Further proof that your authoress really is as evil as you think...

Part 8: When I Lie to You

Suddenly, they were both teenagers, fighting over something that could be easily solved simply by talking it out, and instead all they could do was sit and stare not at each other, wishing it all away. Things like this never just went away. This wasn't Sam staying out late trying to grasp some semblance of a normal life while Dean worried at home. It wasn't the opposite either with Sam fretting because Dean had been drinking too much or bringing home strange women too often when Dad was gone for weeks without calling. This was life or death, lose your soul—literally—kind of stuff. Keeping quiet wouldn't help anyone.

Dean still waited for Sam to speak first, holding stubbornly resolute and knowing that Sam would break eventually—he always did. It needed to be Sam who started to talk, it needed to be Sam who realized where he had gone wrong. It needed to be Sam going to Dean and proving that he could still be trusted because he would always be honest when Dean needed him to be.

It was the greatest mercy that Sam didn't disappoint.

"He told you, didn't he?" were the first words to fall from Sam's lips, bitter and accusing, "I'd say, so much for having friends, but I suppose this is Sasha trying to be the better friend and make sure I don't fuck up again. I must be pretty messed up for him to think he needs to do that, huh?" Sam wasn't looking at Dean any more than Dean was looking at him.

There was a water stain on the wall. "You tell me," Dean pushed, staring at the brown and faded yellow color. He wanted to yell, wanted to be angry that Sam was keeping secrets—Sam always kept fucking secrets—but he knew he wouldn't get anywhere if this escalated into a fight before they actually talked. It was difficult for him because part of him really wanted that fight.

But for whatever reason, Sam didn't. The younger Winchester deflated, falling forward to rest his elbows on his thighs and scrubbed at his face. "Dean…we can't just stop now, you know that. We're so close. For a minute back there I could sense where every last one of those demons from the Devil's Gate was. I brought them to us. I could have ended it. I could have saved you. The power's right there, Dean."

"Sammy," Dean shook his head, "Even with all that power from the mine you couldn't handle it. There were too many of them. It almost killed you."

"I just summoned too much," Sam jumped in on his defensive, "Too many other things. If I focused only on the demons, just the demons." Sam had turned to look at Dean but when he started to continue he stopped short.

Those hazel eyes were boring into Dean so that he had to meet his brother's gaze or risk getting a hole drilled into the side of his head. Sam wanted approval. Dean just shook his head again. "Can you still feel the demons like you could before?" Dean asked, already fairly certain Sam couldn't or maybe the idiot would have already tried something.

"No…" Sam answered like a breath.

"But the power's still in you," Dean said, remembering what Sasha had told him, "You just don't know how to access it, is that it? Or you do know but you also know that tapping into it means bringing down whatever final barrier is left between you and…and whatever Yellow Eyes triggered. I thought once that if you just gave in, maybe you could control it instead of it controlling you, but we saw what being immersed in all of that power does to you, Sam."

"It's not the same thing!" Sam snapped, hand gestures more fervent as he answered with angry conviction, "In the mine I was being influenced by an outside force. This is me, Dean. Just me. I can still control it, I know I can."

All the reasons that Sam was wrong seemed too obvious somehow, too easy, worrying Dean even more because Sam wasn't seeing them. "Then why did you tell Sasha you were scared?" Dean said, "If you really believed that you could control this then you wouldn't need my blessing. You'd just do it. Don't get me wrong, thank god you're still enough in your right mind to wait and weigh the consequences, but Jesus, Sammy, you're talking about risking everything just so you can summon and kill these demons to save me. What about the hosts, something you used to care about at the thought of using the Colt? Or are you really going to sit there and tell me that all those bodies left behind at the mine were already dead when the demons took them?" It was a harsh thing to say but Dean could still hear the sounds of those demons, screaming in agonized human voices as Sam eradicated them.

The desired affect was achieved; Sam slumped further. "I…I wasn't thinking. I could have done better. I can do better next time," he tried to say firmly, but it just came out lost and searching, knowing he was trying to convince himself more than he wanted to convince Dean.

"Sam," Dean said steadily, "When you believe you can handle it then I'll believe it too. But right now you don't. You're not sure, not really. Being scared of this isn't a bad thing, Sam, it means you're still thinking. I'm not worth risking this."

"Hn, right," Sam huffed, "You're not worth anything, how could I forget," he said with sudden poison.

Dean's brow furrowed so much in response to that it hurt. "Hey. I'm not throwing my life away here. I want to keep trying. But using the slow and steady way that means no one else is at risk. We've been doing fine without the overdrive. There's well over a month yet till the deal's up. We have time."

"You don't know that," Sam countered, "You don't know for sure if we can exorcize them all in time. You're just scared. You're scared. Dean Winchester who isn't afraid of anything is scared, and the thing you're most afraid of right now is me." Sam's eyes were swimming, his voice shaking as he spoke, but he didn't stop. "I didn't need to read the fear from your mind in the caves to know it was there, Dean, it was pretty damn apparent. I…hate that. I hate having you look at me like this. You don't look at Sasha this way, you know you don't, just me. Just your freak of a brother."

"Sammy…"

"No, Dean, I'm a freak. I know that. The fucking Anti-Christ waiting for the right push to send me over the edge. And you're the only thing standing up there with me trying to hold me back. You can't hold on forever, Dean," he said deploringly, "And Sasha isn't strong enough to carry both of us."

Dean didn't like where this conversation was going. He hadn't liked it when they started. "What are you saying to me?" he shot at his brother. Neither of them was watching the stain on the wall anymore, they were on the edge of their beds, facing off against each other. "It's just inevitable, is that it? So I should just let you fall now and at least I'll still be able to save myself? It doesn't work that way, Sam. You're not the fucking Anti-Christ."

Another self-deprecating huff. "You don't know that."

Again, that phrase. "Yes, I do."

"How? How can you know for sure that I'm—"

"Because you're mine!" The exclamation exploded out of Dean before he could censor himself. Realizing what he had said and how he had said it, Dean had to wonder if some of those dark pheromones were messing with his thinking. "You're my…responsibility," Dean amended, his pulse too hot and fast as he tried to calm himself again, "I'm not gonna let it happen. I mean, shit, Sammy, that's just not you. Outside force, maybe, but not you. I don't want you risking anything you don't need to risk. You were talking about fucking world domination in that cave, for chrissake. I'm pretty sure that isn't one of your underlying ambitions."

Sam looked a little startled and embarrassed to hear that, which was fine by Dean because it took the focus off of how embarrassed he was for calling Sam 'his'. There were several things that seemed hazy for Sasha and Sam about what happened in the mine. Maybe all that 'Sam can give us the world' shit was one of the haziest.

"Not coming back to you?" Dean asked, "I was kinda hoping you could explain that little point, actually." Actually, Dean really wasn't. He hadn't been lying when he told Sarah before that he was kind of glad he didn't know what Sam and Sasha meant by all that, but as a hunter he knew that it was always better to have as much information as possible.

