I am so sorry. The Holidays stole my time, I was sick the Friday before xmas to xmas day, and my plans to post extra were foiled, leaving me to post nothing until now. On the bright side, I should always trust when I am unable to write as it usually means I shouldn't. The time off helped me reconsider a few things and I should much more easily-and hopefully to the benefit of the story as a whole-be able to complete this arc before the boys return on January 15th. All my love to those of you still with me and those just joining the team. Happy New Year!

Part 4: Pray

Dean hadn't actually considered that he could be saved too fast. It never crossed his mind that his time would run out so quickly but with the real promise of salvation at the end of his last month on Earth. It meant a shit-ton of wonderful things, sure, but it also meant—more than likely—that they would never find out what Malak's plan really was. Dean highly doubted that the plan would be foiled simply because he didn't go to Hell. Not that he wanted to sacrifice himself just so he could find out for sure if Malak would actually tell him everything once Dean was hers. His. Whatever. But Dean was curious. So damn curious.

And it wasn't even just Malak's part in all this that bothered Dean; it was the unknown figure too. If Malak didn't revive Sam the night they faced Meg then who did? And why?

Dean had come clean to the others about all that soon after Seattle but no one had any insight or any advice except for them to just keep on going as they had been. And oh how they kept on. Sometimes the demons were almost too easy, sometimes they had a few tricks up their sleeves, though none so clever as Vapula.

One couple gave them a few days of headaches in Valdosta, Georgia at the Moody Air Force Base. Used shapeshifter bodies to possess and took on the form of a few pilots after having killed the real thing. Messed up Sam's senses something awful but Sasha's ability to sense a shapeshifter trumped Sam's great demonic powers for a change and they were still able to find their quarry. Those powers of Sam's weren't perfect yet even though everyday they seemed to grow stronger.

What had Dean truly breathless though was that they were already up the East coast with still a couple weeks left on Dean's ticking clock, and yet they remained at a loss for so many answers. As far as they knew Vapula, Duke of Hell that he was, had been the only demon with a willing host body that they had come across, but the very idea made Dean's skin crawl and he had to wonder if they would find others like that some day. It seemed such a dangerous thing, and such a likely, stupid human thing on the part of the host too.

Sure, Dean tried to mask his unease by teasing Sam about Sarah as often as possible, especially in the days that had immediately followed their adventures in Seattle. Dean also couldn't resist tossing in a few teases at Bobby about Shiarra, though he didn't have any proof that anything had actually happened there. If Sasha knew anything on that front he just grinned and kept his mouth shut.

That was Dean's other distraction of course—Sasha. And what a distraction the incubus was. It wasn't often they had the chance to sneak away or have just a room for themselves to blow off a little steam, but damn when they did it was as if Dean was bound for Hell the next day and they needed to get in as much passion and heat as they could.

But Dean was still troubled, still anxious about all the things they didn't know as they headed towards his last few days. They were only half an hour from reaching Pittsburgh, just in time too since the last of Leven's performances was that night. Dean had feared they wouldn't make it. The demons they fought and finished off only hours before had been tough. Or maybe it was just that the one Dean finished off personally had gotten to him a little.

He had been racing through a mall—a damn mall, crowded as the one he and Sasha shopped at in Denver— and in broad daylight too after a trio of body jumpers. These demons were especially adept at switching hosts unseen. They moved so quickly that although Sam could easily sense them he couldn't get a lock to try and mojo or banish them. The fact that this was all happening in a mall in the middle of the day didn't give them many options.

Tattoo smooth and healed now, Dean didn't fear possession. He also had an edge that most of the others—save Sam of course—did not. Dean was less than two weeks from D-day. He wasn't quite to the point of most damned souls, when everywhere they looked they saw demons and shades and horrible things, but if he looked long enough at a possessed person he could spot a demon, something that was becoming sharper and more accurate as his time slipped away.

He understood now why Sam had told him that he didn't really want to know what demons looked like. It wasn't just that it was hideous or nauseating; it was that it seemed to speak to Dean, all those awful faces, telling him that he was destined to be like that one day too.

Dean had been on the tail of the last of their three demons alone, having gotten separated from the others while rushing through the mall. Each time it jumped he lost it for a moment but then he would spot it again and continue the chase. He managed to corner it finally somewhere with no other bodies to jump into—an alcove beneath back stairs where at most there might have been a maintenance man.

The worst of it, however, was that the last of the bodies this demon jumped into had been that of what appeared to be a four-year-old boy. There was a frantic mother out in the throng somewhere and here Dean was pulling out the Colt to point at her toddler's body. He carried the Colt usually now since he was the other most likely candidate to spot a demon but without the luxury of Sam's nifty powers to back him up. He knew he couldn't use the Colt on a little kid though, and the demon seemed to know that too because it grinned at him.

"So cold and heartless, Dean?" it had said, mouth twisting horribly on the face of a little boy with short-cut brown hair and big grey-blue eyes, "You'll make a fine addition to the family, yes you will. And dear baby brother Sam and your incubus too. You know you can't stop it."

That had almost pissed Dean off enough to cock the damn gun. "Shut up," he had said, trying to keep his eyes focused on their surroundings in case any passerby happened to come through the doors behind Dean or down those stairs, "What, you one of the smart ones? Think you know what no one else does, huh? Malak doesn't share his plans with underlings. I know. I've tortured enough of them."

The demon-child giggled. "Ah, but there are rumors. Such rumors. If you are who we believe you are, your brother too, then this is a most exciting time. I'll gladly return to Hell knowing what's to come. Unless you want to shoot this boy. I'll be seeing you soon, of course."

