Part 6: It Can't Get Worse Than This

Hands. Soft hands. Lips. Definitely lips. And skin. Everywhere skin. And yet Dean knew there wasn't as much skin as there could be.

What was he doing? He couldn't remember. Where was Sammy? Sammy was here with him, wasn't he? But there was no Sammy, no hotel, just the bed, his bed, and the sheets were already pulled back. They were sitting on it, not lying down yet, but they would get there. Oh, Dean knew they would get there.

Those hands, they were softer than they should be, Dean thought. They should be more callused like his. But somehow they were so soft, the way one touched his face as they kissed, and the other brushed the small of his back to pull him closer. That was where the skin was. Dean was fully clothed, but his shirt was hitched just enough at the back for that hand to touch as much skin as the one on his face. He wanted there to be more skin. Skin everywhere. Everywhere.

And those lips. The kiss was so tender and slow. They barely met tongues but already Dean was feverish. He wanted more, and so he searched for it, pressing his tongue deeper for more contact, anything, as much as he could get. The warmth. The wet. It wasn't enough, not enough, and so he reached out, and again he found skin. Yes, when he touched back there was only skin. He wanted to be like that too, and felt constricted in his clothing.

There wasn't time though. He couldn't think about undressing when they were kissing like this and touching small teasing places with trembling hands. Dean couldn't remember a time it was ever like this, tentative and thrilling. Maybe his first time, years ago, but it was hard to remember that now. It was hard to remember a time when he had ever been with anyone else. To him there was only now. There was only this. It had been that way with everything since…

…the deal.

That thought struck a cord in Dean, and he almost thought he heard the clang of a gong. The deal. He couldn't have this. He couldn't have anything. He was already dead. He didn't deserve this skin, these lips, this feeling. He had…he had to get away.

Dean pulled out of the kiss, out of the hold that had started to encase him. He was surprised and yet not surprised…to see Sasha staring back at him. Sasha was naked, smooth and perfect, but Dean wasn't embarrassed to see him that way because he couldn't look anywhere but Sasha's face. Sasha was smiling. Smiling. And it was so beautiful, he was so beautiful, Dean felt—for a moment—safer than he ever had.

And then he was grabbed from behind, forced to lie back on the bed, and pinned down so he could not get back up. Above him suddenly was the face of his brother. It was Sammy. But it wasn't Sammy, it couldn't be. His eyes were mottled yellow like the demon's. But Dean knew the demon was dead and that those eyes were Sam's real eyes somehow. He wasn't possessed. He was the demon.

Dean tried to scream, but nothing left his throat. He tried to kick, but Sasha was there holding his ankles. Sasha. Sasha would help him…wouldn't he?

Staring down at the end of the bed, Dean saw Sasha crouched on all fours, holding his legs. No, not Sasha, it couldn't be Sasha. His eyes were red with slit pupils, and when he grinned—not smiled, but grinned—he showed twin fangs on his eye teeth.

Not understanding what was happening, Dean forgot to struggle. He simply stared at what had made him feel so secure and now only made him tremble. Sasha was still naked, and Dean felt the embarrassment now because he couldn't help looking at everything. That pelvic tattoo…

Dean swallowed.

And then a low voice was whispering wet against Dean's ear, and though he knew it was Sammy, the laughter in it was too cruel. "I thought you liked it rough, Dean," Sam said.

More laughter sounded from Dean's knees, and when Dean looked again, Sasha was suddenly closer, on top of him. "I know I do," Sasha grinned, and claws Dean didn't know Sasha had cut into his skin as his shirt was ripped open.

Sam laughed above him. Laughed. This wasn't happening.

"Time's up, Dean," Sasha growled—actually growled.

And Sam finished the phrase. "Time to collect."

Dean flinched as Sasha pulled his jeans and shorts down until they were tangled at his ankles. Not happening. Not happening. If Dean really was going to Hell, then this was it. He was there.

Then everything was a blur like it had been in the beginning, but this time it was not friendly, or nice, or anything beautiful. There were hands. Rough hands. Teeth. Fangs. And skin. Too much skin. And laughter. Sammy's. Sasha's. Laughter everywhere. Skin Dean didn't want everywhere. Everywhere.

"No!"

The sheets tangled around Dean and he fought fiercely for several moments before he realized he was fighting nothing. His pillow lay rather violated on the floor now, but there was no real threat. Not anymore. Not with Dean finally and fully awake.

Damn it. Not a dream Dean ever wanted to relive. Ever. He couldn't remember one ever being that bad, at least, not since the one he had in New York when they were staying at Ash's friend Manfred's house. Dean could still imagine perfectly the succession of women from his and Sam's life, one after the other, frozen on the ceiling and bleeding from the belly before flames consumed them. But the worst, the last in line was not a woman, it was Sam. And when Sam looked down from the ceiling there was no fire, just mottled yellow eyes.