Those fierce hazel eyes weren't focused quite so intently anymore but distant. Sam sat back, lost in thought before he spoke. "I…I don't know. I guess it's kind of like a dream," he said, "You know when you're somewhere or with someone you don't know but in the dream it all makes sense? I knew exactly what I was supposed to do, what my purpose was. But now…I don't anymore. Like it's closed off, no access. Guess I lost my 'Villains Only' card or something," he tried to say with a smile.

Even though Malak said he wasn't the culprit behind how all of this was connected, Dean was willing to bet that the bastard still knew who was. It kept Dean from being able to return Sam's smile, weighed down as he was by plaguing thoughts.

Sam's smile shriveled then, his eyes turned down and wet. "It felt…" Sam tried, closing his eyes tight for a moment to stay tears that slipped free anyway, "It felt so good," he admitted with anguish in his words, "I knew what I had to do and I wasn't afraid anymore. I finally understood. Everything was so…clear. And part of me wants to feel that again so badly…" Sam's voice trailed. Suddenly, he was meeting Dean's gaze again and everything shattered. "God, Dean, please don't look at me like that," he pleaded.

It was like a blow when the puppy eyes shifted from hurt and scared to purely drowning. Dean wanted to do what he always did—save Sammy. But it wasn't that easy anymore. He couldn't throw the life-vest out as far as Sam had gone; Sam had to swim a little too and meet him halfway.

But Dean never wanted to look at Sam like he was a monster. He didn't see Sam as one. God, he was trying so hard not to.

"Sammy…do you remember, way back…you asked me once if doing this job ever scared me. Even used that I sleep with my knife under my pillow as proof I gotta be afraid some of the time. I said that that wasn't fear. Just precaution." Dean stretched his mouth into a smile even though he knew it had to look like the sorriest attempt at the real thing. "I was lying. Truth is…I couldn't do this job if I wasn't scared. Dean Winchester who's not afraid of anything? Come on, anyone who'd think I'm not afraid of anything is an idiot. To be able to get out of bed everyday and hunt the things we hunt I had to accept a long time ago that there are always going to be things about this job that scare me. But I can't let that matter. Now I don't know if that's brave or stupid, knowing how fucking scary something is and still going after it. Frankly, I don't care. But however you might think I'm looking at you, Sammy, you are not one of the things that scare me."

Immediately, Sam's posture shifted to signal he was about to protest. Dean was so not letting that happen. He held a hand up to silence Sam before his brother could even begin.

"Dude, I'm afraid you'll get in too deep," he admitted readily, "Afraid I'll do something stupid to push you off the edge instead of holding you back. Afraid this is all a fucking bad idea. But I am not afraid of you." There. Dean hoped that held the finality he intended.

"Even in your dreams, Dean?"

Or not.

Shit.

Words couldn't form for a moment on how to respond to that. Dean had happily forgotten Evil-Sam's little stunt in the cave, getting all close to Dean's body so he could swipe the Colt as if he was just rubbing it in Dean's face that he knew. Sammy wasn't supposed to know about these things. "You running around in here?" Dean asked, tapping the side of his temple as he looked back at Sam.

"You know I wouldn't do that, Dean," Sam replied, his eyes still drooping at their edges and shimmering wet, "But in the cave…I didn't care. I saw all those things you've been keeping from me, everything Malak's done to you. But what I can't understand is why I had to find out like that. Why didn't you tell me, Dean?"

Right. Coz that would have been such a nice conversation.

Sam didn't wait for Dean to respond. "Maybe you're not afraid of me, Dean. I don't even think your biggest fear right now is going to Hell. You're afraid of being powerless," he said, so certain but with an expression suddenly unreadable, "You're afraid of being unable to do anything to stop all this. Can't save yourself. Can't save me. Can't make it all better. Poor Dean, the big failure." Sam's words were so vicious for a moment, mocking, but tears were starting to slip down his face and with the way his lips quivered when he tried to speak again Dean knew that what Sam was really saying was how much he hated that Dean would ever think that way. "You've never failed me, Dean," he said, choking on the words like he was swallowing a sob.

What a load of shit, Dean thought bitterly. "I watched you die in my fucking arms," he growled, angry as if Sam's harsher words had been the real ones instead of that final pitying declaration.

"It wasn't your job to save me," Sam shot right back.

"Yes, it is," Dean didn't falter, not even over the altered present tense. It wasn't a past job; it was a then, now and always job. Protect Sam. "I fail all the time," Dean went on, "Only this time if I fail it might mean the end of more than just you. It might mean more than a one-way ticket to Hell. There might only be one great cosmic thing I need to do to somehow screw up and that'll be it. And I don't even fucking know what it is. All I have is Malak hovering around me when I least want the bastard popping in for a hello either telling me that I'm right on schedule or that I'm disappointing him for missing the bigger picture. Do you know what he—she told me today when I ran out the door?"

This was not the way Dean had intended to fill the others in on the 'we've been had' conversation, but the question slipped out anyway. It left Sam with a wide-eyed expression, his tears drying and then wiped away completely as he scrubbed his face.

"You said you saw everything she's been doing to me, right? Then you know I've been having some visits. Well I got another one. This whole mess? The cave, all of it? It's all part of some other jackass' plan. Now I am sure Malak knows who but she felt more like shaking her head at what an idiot I am than being helpful."

Sam looked at Dean with a creased brow, not understanding what Dean was talking about. It irritated Dean for some reason that the almighty brains of the operation, Sam Winchester, didn't get it.

"Use your head, Sam. That barn in the pouring rain with all those demons? The way you were pulled there but couldn't feel how many of them there were? It was a setup. They even made sure I got out of the barn so you'd get all that demonic energy without me interfering. Funny how afterwards Colorado just popped into your head, huh?"

The already devastated look on Sam's face widened and shifted, his brow creasing and uncreasing as he processed all of that and came back from it horrified. "It wasn't…Malak?" Sam said, skipping past how obvious it should have been that all of this was connected and planned out, "But then who? Why?"

"Hell if I know," Dean spat, sitting up straight and feeling like he just wanted to pace. He couldn't bring his legs to move under him and lift up though. They remained planted to the floor, his body facing Sam's. "I…am afraid that I don't know what the Hell I'm doing. Okay. I'll give you that, however psychological you wanna take it to explain the things you saw about my dreams. But you stay outta my head," he growled as fiercely as he could, "You know some things now. Fine. Forget them. It's not gonna help anything. I don't need a heart to heart. I need you alert. I need you sane. I need you to stop teaming up against me with Sasha like the two of you know better than poor, simple-minded Dean. Who just. Doesn't. Get it."

Sam made to interrupt again, probably to contradict Dean's assessment of how he and Sasha treated Dean most of the time. No way was Dean letting Sam get away with that. Cutting Sam slack was what had led to all of this 'I know better' shit in the first place.