If that hadn't been enough, and the smugness with which the demon just stood there and allowed Dean to speak the words of exorcism, the last of the insults to injury was the worst. Just before Dean spoke the very last words to send the evil bastard south, it smiled up at him and said, "Even if you send the last demon on Earth back to Hell…you'll still belong to us."

But it was too late because the last words spilled from Dean's lips before he could stop himself and ask the damn thing what it meant. Afterwards, Dean had carried a crying and frightened little boy out into the hub of the mall to find a crying and frantic young mother, who of course thanked him profusely.

The intelligent part of Dean knew that the demon was merely messing with him, trying to get him to drop his guard, maybe even at the behest of Malak himself. But the rest of Dean, the part of him that was made of action and feeling and instinct, wondered.

He was still wondering and torturing himself with it when the city lights of Pittsburgh began to flash past his window. It was a good thing Sasha was driving because Dean probably would have run at least half the red lights.

"Dean?" the incubus' voice was small and concerned as it had been for days, increasing with worry every time Dean dismissed it or said he was fine. Dean couldn't help that though. He felt so guilty for not being more excited that things were going so well, but he just knew that somehow Malak had a win-win in this that went beyond having misbehaving demons returned to Hell. He just didn't know what it was. He felt like he didn't know anything.

"Yeah, babe?" he turned to Sasha.

Sam was napping in the back, being the worst lately about not getting any real sleep, and not just because of pleasurable recreation with Sarah either. The others—two cars worth now as they had added Ellen some time ago—had only agreed to the pit stop in Pittsburgh if they could continue straight through to Minnesota and start scoping out what could be there last handful of demons.

Much as Dean enjoyed the extra company of the other hunters, it was nice being back to just the three of them for a night. Sasha was steering them through Pittsburgh towards their hotel where they would then have enough time to grab a quick bite before Leven's show. They had called ahead to let Wade know they would be there but had decided to keep things a surprise for Leven.

"You look tired," Sasha said, "We've been going non-stop for so long now. It'll be nice to sit and relax at the show for a few hours. Keep in mind though that this is high school," he grinned, "Don't expect greatness."

That managed to tug a real smile onto Dean's face. "Duly noted," he nodded, even though he knew Sasha probably wanted to say more than just a friendly warning about high school musicals. Dean could still hardly believe he was going to one. But he had made a promise and that meant something to a Winchester. Besides, he kind of wanted to see the kid again before…

Before the end.

"You're frowning. Two seconds ago you shot me that cute as all smile and now you're frowning again," Sasha tried to chide jokingly, "I know a lot is on your mind, Dean, but it couldn't hurt to share the burden a little." That was the way Sasha usually tried to goad Dean into talking, not like Sam who would just come out and demand that Dean tell him what was wrong.

Dean liked the subtle approach better but he still didn't feel like sharing. "Just the 'if, and, ors, and buts', baby," he sighed, "All of the above. Let's not think about any of that tonight, huh? Last mini-vacation we're gonna get. 'Sides, I wouldn't want to bring the kid down tonight when it's his last performance. He doesn't need to know about this mess."

There was no hesitation as Sasha nodded but his blue eyes were bright with sorrow. "Okay, Dean. But you're actually going to have to participate in the having a good time part if that's going to work." With a sly smile quirking at his lips, Sasha glanced up at the rearview mirror.

Of course Dean couldn't see the same angle in the mirror as the incubus but he knew what Sasha was trying to get him to look at. He turned his head towards the backseat where Sam was slumped against the door on Dean's side, seatbelt making it impossible for him to sit or lay comfortably. Sasha was the only one who ever actually lied down in the back to nap.

There was something about a sleepy Sam, face benign and large body scrunched within rumpled clothing that reminded Dean more of a little boy than the adult his brother had grown into. It eased the nagging part of Dean's brain that would always worry about those damn powers. Sam may have some role intended for him in Malak's grand plan but Dean was the catalyst, he just wished he knew what that meant and how he could prevent it.

More pressing at the moment though was that Sam needed to wake up. They would be at the hotel soon, Dean was starving, and he did not want to show up late to the show even if Wade had promised to have tickets waiting for them.

Dean reached into the back, straining against his own seatbelt, and grabbed hold of Sam's nose, pinching it closed. Sasha giggled. Ten seconds later Sam's head started to thrash and he awoke with a gasp.

"Dean!" he glared, swatting away Dean's offending hand.

"Up and at 'em, sunshine, we're here," Dean grinned at his brother, "Figured you wouldn't want to show up in front of all those crazy teenagers with bedhead something like A Flock of Seagulls." It only made Dean laugh harder when Sam instinctively reached up to smooth said hair, which of course wasn't all that messed up, not that it couldn't get pretty impressive some days.

"Jerk," Sam grumbled, shaking his head and crossing his arms in a pubescent pout. Dean was laughing too hard now to manage his trained response of 'bitch'. "Where do we want to grab food?" Sam asked, eager to move on to another subject, "This is the hotel, right?" he said, looking at the building they were passing as Sasha tried to find a way into the parking lot.

The incubus nodded, "Yep. Saw a couple places right around here. That way we don't have to find another parking spot. Just here and then off to the school. Wade said everything's been pretty quiet since we left but I still have this creeped out feeling, like maybe we should bring along the EMF meter just in case."

"Already planned on doing that," Dean huffed, "Should we fast food this to save time? There's a McDonald's."

Sasha shot him a disgusted look and Dean could practically hear Sam groaning in accompaniment. They had basically been living off of fast food, more so than bad diner food, for the past month.

