"The whole earth has been corrupted through the works that were taught by Azazel; to him ascribe all sin."

-1 Enoch 8:1

Part 9: Ascribe All Sin

Dean had his gun steady and aimed in moments, allowing the door to close behind him with an unsuitably soft click. The water bottle and painkillers had long since dropped to the floor. He cocked the hammer of the gun and snarled, "Get the fuck away from my brother!"

The redhead's back went instantly rigid, his movements stilling as he pulled away from the body beneath him. Sam, however, didn't seem to notice Dean and whimpered at being neglected, his hands still pawing at the smooth marble chest, searching out some way to reconnect.

Although Sasha's body had indeed tensed he did not seem upset when his eyes turned and looked at Dean with an unnatural light. He ignored Sam's eager hands pulling and pleading for him to continue as a cruel grin curved at his mouth like the twist of a knife.

"Dean," purred Sasha's voice from damp and reddened lips, "There you go again. Spoiling my fun."

"I said," Dean growled again, making a cautious half-circle around the bed to bring him closer to its side and to Sam, "Get the fuck off of him."

Sasha's body didn't move but he was kneeling and pulled away enough that Sam was left to lie alone on the bed. As Dean risked a glance at his brother he saw Sam finally start to cease his reaching for Sasha, the larger man's face twisting in recognition and growing horror as he looked more closely at the redhead's face and realized the position he was in as if he had been in a daze. His eyes were still glossy and unfocused from drinking when he turned to look at Dean in mute shock.

"Sammy, come here," Dean commanded, as firm and clear as he could make his words. He kept his gun on Sasha with one hand while the other reached out for Sam.

The younger Winchester looked as though he was going to be sick. "D-Dean…?" Sam slurred, wholly out of his mind and as confused as a swindled child.

"Hn," Sasha's voice huffed, pulling Dean's attention back on him, "Just like that? You didn't even pause to think about it, Dean. You just pointed your gun at me, all the faith in the world still resting in dear, baby brother Sammy. What," he said with that wicked smirk, "Don't you have any faith in me anymore?"

"Fuck off," Dean sneered, both hands back on his gun as he took a threatening step closer to the bed, "You're not Sasha. Sasha wouldn't do this. And totally blitzed or not, Sam would never mojo Sasha into bed, even as a fucking accident from too much to drink. So you get away from him right now and tell me who you are and what the fuck you've done with my incubus."

Dean refused to play this creature's game. As soon as the imposter grinned wider and stepped a foot off the bed obligingly, Dean reached a hand forward to snatch Sam up off of the bed too. Sam's limbs weren't cooperating though, and his general largeness had him toppling right into Dean. Dean was able to keep them both steady and on their feet by sheer will.

The thing wearing Sasha's face looked so damn smug it made Dean want to shoot it out of pure spite. He shouldn't have let Sam and Sasha go off alone, he knew better than that. Something must have happened at the bar, maybe Sasha went off to the bathroom alone for a moment and this look-alike took his place, he didn't know, but he knew better than to be fooled.

"I-I'm…s-sorry, Dean," Sam mumbled into Dean's shoulder, shaking and barely able to stand even with Dean's support, "I didn't…mean to. I'd never…I…I-I don't…know what happened."

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean hushed him, only one hand holding the gun again so he could keep an arm around Sam's waist and hold him up. He hugged Sam against him, carrying no blame for his brother for what couldn't be helped. "Where is Sasha?" Dean demanded of the imposter.

Sasha's voice chuckled in malicious amusement. He didn't answer.

Bastard. Dean tightened his finger on the trigger. "Where is he?" he said again.

"You're looking at him," came a smug, smirking reply.

Holding Sam tighter, Dean managed to take just one small step closer. The look-alike was only a yard away; it would be a point blank shot if he fired. "You asshole. Don't think I'll hesitate to use this."

"Oh? And what bullets are in there, Dean?" Sasha's voice taunted. He was standing so casual even if he remained still, like he wasn't really afraid that Dean might shoot. "If that's lead it wouldn't hurt me anyway. If it's iron you'll only be hurting this fine body. No, if you want to kill me, Dean, you're going to need the Colt. It's in the safe. You can get it if you like. But I think we both know this is the one body you won't be using it on."

Dean did the very thing he had just been thinking he wouldn't—he hesitated. What the hell was this person talking about? It couldn't be what it seemed to be. That wasn't possible.

While trying to play out possible scenarios in his head and think of a further plan of action, Dean suddenly felt close to dead weight in his arms and almost got taken right to the floor. He looked to Sam and saw that his brother's eyes were fluttering like he was close to passing out. Dean tried to keep his gun pointed at the bastard with them, but he had to check on Sam. He used his free hand to look more closely at Sam's eyes, barely able to hold Sam up anymore.

Damn it. Sam's pupils were totally blown.

"He's not drunk…" Dean said more to himself, gritting his teeth at his stupidity. He shifted Sam in his arms to better hold him and looked back to the man with Sasha's face. "What did you do to him?" he growled.

"Well I knew he wouldn't be able to sense me with all the interference from the cave, but that didn't mean I wanted to put up with all those other…more annoying abilities. That would have just been careless." Sasha's pants had been pulled up but they were still unbuttoned and unzipped, left open to reveal red boxer briefs beneath like this stranger couldn't be bothered to do them up again.

Dean wanted to rush the bastard but he didn't know for sure what he was dealing with. The answer couldn't be what it seemed to be. That wouldn't make any sense. But before Dean could say anything else, Sam suddenly dropped, fully collapsing in his arms so that the weight of Sam brought him straight to the floor hard on his knees. Dean hissed and cursed himself for not being able to support his brother better. "Sam!" he called, quickly smoothing back Sam's hair to search for recognition or signs of consciousness.

Sam was out.

"You…you can't be a demon," Dean shook his head, re-aiming the gun on Sasha's body as best he could from his slumped position with Sam on the floor, "That's not Sasha's body. It can't be. An incubus can't be possessed."

"Actually…they can." Still smug and collected, Sasha's body crouched down level with Dean, not attempting to move any closer but seeming that much more full of himself because of it, like it wouldn't make a difference. "It's just a Hell of a lot harder. See, I had been watching you for months looking for my in. Those damn charms," he scoffed, looking to Dean's belt where he usually kept his anti-possession charm during the day, "Most people around you too who would have been fair game just didn't seem…right for this. And then along came an incubus."

The demon stood, spreading his arms to present Sasha's body.

"It couldn't have been more perfect if I had planned it. Good thing I was patient too because the kicker? Oh, Dean," he said with a mock-sympathetic shake of his head, "That you would actually fall in love with him. That was too good to pass up. After that all I had to do was wait for Sam's powers to mature and guide him in the right direction. That energy surge was easy. The demons I used, by the way, had no idea what was really going on. They thought they were turning Sam somehow—our demon king—and that they would get to kill the rest of you and share all the power between them. A necessary sacrifice to leave a strong enough demonic signature on your boy here. My signature. And I finally had an opening."

This was more than Dean could handle. How long this had been planned out, it went way beyond that night at the barn. This was someone who knew them. He felt so stupid for assuming it was a plot to get at his brother. "This was never about Sam…" he said with a grimace.