"You will listen," Dean said sharply, "This is a not a democracy anymore where you two can out vote me. We all decide together. Thinking you can overrule me, that's the way those assholes did things in the cave and that is not my brother." There was no wavering in Dean's voice or in his stare. He wouldn't allow it. "I'll say it again, Sam, and this is the last time." Dean leaned forward, elbows on his knees just as Sam was slouched forward too. Sam looked utterly distraught and for so many different reasons, but Dean took it all in stride. He would not be swayed. "If there comes a time when you know for sure, when there is no doubt or fear of becoming what you were in that cave, then you do what you have to. I won't stop you. Until then…I won't tell you to stop going at the level you have been. I won't tell you to give up trying to save me. But you will listen to me. Do you understand?"

If Dean had ever channeled John Winchester even remotely that well before, this time put all past attempts to shame. He even gave himself chills feeling that authority within him that wasn't at all an act. He meant every word, and god damn it, if he had to chain his brother to a hotel room bed or lock him in the Impala's trunk for a few days just to make sure his words were listened to, he'd do it.

The waves of emotions that rippled over Sam's face said all Dean needed for a reply. It was more in these moments than in any others, when Dean felt justified, felt strong, and Sam's power meant nothing compared to good old-fashioned brother mojo that Dean believed they could somehow succeed. In everything. Sam was looking back at him, eyes red with dried tears on his face, and there was all the trust and devotion and need for approval that Sam used to look at Dean with when he was a little boy.

It melted Dean down a little to see that expression he seldom saw so strongly from Sam anymore. The most comparable time he could remember was when Sam had gotten so desperately drunk on that case in Connecticut and begged Dean to kill him if it came to that. This time was different though because that pleading brotherly devotion wasn't born out of desperation to save himself but to save Dean. Maybe it was even desperation to believe they could somehow save each other. Now that was a mantra, new and hopeful, that Dean could put some faith into.

"We got supplies to track down and some crazy outside player we know nothing about," Dean said with a sigh, "Why don't we get some sleep, huh? Oh and one more thing," Dean added quickly as Sam had already started to get up. Expectant eyes blinked back at Dean; Sam was already being a better listener. "Dude," Dean grinned, "You gonna make a move on Sarah or what? Coz damn is she just wishing you would."

The desired reaction came again—Sam cracking into a dimpled smile despite his tense posture, reaching over the bed for a pillow and then chucking it half-heartedly at Dean's head.

Dean caught the pillow easily, chuckled, tossed it back. "I'm serious. And this was after the cave that she told me," he said, "She's not backing away from you, Sammy. Not any more than I am."

For a moment sadness curled around Sam's lips, marring his smile, and his gaze became distant again. Then he was taking a deep breath and suddenly he looked relieved, accepting. "I'm never going to become that again, Dean," Sam said with resolution and dry eyes, "I'm gonna save you. And if I have to bring down that last barrier to do it, when I bring it down, it won't be until I'm ready."

Hearing that, Dean breathed relief too. He knew his brother meant what he had said and it was all Dean needed to hear.

There were few words spoken after that, mostly teasing comments about Sarah that got a pillow thrown at Dean a little harder than the first time but made Sam smile small and boyish and genuine. Both of them just wanted to rest and not think about the unanswerable until tomorrow. They would be up early anyway and hopefully back to normal. Sam and Sasha had both remained shaky throughout the evening and Dean really needed to sleep off those new more possessive pheromones. He was quite happy how quickly he drifted off when he finally rested his head back on the pillow.

Dean's sleep was dreamless like it had been the last time he suffered pheromone poisoning. Or at least he thought it was dreamless, though there certainly seemed to be something of a dream in the first few touches.

They were a mere ghosting of flesh on flesh, a slight chill from lifted covers, and the faint huff of uneven breathing that was neither his nor Sam's. When Dean shocked fully awake at the first real and solid touch on his hip, his immediate thoughts were of Malak, and as useless as it may be Dean reached swiftly for the knife he always kept beneath his pillow.

The figure behind Dean clamped a free hand over Dean's wrist just as Dean curled his fingers around the handle of his knife. The grip was firm, immoveable, and yet not so harsh that it made Dean hiss at his bandaged wounds being assaulted. Dean was facing Sam and could see that his brother was sleeping soundly. He wanted to call out but he got the distinct impression that doing so would not be a good idea.

Then the stranger's hot breath was on Dean's face and a low voice whispered, "I know we can get kinky sometimes, Dean…but I don't think you'll be needing that."

Dean instantly relaxed and released his hold on the knife, easing back against the familiar body that had climbed into bed behind him. "Shit, baby, warn me a little. You scared me half to death over here," Dean whispered to keep his voice low.

A gentle chuckle answered him. "Sorry," Sasha said, "I didn't want to wake Sam." His voice sounded stronger even though he was whispering too and it was still the middle of the night. Dean had slept off some of the pheromones but he could feel them stir within him at this sudden appearance of the incubus so close and warm behind him, that hand on his hip and the other gripping his wrist with just the right amount of pressure.

And then there was the more prominent detail that Dean only noticed when Sasha shifted further forward. "Uhh…Sasha? Where are your shorts?" Dean nearly squeaked.

"Hmmm…" Sasha hummed thoughtfully as if he honestly wasn't sure how he had ended up naked, "Somewhere between here and the door?"

Dating an incubus really was going to be the death of Dean. "This, uhh…isn't exactly following that decision of ours to, umm…not sleep together tonight with both of us, ya know, out of sorts and all," Dean managed to ramble between hitches of breath. Sasha's hand on his hip was slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers and smoothing down his thigh. It was taking all of Dean's willpower not to flip over and pin Sasha to the mattress.

"I know…I know it isn't," Sasha breathed in reply, squeezing Dean's thigh and rubbing the thumb of his other hand over the pulse point on Dean's wrist, "It's just that I was…in the shower…and I started thinking about it. About you. And that was just a bad idea coz then I couldn't stop thinking about you, Dean, lying in here drenched in pheromones, wanting me…but unable to have me, and…okay, I'll level with you. Everything that happened today, how drained and out of it I feel, it's all left me kinda…well…"

"Starving?" Dean prompted, pressing involuntarily back against the very telling nakedness of Sasha.

The incubus moaned, almost too loudly, and Sam in the other bed stirred, rolled over and resettled facing them. It seemed unconscious, he was still asleep, but even with Sam's eyes closed and his breathing steady this was getting dangerous.

Dean struggled to hold onto that thought and it sobered him enough to dissent. "Sasha…Sam is right there. You can't be serious," he whispered, attempting to shift out of Sasha's hold and close proximity, "He'll wake up. You know he'll wake up. And if he catches us—" Dean bit his tongue to keep from squeaking as the treacherous hand inside his boxers slithered between his legs and took a sudden, firm hold. They were both under the covers but if Sam woke up there was no way they would be able to deny what they were doing. "Sasha…" Dean tried again, only to be rewarded with a firmer squeeze.