"Okay, sheesh. We got plenty of time. There's a Thai place on the corner there," he pointed as they were quickly disappearing up the parking ramp, "We can walk down. Do we, uh…" Dean felt silly even asking this but he thought that he should, "Do we need to dress up or anything for this? I know it's not high class theatre or anything, but…"

"Just look nice, not dressy," Sasha smiled.

"Meaning maybe dig out a pair of jeans that aren't made up of the last twenty remaining threads," Sam added.

Hardy har. Dean had good jeans, and not just that tight-ass pair from Denver either. He felt silly though taking the time to pick out something to wear, silly about the whole damn thing, but it was also kind of nice to be doing something that was more or less normal. It's not as if he would ever be a regular working stiff who has to drive his daughter to musical practice Saturday mornings or bring her dinner to the school during long dress rehearsals. Not that he had ever thought about that sort of thing of course.

Figuring he looked nice enough in one of his layered looks that had seen at least a little less action than some others, Dean called it good.

He knew he was being abnormally quiet as they sat at a table in the Thai place and waited for their food, but then so were Sam and Sasha. Dean wanted to ease into a relaxing night but their days and nights had been filled with hunting, driving, more hunting, and maybe the occasional bit of half-starved, half-exhausted nookie with his boyfriend. He didn't know how to just be after a month of that.

Sam broke up the quiet finally by bringing up part of what they had said they wouldn't talk about tonight, but damn it if their brains could focus on much else. "Sarah's been helping me with a pet project to try and research who this other player might be that's equal to or maybe even more powerful than Malak. Bobby's helped some too. Not that we've had much free time on our hands granted."

The restaurant was small, dark, and fairly well secluded for each table, but the hunters still kept their voice hushed on instinct whenever discussing things the general populous might consider abnormal. "Find anything so far?" Sasha asked in equally dampened tones.

With a clearly disappointed shrug, Sam admitted, "Not really. Lore on the hierarchy of Hell is pretty massive, and most of the different accounts share little in common except maybe a few names and that most demons are associated with a type of sin. Like Asmodeus or other variations of that name are usually associated with lust. But then we know firsthand that there actually is a demon that embodies lust who may or may not have anything to do with that." Sam sighed and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. He needed a haircut. And another nap.

"Just how many different accounts of Hell's hierarchy are there?" Dean was hesitant to ask. He knew of some. Knew there had to be several more than he was thinking though for Sam to look so frazzled.

"There's Michaelis', Guazzo's, Barrett's," Sam started rattling off, "Hell, we could even include Dante's Inferno and get some overlap. Most of the details we know to be fact don't line up with one way of thinking. Vapula. Azazel. Malak. The Crossroad's Demon. All if it has different, unrelated lore."

"But that makes sense," Sasha interjected, "We've had thousands of years to get the lines crossed, the truths confused or mixed up with cultural differences and fiction. Some alterations might only be the fault of someone with an accent having said a name differently."

Sam offered a forlorn nod. "And we don't even know if Malak giving us that name has any real weight or if it was just so we'd hear something familiar and draw natural conclusions. He could be staging pretty much everything just to get us to waste time on dead ends."

"No," Dean had already thought of that, "Some things he does just to drive me crazy but this was real. Real surprise. Real fear even. There's someone else. So either Malak's full of it and actually a couple rungs below the real Big Bad, or there's someone in the hierarchy he doesn't want messing with his plans."

There was a moment of silence as they all thought that over. Finally, Sasha leaned across their little round table and said, "But maybe that doesn't have to mean this other player is more powerful. Go back to Dante's Inferno, and to several other more credible sources. What do they have in common regarding the Devil?"

Dean didn't need Sam to answer that. He had read the whole Divine Comedy once, Inferno, Purgatory, and Paradise. More to piss his father off by reading something widely thought of as just fiction in hunter circles, but also because it was a hell of a lot more interesting to read fiction than old texts by real as life monks.

Brow furrowed in confusion as to what Sasha was trying to get at, Sam didn't say anything, which left Dean wide open to fill in that important detail.

"The Devil's imprisoned," he said, "Big-ass dragon in Inferno and half frozen in ice, always trying to get out but just making things worse for himself. Hell's a natural order of things in Dante's tale though, not the Devil as God's adversary leading armies of demons. That wouldn't fit with what we know of demons in real life."

"But there are other accounts that depict the Devil as a prisoner in Hell, just able to still command and send out his demons," Sasha countered, "Michaelis' version says that the Devil is chained in Hell but still commands all. What if Malak is the Devil just not as powerful as he wants us to believe? It wouldn't take a more powerful demon then just a clever one, one that knows the plan and has the means to overthrow it. That could be the real reason Malak sent us after all these demons. Maybe he doesn't even know who his betrayer is. It would stand to reason that he'd have less power here than in Hell."

Hearing those words in that perfect explanation, bells clanged so loud in realization inside Dean's head that he almost thought he was standing on the steps of Notre Dame. He slapped the table with both hands and leaned close enough over the center of the table to feel the others' breaths on his face. "Baby, you're a genius," Dean whispered to Sasha, "That's it. That's gotta be it. Malak said, he told me that Meg had given away part of the game in something she said to me. She said…that Malak couldn't touch her here. That's why she wasn't afraid of him. She figured she was safe as long as she never got sent back to Hell."

"Whoa, whoa, hang on," Sam broke in, just as hushed now with all three of their heads huddled in the center of the table, "That doesn't make any sense. If Malak's imprisoned in Hell and just acting as commander, wielding lesser power, then how does he even manifest here on Earth the way he does? He doesn't even use a host; he's a real solid demon. And in case you're forgetting, we've felt his powers on Earth personally. Didn't feel all that stunted to me."