"No. Not really," the demon smiled, looking down on Dean coolly as he gave a casual shrug, "But he played his part. I could have taken Sasha that night in the barn but Sam would have been able to sense me. It only took a few spells to amp the cave's pull here though, and oh how easily Sam followed the trail. I didn't plan for what happened in the cave," he said dismissively, "But it sure was a nice a bonus. I only needed Sam to be here and for the cave's influence to cloud his senses enough for me to make my move. But the thanks all goes to you for the final bit, Dean. Leaving Sasha all alone last night was all the opportunity I needed, the way he was still so shaky. So afraid. Vulnerable."

"Shut up." Dean had started to drop the gun from exhaustion and pained realization that this really was a demon wearing his lover's body, but now he steadied the gun again, ready to shoot out of pure rage.

In seconds the demon had pulled the gun away from him like a magnet into Sasha's long fingers. "Now, Dean. Aren't we past all this," he said with sarcastic chiding, "We both know you're not going to shoot anyway." With little care, the demon tossed the gun onto the bed and finally began to walk towards Dean and Sam on the floor.

"Fuck you," Dean ground out, clutching his brother's limp body against him.

The demon crouched like he had before, only this time right in front of Dean so that they were mere inches apart when he said, "Don't you remember, Dean? We already did that."

It seemed like such a strange and weak comeback that at first Dean didn't understand. Not really. Not the full brutal brunt of it. But as comprehension built slowly within him, his mind played those words over again. Suddenly, he felt so nauseous he almost keeled over next to Sam.

'Leaving Sasha all alone last night was all the opportunity I needed…'

Last night. Before Sasha came into Dean and Sam's room for their midnight rendezvous.

"That wasn't you," Dean shook his head fiercely, wanting so desperately to believe that.

"You sure?" the demon said with a quirked smile. Then Sasha's blue eyes were closed and his face twisted in mimed pleasure. "Ugnnn…Dean…the way you feel," he said, mimicking perfectly how Sasha had sounded last night. Blue eyes opened, sparkling unfairly as he laughed. "Haha. Oh, Dean. If only you knew how much it killed Sasha that you couldn't tell the difference."

Fury flashed in Dean's mind so blinding and so hot it was all he could see, all he could feel. He didn't think, he just pressed his hands to the demon's chest—Sasha's chest—and pushed with all the momentum of his fury behind him. He was on his feet, a mad rush into a body he usually cherished, leaving Sam behind him on the ground until he had slammed the demon into whatever hard surface came first—the wall beside the bathroom.

Dean howled, images and feelings from last night swirling all throughout his memory and making his blood boil with hatred.

"Get out!" he screamed at the demon's malignant use of Sasha's face, "Get out of him right now, you fucking bastard!"

That same laughter was Dean's reply, too cruel to bear because it was just Sasha's voice almost like it normally sounded, as if the incubus himself were laughing in Dean's face. "Dean," he grinned, allowing Dean the harsh hold he had on Sasha's bare shoulders, "I thought it was fun riding Sam. But this…this is even better."

The first thing Dean thought of was that the demon was referring to what he had walked in on. But when he looked into what should have been Sasha's eyes, blue and beautiful, he saw something dark and familiar, and he knew the demon meant its words differently. "Meg…?" he realized with trembling lips.

"Bingo," came another laugh that sounded too much like Sasha, "Not as dumb as you look, huh? That poor girl. She's going to be remembered forever as a demonic bitch and all she did was walk home in the wrong place at the wrong time." The grin on Sasha's face widened. His eyes flicked shut for only a moment, like the shutter on a camera, but when they opened again they were all-over black. Almost. It was as if there were cracks in the black trying so desperately to be Sasha's red, making his eyes look like the burnt embers of molten rock. "I was Meg. Then I was Sam. Now I'm Sasha," he breathed in Dean's face, so close that Dean felt trapped by those strange, jarring eyes, "And I wanna play."

Like a burst of air from within Dean's chest, a great whoosh suddenly shot him across the room. He struck the opposing wall hard enough that he was entirely winded when he crumbled to the floor. He probably should have expected that but he was just so angry, so buried in furious disbelief that he could barely think straight.

"Come on, Dean. Don't you want to play with me?"

Dean looked up, pain blossoming at the back of his head and throbbing throughout his shoulders after impact. Sasha's tall, lean body was stalking towards him with that awful grin and sure strides. "I'm going to kill you, you bitch," Dean promised.

The demon—Sasha—Sasha's perfect wonderful mouth—Meg grinned. "Not without killing Sasha you won't," she said.

Sasha's body reached Dean finally and a hand grabbed him too easily by the scruff of his layered shirts, lifting him from the floor and slamming him back into the wall he had only moments before been thrown into. He ached and Sasha's body with Meg's added power was just so damn strong.

"Not that you'd even have a chance at trying, but if you were to attempt an exorcism…" she chuckled darkly, "See, what makes it more difficult to get inside an incubus also makes it harder to get rid of me. It's the demon blood. Sort of…fuses us together. Makes my powers stronger. Makes my ability to use Sasha's powers stronger too. Fun trick, huh?"

Pulling back as best he could, which wasn't much at all, Dean tried to avoid how close Meg was bringing Sasha's face to his own. It was so unfair how much the incubus still smelled only like himself and yet Sasha was merely a prisoner and spectator in his own body, maybe he wasn't even conscious, as Meg called the shots and made him do these awful things. She had been inside of him since last night, almost twenty-four hours, and no one had been able to tell the difference. Not even Dean.

He had failed again.

"So you see, Dean, with me and your little incubus here all tangled up," Meg was saying, "An exorcism without me leaving willingly…would kill him."

That brought Dean out of his self-effacing reverie and he almost snarled. He could still move his arms, and while he had at first instinctively brought them up to pull at Sasha's hand holding him off the ground, he clawed at that hand now. He was shaking and not at all from fear. This had nothing to do with fear. He wanted to rip Meg out of Sasha's body with his bare hands for her even daring to do this to them.

"Oh…Dean," she whispered with great satisfaction, pressing in close so that Dean's arms became as pinned as the rest of his body and all he could do was struggle to breathe.

He knew what she was trying to do, the way she moved Sasha's hips in line with his own, brought Sasha's lips to his ear and breathed hotly on his skin.

"I was going to kill you last night. When I was…fucking you," she whispered, shuddering as though she took the greatest pleasure in having done that to him, "But you see, fun as it was to watch, the whole cave thing didn't really work in my favor. Those pheromones?" Like before when Meg mimicked how she had faked so well being Sasha last night, Sasha's voice took on that sweet, concerned tone and said, "I could hurt you, Dean, and you wouldn't even know it," so unfairly genuine sounding. Then Meg laughed and perfectly marred it. "Where would the fun have been then, right? So I just…finished you off, quite nicely I do believe, and decided to bide my time a little longer. Poor Sammy didn't even catch a whiff of me all day."

Sammy.

Like a fool Dean had almost forgotten his brother, lying mostly unconscious on the floor while Dean fell sway to all the furious anger boiling within him. He knew his eyes must have betrayed his sudden panic for his brother's sake then because Meg laughed again, pressing Sasha's body to Dean so tightly that his breath hitched. It felt so familiar to have Sasha up against him like that.

"What do you want?" Dean grit out through clenched teeth, stalling for time as much as he was trying to keep his wits together. He couldn't stop thinking that this was Sasha, but it wasn't, but it was, and damn it, he didn't know what to do.