"Think of it as a challenge…to be as quiet as we can," Sasha breathed so softly his words were barely audible, "Trust me…"

The hand upon Dean began with steady pulls, eager to bring him to hardness, while the other hand, still holding Dean's wrist, moved both of their hands together to reach around Dean's body and press Dean's own palm flat against his chest. Dean trembled as Sasha touched him and also manipulated his own hand to touch himself. It was Dean's fingers that brushed over a nipple, but it was solely Sasha's large and demanding hand that pulled and twisted his length, capturing every bit of forming wetness to rub over the whole of heated flesh.

The pheromones surged to life inside of Dean, what remained of them strong enough that Dean could barely see straight with Sasha touching him like this. The problem though was that the pheromones were dominant. They urged Dean to break from Sasha's hold and take control, to hold the incubus down and have his wicked way with him, hard and unyielding. That certainly wouldn't be quiet.

"I trust you…" Dean said, trembling with lack of control and shivering in pleasure as Sasha reached further between his legs to cup velvety skin, "I-I just…don't trust me," he choked out. Because damn how he wanted to turn and claw and bite and claim. Sasha was his, damn it. His. Being this close to the incubus again, those thoughts wouldn't leave Dean alone. It was the main reason he hadn't wanted to do this, more so than any discomfort over being in the same room as Sam.

"It'll be okay, Dean," Sasha reassured him, "Already covered."

'Covered' seemed to mean something more literal because as Sasha released Dean long enough to slide his boxers down low around his thighs without bothering to remove them completely, Sasha swung a leg over Dean's body to pin his hips. The hand that had been guiding Dean's to touch himself suddenly held on firmer, pulling Dean tightly back against him and ensuring that any limb Dean might have used to get the upper hand with was now immobile.

"Guess you're just gonna hafta hold on and enjoy the ride, Dean. I'm driving this time," Sasha said with an edge of danger. His voice was soft but his hands were insistent, his body all-encompassing the way it just had Dean, all lean naked muscle pressed up against him. The thrill of it burned deep in Dean's gut, even though the pheromones were still screaming at him 'no, stop him, he's yours, yours'.

Anticipation of the coming struggle, a willing fight that would end with Dean claimed, with Dean taken, but in a way that was pure mutual sexuality just sent Dean right over the edge. It was a game, turning something that had once been only about fear into something that worked in Dean's favor. Sexual healing, Dean nearly giggled, the Marvin Gaye song immediately running through his head as that thought occurred to him. Not that he needed anything so extreme to get over Indiana anymore, but the cave was still tangible.

He struggled against Sasha's hold, giving over to the freedom of the pheromones as a playful growl built in his throat.

"Think you can take me?" Dean taunted, clutching Sasha's hand on his chest and freeing his other hand that Sasha had pinned down to grope for Sasha's imprisoning thigh and drag his nails up as far as he could reach. This made Sasha hiss and buck forward, his hard length teasing between Dean's cheeks but not yet finding an entrance. Sasha shuddered and held Dean tighter, his breath coming in uneven pants as if to speak of how much he desperately wanted Dean. The pheromones liked that because it held just as much power as being on top.

Of course Sasha had power of his own. "Dean…oh, Dean…I am going to fuck you so hard," Sasha promised in a growly whisper, "Right…in front of your brother."

All remaining common sense shot straight to Dean's groin. His eyes went immediately to Sam, asleep but facing them, the chance that he might wake up increasing as Sasha growled out purrs and Dean felt moans rising in his throat. It shouldn't be such a turn on, it shouldn't be so fucking hot that Dean's skin was on fire, but it was. Sasha just didn't say things like that. Maybe something small and meager from the cave remained within Sasha like the pheromones had for Dean. It wasn't so much that Sasha was cruel or unkind but now the incubus was caught up in it all with Dean, possessive and completely unhinged. It filled Dean with a rush of joy to know he could have such power.

Sasha's mouth latched onto Dean's neck, sucking and gnawing with the flat of his teeth. He gripped Dean's arm, the one attached to the hand that was moving up Sasha's thigh and seeking the dark places between their bodies. Quickly and firm Sasha traveled down Dean's arm until he could snatch up that other wrist and move it away. Dean whined at the slight pain and being denied. He wanted to touch too, but Sasha had him bound and planned to keep him bound it seemed.

"This stays here," Sasha whispered as he linked his fingers with Dean's and held their hands tight against their joined hips, having released Dean's neck with a suctioned pop. That was going to leave a mark. "The other one," Sasha said, patting the hand at Dean's chest, "Is negotiable."

Apparently Sasha planned to give Dean an option of where that hand might go right away because he began to move it down Dean's body. Their fingers overlapped and crossed so that part of Sasha's hand touched Dean too, but it was mostly only Dean. Sasha returned to fondling Dean as he had before but this time he pushed Dean's own fingers around the shaft and guided the first of many strokes.

A muffled whimper fell from Dean's lips. It was the combination that undid him—the pheromones' cravings, Sasha's hand manipulating his own, Sasha's dominance along with the way the incubus relished in Dean like an addict, and Sam mere feet away as unknowing witness. Dean just about lost it right then.

"Not yet…" Sasha breathed, a clear command. He removed Dean's hand from touching himself and placed it, fingers spread, at the groove where Dean's leg connected to his pelvis, so teasingly close. "Now…this hand stays here until I tell you, you can move it."

"I thought this hand was negotiable," Dean grumbled through clenched teeth. He was right on the brink and had been brought there by his own knowledgeable fingers and Sasha's direction. His body was being firmly held, pinned, encircled by Sasha, and yet with the pheromones so strong now and aching within him, it wasn't enough. Dean still wanted to claim, to take, to prove that Sasha was his, but god, he would accept anything at this point.

Even when Sasha so tauntingly said, "It was negotiable. You didn't protest. Now the decisions are mine again. Try and keep up," and then dragged his fingers torturously light across Dean's shaft and continued to climb up Dean's taut stomach and chest. He trailed down again along Dean's side before his hand suddenly disappeared so he could wet his fingers. Dean only knew they had disappeared for that reason because a moment later one of those slickened fingers started pressing into him.

He gasped and pressed back, missing the full presence of Sasha since the incubus had to pull at least a little bit away in order to fit a hand between them. Another gift of the pheromones though was that every sensation was intensified, probably because Dean wanted it so badly. The more he got what he wanted the stronger the pheromones' cravings became.

Try and keep up. Ha! That would not be a problem.

Another longer, louder moan sounded in Dean's lowest, most animal-like voice when a second finger entered eagerly and pressed insistently at the sweet spot. Further moans began to leave Dean after that like an echoing recording of sexual agreement.

It was all muted, even the moist noises and harsh panting, but Dean kept his eyes open and centered on Sam's benign face. They hadn't even begun to get this far that time Sam had awoken and assaulted them with a pillow. It must be strain from the cave, Dean figured, that was keeping Sam so still and deep in sleep.