Well damn, didn't that just deflate all of Dean's excitement. He frowned. "It's gotta work somehow. Maybe it's me," he thought out loud, "Ya know, coz I'm his property and all, maybe that means he can only manifest in front of me. And…and…"

"And his powers worked on us by association?" Sasha asked with a quirked eyebrow, "That would kinda suck. Too much of an unfriendly loophole if you ask me."

Dean's frown deepened. There had to be an explanation for all that, and whatever it was he felt certain that it all had something to do with him. "Might suck…but might be true anyway. Means our mystery player could be anyone, but it's probably one of the last demons we have to get rid of, hiding in plain sight right where big bad Lucy can't get to it."

A brief pause. Then, "Lucy?" Sam and Sasha asked in unison, immediately looking at each other with mirrored grins.

"Shut up," Dean shot back, "Call it an inside joke. Look, can we just forget about all this for tonight? I mean, I thought that was the plan. One night where I'm not thinking about any of this shit. No hunting. No open road even. Just the boys, ya know?" he grinned, thinking fondly of the times when it was just normal hunts, just Dean, his brother, and his incubus.

"Just the boys," Sam nodded with a twitching smirk, "And a Little Mermaid musical," he snorted. Sasha quickly followed suit, breaking into laughter easily. Dean chose to ignore them while glaring in a way that both promised a beating later and also thanked them for finally getting the point and letting a little of their amassed burden go for the night. Heaven knows they deserved it, even if Dean doubted he could let that burden go even for a moment.

They didn't see any sign of Leven when they got to the high school. No surprise there since the kid was probably in stage makeup and costume, waiting for curtain.

Wade met them at the ticket table, sideways smirk and hip cocked. Dean had forgotten how curvy the short woman was below the waist, which she didn't mind displaying in a tight pencil skirt. She also wore a bright yellow sweater and a colorful scarf. Her dark hair that had been sporting a shock of purple now had that same shock colored hot pink.

She asked briefly about Cam but didn't linger, pleased that they had been able to make it since Leven hadn't been able to stop talking about the possibility each night that they might be in the audience. She had made it quite plain too that had they not made it for this last performance she would have had to track them down and kill them herself, as it would have broken the poor kid's heart.

Their seats weren't front row, but center and far enough back to have a good view of the whole stage. It meant that the stage lights would put them in pitch black from the perspective of the actors. That was probably a good thing as Dean could almost imagine Leven breaking character if he spotted them.

Since Dean had never been to live theatre, except maybe some kiddy puppet show thing with his mother that he vaguely remembered, he was striving to be on his best behavior. He didn't want to be whispering over at Sam and Sasha the whole time asking what the hell was going on, so he had actually been listening to Sasha give a quick summary of the show, "Once on this Island", before it started. When the curtain finally went up, Dean had only gotten to the point in the story about the heroine having saved the main guy, Daniel's life—played by Leven—much as the Little Mermaid saved her Prince from drowning.

This couldn't be too bad, Dean figured, and initially he was actually quite blown away by the chorus, who packed quite a punch for high schoolers. Dean tried not to giggle though as he imagined the Disney Cartoon at certain overlapping storyline points, but this was very different at the core. He was proud to spot Leven for the first time, who really did seem so comfortable and natural on stage, his hair no longer turquoise but a natural brown.

Dean could admit that he was enjoying himself to some extent until about the time the character of Death, called Papa Ge, was coming for Daniel, and the heroine offered up her own life instead. Only then did Dean start to remember the real tale of The Little Mermaid. Hans Christian Anderson hadn't been nearly as kind as Walt Disney.

It was a tale about how the power of love can make us give up great things, even ourselves, our souls, to save the ones we care for most. It was about someone who loved too dearly, gave up too much even though they would never consider it to be too much, but then wasn't even saved in the end but had to die anyway. Not a happy ending. It didn't matter to Dean that the Storytellers, the chorus, tried to say how beautiful a sacrifice it was. Dean saw something very different, something very personal as the last of the play's words were sung.

Life is why
We tell the story
Pain is why
We tell the story
Love is why
We tell the story
Grief is why
We tell the story
Hope is why
We tell the story
Faith is why
We tell the story
You are why
We tell the story
Why we tell the story
Why we tell the story
Why we tell the story

So I hope that you will tell this tale tomorrow
It will help your heart remember and relive
It will help you feel the anger and the sorrow
And forgive

For all the ones we leave
And we believe
Our lives become
The stories that we weave

"Dean…?" Sam whispered from beside him, loud enough that Sasha also turned to regard him silently from Dean's other side.

It was a fucking high school musical. Well done for kids. Silly at times and even a little moving. But just a damn musical. It should not have been enough to make Dean's eyes feel damp, stinging more so as he saw Leven playing the part of someone who mourned and was left behind, but who moved on.

Would Sam and Sasha and the others…just move on? It was about as selfish a thought as Dean had ever allowed.

"Damn," he managed to smile as the audience erupted with applause around them, "Kid was pretty convincing with the love story part. Almost had me going." He began clapping immediately, stood before most of the overly proud parents stood to give the kids their deserved standing ovation, as really all high school musicals should end. He kept clapping through the curtain call, one by one, whooping when Leven was standing alone for a moment on the edge of the stage, before finally allowing his rather raw hands to drop.

Even though Sam and Sasha were standing too, having clapped as they should, Dean knew they were watching him, debating whether or not to push for more than he had said. Dean ignored them, focused on the show and how easy it would be to praise Leven for a job well done. The kid didn't get to show off his voice nearly as much as Dean would have liked, but he deserved quite a few props for being able to play straight and in love with his costar so believably.