Still, Dean thought, this new dream was decidedly worse.

Dean flopped back onto his pillow-less bed and just laid there for a minute. He knew it was too late to do anything other than go back to sleep, but right now that was definitely not an option.

After awhile he stole a glance at Sam in the other bed. Sammy was fast asleep, hair a mess, blankets bunched up under his chin like a five-year-old. Sammy wasn't a demon. He was the furthest thing from it. Dean knew who to really blame for the dream, and it wasn't Sam or Sasha. It was his own damn subconscious. Apparently his non-waking mind hadn't yet caught up to his waking mind's acceptance of the freaks in his life. And that was just stupid. Dean trusted Sam and Sasha.

Didn't he?

Dean only closed his eyes for a moment, but there he was again, pinned down by too much weight with Sasha grinning fangs, and Sam smirking down at him as he held his arms with that cruel mottled yellow stare. Sasha's clawed hands feathered up Dean's thighs and started to reach between his legs.

"No!" Dean gasped himself awake again, glad at least that he hadn't called out too loudly and woken Sam. That was the last thing he needed.

It was decided that Dean had to get out of the hotel room. He was so tired, still on that edge of sleep, that if he stayed lying down he could easily end up right back in the dream again. Funny how that never seemed to work with good dreams.

Carefully throwing back the covers and tiptoeing to his discarded clothing, Dean almost pulled on yesterday's pair of jeans before he decided he would rather wear something a little more clean. Besides, he wanted out of the room, but he didn't want out of the hotel. Where would he go anyway? He didn't know Minnesota that well. The last thing he needed was to get himself lost in the middle of the night. So he snuck over to Sam's duffle and stole a pair of sweatpants and a plain T-shirt, both of which were way oversized on Dean's smaller frame, but that was exactly what Dean wanted. Comfort.

When Dean had safely snuck out of the room, he closed the door behind him and then just stood. He looked down both ends of the hallway and realized he hadn't really planned this out. He supposed he could go for a walk. It wouldn't be that cold out, and he had his shoes on—sans socks, but still. Of course, he didn't really feel like walking, he felt like sleeping.

For a brief moment Dean thought of knocking on Sasha's door. But Dean didn't even know what time it was. He hadn't looked before leaving the room and he wasn't wearing his watch. It seemed such a simple thing to go back into his and Sam's room and grab his watch from the nightstand, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Maybe it had only been a couple of hours and Sasha was still out hunting for amorous couples. Maybe it was five AM and Sasha was fast asleep, needing his rest after what the brothers put him through at Carol's apartment. Dean couldn't be sure either way. Besides, Dean didn't really want to be around Sasha any more than he wanted to be around Sam right now. In fact, he probably wanted to be around Sasha less.

To hell with it, Dean thought, sliding down the door until he landed in a neat pile of exhausted Winchester on the floor. He'd just sit here for awhile, and maybe, after he had taken some time to banish the dream from his mind, he would be able to go back to sleep.

The next thing Dean remembered was the touch of someone's hand on his face, real gentle. It was soft, softer than it should be, Dean thought, since he knew from the combination of smells who the hand belonged too. Which of course made Dean immediately jump.

"Shit, Sasha," Dean gasped, tensing up as he pulled himself back against the door, "Don't do that." Dean was trying very hard not to think about how it had only been a week but he already knew what Sasha smelled like.

The guy actually had the nerve to be grinning down at Dean, looking all presentable and well groomed. Dean figured that meant he had been right about it only having been a few hours and Sasha was just now getting back from feeding. But then…when did he change clothes?

Dean glanced around the hallway. He was still sitting on the carpet, leaning back against the door to his and Sam's room. But something was definitely different, like the world was just a little more alive than it had been a few minutes ago.

"Sorry," Sasha was saying, "I just figured it would be better to wake you than have the hotel staff call the police about the bum sleeping in the hallway." He laughed, all casual and cool, like he usually was. Dean noticed then that Sasha didn't look nearly as sickly and fatigued as he had last night. A round of feeding had clearly done him good.

Wait. Last night? Sleeping? Figured it would be better to wake you…

Damn it. Dean didn't know when or how, but at some point he had fallen asleep right where he sat. Sasha was right; it was probably a good thing he found him.

"What time is it?" Dean said, rubbing his eyes to get his brain to wake up with the rest of him.

"Around eight. You're fine if you wanna go back to bed, Sleeping Beauty, but I think you'd probably rather do it in there," Sasha said, nodding towards the room behind Dean's back. His grin went a little crooked then. "Need a hand?" he said, standing a little taller and extending said hand in offering, which of course resembled what had happened last night only too well.