"He won't wake up," Sasha whispered against his neck, knowing just what Dean was thinking without having to read his thoughts, "Just focus on me, Dean. Only me…"

The hand Dean wasn't allowed to move twitched, the other being pressed firmly against the side of his hip by Sasha's linked fingers. Those joined hands were for leverage because Sasha's intruding digits had pulled away and began to guide the full width of him into that tight muscle that had only slightly been stretched. If it stung to be so hastily prepared, Dean didn't feel it; he was riding on the wings of the pheromones. He never imagined, back when he was first poisoned and even kissing Sasha was a foreign idea, that giving into them would intensify their hold and feel this good.

Dean was resting on his side but leaning back on his other hip enough for his hands to remain free. That is if one hand wasn't being held tightly and the other wasn't forbidden to move. God, how Dean wanted to move that hand.

Sasha used their combined hands to pull Dean back against him as he thrust the last distance forward, hitting Dean right where it counted and spreading warmth throughout his lower half. He bit back a moan that surely would have woken Sam. The fingers of his free hand twitched again and he inched between his legs to touch himself.

"I said…not til I tell you," the incubus chided, his own free hand wedging around Dean again to grab at Dean's wrist and stop him, "The pheromones are telling you to be aggressive, Dean, to show me that you're in control. So let's burn them out…by showing them how much you're not." Again Sasha's words seemed touched by danger, by darkness even, and it made Dean shiver expectantly. He didn't feel afraid, he felt enthralled. Maybe it was just the pheromones swaying his senses but he didn't care; he had surrendered to them, to Sasha completely.

Besides, Dean could still grasp some control, and in the best way possible. "You think you're in control?" Dean whispered on trembling lips but with staunch conviction. Fuck, how he wanted Sasha to just move already. "Prove it then," Dean goaded, "Come on. Show me whose boss."

That seemed to be all the prodding Sasha needed. He clung to Dean's wrist, used their other hands to steady them and hold Dean in place, and reared back, pulling almost completely out before slamming home again. Sasha went in deep—deep—with how he pulled Dean back against him at the same time. It sent tremors all throughout Dean's body that he immediately wanted to feel again.

Sasha didn't disappoint either. The same action followed and Dean swallowed another squeak. The hand Sasha was holding by the wrist ached, straining to reach further and relieve some of the pressure building between his legs. Sasha had to know how much this was torturing him.

"Fuck…you…you, ngggnn…" Dean's eyes rolled back into his a head a moment as Sasha's fervid thrusts found a steady, brutal rhythm, "Just…just fucking…let me," he demanded, trying again to escape Sasha's hold on his wrist and just reach for himself.

"No," Sasha breathed hotly and mischievously in reply, increasing his grip everywhere so that all of Dean's struggles were forced to still, "Not til I say."

Fuck but this was exquisite torture. Damn incubus getting off on the very things the pheromones had been telling Dean to get off on. Granted, the pheromones had originally come from Sasha, meaning all this sexually driven aggression had its source first and foremost in the incubus, but Dean was dominant too damn it with or without outside supernatural suggestion. He would so be paying Sasha back for this later.

"Promise?" Sasha giggled, since Dean had unintentionally growled that out loud. Sasha's movements were quick and vicious but he began to slow them, taking his time and savoring the feeling of Dean around him and held in his arms. It was the incubus' turn to moan. "Ugnnn…Dean…the way you feel…"

That revved Dean's engine all over again. He ignored his imprisoned hand for a moment and focused entirely on pressing back into Sasha, moving as much as the incubus' hold on him allowed. It wasn't much but it brought Sasha that last bit deeper that made both of them moan in harmony. It was muffled but loud enough that Dean looked to Sam again, checking to be sure those hazel eyes—or heavens forbid yellow—were still closed.

By some great miracle, Sam slept on, barely even stirring. It made Dean feel rebellious and wicked, like sneaking a girl into his room and fucking her right under his parents' noses—not that he had ever done that since Dad was usually gone anyway. It was like making love on the balcony of an apartment, not knowing if someone would happen to catch you and see what you were doing.

Dean pushed back on Sasha again, offering his neck when the redhead began to nip and lick along his shoulders.

"The pheromones…are so strong, I can…feel them," Sasha gasped, as caught up now as Dean was, "I think they're…affecting me too. It's dangerous," he said seriously for a moment, the grip of their linked hands tightening, "I could…hurt you and…you wouldn't even know it."

Dean dismissed that thought without pausing to consider it. "You'd never hurt me," he said. Not to the point where it would matter, he thought quietly. He could handle bruising and aching muscles. He could handle scratches and love bites and a little wooziness in the morning too. Hell, he already knew he'd have a bit of a hangover from the pheromones anyway.

Appeased by Dean's faith in him, Sasha continued on, the pace of his thrusts picking up again as he finally, finally released Dean's wrist and whispered, "Now."

The first touch was too much, Dean's skin over-sensitized and so damn hot now, having laid there in waiting, needing to be attended to but denied. Dean had to go slow at first, feeling Sasha's eyes peering over his shoulder to watch as he pleasured himself, straining to reach release at the same time. That's what the incubus wanted, Dean knew. It transcended any thoughts of who was on top or who was in control, because their relationship had never been about that. It was just them. However things ended up each night, it didn't matter as long as they were together.

Both of them were soon working furiously but Dean was so pent up he wasn't sure if he could make it. He thrust back on Sasha to bring the redhead closer too but that also heightened the sensations for him. The final straw was when Sasha snatched up his hand for a moment, pulling it from his heated and aching skin, brought Dean's palm to his mouth and licked the full length of Dean's hand. The sudden extra moisture when he returned to stroking himself made Dean see stars. He was so close. So close. And Sasha was right there too, Dean could feel it. One more thrust, one more pump of Dean's hand, and both of them spilled out with another harmonious moan too loud to contain.

Sam immediately stirred.

Fuck.

Unable to think about anything other than those fluttering eyelids and shifting covers, Dean broke from Sasha's now lax hold without even trying to fully pull away. He flailed as he tried to turn over and—well he didn't really know what, but he had to do something—and simultaneously pulled Sasha out so jarringly that it definitely stung and knocked Sasha hard in the chest so that he rolled to the edge of the bed…and fell with a loud thud.

"Huh?" Sam croaked in a sleepy voice, waking more fully after that too audible sound.

Dean turned back to his brother, thrilled beyond belief that the covers were still concealing how naked and stained with bodily fluids he was at the moment. "Sammy," Dean managed, because it was the first thing he always said to his brother when he didn't know what else to come up with, "Uhh…sorry 'bout that," he tried to whisper, since whispering just seemed natural at night and in the dark even when everyone was awake now, "Umm, just, uhh…smacked my hand into the headboard. Nightmare. Don't worry about it. Go back to sleep."

For a good minute of hazy recognition and working gears, Sam just blinked at Dean. Dean was fairly certain he would be believed and that Sam would go to sleep without further questioning, but then Sam's face twisted, he sat up just slightly, and his nose wrinkled like he had caught a familiar but unwelcome scent. "Dean," Sam said with slight distaste, "If you had a wet dream from the pheromones you could have just admitted it. I'm not an idiot."