Dean didn't recognize that girl, but he had seen Tina and Jennifer among the actors—Tina as the Mother of the Earth and Jennifer as the Goddess of Love. If Tina still bore scars on her neck from the holy water, or any metaphysical ones, it sure didn't seem like it. Dean knew from experience that teenagers were some of the most resilient of all human beings. They sort of had to be.

Finding Leven out in the hallways amongst the throng of parents, friends, and other well-wishers for the cast was difficult to say the least. There were also memorial tributes all around for the students and faculty that had died from the shadow demon's actions, though only Leven, Tina, and Jennifer among the civilians involved knew it had been more than accidents or the fault of some crazy vagabond chased away by PIs. Well, only those kids and Leven's sister Wade.

Wade dove at Leven first, even though she had been at all of his performances prior. He returned her embrace in that 'yeah, I love you, but you're my sister and you're embarrassing me' kind of way before suddenly spotting the rest of them over her shoulder.

"Oh my god, you came!" the kid exclaimed, looking hardly like himself with combed brown hair and heavy stage makeup marring his otherwise handsome face. He lunged unabashed into Dean's arms, hugging the hunter with great gusto. "I knew you'd keep your promise, I knew it! Was it awesome? Did I suck? Choreography from Hell, right? I know it's like a totally lame story with the sappy but non-Disney ending and probably bored you to tears." Leven was talking 100 miles a minute, way faster than Dean's ears could keep up.

"Breath between syllables, will ya?" the hunter chuckled, returning the hug but swiftly pushing on Leven's chest to break free from it a moment later. He pat Leven's arms good and firm and smiled at the beaming expression looking back at him. The kid had a little more hero worship going than Dean was used to or ever felt he deserved. "Awesome all the way. You. The show. No falling asleep on Sammy's arm for me, promise. Wished I coulda heard those pipes a little more but you had me good, lemme tell ya. Actually believed you had a thing for that chick for a second there, jailbait. If that's not good acting then I don't know what is," he smirked.

Leven had looked fairly jubilant before they sought him out in the crowd, but now he was positively glowing. "Can't call me jailbait anymore," he smirked back, "Had my birthday, remember? Fully legal." Both of Leven's eyebrows waggled suggestively as he said that.

Then before Dean could shake his head or remind Leven that he still wasn't allowed to hit on him, the kid had turned to tackle Sasha and Sam just as jubilantly too. Leven didn't at all hesitate to hug the man he now knew to be an incubus or the one who had more or less killed him, even if it had been only for about thirty seconds.

Much as Leven tried to keep jabbering away as the crowd shuffled around them, they soon got pushed out of direct contact to make way for other patrons telling the actors what a wonderful job they had done. Only after a good half hour of chaos did things start to calm down enough for Leven to make an escape.

He dashed past them back towards the auditorium, promising to be back soon so they could go out—there being no cast party the last night since they pretty much had one after every one of the other shows and would all be expected to attend strike the next day.

Before Leven returned, Dean took note of Tina and Jennifer again who seemed to have bonded over their ordeal but still only nodded and smiled warily at the hunters rather than approach.

Ten minutes later Leven was back, sans makeup, with his hair gelled properly and his clothing back to the kid's skinny jeans, graphic T and bomber jacket. Of course he wasn't a kid anymore, he was eighteen, but Dean would still consider Leven a kid indefinitely. Just like Sammy.

Wade had her own car but Leven insisted on riding in the Impala to the restaurant. They had already planned to hit a place for an hour or so that was open late. "This car is the shit. Way too sexy," Leven was saying, sitting in the back with Sam to his slight chagrin while Sasha continued to drive.

Dean always took great pride in his baby and loved to hear her virtues extolled. Calling the Impala 'sexy' was just damn deserving. "My pride and joy," he said, "You still got that T-bird? Still a good car on its own terms, ya know."

"Yeah, Winkie's still kicking for now," Leven said, reminding Dean that the T-bird had one pop-up headlight that no longer popped up, "Wade dropped me off tonight though."

"And things have been…quiet, right?" Sam asked, "Nothing out of the ordinary?"

A wave of sadness and remaining regret passed over Leven's face. He forced a smile, nodded. "Right as rain. Well, as right as it can be missing a few good friends and all. You guys saved it from being a lot more though. Me and Tina and Jenn, we won't ever forget that. And I've kept my word. No messing with shit I shouldn't be messing with. Wade's pretty much been watching me like a hawk anyway."

"Those bullies bother you anymore?" Sam pressed, subduing a slight smirk since he already knew the answer.

"Hell no," Leven laughed, "Andy Russell? Mr. Dick-In-Charge of the bullying amigos? Even picked up my books for me once when I tripped in the hallway. I just about died."

As it should be. Dean couldn't understand why teenagers—Hell, people in general—had to be so frickin' awful to each other when awful happened well enough on its own. "So," he asked with a smirk of his own, "Any boyfriends to speak of yet or still slim pickings?"

Both Sasha and Sam laughed at that question. Leven just groaned and rolled his eyes. "You wish. I wish too. But this isn't some teeney-bopper flick with a happy ending before graduation. Course if you happen to know any younger generation incubi hoping to hook up…" he leaned between the seats and grinned at Sasha.

That pretty much had the incubus in stitches. "Not so much in the loop with the younger crowd, Leven. Sorry. But if I run into any around your age, I'll be sure and toss them your number, okay?" Of course Sasha's tone of voice said that he was only kidding, but Leven still grinned wide and sat back looking pleased.