"What do I want?" Meg echoed almost mockingly, "It isn't about what I want, Dean. It's about what I'm going to do." She jerked Sasha's hips against Dean's and with him lifted the angle was just right for Dean to feel and react to how Sasha's body was still half-hard from fooling around with Sam. A whimper fell from Sasha's lips as Meg made the same motion again, just the way Dean loved to hear it. It made him sick. It made him so angry. It made him feel like he might start crying and wouldn't ever be able to stop. Then Sasha's tongue was flicking out to lick at Dean's lips. "Right now, Dean, I'm an incubus," Meg breathed into him, "I'm Sasha. And I am going to fuck you to death…with his body. But first…I'm going to make you watch while I do it to your brother."

Every inch of Dean went rigid, an unseen force pressing him firmly to the wall and holding him in place. He wanted to lunge for Meg even if she was wearing Sasha's skin, but he couldn't move, only just barely his head and neck as he stained against the demonic hold she was using in place of Sasha's hands.

Meg took a step away from Dean since she no longer needed to bother with the physical. "I was going to have you find him dead in the morning, really draw it out," she smirked. Sam's body was just behind her, unmoving save uneven breaths making his chest rise and fall slowly. "But this is so much more fun, don't you think?"

Horror was racing through Dean's head at the very idea of this happening. He couldn't form words coherently, managing only a weak growl.

"Dissention?" Meg asked him mockingly even as she was turning Sasha's body to look down at Sam so prone and vulnerable below her.

Dean had to think. He had to think. Then it hit him. "Just…a friendly warning," he said, struggling to find an even voice and not show that he had no plan, no way out of this but bullshitting, "You know about Malak, don't you? Even if you didn't before, you're in Sasha's head. You know now."

"Oh, I know Malak," Meg replied, smiling with what Dean almost took to be fondness, "What about him?"

"He's the contract holder. Owns my soul. Seems pretty happy about that too. How do you think he's gonna feel…about you messing with one of his favorite possessions?" Dean hated to even form that phrase but it was the only idea coming to him right now. All the other demons either didn't even know of Malak or were terrified of him.

Whatever Dean had hoped would be Meg's reaction, it wasn't that she would curl Sasha's lips into a wider smile. "Malak wants you in Hell, Dean. With him," she said, "You die. You go to Hell. Everyone's happy. Well, maybe not you. And even if Malak did have a problem with this…he can't touch me here. I'm not going back to the pit." Meg stared at Dean, heated and wanting the way Dean was so used to from Sasha. It was awful because she flicked her eyes shut and when they opened they were Sasha's blue again. "I think I just might keep Sasha after this," she said, starting a hand low on Sasha's hips and trailing lightly touching fingers slowly up Sasha's taut stomach, "It is such a nice body after all. Sam might even enjoy this. In fact…I guarantee he will. Sammy…" she called sing-song as she began to crouch down.

Panic shot through Dean's limbs all over again, the limbs he couldn't even twitch for how the demon bitch was force-holding him to the fucking wall. Dean watched as Meg used Sasha's hand to stroke gently at Sam's face and Sam's eyes fluttered. "Sam!" Dean yelled; he didn't stand a chance on his own, he knew that, but if he could reach Sammy before things got out of hand there might still be a way, "Sammy, snap out of it!"

It seemed the greatest miracle that when Sam's eyes opened fully, still so glossed over and distant, they didn't look up at Meg touching him tenderly with Sasha's hands, but over at Dean against the wall. "D-Dean…?" Sam trembled.

"It's Meg!" Dean immediately tried to explain, hating that Sam wasn't resisting as she rolled Sam onto his back and straddled him without ceremony, "It's Meg, Sam, she's messing with your head! Send—!" but what could Dean say? He was going to tell Sam to send the bitch back to Hell, but would that be the same as a normal exorcism? Even if Sam was in his right mind, doing that might kill Sasha just like Meg had said.

"Shhh…" Meg hushed Sam before he could respond, looking so confused, so lost. She turned his head to look at her, Sasha's body hovering over Sam's with Sam's hips between his thighs. Sam blinked even more confusion, perhaps not even remembering that they had been going at it fairly heated before. "It's okay, Sam," she said in Sasha's voice, so easily falling into a tone that was purely Sasha, comforting and trustworthy, "Dean's not feeling well. He doesn't know what he's saying. But you feel good…don't you, Sam? You feel so good…" she whispered close beside his face, Sasha's hand gently stroking down his cheek.

Dean hadn't been able to understand how Sam had allowed himself to get into this position before, enraptured and even moaning Sasha's name for fuck's sake, but now that he could see it, it made sudden, horrible sense to him. Pheromones. Meg wasn't fond of the ones from the cave, but what she could make of them with her own power amped up Sasha's strongly enough that Dean could actually see it.

The pheromones were visible, like a crimson mist that danced about Sasha's fingertips as Meg stroked Sam's face. Dean physically saw Sam breath them in, the large hunter unable to see them himself for how drugged—or whatever she had done to him—he was. Sam's eyes glazed over even further and he stared up at Sasha under the pheromones' thrall, hungry for the incubus all over again. These pheromones were so strong they didn't even need a basis of attraction anymore to work. Sam literally couldn't stop himself.

"Sammy, snap out of it!" Dean cried again, trying so hard to get through to his brother, "You know you don't want Sasha! It's not even Sasha, it's Meg! Don't listen to her, Sam! Sam!"

"Come on, Sam," Meg spoke quietly, not trying nor needing to raise Sasha's voice in order to keep Sam focused on her, "Why don't we pick up where we left off, hmm? Don't you want that…?" She leaned further over him, completely covering and surrounding him. Then, looking right up at Dean for a moment and grinning devilishly, she rolled Sasha's hips against Sam's and Sam gasped in pleasure.

It was Sam—Sam—who grabbed Sasha's face and kissed him fervently like before, deep and wanting.

Dean didn't think his stomach could tie in any more knots, he felt so sick and helpless. He couldn't get off the wall without Meg losing focus enough to drop him, and that didn't seem likely seeing as how she seemed fine with fooling around with Sam and keeping Dean pinned at the same time. But Dean knew he wouldn't be able to stand it if he was really forced to watch this. Knowing Sasha was still in there unable to stop his own body made it so much worse. Sasha had killed a girl while feeding on accident once and still couldn't forgive himself almost ten years later. If he killed Sam…

It wasn't going to happen. Somehow Dean had to either distract Meg enough for him to break free from her hold or he had to snap Sam out of his stupor. Dean couldn't be sure how strong the pheromones were, but he knew Meg had to keep Sam's attention on her for them to continue working. Sam had snapped out of it fairly quickly when Dean came into the room before.

At this point Dean would try anything. "Always had it in for Sam…didn't you?" he started in, swallowing the bile in his throat at seeing Sam's hands move to Sasha's backside and grind up into him, their tongues still tangling in tandem, "When you possessed Sam," Dean forced himself to keep talking, "It wasn't just to mess with me and see how far I had to be pushed to kill him. You wanted to be Sam. Daddy's favorite."

Sasha's eyes snapped open, no longer blue but that horrid molten black again. Sam moved to kissing Sasha's neck, unaware.

"Admit it," Dean said with a forced smirk, "You'd rather kill Sam than help continue Azazel's plans. I doubt Daddy Demon would like that. Course he's dead. I should know. But even so, you really can't stand knowing you were nothing but second string, can you?"

"Enough," Meg snarled, raising a hand at Dean that closed something in his throat, silencing him. Sam was looking impatient again, out of it as he was, mindlessly pressing Sasha's hips down against his own and licking the incubus' smooth collarbone. Meg was undeterred as she spoke to Dean. "You're right. I don't care about my father's plans. It's all part of what Malak wants too. I'm sure you've figured that. When I was in Sam? And I'm going to be in him again soon, believe me," she added leeringly, "Azazel would have never approved of it. Of me killing you like I wanted to before Malak could finally…well. I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise. You see, Dean, Sam?"

