc 7 and many more!

A/N: Phew. See that coming? Actually, two people got it right that Sam would be affected by what was happening, Ann Patterson from FF and tarroandmarro from Y!Gallery. Congrats. You can still request.

Well folks, this will mark almost a year, I should hit over 700 reviews, and Incubus is now almost 1000 pages after 50 chapters and 6 arcs. You still sticking with me? I'm sure I'll be going into a coma now until Thursday. I may take the day off from work. I have plenty more planned for the fic. Next arc, first thing...we meet Eppy and Atty. Please review!

Also, Malak is MINE. Through and through. My hubby and I might use that character for a comic if we ever do it. Any thoughts on him? ;-)

Crimson