It was a Saturday night so the bar was fairly crowded when they arrived at close to eleven, but they were able to get a table in the restaurant section, no problem. Leven squeezed in close to Dean, then Wade, leaving Sam and Sasha to the other side. Dean usually hated being boxed in but he liked the kid, creeped out as Leven could make him sometimes, so he was willing to leave things be.

They ordered nachos to munch on and drinks all around—Coke for Leven, and not with Malibu like his sister.

"So what gallant adventures have the handsome young hunters been up to?" Wade cocked an eyebrow around the table, "Any damsels in distress? Or sticking to being the patron saints of high schools?" The young woman's sarcasm had certainly not dulled at all since they last saw her.

"We're keeping busy," Sam supplied. They had already decided to keep their actual activities secret. No one else needed to know about their crusade to save Dean. "Actually, no damsels in distress, but we have been working with some female friends on a few cases lately."

"Chick hunters?" Leven spoke up, "Equal opportunity kill ratio. Awesome. How does someone get into that kinda profession anyway? I'm thinking I might have a little trouble taking classes for paranormal archaeology at the U."

Dean didn't like hearing Leven say that, offhanded or not. "You better not be thinking anything about trying to join this profession," he turned to Leven sternly, "Even if you weren't too young I'd still hand you a big 'Hell No'. This is real life and death stuff, you know from experience. Not something to take lightly or explore your options with for a semester."

"Relax," Leven said with a dramatic roll of his head, "Can you imagine what an awful hunter I'd make? I'm pretty sure swift feet and a few acrobatics wouldn't keep me alive for long. So not hunter material. I'm staying in the city after graduation. Gonna try my hand at a local acting school. This isn't New York, I know, but someone's gotta keep an eye on old S.W. once in a while," he leaned into his sister, who although older was significantly smaller than him, "But I am so getting my own apartment."

Wade huffed, leaning back into Leven to push him back towards Dean. "And you'll be paying for this imaginary apartment how?" she said, "Maybe second year, if you get your loans settled on your own, get a job, and pay your own rent."

Just as dramatic again, Leven rolled his eyes and looked to the hunters for sympathy. "You see what I put up with, right? Really, I would totally love to stow myself away in that crazy large trunk of yours if it weren't for the great target practice I'd make for your baddies. No worries on me trying to run off with you," he winked at Dean, "But ya know, maybe a call or drop by like tonight would be nice once in a while."

Of course Dean wanted to say, sure, no problem, kid, whenever we're heading through Pittsburgh. What he didn't want to say but couldn't help thinking was the part where he wasn't exactly sure if he would be able to do any of that after he was burning in Hell a couple weeks from now.

If that happened. Which it wouldn't. Because it wasn't going to happen.

God damn it, it wasn't.

"Hey," Dean forced a smile that he knew would never swindle Sam or Sasha, but that he hoped would work on Leven, "Every chance we get. Promise." At least that wasn't really a lie. "So, we're running a little dry, huh?" he quickly moved on, passing his eyes over their mostly empty glasses, "How about I hit the bar for some refills. Waitress takes too long. Same thing for everyone?" Dean managed to sneak away after Leven and Wade let him out of the booth, and when he looked back as he headed for the bar he could see how they all fell right into further conversation easily. Dean had a sneaky suspicion by the way Sasha burst out laughing that Leven had asked something more about young incubi on the prowl.

Truth was Dean was even antsier tonight than he had been for the past few weeks. Maybe it was the show, cutting a little too close to home. Maybe it was Leven, oblivious to his 'hero' being damned in more ways than one. Maybe it was just that every day brought Dean closer to the end and being close just made the anxiety worse all around. It didn't help that Malak hadn't appeared to Dean since Seattle. It just made him more nervous. He never thought he would actually miss those random encounters, but he sure as hell wasn't about to summon Malak for a quick chat.

The bar had thinned out a bit so Dean got their orders in right away. He was debating whether to try and juggle the drinks back himself or just tell the bartender to have a waitress bring them over when Wade sauntered up beside him and claimed a stool.

"Had to hit the ladies room," she said, clearly having no actual intention of completing that trek.

"Why do I get the feeling you mean that as a euphemism for 'I need to talk to you'? And you do realize how creepy that sounds, right?"

Wade didn't reply but suddenly pulled out her tarot deck from inside her ample-sized yellow leather purse and slammed it onto the bar top. "Wanna tell me what the fuck is going on? Coz, honey, I know it's not anything like business as usual, whatever the Hell that is for hunters."

Crap. Sometimes Dean really hated the supernaturally inclined. "You mean besides the fact that I'm sleeping with an incubus and my brother has superpowers? Because I can tell ya, lady, that is not business as usual for any hunters I know." The bar was empty on the side they were waiting, the bartender busy mixing up all of their drinks, so they could talk freely, not that Dean wanted to.

"Honey," Wade said just as condescendingly, "You think I only read these things for paying clients? I thought it was the least I could do just to keep an eye on you boys. And lemme tell you something, Mr. Winchester. Half the time I don't know what the Hell the cards I read for you guys are trying to tell me, and that does not happen. The one reading that did make at least a little sense was recent. And about you specifically."

Right there on the bar Wade shuffled her deck, cut it once, and then laid out three cards just as she had that time when showing them her reading of Leven. No one else around the bar paid much mind, but Dean couldn't help leaning in. Wade used a full 78 card deck but like with Leven the three cards that came up were all part of the 22 Major Arcana. Dean didn't have to know the meaning behind each card to know that that meant the reading was powerful.

"The Star, The Hanged Man," Wade went down the line, flicking her eyes to him as she named the last, "And The Devil. Now, normally, that wouldn't mean much on its own. Even the reading, if it were someone else might mean something different. But with you? Shit. The Star here is for loss. The Hanged Man? Sacrifice. And The Devil…" she trailed.