Dean assumed Sasha was trying to make a joke, since there was no way the incubus wasn't purposely reminding Dean of last night's experience. Dean, however, was not in the right frame of mind to find it funny, or even to pretend he found it funny so he could laugh the whole thing off and get over it. It wasn't that sharing the incubus feeding experience had been all that traumatizing. It wasn't because of that part of the night at all. What haunted Dean now was the dream.

Red eyes. Fangs. Those were real aspects of Sasha underneath his human disguise. Dean didn't want to ask if the claws were real too.

Of course there was also the beginning of the dream. Dean wasn't sure if that part scared him less or more. Kissing Sasha. No, making out with Sasha on his bed, while the guy was completely naked, Dean reminded himself. And when Dean had pulled back in the dream and realized who he had been so totally enamored with, his dream persona wasn't even all that surprised. Well the real Dean sure as Hell would be.

"Dean? Are you okay?" Sasha said, since Dean had been just sitting there, staring at Sasha's hand like a zombie. Concerned over Dean's lack of reaction, Sasha knelt down and moved as if to reach for Dean's shoulder and shake him.

Before Sasha could even come close to contact, Dean jumped away, managing to knock his head pretty hard against the door in the process.

Sasha frowned. "Guess I…really freaked you out last night, huh?" he said.

Shit. The last thing Dean wanted was for Sasha to think he was afraid of him. It was just the dream, that damn, stupid dream. "No…it's not that," Dean tried, wincing a little over the growing bump on the back of his head, "You didn't freak me out," he stressed, "Believe me, I can do that plenty on my own."

This explanation, though true, left Sasha staring at Dean in uncomprehending concern.

"Look," Dean tried again, "It's not you. Really. I mean…it did freak me a little, because I wasn't expecting what happened, but I…" Dean rubbed his eyes with both hands, still struggling for complete alertness, "It's just that…dream," he finished, more to himself than as further explanation for Sasha.

"Dream?" Sasha repeated. Dean would have had the foresight to worry over Sasha pressing him for details, but luckily he wouldn't have to. Sasha just thought it over for a second and then managed to find some of his usual mischievousness. "A nightmare," he said, and it wasn't a question this time, "Is that why you're sleeping in the hallway?"

Dean scowled. "I'm not sleeping in the hallway on purpose," he said, and realized that now would probably be the right time to get up off the floor if he wanted to save any of his remaining dignity. He did so, and Sasha stood up with him. "I was going to go for a walk…or something," Dean explained, "I just sat down for a second…"

"Yeah, that'll happen," Sasha nodded.

Then, though Sasha seemed like he was going to say more, he suddenly stopped. His eyes had begun to travel over Dean's body, making Dean feel very exposed. Dean wasn't sure if he should feel better or worse about the situation when Sasha started chuckling to himself.

"Do you usually sleep in stuff you could swim in?" Sasha laughed.

Dean's initial thought was 'what?' But then he looked down at himself and remembered the clothing he had stolen from his brother's bag before going into the hallway in the first place. "Shut up," he said, since Sasha was still chuckling at him, "They're Sam's, okay? And I'm not…swimming."

"Uhh…" Sasha swept his eyes over Dean's body again, "Right. Are you even six feet tall?"

Okay, that was it, their friendship was definitely in peril now. Dean was not short, just shorter, which really wasn't that much of a feat when his brother was the size of a barge. Dean was not little, or petite, or any of those damn words people kept throwing at him ever since he was five. Sam had received the same treatment once, until his last growth spurt struck and he left Dean behind in the dust. Stupid 6'4" baby brother. Dean hardened his gaze at Sasha. Stupid 6'2" incubus too.

The truth was that Dean was just barely six feet tall, and usually told people 6'1" because…because he just did, okay? He probably wouldn't even care about something so stupid if Sam wasn't towering over him all the time, and to be honest usually Dean didn't care at all. He was still taller than average. He just didn't need to be reminded of his barely slighter stature by yet another person bigger than him.

"Yikes, I take it that's a sore spot," Sasha said, putting up his hands in mock surrender, or maybe in hopes of protecting himself from whatever malevolence Dean looked capable of right now, "What's with everyone wanting to be tall anyway?" Sasha added, "Because…personally speaking…I think you're much cuter the way you are." This final admission was accompanied by yet another once over of Dean's body. And this time Sasha was definitely not admiring clothing.

Dean couldn't help it—the dream, the look in Sasha's eyes—the whole thing made him shiver so hard he felt instant goose bumps grow over his skin.

He seriously hoped Sasha didn't notice.

"Okay, last night?" Dean began, "Really, not creeped out. But if you wanna get me there then by all means, keep it up."

Apparently, Dean was not being nearly as clear as he thought he was, because Sasha said, "Oh," grinning dangerously, "I always do."

Dean didn't even have time to properly gape because Sasha suddenly started to move in closer. Sasha got so close that Dean could smell whatever it was that told his brain Sasha. He didn't even know what the combination of scents were, it was just…Sasha.

Dean pressed himself against the door.