A choked giggle came from the other side of Dean's bed and he tried to cough over it. Amazingly, Sam didn't seem to notice anything but Dean's discomfort. "Damn, man…got me. Sorry. Figured you wouldn't want to hear about it. I'll just settle down for a minute and then, uhh…get cleaned up." At least he didn't need an excuse for the state he was in. Thank goodness for the cave, Dean thought, because its influence kept Sam from being able to sense things normally. Otherwise he probably would have been able to sense Sasha lying on the floor.

Sam nodded noncommittally, obviously half asleep despite his astute assumption of Dean's activities, and rolled over onto his other side. Dean couldn't see if Sam drifted immediately back to sleep or not but he had his hopes. He was sore like nobody's business after disconnecting from Sasha so hurriedly, so it wasn't a lie at all that he needed a minute to collect himself.

After he thought it was safe, Dean rolled covertly over to the other side of the bed and peered onto the floor. He expected to find a grinning naked incubus but found only bare carpeting for his troubles. Dean's head snapped immediately to the door, then to the window that was still closed. He had no idea how the redhead had managed it but Sasha was long gone. Dean even sat up—a jarringly difficult feat—and looked between the beds and the door for signs of those discarded shorts Sasha had mentioned. They were gone too.

Dean smirked to himself as he lay back down. He'd get up in a few minutes to clean off the evidence. For now he was too content, sore as he felt. The pheromones were at peace finally and Dean was in love with a ninja. He almost snorted. Life sucked lately, that was certain, but it still had its up-sides.

As expected Dean woke up feeling like shit warmed over. Never mind that the pheromones had gotten what they wanted or that Sam had let Dean sleep an extra half hour. With the pheromones fully out of his system and his body having gotten enough time to fully register everything that had happened to it yesterday, there were few places on Dean's body that didn't hurt.

His head throbbed, his wrists ached, several different muscle groups had been overused enough to be stiff, and when Dean tried to stand up to scrounge for the nearest bottle of any kind of painkiller there was a sudden twinge in his lower belly. If at any point he had thought he imagined Sasha, that particular pain was a clear reminder of reality.

"Dean?"

Oh how Dean did not want to deal with Sam's mother hen routine right now. Things would go faster if he just admitted he was hurting. "Find me some Advil or Ibuprofen and I will forgive you anything," Dean said, clutching his head like it was splitting open, which was pretty much how it felt. His wrists were still neatly bandaged but he would have to redo them to make sure none of the cuts had actually become infected.

"I've got some," Sam said with an appeasing smile, reaching down into his bag looking all fresh and awake and ready for the day, not to mention free of injury, the lucky bastard, "I'll get you some water and then I can help you with your cuts. We have another half hour before we have to meet everyone and start gathering the supplies we'll need."

Some days Dean was so thankful for his brother he could almost hug him without coercion. Later. Maybe. For now he simply accepted the pain meds and water, let Sam redress his sliced up wrists—that were fine and wouldn't even need bandages tomorrow—and forced himself to meet the day. They still had a job to do in this town and that had to be the most important thing.

Sasha made eyes at Dean all throughout breakfast. He seemed to be doing even better than Sam after a good night's sleep, but that was probably because he had gotten more than just a good night's sleep.

Breakfast was donuts from across the street in what had been Dean and Sasha's room so they could regroup and decide who would go where for supply hunting. Dean might no longer be suffering the affects of the pheromones, but that didn't mean his face didn't flush with heat every time Sasha looked at him with that appreciative stare. His bear claw missed his mouth at least three times. If Sam ever found out…damn did Dean not want to think about those consequences.

"So some of this stuff we can make do with what's in town," Sarah was saying, looking at the list they were passing around that Bobby had given them last night. A lot of things were already crossed off as things Bobby had at his house. "Jo and I can hit the hardware store for some of this," she offered.

"Actually," Dean broke in, "We should probably split up differently so there's always one of us with Sam and Sasha. Not to say I don't trust you guys," he added to brother and friend, "I'm just thinking smart. The cave's affect might reach farther the longer we're here. So…why don't you hit the hardware store with Sarah, Sammy? I know how much you're…dying to dive into this one," he smirked.

The look Sam initially shot him clearly said 'your subtlety astounds me, Dean' but his scowl only lasted a moment. Soon he was mustering a smile and nodding at Sarah. "Dean has a point. That's probably a good idea. If it's alright with you?" he prompted.

Sarah's returning smile was more patient than Sam deserved. "Sounds great," she said, "The rest of you can try Pandora's Box downtown. Jo and I found it in the phonebook before we went to bed last night. Local Magic shop so probably just for tourists but you never know. We'll meet you there. We should probably get going so we know what we're going to need to get elsewhere."

Dean all but groaned—a local magic shop. Great. Most of the time they were bogus, occasionally they were legit, and on even rarer occasions they were a little bit of both. It all depended on how you made your needs clear. At least they knew they would be able to get the candles they needed, even if they would probably be scented. "Fine by me," Dean shrugged, "After we're set, we might want to send someone—meaning me, Sarah, or Jo—to check out the cave and make sure there haven't been anymore disappearances."

"I can go," Jo offered, putting on a mask of ease, more to convince herself that she was tough enough to handle this after last night than to prove anything to the others.

"Not alone," Sam said sternly, turning the same stern expression onto Dean and Sarah, "If you were to come across someone possessed…well, none of us should be alone. But they'll be more attracted to human hosts, especially if you're close to the cave. Keep your charms on you at all times. The way this place is throwing me off, if one of you were to become possessed…I don't think I'd be able to tell."

As if to check for themselves, all three of them searched for their charms and held them up. No demons among them yet.

It was agreed that after they had gathered the supplies they needed Jo and Dean would check the cave, leaving at least one of them to keep an eye on Sam and Sasha. Dean wasn't really worried about them anymore but they weren't the only threat.

"One more thing before we go. Dean?" Sam turned to him with knowing eyes.

To be honest Dean didn't want to go into all this; he would have rather kept things between him and Sam, but time was short and it might be too dangerous to spare the others from further worry. So he explained to them just as he had explained to Sam last night that Malak had hinted at an unknown source behind all this. Well, unknown to them anyway. But since all they had to go on was possibility without any details or leads, Dean suggested they forget about that for now and focus on the hunt.

The girls took the news in stride but when they all got up to leave, Sasha pulled Dean aside for a moment, even though he was managing to appear only mildly disconcerted.

"That's all Malak said?" Sasha pressed, sounding understandably frustrated and indignant, "He didn't give you any leads or hints? You'd think he'd care that someone else is trying to mess with you."

"From the way things have been going lately I'd say this mystery person has been messing with you and Sam," Dean replied, "And according to Malak, I should be able to figure this out on my own. Whatever that's worth," he huffed, "I don't got a frickin' clue."

Sasha began worrying his bottom lip and his brow scrunched as he thought that over. "So…it should be obvious somehow?" he finally said, looking skeptical.