Dean flinched as Meg shifted Sasha's hips and suddenly hoisted Sam up into a sitting position, Sasha's knees bending so that the incubus was basically in Sam's lap, hips aligned and still moving. Sam made a pleased noise like a feral growl, seemingly stronger somehow like maybe the pheromones gave him just enough sense and focus for the task of sex only. He moved his hands to Sasha's back, holding him as he kissed and sucked fiercely on the skin of Sasha's flat chest that had been brought right to his face as he sat up.

Whimpering the same way Sasha would have if Dean was the one doing those things to him, Meg turned to Dean again, clearly relishing in how Dean couldn't stand this and yet couldn't look away from it either for fear of what she might do to his brother. "Sammy here…he's not as important as you think. Now, my father didn't even trust me with all the details, but I know that much."

Eager as he had seemed up until now, as Meg spoke on Dean noticed Sam slowly beginning to lose his enthusiasm as if awareness was prodding distantly at the back of his mind. Dean swallowed back the surge of hope that filled him and focused on Meg, praying she would keep talking just a little longer.

"I can't even begin to imagine what Malak has planned for you, Dean," she said, "But if you've met him, actually met him, then you've at least been given a taste, yeah? Take it from me. Whatever he may have shown you or done to you so far, it's nothing compared to what awaits you. His powers in the pit are endless. He wrote the book on imaginative torture. Literally. I almost wish I was going to be there to see how many different ways he's going to fuck with you. Also literally, I'm sure," she grinned. She was moving Sasha's hand's through Sam's hair and rolling Sasha's hips consistently, but she didn't seem to notice yet that Sam wasn't responding anymore. "When this is all over, after I've taken everything you have, Dean, I will be more than happy to send you to him."

"N-No…" croaked Sam's roughened voice, "You won't."

Meg flew back across the room with a great surge of power from Sam, slamming into that same wall by the bathroom Dean had pushed her into earlier. Sasha's body crumbled, winded and totally taken off guard. Dean would have cheered but he still couldn't speak or move, which meant that Meg was still powerful enough to hold herself together.

They weren't fairing much better with how wrecked and unsteady Sam looked either, breathing heavily from arousal and probably growing nausea, Dean imagined. Dean tried his damnedest not to notice that his brother was wearing boxers that made the tall hunter's hard-on very apparent as Sam struggled to his feet.

"So…developed an immunity to the…pheromones already, did you?" Meg said, coughing out gulps of air as she pushed Sasha's body up onto its feet as well, "Even at the strength…I've reduced you to. That's impressive." She raised Sasha's right arm like a loaded weapon and Sam was immediately pushed across the carpet. But he fought back, purely mentally at first, and then raised a hand of his own to better focus his powers. It was light side versus dark side of the Force kind of shit and Dean couldn't be happier right now that Sam was at least able to hold his own.

The standoff was invisible but palpable. Dean's first indication that Meg was growing tired was when he called out, "Kick her ass, Sammy!" and the words actually left his mouth. He was still pinned but he could speak again. Sam just needed to hold out a little bit longer.

Of course that same awful laughter building in Sasha's throat did not make Dean feel very optimistic about a successful end to all this. "Come on, Sam, you know you can't keep this up," she said, taking one slow, painful looking step closer to Sam across the room while pushing against Sam's barrier, "Strong as you are, it's still harder to control those powers than usual, isn't it? Don't you just feel so tired? So weak."

"Sh-shut up," Sam said through chattering teeth. It was like he had this awful fever but was forcing himself to fight through the sickness. It wasn't as if the Winchester brothers hadn't handled hunts with fevers before. But Meg was right. Dean could see Sam losing his footing and being pushed back again as Meg's powers overtook his own. They had to switch to another tactic.

Sam cast a quick glance at Dean, maybe to say that he had heard Dean's suggestion or maybe just to apologize for being about to attack Sasha. Regardless, Dean internally cheered his brother on when a final push of power from Sam broke his and Meg's contact and then Sam went lunging across the room to tackle Sasha's body to the floor.

When in doubt, fight dirty.

It was obvious Sam was going on pure adrenaline now. The pheromones had faded from his senses but he was still far from his best from whatever Meg had given him while they were at the bar. Brute strength might not be enough. Dean still cringed, however, when Sam laid the first punch across Sasha's jaw and there was a resounding crack Dean easily heard from his pinned position. Meg was knocked back into the wall again but remained standing, snarling with Sasha's mouth as she returned Sam's lunge, barreling into the younger Winchester until they struck the end of the bed and bounced off of it onto the floor.

In moments they were back in the positions they had been in while fooling around, only a few feet in front of Dean and grappling. Meg fought hard for the upper hand and managed to straddle Sam again, pinning him down, but Sam pressed his hands up against Sasha's chest and held them there until the skin started to sizzle and Sasha's voice cried out in pain. Meg grabbed Sam's hands and twisted away, flipping Sam over to the side.

The melting power had its moments; there were two burned handprints on Sasha's ribs. Even as Dean looked at them they began to heal and fade but that still had to sting.

Meg moved quickly to roll back on top of Sam but Sam gripped Sasha's biceps and rolled them over again, burning Sasha's arms this time so he could better keep his claim of being on top. He had Sasha's body straddled finally as he began to chant the words of exorcism.

"Sam, no!" Dean screamed even though he knew that would distract his brother to lose his firm hold on Meg. He couldn't risk that Meg hadn't been lying and that a normal exorcism would kill Sasha in the process. "It might kill him! She's too embedded! You gotta do it the psychic way!" Of course Dean understood why Sam had chosen words instead—it was so much less strain on Sam's already weary body—and Dean couldn't be sure if the psychic method would be any safer than the good old fashioned way, but it was the best bet they had right now.

"No!" growled Sasha's voice when Sam hesitated, and suddenly Sam was knocked to the side by a vicious blow to his temple. Dean couldn't help cringing again; Sam looked even more dazed as he lifted himself up and tried to quickly scramble onto his knees to steady himself, but Meg slammed a closed fist down into the middle of Sam's back, sprawling him out on the floor again. "Not…quick enough," Meg gasped.

Stunned and pained now, Sam tried to roll over, find some bearing, anything, but by the time he had managed it, Sasha's body was on top of him again.

They were so close to Dean, he could easily reach them if only he could get away from the wall. The fight had loosened Meg's mental hold on him enough that Dean could almost stretch his entire midsection forward, but his arms and legs remained pinned.

"Always did prefer doing things the old fashioned way," Meg ground out, sitting on Sam to hold him down and squeezing Sam's neck with Sasha's hands, the incubus' thumbs pressing unforgivingly into the dip in Sam's throat. Sam gurgled in an attempt to speak, his own hands coming up immediately to grip at Sasha's and burn them to get them to let go. The marks on Sasha's arm had faded already just like the ones on his chest. This time the heat didn't even seem to bother the demon. Meg held fast.

"Sam!" Dean cried. He could almost get away from the wall. He was so close.

Meg squeezed Sam's throat tighter, eyes flashing with the cracks of red behind the black and smiling in a way that made Sasha look sickening and mad. The force of the melting power was fading, Sam's hands slipping from Sasha's arms, and Sam's hazel eyes that hadn't quite been able to find their true power and turn yellow were fluttering into unconsciousness.