"L-Look," he tried, and couldn't believe what a pansy he was for stammering like that, "Whatever you're thinking, you can just—"

But whatever Sasha was thinking, Dean was way off the mark because all the guy did was reach past Dean and knock on the door.

Sam must have been right there about to come out, because less than half a second later the door was opened to reveal a very agitated younger Winchester. "Sasha! Have you seen—" Sam cut off abruptly and gave a slight jump at seeing Dean, "Dean!" he said then, "Where have you been? I wake up and you're just gone. You didn't leave a note. Nothing. How was I supposed to know—"

"Geesh, sorry, Mom," Dean broke in, having had just about enough of Sam's emasculating of himself, "I was outside the door the whole frickin' time, Sammy, give me a break here." And with that Dean pushed past Sam into the room, trying to forget Sasha's extra acute teasing and how red his face had become because of it.

"Are those my clothes?" Sam asked then.

Dean ignored him. He was much more interested in finding his own clothes and getting dressed for real. He debated taking a shower, but he had taken one last night, and he knew how important it was that they start early today. He grabbed what he hoped were clean clothes from the bottom of his duffle and headed for the bathroom to change and brush his teeth. "Five minutes," he called behind him. The tall duo could wait for him.

There were murmurs from the main room the entire time Dean was in the bathroom. He could only hope that they consisted of Dean having been found in the hallway and not that he had slept there, or that he had mentioned a bad dream. Sasha might be courteous enough to leave Dean alone about it, but Sam would pry.

Five minutes later exactly, Dean emerged from the bathroom feeling significantly better—other than the crick in his back from sleeping against the door—and was ready to switch over to case-mode. They had a succubus to catch. Dean couldn't afford to let some stupid dream distract him. It didn't mean anything anyway. It was just a dream. A very real, very tactile dream…

"So what's our plan?" Dean said, ignoring his traitorous thoughts as he sat on his bed next to Sasha. He kept a good amount of distance between them, but he didn't want to start avoiding the guy. Besides, Sam was on the other bed and since they had already chosen to convene like this Dean knew he would seem out of place if he sat at the table.

Sam and Sasha were quiet for a long time. It was more than unnerving.

"Uhh…hello? Earth to the freaks. You with me?"

Sasha offered a supportive smile, which told Dean that the originator of this silence had to be Sam. Typical.

"Whadja do this time?" he said to his brother, only half serious despite the accusing tone to his voice.

Sam grimaced. He could always tell when Dean was messing with him, but that didn't make it any less fun. "I didn't do—Dean. Will you just listen for a sec? I was telling Sasha…I was starting to tell him…that I want to come clean about my abilities."

Okay. That was unexpected. "Uh, what? And why exactly? Did I miss something?" Dean trusted Sasha, all dreams and innuendos be damned, but what had got into Sam suddenly that he wanted to tell Sasha all about his freaky powers?

Dean glanced at the incubus in question who if anything looked embarrassed. And then Dean felt really stupid. Sasha. There didn't need to be any other reason for Sam's behavior other than Sasha. Sam the martyr felt guilty about what happened last night and now he wanted to make amends. Since they accidentally found out Sasha's secret, why not tell theirs? At least, that's the way Sam's warped mind would see things.

"Sammy," Dean started, and he knew he sounded a little too much like Dad whenever his voice took on that tone.

"I already said he didn't have to tell me anything," Sasha broke in, and then added with a look at Sam, "You really don't. Finding out about me was an accident. We don't need to break even here. We're even. We're good. Really."

The arguments seemed pretty stacked against Sam, but he hardly looked convinced. Dean and Sam were different in many ways, but one thing they definitely had in common was their stubborn streak. Dad always said they got it from Mom, but they weren't too sure about that.

Wherever it came from, Sam was displaying it proudly and not anywhere near backing down.

"I wouldn't be doing this if I needed to. It's because I want to," Sam explained. His posture was a little too straight, all business with serious intent. "I keep thinking about what happened last night. Not…Carol. Though I doubt I'll forget that soon, either. I keep thinking about…" Sam was the one who wanted to come clean, and yet he still trailed off before he could say what he intended.

Sasha gave a weak smile and finished for him, cautiously in case he was overstepping his bounds, "About…that really strong gust of wind down Nicollet Avenue?"

There was no getting around it now. Sam nodded. "I appreciate you acting blind, deaf, and dumb about the whole thing, but we all know what really caused that. Or at least who. I don't really understand it, and I didn't mean for anything to happen last night, but…I have some…telekinetic abilities."

"My guess exactly," Sasha nodded, "But you can't control it?"

"I haven't really…tried."

Dean was getting a little annoyed with how they seemed to be pretending he wasn't there. "Okay, if we're going to do this then can we start be saying how power number one for you, Sammy, was always those vision things, and you haven't had one of those since before the gate opened." Dean hated being left out of a conversation. Besides, that particular point seemed really important. They kept thinking about Sam's powers, but the stunt on Nicollet was the first sign of anything since the demons escaped.