Dean understood that skepticism because for the life of him he couldn't come up with a single culprit, motivation, or an end goal to all this chaos. If it had been Malak that might have been different, but Dean's mind was filled with too many things. Even if the answers were obvious, Dean couldn't see them.

Regardless, the last thing Dean wanted right now was for Sasha to be wearing that scowl when only minutes ago the incubus had looked so content. When this was all over Dean was going to take Sasha out just the two of them, no matter how sappy and like a date that sounded. He still had to find a suitable new leather jacket to replace the ruined one left behind in the cave. Sasha looked so ill-prepared for the cold weather in just his thin polyester coat.

"We'll worry about it after we've sealed up the mine," Dean said, squeezing Sasha's shoulder. For now it had to be enough that Sasha forced a smile and nodded.

Dean could not express in words how much he detested magic shops. This one at least had a lot of what they needed, even a few of the rarer items once they made it clear that they were not just high school girls buying tarot cards because the pictures looked pretty.

Unfortunately, there were two things on their list that the owner of the shop insisted they wouldn't be able to find anywhere outside of Mexico. Lucky for them there was a shop right on the border in Anthony, New Mexico that carried everything. Yeah. Lucky. Anthony was nine hours away and ordering what they needed instead would take at least two days.

"So, who's up for a trip to New Mexico?" Dean grumbled as he, Sasha, and Jo huddled in a corner of the shop with what they had been able to buy.

"Scoff all you want, Dean," Jo said, arms crossed and disposition firm, "But someone's going to have to go. A straight trip there and back would at least mean we'd be here in time to meet Bobby."

"But we can't all go," Sasha dissented, "Someone has to stay behind and keep an eye on the town and the cave."

Great. Splitting up to shop was one thing but splitting up for eighteen hours could easily blow up in their faces. "Maybe you and Sam should go," he said to Sasha, "At least it would get you out of town and away from the cave."

Sasha's gaze narrowed. "We're also the strongest fighters. And if you think I'm going to leave this town without you, Dean, think again. Just because you don't believe this invisible plot against us is about you doesn't mean you're right. I'm staying."

It probably would have been easier to convince a poodle to look cute. "Fine. But I know just what Sam's going to say…"

And indeed Sam didn't disappoint. "I'm not going anywhere, Dean," the younger Winchester insisted when Dean brought up his suggestion again later. They had met outside the magic shop and judging from Sarah's bulging bag they had been much more successful at the hardware store. "I know I'm all but useless sensing anything other than the cave right now," Sam went on. His eyes were pleading though, not superior, so at least Dean knew Sam had taken his words to heart. "But I'm still the most likely person to be able to handle whatever's here. Do you really want to have to use the Colt on every possessed passerby you meet?"

Damn did Dean hate it when Sam made that many good points. "Then it's gotta be the girls coz I'm not leaving either. And don't go reading any sexist shit into this," Dean snapped at Jo, who in her defense hadn't made any move to dissent, "I'm insisting because…because I promised Iain I would stay until we finished this so I'm staying. Will you just…please," he asked them.

Maybe Dean had a little bit of the puppy eyes going for him too, or it was just the combination of all of them being so distraught and determined to stay that made the girls not even argue.

Twenty minutes later they were back at the motel with everything they had been able to acquire, helping the girls pack up and mapping out the fastest route to take them to Anthony. The shop owner of Pandora's Box called ahead for them, reserving the items they needed. The girls would get there in good time but even if they turned right around—which they planned to—they would arrive back in Castle Rock some time in the middle of the night. Bobby would probably be arriving about the same time. Dean already knew that he and the others would be waiting up and chances were that they would head right out to the mine and take care of things as soon as everyone was together, magic hour or not.

Dean didn't miss the way Sam took Sarah aside before the girls left, pulling her around the car to better hide them from everyone else's view. Dean tried not to watch or eavesdrop too much but he was pretty sure the 'I'm sorrys' had long since worn out and that Sam was saying something with some actual weight to it for a change.

Just when Dean had managed the courtesy to look away, Jo and Sasha were simultaneously nudging him. He glanced over again and Sam was already pulling away from what looked like far too chaste a kiss considering how passionately he had kissed her goodbye those two years ago in New York. Small steps though, Dean figured. That was good enough for him.

"Just get there, get what we need, and head on back," Dean said as Sarah and Jo prepared to drive off, "We'll call if anything comes up."

Part of Dean was antsy that they hadn't checked on the cave like they originally planned. They had decided that Sarah's hunch that demonic activity would be down after Sam banished all those things the other night made enough sense that they could let it go. Dean wouldn't go to the caves alone and he couldn't bring Sam and Sasha along for risk of, hell, he didn't even know what. Further contamination? They hadn't reacted until they were in the heart of the mine before. Still, it wasn't worth the risk.

The worst was the waiting game. There wasn't anything the three of them could do but stay inside the hotel. Sam spent most of his time trying to see if he could filter through the demonic noise of the cave and sense anything else in the town, any waiting bad guys or hidden demons. After a while though Sasha went over and touched Sam's shoulder, asking him to rest because he looked like he was in so much pain when he was straining like that.

Only when Sam went to the bathroom did Dean find himself alone with Sasha for the first time since their not-quite-alone tryst the night before. Dean couldn't help leaning into Sasha as they sat on the bed, watching reruns of Nightrider. "That was pretty naughty, you know. Last night," he whispered, "Sam would kill us if he found out. How'd you make scarce so quick anyway?"

A sly smile caught around Sasha's mouth and he shrugged in a way that reminded Dean of when they first met, that 'oh it was nothing' look that was entirely prideful. "You do know who you're dealing with here, right? That was nothing. Well, I do think the sex was, uhh…" he bit his bottom lip and raised an eyebrow in Dean's direction, "A bit more than nothing. Sure perked me back up. Did the pheromones give you a break the rest of the night? They're gone now, I hope."

"Left a pleasant reminder again," Dean said, touching a couple fingers to his temple and pressing, "But it's getting better. Other than the usual urges, I don't feel like jumping you anymore."

"Good," chuckled Sam as he came out of the bathroom, "Because you won't be doing any of that with me in the room."

Sasha and Dean both blanched as they looked at each other, trying not to laugh. Thankfully, Sam was still too preoccupied to notice. Dean wasn't really thankful for that though; it worried him. "Hey," he called as Sam collapsed onto the other bed, not looking at the TV or anything really, "Snap out of it, you're creeping me out. You sure you're not keeping anything else a secret? Coz if you're picking up on anything—"

"Dean, I've told you everything," Sam said with a sigh, "And it's…everything that's bothering me. Too much in my head. This place…I just want this to be over with so we can get out of here. I know you don't like hearing this, but…you can't understand what this is like, Dean. Not just being able to throw something across the room with my mind or even stop a heart. Right now I can feel how the cave is calling out to people. To demons. I'm just…restless."