But it wouldn't just be unconsciousness if Sam let go. Sam couldn't let go. But as Dean watched, Sam's hands became lax and finally fell limp back to his sides, his eyes fluttering just a little longer and then all the tension in Sam's body was gone. Meg held on, squeezing mercilessly for several moments after it was clear that Sam would not open his eyes again.

She had killed him. She had killed him. She had killed Sam with Sasha's hands…

It couldn't be real.

"A shame," Meg breathed, sitting back on Sam's hips as she released his throat finally and he remained just lying there, still beneath Sasha's body, "It would have been fun the other way too."

"…Sam?" Dean choked out, leaning forward from the wall but still so far away that it didn't really matter, "Sammy," he called more firmly, unwilling to believe that Sam could really be—

"Dead, Dean. Dead again," Meg laughed with Sasha's voice, smoothing back Sasha's now damp hair from his face, "Guess you really are nothing but Daddy Winchester's perfect little failure." She was getting up. Leaving Sam there. Just…leaving him. She walked up to Dean and he snapped back to the wall as if she had tightened the strings holding him against it. "You know, change of plans," she said, grabbing Dean by the hair and pulling his face close to Sasha's as she stepped into his body, "I think I have something better in mind for you."

It was a blessing, that's the only thing Dean could consider it with how the sheer horror of what was happening was driving him mad, when Meg slammed his head back into the wall, there was a brief sharp pain, and then nothing but darkness.

Dean was positive he was going to throw up when he started to come to. He had a concussion, no two ways about it, but he would be okay if he didn't move too much. It wasn't as if he wasn't used to being battered. But what had been going on? He couldn't remember. That usually wasn't a good sign. He knew he had to come back to himself quickly. Someone might be in trouble. Sasha or Sam might need him.

Something clicked in Dean's brain as soon as he thought their names and he was certain he was going to be sick. His brain assaulted him with the memories of what had happened. Sasha and Sam on the bed. Meg. Meg inside of Sasha. 'I'm going to fuck you to death, Dean.' Sam coming to his senses. Understanding. The fight. Sam winning. Latin spilling from his lips. But Dean had to stop him. Sasha. He couldn't kill Sasha. But then…Meg had…

Sam. No…no, Sam.

"Sam…" Dean coughed into the floor, a cold cement floor he didn't like the smell of and didn't recognize. He tried to get up but everything was sore and his head was throbbing. He was certain he had been tossed down onto the cement harshly by hands that should be loving, only loving.

"There you go again," said Sasha's voice from somewhere above him. Suddenly, Dean was lifted from the floor and slammed yet again into a wall, a new wall. Dean tried to focus on where they were, some large empty room with dim lights that might have been a warehouse—it was always warehouses—but he couldn't take his eyes off Sasha's face. Sasha's face. Sasha's. "Always thinking of your brother, Dean," Meg sneered at him, "When poor Sasha's the one suffering. I really don't know what he sees in you. But then I suppose he is an incubus. I always knew you were a whore. Must be that. You sure did want it last night."

Explosions of furious grief overcame Dean so fast and hot the only thing he could do was scream. He tried to lash out, not thinking, not caring that he might claw at Sasha's skin until he found the real incubus beneath he was so hysterical. How could he be anything but hysterical? Sam was dead. Sam was dead.

And Meg was laughing with Sasha's voice. "Oh this is nothing," she said, holding Dean easily, just Sasha's hands at his shoulders, enough to keep his arms down and his body pushed back, "Think what I'll be able to do after this, Dean. When the girls get back from New Mexico, they're going to find a poor, sobbing Sasha who doesn't know what happened. I'll kill them first then work my way through all your hunter friends. Bobby. He's on his way too. Ellen. All of them. Just like I did the first time. Maybe when I'm done I'll leave just enough hunters left and find a new body so Sasha can take the blame. Imagine him living with what I'll make him do, Dean. The guilt alone," she laughed.

Dean was almost certain he was crying—empty, soundless tears—but he couldn't really feel them. He just knew they had to be there because how else could he contain himself without exploding in fragments. It was too much to hold onto, too many rancorous emotions, that Dean had to deaden himself to even begin to focus. He had to shut off, shut down. There wasn't anything worth feeling anymore anyway.

He was able to calm down even in the face of that laughter taunting him, no longer struggling as Meg held him to the wall. He knew there was nothing he could do now. He didn't know why Meg had brought him to this place, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

"Just…take me," he said, his voice sounding so distant, so far away from where he was, "Sasha has…nothing to do with this. Let him go. You want me. Take me."

"Hn. Why," Meg huffed like that was the most ridiculous idea, right in Dean's face with Sasha's blue eyes. She had dressed Sasha again too in that same navy shirt and Sasha's jacket. Dean realized then that he also had his jacket, his leather one. He couldn't care about those details though as he looked into Sasha's blues. He would rather they were the horrid molten black. "Why ditch the best ride I've had in centuries when I'm having so much fun?" Meg said.

Dean was shaking. He felt hot tears sliding down his neck, but his face, his hands, so much of him was numb. "Some…hunter…somewhere, some day, they'll…they'll stop you," he promised, "Someone will stop you. You're just another demon."

Again there came a breathy laugh warm on Dean's skin. Then Meg was actually tsking him like a disappointed school teacher. "Dean, come on, you know I'm more than a normal demon. Black eyes, sure, so I was human once. But who was my father? I was born to be a demon, see. My father fell from grace and came into his own before mankind even knew sin."

"Hehehe…fallen angel," Dean chuckled without any feeling attached to the sound as it left him. Without any feeling at all. He didn't believe in angels.

"The bad had to come from somewhere," Meg replied, "And the good is so…good," she laughed, "At fucking things up. Being bad, it doesn't go the other way. Me, I enjoy what I do. I'm fucking amazing at it. I bested the Winchesters. Poor Sammy's rotting in that hotel room…right…now."

There was no question that Dean was shaking now, sobbing, trying to stay numb, stay deadened, don't let the feelings inside, don't feel, I can't…can't…can't live without them! "I'm gonna fucking kill you!" he exploded in Sasha's face, pushing hard enough on that firm, supposedly immovable body that he actually freed himself from the wall long enough to have use of his hands. He glared into those eyes that showed no spark of the man Dean loved.

"Yes," Meg smiled, stepping right back into Dean's space but not trying to grab for him, "You are."

Dean didn't understand, not for a whole minute as he stood there, what the bitch could possibly mean. All he could see was Sasha from the chest up, those sparkling blues, that smug face. But then Sasha's face twisted, looked…looked pained and disbelieving, and only then did Dean feel the hilt of the knife that had been pressed into his hands. Dean looked down between their bodies to find his own large knife—his iron knife—stabbing just beneath Sasha's ribcage.

"D-Dean…?" Sasha gasped, stumbling back and looking so suddenly pale.

Everything was a dream. It had to be a dream. Any minute now Dean would wake up. He'd wake up! But he didn't. He just stared as Sasha crumbled to his knees, the knife still sticking out of him, and just enough blood left on Dean's hands for him to never forget that he had done it.

The sound of flapping was deafening, like dozens of birds on the attack, but the wings were too large to be birds. Dean had barely taken two breaths since Sasha first went down before he saw the wings for himself, five pairs, one attached to each of the five friends of Sasha's that Dean had met at various times the past few months.

Lindsey. Charis. Cam. The twins. All of them swooped in as if from out of the very walls and descended upon him and Sasha like birds of prey.

Sasha. It wasn't Sasha, Dean reminded himself. It was Meg. He knew it was Meg.