"I know," Sam said, all somber and introspective, "But think about it, Dean. My visions were always about other children like me. Well…there aren't any others left, remember? What would I need the visions for? The only reason the other powers aren't coming up is because I'm not letting them. Last night, I…I don't know what that was. I was just so…angry."

"Sometimes that's all it takes where power's concerned," Sasha offered. He was handling everything so easily, but then he was an incubus, an otherworldly creature himself, so there probably wasn't much that would freak him out.

"Get on with it, Sammy," Dean said, figuring they might as well go all in since they had come this far, "I don't even know all the powers myself. Only ones I've seen in Sam are the visions, that move stuff with his mind thing, and…well, that's it. The others had different ones, right? What, there was…telling people what to do and they couldn't refuse. Crazy strength." Dean meant to rattle off more but really, that was all he knew about. Sam hadn't been all that forthcoming with what the other peoples' powers had been.

It looked like he was ready to be forthcoming now though. "There's also…well, there was this girl, I never saw her use it, but…she said she stopped people's hearts just by touching them. Killed her girlfriend on accident."

Dean felt a shock go right through him at hearing that. Fuck. What if that had been Sammy's power? What would they have done then?

"And, uh…Ava, at the end, she…she could control demons. I saw it with my own eyes, Dean, it just…did what she told it to. I mean, that's gotta be the key, right? That's what the yellow-eyed demon wanted. Someone to lead the army."

Now they were getting ahead of themselves, Dean thought. He hadn't thought Sam meant to let Sasha in on everything, but in those few sentences he had basically handed over their deep dark secrets and said go ahead, be curious, ask away.

And naturally, Sasha was looking mighty interested in hearing more. Then, before Dean knew it, they were telling Sasha everything. Everything they knew anyway. About the powers, the others kids like Sam, the yellow-eyed demon, and about what happened at the Devil's Gate. Sasha knew quite a bit himself actually, but they were filling in the blanks, and when they were finished he didn't look at all weirded out.

Again, Dean felt he had to contribute that to the incubus thing.

"Wow," Sasha said, "Guess that explains why so many hunters aren't too happy with you guys. Everything sort of looks like…well…your fault." He held up his hands immediately upon seeing the affronted looks on the Winchesters' faces. "Hearing the facts I can see that it's not, so don't worry. The Devil's Gate, all the demons, or the mess with those other kids with powers. Things don't look too good for you guys though from most hunters' perspectives. Good thing Ellen's so open minded, huh. You'll need friends like her. And me if you'll still keep me." He flashed his usual smile.

Dean had to admit, he was beyond happy to see Sasha completely back to normal. Last night he had still been a little unsteady on his feet. Now Sasha was Sasha again. And…

Wait. What was that about Ellen?

"Open minded?" Dean repeated, staring at Sasha with something close to accusation. "You saying Ellen knows you're an incubus?"

Sasha's face went blank. "Uh…"

"She got us together knowing you were an incubus and didn't say anything?" Dean didn't mean to sound upset, but…yes he did. "What was all that stuff you said once about her making you promise you'd be honest with us? The whole 'I-drink-in-sexual-energy' thing just sort of fell by the wayside, or what?"

Sasha was squirming now. Dean was the one speaking, but Sam's gaze had hardened quite a bit too. "Look, being an incubus wasn't included in things to tell the Winchesters on either of our ends," he explained, "And the reason is because…because she knows how difficult it is for me to work with other hunters, and Ellen would never ask that of me. I had to be honest with everything else, and I have been. Come on, Ellen knew you could trust me, otherwise she wouldn't have helped set this up. She didn't tell you for my sake. Don't be angry with her."

"How did she find out?" Sam asked then, and didn't actually sound all that upset, just interested.

A sly smile hooked around Sasha's lips at that. "I was…sort of desperate. I'd gone over a month without sex, hazard of the trade, ya know, and if I didn't find someone soon I was going to frenzy and just…jump the first person I came across. Not good. The Roadhouse was the closest place, and…like I said…I was desperate…" There was a blush spreading over Sasha's cheeks.

No way. That just couldn't be it. But the more Dean played over what Sasha was saying, the more his mind steered in one direction. "You…fed off Ellen?"

Apparently Sam hadn't been thinking like Dean because upon hearing Dean's assumption a very strangled cough sounded from the other bed.

Sasha didn't say anything but his silence said more than enough. That and the blush.

Sam started trying to make verbal sense of this. "How…but she's…Ellen wouldn't…you must have…" Sam shook his head. He just couldn't get the words out.