Suddenly, Sasha was getting off the bed and going over to Sam. Before Dean knew what was happening, Sasha had hoisted Sam onto his feet and was pushing him towards his jacket on one of the chairs. The force of it all nearly toppled Sam over. "Get your coat," Sasha said, "I'm buying you a drink. You need it. We'll be back in an hour or so, okay, Dean?"

It took Dean a moment to realize Sasha was actually saying those words to him. He immediately started to get up. "What? Uhh, baby, I don't think…" but Dean trailed because Sasha was moving towards him and actually hushing him. He looked over to Sam again who seemed entirely perplexed. "Jacket," Sasha pointed commandingly. Dean was probably most surprised by how Sam immediately listened and went over to retrieve it. Then Sasha was all in Dean's space again, whispering, "Maybe you can't understand, Dean. But I can. Give me an hour. Let me talk to him. Some things," he said right beside Dean's ear to be sure Sam couldn't overhear him, "you just can't tell family. That's life, not supernatural. Okay?" He pulled back and smiled at Dean with his usual charm.

Dean didn't really see the harm in letting them go, even though he had said before that he didn't think they should be alone together, or that any of them should be alone at all, but he could never resist Sasha when he looked all sweet like that. Besides, Sasha was right. "Just that bar down the street right? You're walking?" Dean asked.

"We'll only be yards away," Sasha nodded.

"I don't really see why we need to—" Sam started, even though he had put on his jacket as asked and was ready to go.

"I'm buying you a drink," Sasha said again, finally going over to retrieve his own jacket, "Or two. Or three if it takes that many. Come on." And in a blur they were gone.

Dean would have felt left out or even like an outsider at being proven right that he just couldn't understand certain things about his demonic friends, but he didn't. He felt a great swell of love for Sasha that the incubus could step in during those times when no matter how much Sam might want to, the younger Winchester just couldn't divulge something to his older brother.

As luck would have it, Dean's night was fairly uneventful, much as tradition said he was in for an ambush. They had already eaten, Nightrider switched over to Quantum Leap, and after an hour and forty minutes, maybe less, Sasha and Sam returned just as Sasha had promised. Not that Dean had been worried, of course, but he still felt a wave of relief when the door opened.

Of course he hadn't been prepared to see a mostly sober Sasha carrying a completely drunk and stumbling Sam across the threshold.

"Dude," Dean said in an accusing tone he just couldn't help using, "You weren't supposed to get him drunk."

"I didn't try to," Sasha defended, guilt written all over his face as he eased Sam down into the nearest chair to give both of them a rest. He still had to hold Sam up at risk of the tall giant toppling over. "We started just having a few drinks, talking. I swear. I don't know what happened. I guess those girls at the other table bought him a couple Long Islands…"

Crap. Long Islands. "Sasha…" Dean shook his head, unable to hold back the grin that was quickly spreading across his face.

"They…they were really hot," Sam slurred, eyes glassy and head lulling to one side or the other, "But I don't…I don't…want them," he shook his head. The momentum of his movements almost rolled him out of the chair.

"Sure you don't," Dean nodded like talking to a child, which drunk Sam pretty much was the equivalent of, "Everyone knows who you want, Sammy. You suck at subterfuge."

"I do?" Sam blinked, falling forward onto his knees to look at Dean more closely, "Who told you?"

Sasha clung to Sam's arm to steady him. He looked up at Dean sheepishly. "I'm an idiot. Admitted. But no one ended up dead, so…that's a plus, right? I should get him to bed. His stuff's all in the other room. I can take care of him and then come back here. It's my mess to clean up anyway."

Considering the shades of green Sam looked right now Sasha might have even more messes to clean up later. "Dude, Sam's a handful sober. You sure?"

"I just came here first so you'd know we were okay. Mainly okay," he grimaced at Sam who was picking at the buttons on his jacket, "Give me thirty minutes to clean him up, get some water down his throat, and get him into bed. If I'm not back by then, send the search party, okay?" he smiled.

Dean found this too funny to argue. Sam probably needed this if he had allowed himself to drink that much. The kid was usually pretty good at keeping track of how many he'd had. "Go ahead. Be nice to the pretty incubus, okay, Sammy?" Dean teased, patting his brother's cheek to get his attention, "Since we planned to leave your asses here when we went to the cave to sort all this out anyway, I guess it doesn't matter if you sleep through it all in a stupor. Don't go blaming anyone but yourself in the morning though."

"Dean," Sam said, pointing a finger at him. Dean waited for more of that statement but then he realized that Sam's tone was more of a 'I just figured out who you are' kind of thing. Marvelous. Dean didn't think he'd ever seen Sam quite this gone before. The hangover was going to be killer.

"Come on, Prince Charming," Sasha shook his head, hoisting Sam up again and getting one of Sam's arms around him. Thankfully, Sam's room was only down the hallway though not right next door. "Sorry, Dean," Sasha said again before he left.

"Sorry, Dean," Sam parroted.

When they finally left, Dean broke out into full, unrepentant laughter. Thank goodness Sam seldom used alcohol to escape his problems but sometimes that kind of oblivion was just what the doctor ordered. He doubted it would give Sam much perspective but he hoped that Sam and Sasha had at least talked things out before Sam started drowning himself. Dean would get the details from Sasha later.

It had been only five, maybe ten minutes, when Dean went into the bathroom, was washing his hands on the way out, and noticed Sam's bottle of Ibuprofen sitting on the counter. Dean had stolen it for the day, but he had a feeling that Sam would be wanting that at some point. Maybe the middle of the night if he woke up or at least first thing in the morning. Dean was feeling fine now so he figured he could be nice and bring it over.

Dean had the pills and an extra bottle of water—better than water from the tap in cheap hotels like this one—and was about to knock on Sam's door when he thought better of it. Loud pounding noises probably wouldn't be Sam's favorite thing right now. Contrary to popular opinion, Dean could be courteous for his brother's sake. He pulled out the extra key—it had been his room last night after all and he still had a few things in there—and slowly and quietly opened the door to peek in on their progress.

He wasn't surprised that the reason the door got a little stuck on its way open was because of Sam's pants lying on the floor. Dean couldn't even imagine Sasha trying to help strip Sam down and get him into bed in that condition. But then as Dean looked down at the pants he noticed a shirt lying there too. It wasn't Sam's. It was a navy blue T-shirt. Sasha's. Spiders gnawed at Dean's gut as he lifted his eyes and pushed the door the rest of the way open.

Sam was lying on the bed, pants gone and shirt hitched up nearly to his neck. Sasha was hovering over him, wedged between his legs, shirtless and pants half down his rear. Sasha's right hand was raking so far up Sam's thigh beneath his boxers that he had almost reached Sam's bony hip, the other hand holding the back of Sam's neck as they kissed fiercely, all teeth and tongues. Sam was pawing at Sasha's chest, trying to find something to clutch onto, and Sasha was egging him on with agreeable moans and presses of his hips down against Sam's clothed thrusting until Sam gasped his name.

Dean did the only sensible thing he could think of, given the situation.

He reached for his gun.

tbc...

A/N: Hehe.