Before he could act or even move forward, Dean was suddenly being held again, one of the twins attached to either of his arms to hold him steady. After that all Dean could see was Lindsey stalking towards him, looking fierce and angry, his eyes already red, his hair bright white and windblown, and his whole presence larger than life even though all of them had left their wings to glamours now.

When Lindsey reached him, he struck Dean so hard across the face that Dean saw stars. That wouldn't be helping his concussion. "You bastard," Lindsey spat, "To think I was beginning to trust you, like you. I knew I should have followed my instincts." Pulling Dean's head back by the hair, Lindsey snarled with fangs barred into Dean's face. The pain helped Dean focus and he suddenly noticed that Cam and Charis had stopped to tend to Sasha.

"No!" Dean screamed, fighting madly against Epica and Attoinette's hold on him and ignoring Lindsey completely, "Stay away from him!" he yelled as Cam went to pull the knife from Sasha's stomach, "It's not Sasha. You don't understand. He's possessed." Dean didn't have time to think about how the sex demon squad had come to be here.

For a moment all of them just stared at him, even Charis and Cam who were obviously more concerned with helping their friend. Then Cam just shook his head at Dean with a look of absolute hatred in his eyes before he finished pulling the knife free. Blue veins had already started to spread out from the wound.

Clinging to what sense he could, Dean tried to tell himself that it was better if Charis and Cam helped Sasha's body as long as they were careful. Sasha could still die with Meg in control and then there would be nothing to save when they…

But there wasn't a way to get Meg out of him. If they exorcized her it would kill Sasha. And Sammy was…

Dean was still shaking, struggling, tears staining his face, and breaths coming heavy, when Epica said, "You lost your mind, sweetie, or did you really think we'd fall for that?"

"It's true," Dean tried to tell them. He had to make them understand or Meg would use Sasha's body to kill all of them too. Sasha couldn't be made to suffer that. He couldn't. Even though there was so little Dean could do, he had to manage something. "It's not Sasha," he insisted, "It's not. It's a demon."

"He keeps…he keeps saying that," came Sasha's weak and trembling voice, sounding so hurt, so pained, so genuinely disbelieving of Dean's behavior, "He won't believe me. But he doesn't know what he's doing, he's confused. Lindsey, please don't hurt him." Even that, the heartfelt plea sounded so much like the real Sasha that Dean felt fresh tears welling up in his eyes. He could feel them now, feel everything, and the white hot pain of emotions rolling through him burned so strong in his gut he couldn't stand it.

"An incubus can't be possessed," Cam said low and dark, holding Dean's knife tight in his hand now that he had pulled it free like he wanted nothing more than to use it. Charis was pouring antidote over Sasha's wound and then gave the rest of it to him to drink. "You know an incubus can't be possessed, you lying son of a bitch," Cam swore.

"Cam," Charis chided him.

"I knew," Cam went on, "I knew this would happen. We should have listened to you, Lindsey, and killed these fucking hunters before it came to this."

No. This wasn't happening. They had to listen to him. "You're sex demons, for crying out loud!" Dean screamed at them. Lindsey had since backed away a few steps so Dean could see all of them now, even Meg in Sasha's body playing wounded and confused. "You can feel my emotions. You know I'm not lying."

"Then you've really lost your mind, Dean," Attoinette said in a small, sympathetic voice, "Because we can feel that Sasha's just Sasha."

Dean realized then what an idiot he was. It didn't matter if they could feel that he wasn't lying, they wouldn't be able to feel the truth about Sasha. Even if the cave was having no affect on them, it was still probably impossible to sense Meg inside of Sasha with the way they were tangled up and fused together.

At least Sasha's body had been healed from the wound. Even if it would be better for Sasha to die and no longer have to witness this, Dean just couldn't stand the thought of losing him. He had already lost him, he knew that, but he had to cling to some hope or he would truly lose his mind.

"I don't doubt you believe what you're saying, Dean," Charis said in her usual patient, maternal voice, "But you're wrong. I don't know why you would even think such a thing." She shook her head as she looked at Sasha, looked right at him and like all of them, like Sam and Dean and the girls too, couldn't tell that it wasn't Sasha looking back.

"What about Sam?" Epica asked, making Dean seize with too much emotion again, "Was Sam apart of this? What happened to him?"

While Dean slumped, not wanting to have to face thoughts of what had happened to his brother, not yet, god, he couldn't bear it, Sasha was being helped to his feet. His body trembled from the aftereffects of the iron's poison, but it was his sudden sobbing to match Dean's that made Dean look up again. "Sam," Sasha's voice said forlornly, like he had only just remembered what had happened to the younger Winchester, "Dean, he…he kept…he kept saying the same things about Sam. That he was possessed. That it wasn't really him. He…he killed him," came the lie that neatly ripped Dean in two, "I couldn't stop him," Meg sobbed on, "God, I…I didn't know what to do."

"You bitch!" Dean screamed, fury overcoming the cacophony of other emotions so that he almost broke free on Attoinette's side, advancing a full yard forward. But then the girls had him again and Lindsey stood between Dean and where Cam and Charis were helping Sasha stand. When Dean didn't stop struggling, trying again and again to break free, Lindsey punched him harder than before, hard enough that Dean's knees buckled and the twins had to drop to the floor to keep him in their grasp.

"Lindsey, stop," Dean heard Charis say sternly from above him, her voice swimming for a moment as he tried to remain conscious, "He doesn't know what he's saying."

"Sam?" said Attoinette, her voice small and distressed, "You…you killed Sam?"

"No," Dean croaked, seeing spots when he opened his eyes and feeling so damn tired suddenly. He focused on Sasha, on Meg playing at being Sasha, who he could see just beyond Lindsey acting weak and injured as Charis and Cam continued to hold him up. "No," Dean shook his head with a bitter sob, "It's a lie. She's lying. She…she killed him."

The silence that followed was overpowering to Dean until he realized how important pronouns really were to the English language. The others couldn't get past the 'she's'. They probably thought Dean was even crazier because of them. He tried to explain.

"She…she was in a girl the first time we met her. She possessed Sam last year. Now she's in Sasha. I know it's impossible but she found a way in. You have to believe me."

The incubi and succubae merely stared at him, some silently hating him, Dean knew, some filled with pity. But none of them were listening.

"You're not…going to believe me. Are you?" he sighed in defeat, so soft it was almost more to himself. He slumped further, the twins still holding firm but probably seeing now that he wasn't going to fight anymore. They began to ignore him, to ignore the poor, insane hunter who was acting out at those he cared about, and focused their attention on Sasha. On the damn imposter.

"We should have gotten here faster," Epica said with a deadness to her tone that Dean recognized from hearing too many people over the years choose to ignore their grief, himself included.

"We came as soon as you called, man," said Cam, an arm holding fast around Sasha's waist.

Dean figured then that Meg must have called in reinforcements while Dean was unconscious and then brought him here to wait out their arrival, having filled all of them with lies of a far-reaching story they would easily believe over Dean's.

Maybe Dean would have been able to stand it if this had been only about him, about killing him and then it would all be over. He could have accepted that. He could have accepted Hell after failing this badly. But what Meg was actually doing was unbearable, to bring in the few other people Sasha actually had in his life and then to do this to them. Sasha must be screaming in there. And damn them for not being able to hear him. Damn all of them.