Dean was pretty sure his knuckles were turning white as he gripped the edge of the bar.

Wade just shook her head, scooped up her cards and in moments had replaced the deck in her purse. "Normally, a three card reading is for the Past, the Present, and the Future. In all my years reading I think this was the first time…I ever thought that last card meant something literal. Dean," she said.

"Don't tell Leven."

"Dean," she said more firmly, "I know I don't know you. I don't know your brother. I don't know Sasha. Hell, I obviously didn't know Cam as well as I thought since a certain detail escaped conversation for so long. I have no reason to trust any of you except that you saved my brother's life. But even so, I can't just ignore a reading that signals…predestination with evil."

That certainly made Dean's future sound more daunting. Maybe that was just the Winchesters in general, trapped in a fate that followed them wherever they went. "You said that normally these readings are past, present, future," Dean said, staring down at the bar and then looking sideways at Wade and her dark eyes, "So…it wouldn't have to be that. It doesn't have to be a predestined anything."

Wade gave a crooked grin. "The future is not set," she said loftily, "Kyle Reese. Terminator. 1984. Yeah, that has some real truth to it. Nothing is set in stone. We make our own choices. But we also have to live with them."

"Maybe. But if your reading's right…then I won't have to live with mine."

Dean knew that the final card was literal. Whether that indicated Hell or just that he would never be rid of Malak even if he did complete his side of the deal, it didn't really matter. Neither was a pleasant option.

Concerned as she was, Wade let the matter drop, but it was obvious she only did so for Leven's sake, not Dean's.

They chatted and drank and had a good time until the restaurant's kitchen was closed and the patrons had mostly thinned out. When it was time to go, Dean found himself wandering outside before the others with Leven right on his heels.

"It was really cool, ya know…that you came," the kid said softly, leaning carefully back against the front of the Impala. Dean did the same. It was only a little chilly, being Spring now. The time for new life, new chances. For some anyway.

"I'm sure it shot a few new holes in my masculinity," Dean chuckled, "Going to a high school musical. But you were pretty impressive for kids. Pretty impressive all around. Things are really going okay for you and those girls?" Dean couldn't help the concerned older brother tone; he was too good at it.

There was something of a flush to Leven's cheeks. He nodded. "I know…what I did was stupid. I was just…impatient…for a lot of things, and angry, and…and none of it's any excuse. People died coz a me. You don't forget something like that or really ever…get over it, I guess."

Yeah. Dean knew the feeling.

"But I'm good. I am. Jenn and Tina too, we're good. I wanted to…thank you again actually. For everything," Leven went on, eyes on the ground where he was kicking at the cement of the parking lot, "I know it wasn't just you. If it hadn't been for everyone, even Wade and, shit, a succubus and a bunch of incubi, I'd be…toast. Dead or worse. But I wanted to thank you because…" his eyes flicked up at Dean, big and brown and damp, "I think you kinda get it. More than the others. Being normal but somehow…still being a freak in a normal world. Having to make up for stupid shit and get over things you never should have had to live through in the first place. Being…afraid when you shouldn't have to be…but there's reason anyway. I don't know if any of that makes sense, but…it makes me feel better, knowing there's some good out there to go with all the awful."

Dean thought of exchanges he and Leven had had in the past and had to smile as he said, "You still think I'm one of the good ones, huh?"

"Don't have to think. I know," Leven grinned, looking all coy and expectant.

"You even think of trying to swipe a kiss or something, I will smack you upside the head," Dean promised.

Leven laughed and nudged Dean with his shoulder. "Damn. Caught me." The others came out of the restaurant then, mid-conversation, and Leven pushed away from the Impala. Instead of wrapping Dean in a goodbye embrace, he held out his hand, "Thanks, Dean. Really," he said as they shook.

Now, Dean Winchester was no hero. He used to think that he would hate for someone to think of him as one. But he also couldn't bear the thought of Leven knowing that he actually liked that his job was usually thankless. There were no pedestals to live up to or live down if no one cared about the things you did, good or otherwise.

As they parted, Dean caught a solemn nod from Wade but he turned away. It was like an infection being so close to the end. He just wanted it over so he would know for certain where he would be come May. Oh, he would have the first day, but on May 2nd, right at midnight he imagined, it would be over one way or another.

Dean assumed that Sam or Sasha or both would get on his case once they returned to the hotel since his merriment and relaxation all night had mostly been forced, but neither of them said anything. Sam disappeared for a late shower; Dean and Sasha stripped to their shorts and climbed into bed. It was one of the few things that still comforted Dean without fail.

Holding Sasha.

It must be all that soft skin, and warmth, and the way they fit together so perfectly because that was the way they wanted it, because they had chosen to be together. You can't choose who you love, but you can choose whether or not to see it, whether or not to believe in it and allow it. Dean chose to leave behind so many preconceived notions about who he was and who he believed he should be so that he could try his hand at a little uninterrupted happiness with someone who honestly loves him. What he kept pushing to the back of his mind though was that before he even met Sasha he had already made another choice that would force him to one day leave.

Sasha turned in Dean's arms, sensing his turbulent emotions, no doubt. The lights were still on and Sasha's eyes shimmered. Facing each other they were too close to see anything but that—each other's eyes. Sasha stared into Dean's, looking all kinds of sorrowful before suddenly digging his face into Dean's neck and clinging.

Dean felt wetness on his skin from Sasha's eyes, painted onto him with lashes. Then Sasha was kissing his neck, clutching his arms, seeking physical connection where Dean was refusing to be open and honest with words.