While the younger Winchester's brain continued its meltdown, Dean was trying his own way to sort through this new information. Part of him wanted to ask about the circumstances, the details, the how and why Ellen didn't just kill the guy. But then Dean would still be thinking about this, and the more he thought about it, the more his brain painted pictures of Sasha…and Ellen…together. Ellen was an attractive older woman, but it was sort of like picturing your brother with your mother.

Nausea inevitably ensued.

"Let's just…forget we found that out." Dean said finally, "We need to start working out this succubus stuff anyway. But while we're in the…sharing mode," he added, "there is one thing I still want to know." Dean looked over at Sasha and, as much as his better judgment told him not to, he allowed his eyes to travel down the incubus' body.

Sasha was wearing a long sleeved black shirt and jeans. Normally, the shirt would be perfectly long enough, but the way Sasha was leaning back on the bed made it hitch and his pants were hanging as low as Brad Pitt's did in Fight Club. This revealed hip bones. And it also revealed the top of that pelvic tattoo.

"Okay, two things," Dean corrected, and quickly moved his eyes back up to meet Sasha's. He had been caught though, because the grin on Sasha's face made him look far too pleased with himself. "One," Dean began, "You say you can initiate someone into becoming an incubus or succubus. How? And two…are those tattoos really just tattoos or some crazy incubus thing, coz I just don't buy that a guy would willingly get tattooed…there."

Naturally, Sasha gave a hearty laugh. "Okay," he said, "Answer to number one, and you can feel completely at ease, is that the person being initiated has to willingly accept the change. There's sex involved, but it's still a conscious choice by both parties. You're not going to catch it just by being friends with me, and there's no biting or blood sucking like with vampires and werewolves. Got it?"

Dean and Sam collectively looked relieved. Even if they hadn't really been all that worried, they still wanted to know.

"And as for the tattoos…" Sasha grinned, giving Dean that same old once over, that hungry stare that made Dean shiver every time, "It is an incubus thing. You'll see when you see me transformed. Though I gotta say, I'd miss them if I was human. Apparently they're…kind of sexy. Don't you think so, Dean?" He winked. Winked. And then he leaned back barely enough to be noticeable but enough so his tattoo and his hip bones showed all the more.

And damn it if Dean didn't shiver again. "Haha…" and damn it if the inevitable laughter didn't quickly follow, "I'm…sure the ladies think so," he managed, which he actually considered to be a fairly praise-worthy feat just then.

Dean had to keep reminding himself of the bartender that left Sasha's room the other morning. The female bartender. Sasha was just a sexual being. Literally. He wasn't being serious. Oh god let him not be serious. It made Dean's mind drift to thoughts of his dream, of the pleasant part of his dream…

Heh. Pleasant. Since when was making out with a guy pleasant to Dean Winchester? Right now Dean really wished it wasn't barely nine in the morning because he could really use a drink.

"Why don't we get cracking on the case?" Sam said, sounding somewhere between amused and uncomfortable, "We only have a week. Maybe. And we have a new victim to find, remember?"

"You're right," Sasha greed, turning immediately back into serious-mode. He sat up straighter, making his hips and the tattoo disappear beneath his shirt. "I don't want to mess up again. For you, we lost Carol. But for me…soon I won't be able to count the girls I've failed on one hand. We know more now, and we're not screwing up again."

Dean couldn't agree more. He also made a mental note to do something nice—but not too obvious—for his brother later. Getting the subject changed was as much as he could have hoped for in that situation. Besides, Dean really wanted to work. The more he worked the less he would think of last night and that damn dream.

They decided to start back on Nicollet. They had a smaller range to search now, assuming the succubus stuck with the same pattern, but that didn't make the time go any faster or their hopes get any higher. Instead of splitting up, they had chosen to stay together considering Sasha would be best equipped to spot a new victim and therefore they wouldn't really cover all that more ground if they were on their own.

The first day turned up nothing though, but they weren't really all that surprised. They had made a point of staying away from last night's restaurant in case they were called as witnesses. They had been hanging around Carol rather suspiciously, and they couldn't afford to get caught up in police business. Dean was still technically wanted in several states, and Sam wasn't really off the hook anymore either. They had had to explain those little tidbits to Sasha too, and so far they didn't regret a single truth they had given him.

Close to eight o'clock and way over due for some dinner, the boys ended up back at the bar they had visited the first night. The same bartender was not working and Dean had to wonder if Sasha would have been okay going to the bar again if she had been there. He wasn't really sure how it worked with victims after the fact.

Victims. Dean had to come up with another word. It wasn't as if Sasha was hurting anyone. Prey? No, that was pretty much the same. Marks? Not much better.

"Dean, what do you think?"

"Huh?" Dean hadn't actually been paying attention to his brother and Sasha's conversation. He was too busy letting his mind wander. "What now?"

Sam gave an over-exaggerated sigh. "Dean, we asked what you thought of Sasha hanging back for a few days. Since this succubus is older and can probably sense him it might be keeping her off the map. If it's just the two of us maybe we'd have better luck."