The sex demons were all telling Sasha how happy they were they had been able to find him in time, that they had saved him. And Meg was playing along so well, sounding like Sasha exactly even when she said, "I tried to reason with him but he brought me to this place and…I don't know what I thought he'd do. I know I should have fought back but I didn't want to risk hurting him."

Then Meg was moving Sasha's body towards Dean, making Charis and Cam come along since they were still holding him up, and while Lindsey was stoic beside them, Charis sympathetic, the twins seeming something like disgusted, and Cam just looking murderous, Sasha's beautiful face looking down on Dean pleadingly was too much.

"Dean…"

"Don't look at me," Dean grimaced, his tears finally drying up and leaving his face sore and tight. He didn't know if he was feeling everything or nothing anymore. He wanted to be numb but he couldn't find that release. He wanted to be angry enough to lash out again, but he just couldn't channel his many emotions into a single act. He just wanted this over. "You're getting what you want," he said, drifting his eyes down so he wouldn't have to look at Sasha's face lying to him, "Great plan. Ingenious. You knew they wouldn't believe me. So just…just kill me. You know where I'm going."

Silence. Dean didn't expect Meg to gloat and spoil her ruse, but he knew that the silence from the others was because some of them knew his secret; they knew where he would be going just as much as Meg did.

"Just kill me!" Dean screamed into the floor. He wouldn't look at her, god damn it, he wouldn't give her that satisfaction. "It doesn't…it doesn't matter anymore. You've killed…Sammy. You've…taken Sasha. Just kill me. There's nothing left for you to take away."

"Actually…you were wrong about at least one of those points, Dean."

Dean's heart literally stopped in his chest. If this was another trick, he would bash his brains out on the damn cement floor. But when he looked up past the incubi and succubae his own eyes would have to be lying to him if that wasn't truly his brother standing in one of the doorways. "Sammy…"

"You didn't think it would be that easy to get rid of me," Sam smirked at Meg, "Did you?" He was fully dressed and not at all disheveled like he should be. He didn't look fatigued or dazed. His eyes were bright and focused, he was calm, confident, perfectly fine. But the last Dean had seen of his brother he had been in a T-shirt and boxers, more than likely drugged, and…strangled to death. There weren't even any bruises on his neck.

A great pause surrounded those gathered, Dean included, as he was at a complete loss of what to make of this or what to do. He turned his attention to Meg as if feeling that she was about to react, and indeed she did, revealing herself finally as she burst power from her body in a shockwave that sent everyone but Dean and Sam flying into the walls.

Dean didn't know why or how he had been spared—maybe because right now he was so little a threat—but when the twins flew away from him their suddenly torn away grips wrenched his arms back. Dean fell to his side, trying to stay somewhat upright as the others were forced to form a half-circle around him and Meg and Sam as pinned sentinels.

"Well played," said Meg, no longer feigning a weakened condition or hiding the wicked way she made Sasha smile, "Thought for sure I'd killed you." She looked Sam over appraisingly, trying to gauge just how strong her opponent was perhaps. The way her confidence flickered made Dean guess that she either couldn't tell or didn't like what she had discovered.

Sam and Meg circled each other closer, keeping Dean just on the edge of their radius like a prize. "I needed time to recover," Sam shrugged as if his miraculous resurrection wasn't anything special, "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist drawing things out before you killed my brother. Sorry, Dean," Sam said without looking at him, eyes focused challengingly on Meg, "I came as fast as I could."

Something was off, Dean knew with certainty. Sam was too composed, too sure of himself for someone who should be dead. He wore a sneer the way Dean hated, just like how Sam had looked in the cave. The only thing missing was for his eyes to flash yellow.

Meg could sense it too, that something about Sam wasn't the same. Knowing Sasha's expressions as well as he did, Dean could tell that the demon wasn't nearly as sure of herself anymore.

"Your powers should still be stunted," she said, "You won't be able to use them fully."

"Yeah," Sam grinned, and when his eyes finally did flash with power they were that super-powered all-over yellow from when Sam had summoned all those demons and creatures, "About that."

"Sammy…" Dean felt new panic clutching at his throat. No. Sam wouldn't have gone to that extreme. He couldn't have.

But a brief passing of shame across Sam's face, replaced quickly with firm resolve and something like pride was answer enough that Dean's fears were warranted. "Sorry, Dean," Sam said again, not sounding at all sorry actually, "I couldn't wait for your approval." Dean knew then that it was too late. Sam had done it. He had thrown aside the final barrier holding his power stunted, was fully matured now and radiating with it, having dismissed all thoughts of consequence…to save Dean.

"It's not possible," Lindsey was saying, his voice strained from the shock of being thrown into the wall and held there, "How can you…be a demon?" he shook his head, looking only at Sasha's body and unable to see anything but what he wanted to see, "It's not possible."

The others were the same as they fell into like chorus. "Sasha?" Charis prompted.

"What's happening? Who are you?" said Cam.

The twins too, all bewildered and speaking of their confusion aloud until five voices had become a din of wanting, needing to understand but unable. Meg grew tired of it quickly, still circling Sam, until she finally raised a hand to silence them like she had done to Dean before. "No offense," she said with Sasha's voice, looking disdainfully at all of them, "But you're all incredibly annoying. So would you be so kind as to shut the fuck up. Dean was right. Sasha isn't home right now. And there is nothing you can do about that without killing him," she informed Sam.

A dimpled smirk replied. "Maybe," Sam nodded, bringing his constant movements to a sudden stop, "Why don't we find out?"

Another pause, a tense moment hanging in the air with all that silence to suffocate it, and suddenly Sam and Meg had each moved so fast that they were just upon each other, fighting equally vicious as they chose to attack with physical violence over powers.

Then again there was always their super-strength, Dean reminded himself, flinching as fists made contact with solid muscle. He pushed up onto his knees. The room was spinning now, his head foggy and filled with cotton. Falling asleep would be a very bad idea right now, but despite how much his body tried to pull him into dangerous slumber, the fight before him kept him alert. He would have felt forgotten, left to remain crumbled on the floor, if Sam and Meg didn't both cast their eyes on him from time to time, keeping the fight away from him so that Dean was always at least a yard from being able to touch them. They wanted him for different reasons, but both wanted him that was certain.

A kick to Sasha's shin brought Meg down to one knee and Sam grabbed a forearm, heating it instantly with the melting power so that there was actually a moment where Dean saw steam rising from the charred fabric of Sasha's coat. Sam yanked that arm around Sasha's back and forced the possessed incubus to the floor, electricity sparkling all the way up Sam's shoulder. "It would be in your best interest to leave willingly," he said, his voice barely even sounding like him and not at all out of breath from fighting, "But if I have to force you…I will."

Dean didn't like that tone of voice, so devoid of compassion. It worried him for both Sam and Sasha's sakes, though he could never have imagined wanting Meg to win. Dean had to assume that mojoing Meg at this point would have the same affect as forcing her out, but he still would have taken that over having to see Sam and Sasha fight with brutal intentions on each other. It didn't matter that Meg was driving; the sight ingrained on Dean's mind.

Building with a low growl that soon became a roar at the ceiling, Meg purposely dislocated Sasha's shoulder to slip from Sam's hold, pivoting on his knee to kick out with his other leg and knock Sam's feet out from under him. Sam fell hard, releasing Sasha's arm fully and leaving behind a smoking hole through the fabric and red, blistering skin beneath.