It wasn't like Dean to be disheartened, and frightened, and panicked. He felt those emotions just like anyone else, but damn it he was better at hiding it than this. Or maybe Sam and Sasha had just gotten too good at reading him.

Dean strained his neck forward, giving his incubus better access and himself a better angle to return the gesture. He didn't want to be silent. He pressed a kiss to the groove of Sasha's jaw just below his left ear, slipped his hands around Sasha's waist and held tight. Touching, kissing, gripping each other, it was almost like being synched with Sam only speaking through pure emotion. Dean allowed himself to feel all of his irrational doubts and knew with each bit of skin on skin contact that Sasha could hear everything.

He tried to say how sorry he was for being like this. He knew he couldn't give up yet; there was still time. He didn't even dream horrible things anymore—Malak had given up on that—but he saw it all when he was awake, making it so much worse. Dean saw it. Felt it in his bones, god damn it.

Strong incubus arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him and willing those thoughts away. Sasha pulled his head up so he could capture Dean's lips and kiss him properly, tongue massaging deeply but not with any claim, just with love, devotion. It wasn't a normal kind of passion at all, not even when Dean's hands slipped from Sasha's lower back down beneath his boxers.

It was communication.

How much more might they communicate like this if Dean were an incubus also? He wanted to find out. He wanted Sasha to show him. He wanted to feel it as close as they could come without going too far.

They kissed hungrily, hands moving, touching, gripping and clawing. Dean felt Sasha's fingertips trail up his side and ghost over his ribs, making him jerk at the slight tickle. Anything. Everything. Anything for you. It was like words drawn on Dean's skin.

He responded, a hand up at the back of Sasha's neck, the other sliding forward around Sasha's hip. Can't leave. Can't leave. Never want to leave you. He kissed the side of Sasha's mouth and then took it full again, cloying for his lover's tongue.

Dean, Sasha said without saying anything, just hands running down Dean's thighs. Dean heard more words, so many words, filled with faith, hope, and determination that he countered with fear and doubt and worthlessness. He could never say it all out loud—he needed to be strong, needed to be strong for them—but he couldn't hide it forever either.

It was raw and open, almost painfully bare just touching like that, their bodies tight against each other, their kisses fierce with that strange new passion that spoke.

"Don't mind me or anything," came Sam's voice suddenly, sounding somewhere between annoyed and amused.

The interruption, Sasha and Dean having been so completely lost in each other, was like a shot ringing out unexpected against dead silence. Dean felt his heart skip and stutter, felt Sasha jolt against him and clutch tighter. They needed time to come down from this, to find themselves again, but they weren't going to get it. It didn't bother Dean too much though because their hurried and clumsy 'conversation' had soothed something deep inside of him.

He could smile, laugh, look up at Sam smugly and cock an eyebrow.

"You're just jealous your hot ticket's in another state," he teased, as if Sam had stumbled upon something merely sexual.

This of course afforded Dean a swift glare from his brother but any further awkwardness was avoided. Sam crawled into bed, Sasha and Dean untangled, and the incubus smiled so serenely at Dean that however brief a peace was filling his chest, it flared brightly.

Dean slept better than he had in days until about four in the morning when nature's call roused him. He slipped out of bed without disturbing his companions to hit the bathroom. He felt oddly refreshed, tired as he still was, and enjoyed knowing that he could still sleep for a couple more hours.

Washing his hands with warm water, Dean splashed a little on his face. Cold water woke him and brought him to alertness, but warm water relaxed him and helped him feel that heavy call for sleep again to better return to dreamland faster.

He hadn't bothered to turn on the light in the bathroom, hadn't even closed the door, but it was instinct to look up at himself in the mirror even in the dark. Warm and content as he was, the sight staring back at him filled Dean's veins with ice.

Red on black. In his own damn reflection.

Dean shot upright, still staring at his eyes in the mirror, but they were green again. Red on black still shimmered though in the eyes those colors belonged to, on the form of a male Malak standing behind Dean reflected in the glass. Watching him. Smiling. Saying without words that Dean didn't get to feel comfort even for a few short hours.

A sudden scream split the night into two clean halves. Dean whipped around towards the door. There was no sign of Malak but it didn't matter. That was Sam. Sam. And he was still screaming.

Back inside the main room within seconds, Dean saw Sam thrashing on the bed in what looked like the fits of a nightmare. Sasha was already awake and on his knees beside Sam, trying to wake him. As soon as Dean joined the incubus and grabbed onto Sam's arms, mottled yellow eyes sprang open. They flickered and faded back to hazel quickly, but Dean knew what their presence had to mean.

"What did you see?" Dean asked, "Was it about the hunt? Sam, what happened?"

Sam only nodded, struggling to sit up as he looked frantically at both of them and clung to their forearms. "The whole…the whole school," he choked out, "They're…they're gonna kill everyone. We have to find them."

"Okay. It's okay," Sasha said soothingly, gripping Sam's shoulder and neck supportively, "We'll find them, Sam. We'll find the demons."

But Sam shook his head. "Not the demons," he said, looking in turn to Sasha and then to Dean, "We have to find their sisters."

tbc...

A/N: I believe there will be three more parts, which means I have to post twice next week, or at least more rapidly to get them all up before Supernatural returns. I promise to be diligent.

I don't know, Diana, if I can squeeze in Wally before then but soon, I promise. Thank you to the anonymous person who posted a very interesting incubus idea on the website. I may have to use that... Also, thank you to all those who review and comment and coax me but who are not signed in and therefore cannot be thanked by PM. :-) Still with me?

Crim