Dean took another swig of his beer. Blue Moon again. He was really starting to like the stuff. "And, uh, how exactly are the two humans in this group supposed to spot her? Pheromone detector's bogus, remember?"

"You don't have to be sure," Sasha supplied. He also had a Blue Moon and was reaching for the last slice of pizza they had wrangled before the kitchen closed, "You find the most likely candidate and give me a call. I come and check. If she's it, great. If not, I make scarce again."

Really, Dean was listening, but he was also debating how worth it it would be to fight Sasha for the last slice. Dean always got the last slice. It was already heading for Sasha's mouth but that didn't mean Dean couldn't—no. Dean shook his head. Focus. "Sounds tedious," he said, thinking about how fun it would be to scavenge for girls with dark hair and blue eyes with his brother while Sasha did…what exactly?

"It's the best bet we got," Sasha shrugged, "Use your judgment. There aren't that many places to check now, and there really aren't that many girls who fit the MO either. Attractive. Blue eyes. Dark hair. And now we have better questions."

"Any crazy chicks hanging around," Dean supplied. Then he wondered, "Hey, you got a description for us?" he asked Sasha, "I mean, one we could use. I know the succubus was transformed when you saw her but…hair color maybe?"

Sasha looked a little put out, like he couldn't believe he hadn't said something about that earlier. "What an idiot," he said, meaning himself, "I didn't see much but she was definitely blonde. Like platinum. If we do this with me keeping hidden, you better watch out for her too. She might know hunters when she sees them, even if she only saw me the other night. Don't take the whole sex vampire thing for granted," he added with a grin, "We're stronger than humans."

Oh, Dean didn't doubt that. He didn't want to test it either.

Dean was about to ask Sasha another question, but Sasha' attention seemed suddenly elsewhere. Dean followed his friend's gaze and found a table a ways away filled with four rather attractive girls and one guy. They definitely looked like they could use a little more testosterone, and Dean knew exactly what was going through Sasha's mind. To be honest he was sort of thinking along those lines too, only he didn't have the excuse of survival.

"Okay, I'm gonna be completely honest with you guys," Sasha said, at first not even moving his eyes from that tempting table, "Usually when I'm on a hunt, once I start closing in I make an effort to be at my best. Well, my best comes from being…well fed, if you get me."

A small chuckle left Dean. Sometimes he wondered if his best came from the same thing.

Of course Sam had to go and look all ruffled and uncomfortable.

"If it bothers you…" Sasha started, hardly able to ignore Sam.

"It doesn't," Dean jumped in. He cast is brother a nasty glare. "Consenting adults don't bother us at all long as no one gets hurt. Right, Sammy?"

Sam had the decency to look ashamed, and with a forced smile, he nodded. "Right. Sorry. I think I'm gonna head back and do a little research again anyway."

Great. That meant Dean wouldn't be going back to the room any time soon. Of course it also meant he could join Sasha at that table. Sasha couldn't go home with all of them and Dean was way overdo for some fun himself. "You do that, Sammy," Dean said, "I'm sure Sasha and I can find ways to entertain ourselves." Dean grinned at Sasha and gave a little nod towards the table. The girls had started to notice them too.

Sasha grinned back. Apparently he liked the idea of some company, which was fine by Dean because he was looking forward to a different kind of company later tonight.

Dean woke up with a groan. He couldn't remember how much he had to drink after Sam ditched them, but it had been way too much. He was also pretty disappointed to discover that even in his drunken stupor he hadn't gone home with anyone because he was in his hotel bed alone. Sam must have already gotten up because the other bed was empty and Dean could hear the shower running.

That's right, Dean thought as the night started to come back to him. Most of the girls had turned out to have significant others and were loyal through and through, which Dean had to admire even if it disappointed him. They had had a good time regardless, and Dean was pretty certain Sasha had returned to the hotel with one of the few single ones anyway. At least, he thought he remembered two people help him to bed, and neither was his brother.

Dean shook his head to clear it. He needed coffee. He got up and made some with the complimentary stuff in the room, knowing it would be more akin to sludge but not being too picky at this point. Once he had his cup he gave the bathroom door a knock.

"Sammy!"

Eventually there came a muffled, "What!"

"I'm gonna go check on Sasha! Didn't want you bursting a vein at finding me gone!" Dean chuckled to himself. He loved calling Sammy on his over-protective nature.

There was some form of obscenity thrown back, but Dean just smiled, took another sip of his coffee, and went out into the hallway. This time he was wearing what he actually wore to bed—one of his own T-shirts and a pair of shorts. He gave Sasha's door a knock. The girl might still be in there, but they had a case, incubus friend or not, and needed to get back out in the field.

"Hey! You awake in there!" he called.