Sam leapt to his feet immediately, but Meg was already up, rolling Sasha's shoulder back into place with a pop. She charged her right hand with those super-charged crimson pheromones and reached for Sam's neck, pulling him in close. Sam stumbled forward into Sasha's body, blinking past the pull of those damn things trying to get into his senses. Before he could pull away, Meg grabbed the side of Sam's face with Sasha's other hand, also covered in swirling crimson mist and totally immersing Sam in it.

There was a definite struggle for Sam to stay focused, Dean could tell, and he was filled with fresh nausea when Meg tried to pull Sam in for a kiss and for a moment it looked as though Sam was going to oblige, his mouth parting slightly as he leaned closer. But before their lips touched, Sam smirked, and his arms shot out at Sasha's chest between them, erupting with a surge of visible blue light as Sam sent Meg flying across the building.

Sasha's body landed hard in the very center of the room, a few yards beyond Dean. It was more than just the blow and harsh landing that had Meg struggling to get to her feet again. That blast had carried power, stronger by leaps and bounds than the blast Sam had once used on Sasha while sparring.

Wholly confident, Sam strode across the room to where Sasha's body was still crumbled, trying to get up and failing several times. "Last chance," Sam said darkly as he grabbed Meg by the scruff of Sasha's T-shirt.

"F-Fuck you," Meg shot back, clearly drained but unwilling to give Sam any satisfaction.

Sam's lips curled up into that sneer again, that horrible not-Sam expression that made Dean think of everything he hated about the future. "I'm sorry, Sasha," Sam said, lacking all genuineness in the words for how pleased with himself he sounded as he reared back and struck Sasha's face with a blow that would have broken the jaws of most men.

Meg merely snarled back at Sam, barring Sasha's fangs and showing her true eyes, black with cracks of red. Sam dropped her to the ground without ceremony, leaving her much as she had left him. But when she tried to get up, perhaps thinking Sam was calling her out for another round, Sam shot out his right arm. There was no electricity, no bolt of light, no show of anything but Sam's hand palm-out, and yet the moment he directed it at Meg, Sasha's voice began to scream.

Instantly, the incubi and succubae fell from being held against the walls. Dean heard the thuds and saw them all stay frozen for a moment because they didn't know what to do. He imagined they could speak too if they knew how to form words right now. He watched Charis go over to Lindsey and help him up, watched the others stare in mute shock at what was happening, but he himself couldn't remain still.

Dean recognized that sound, the way Sasha's voice howled and keened, so pained. It was the same awful noise the demons Sam killed had made before the host bodies dropped as dead as their demons. Sam wasn't exorcizing Meg. He was killing her. And he was killing Sasha with her.

Concussion or not Dean was on his feet immediately, moving so unfairly slow towards where Meg was on the ground and Sam was standing above her, arm outstretched as he obliterated the very essence of what she was. Sasha couldn't be a casualty to appease this vengeance.

"Sam!" Dean cried out, barely able to hear his own voice over the sound of Sasha's screams. He was only a few feet from them when he hit the barrier. There was something solid but invisible that wouldn't let him go any further. "Sam!" Dean called with further panic, raising a fist to pound on the empty wall. How could Sam keep him away; he wouldn't even look at him. "Sam, stop!" he called again, but Sam wouldn't listen.

"I-I'll…crawl back…from the pit…to finish you," Meg managed between pained cries, Sasha's body doubled over now on the cement floor.

Sam's eyes glittered. "No. You won't," he promised.

Black smoke ripped from Sasha's mouth then, summoning into a swirling ball just in front of Sam's outstretched hand. The moment all of it had left the incubus, Sasha's body fell limp, his eyes left to stare open and empty right at Dean, who couldn't bring himself to stop pounding on the barrier.

But it was also at that moment that the barrier dropped, too late for Dean to do anything. He ran for Sasha's fallen body anyway, gathering his love against him and completely ignorant to any further nausea or dizziness from aggravating his concussion. Shaking all over again, almost too much to be able to hold Sasha properly, Dean looked up at Sam above him, at the sneer that was slowly turning into a pleased smile. As Sam spoke, Dean didn't understand what was happening when the yellow covering all of Sam's eyes began to fade and glow white.

"You will never hurt us again," Sam swore to the black smoke of Azazel's child who had tormented them so awfully, "Nor anyone else." He closed his hand into a tight fist and the smoke, already seemingly quivering in pain, fizzled like an implosion into nothing.

That very instant Dean felt movement in his arms and heard a great gasp from Sasha as the incubus came to. Dean couldn't believe it even as he looked down and saw blue eyes blinking awareness instead of lying open and blank.

Sasha wasn't dead. Sam hadn't willingly killed him. It was too much for Dean to bear. He didn't care if he couldn't stop—fresh tears began to fill his eyes and stream down his face in the greatest release of relief. In just a few hours time he had lost and rediscovered everything that mattered to him.

Pulling Sasha in for a fierce embrace, Dean doubted any amount of time would be long enough to hold his incubus close—his incubus, not Meg, not anything but Sasha. He relished in how tightly Sasha clung to him in return, the redhead's voice hitching as he tried to speak but couldn't get past his own tears to form any words.

All that Dean heard was a whimpered, "Dean," and it was more than enough to sustain him forever.

Only after they had stayed like that for too long did Dean pull away and wipe at the tears staining Sasha's face, even though he knew his own face couldn't possibly be much better. Blue eyes he recognized so well were looking back at him with the fiercest love that Dean honestly didn't know how he had mistaken Meg for Sasha for even a moment.

A subtle shuffling of feet alerted Dean to their nearby watcher, interrupting any chance he had at saying something monumental to mark the moment. He couldn't ignore Sam but he was afraid to look up, afraid of what he might see. When he finally did look up, for a moment there was only those all-white eyes and a blank expression. But as soon as the white faded off to wonderful hazel and Sam smiled in a way only Dean's brother Sammy could smile, none of Dean's fears seemed to matter anymore. Not now anyway. Not yet. Sam fell to his knees beside them and embraced them both, and everything was okay again.

Further shuffling soon came as the incubi and succubae slowly began to leave the comfort of their walls. Dean noticed them first, the three hunters having completely lost themselves to each other while they just enjoyed that all of them had come out of this alive.

When Sam and Sasha finally noticed the others too and they were all looking up at the five humbled figures moving in around them, Dean doubted he could have stopped himself from grinning wide and glorious as he said, "I owe you all the biggest damn 'I told you so'…ever."

tbc...

A/N: Woohoo! Hope I didn't make you suffer too long but I wanted this to be good. Was it? Did I torture Dean enough. I had him crying so damn much but in that situation I think that would have been true to life. I mean, fuck, right? For the record, this has been planned so in advance that those white eyes existed before Lilith's. Man, you can't imagine how pissed I was when Kripke got to it first. Oh well, further proof we live in each other's heads. Go Dean and redheads! Ahem.

So, hop on over to the website for yet another unbelievable fanart of Sasha. Colored and gorgeous. Possibly the best yet not that I don't love them all. Of course he's wearing his second leather jacket, which has now also been distroyed. And Sam put a hole in his regular jacket! Crap, he's not going to have any clothes when I'm done with him. ;-)

Yes, all the unanswered will be addressed in the following and last chapter of this arc. How did Sam live? Why did Sam hold Dean back with a barrier? What is Sam's true state now that he has dropped that final wall between his own nature and the yellow-now white-eyes? All and more, including the return of the girls, Bobby, and an end to the cave, to come soon. :-) Next arc, to give you an early heads up, is simply "Demons" as it will deal with the last demons they need to get rid of and lead to the end of the deal, however that may go.

Please review, you wonderful, faithful, amazing people!

Crimson