There was some shuffling and a few minutes of silence, but finally, Sasha appeared in the doorway, a little mused and only wearing his boxer-briefs. "Dean," he smiled, running a hand through his too red hair, "Didn't think you'd be up before me. Sorry you had to sleep alone, man, but I didn't think you'd want to share."

Dean laughed. "Funny," he said, and then tried to look around Sasha into the room, "She still here?"

A strange look of embarrassment took hold of Sasha's features at that. "Uh…"

"Shit, I'm so gonna be late for class!" came a voice from inside, and it was decidedly not female, "I gotta catch the bus to the U."

Dean could only stare as a cold chill crept up the back of his neck and the one guy from the table last night appeared next to Sasha.

He was shorter than Dean with dyed blonde hair, glasses, and the look of 'serious student' about him. Dean remembered the guy who he had assumed was just guy-friend-of-bunch-of-girls, who existed in droves as straight men everywhere. This one…apparently wasn't.

The guy noticed Dean and cast him a quick smile as he slung his bag over his shoulder and straightened his glasses. He had obviously dressed in a hurry because his shirt was only half buttoned.

"Hey, great time last night," he said to Dean, and then turned to Sasha and leaned up for a quick kiss, "You too," he said, and there was more innuendo in the way the guy said that than Dean ever needed to hear. "Gotta go!" the guy said then, and he was gone, zipping down the hallway.

Dean wasn't really sure how long he stood there, but by the time he had the sense to take another swig of coffee, it was already getting cold.

"I don't see why it's such a big deal."

"It was a guy, Sammy."

"So. He's an incubus. I don't think it really matters."

"I'm not talking about feeding here, I'm talking about sex."

"No, you're talking about Sasha being perfectly okay with having sex with women and men. Which freaks you out because it means he might not be entirely joking when he hits on you."

Dean opened his mouth. Nothing came out. How did he respond to that? He hated it when Sam was so thoroughly and completely…right.

"Look, Dean," Sam started, leaning back against the wall of the building. They were standing outside the Guthrie Theatre with half finished Starbucks and several more blocks to cover before they could take another break. "I know you're not comfortable with people who are gay, or the subject of people who are gay, or anything even remotely related to people who are gay…"

Dean grimaced. "I am not a homophobe," he said vehemently.

And suddenly there was Sam's understanding look, which always seemed patronizing to Dean. "Homophobic doesn't only mean the violent kind Dean. You're okay with people being gay and loving whoever they want just so long as they don't do it around you."

Again, Dean opened his mouth, because there had to be a comeback to that, but with a very prominent scowl he drew another blank.

"Well, you're in luck," Sam said, taking a quick drink of his vanilla mocha, "I don't think Sasha can even be classified as gay, or bi, or however you want to say it. I don't think you can categorize an incubus. Some have preferences, some don't. Sasha clearly doesn't. I mean, he can't have much for standards if he keeps hitting on you." Sam smirked around his frou-frou coffee drink.

Dean, glaring murderously, took a drink of his overly priced black coffee, and started to consider the benefits of fratricide again. "So what was with you telling me he wasn't serious, huh? That he was just messing with me?"

"He is. Was. I think he was. I don't know, I guess I was just messing with you too, so…I could have been wrong." Sam smirked again. He was having way too much fun with this.

They had awhile until they were supposed to check in with Sasha and give their report. Nope, haven't found anything. Again. Dean was getting really frustrated. He couldn't concentrate because every time he tried to focus he got a picture in his mind of Sasha with that guy. All this time Dean had been banking on Sasha being straight, or at least that he preferred women if he wasn't supposed to categorize. But now there was proof that Sasha really didn't care either way and that meant…

What? It didn't have to mean anything. Really, it could just explain why Sasha finds it so easy to tease Dean, not that he means his advances seriously. And why was Dean obsessing anyway? So what if Sasha was serious? What would that matter? Sasha wasn't about to try anything if Dean didn't want him to. Sasha just wasn't like that.

Dean really needed to stop thinking about this. He decided the subject had to be changed. Then he looked up and he realized he had the perfect topic too, ready and solid right before his eyes.

"Uh…Sammy? You see that chick over there?"

Sam looked towards the river and could see a woman with black hair and blue eyes about to walk past the Guthrie on the sidewalk. "Candidate?" Sam questioned.

"Victim," Dean said firmly, "Check out her friend."

It was so obvious that Dean felt pretty good about having spotted the pair first. And Sam said he wasn't observant enough.

The women hadn't been together a moment before, but the second one was catching up to the first now, and they clearly knew each other. The woman with black hair and blue eyes smiled in greeting to her friend, who Dean had to admit was blindingly beautiful and had the most brilliant platinum blonde hair he had ever seen.

"Met her yesterday and now making second contact?" Sam said, and though it was a question, it didn't really sound like one.

Dean nodded. "Call Sasha."

tbc...