A/N: Bet you though you'd never see me again? Well, stay tuned, because hopefully there will be exciting news in the near future about Incubus: The Book, as I just finished my newest revisions. In the meantime, this sort of poured out of me today, partly inspired by demonturtle who recently requested some Sasha POV, and very much inspired by my husband, John, and it being our third wedding anniversary today. I hope I can get the hubby to read it, so in the spirit of that, this is only rated T. ;-) Also for deangirl1 who reminded me that you can never have too much slash. So, for my third anniversary, and coming up on the fourth for Incubus, happy reading!

UNTIL YOU LOVED ME

Four years. It had been four years since Sasha had first met the indomitable Dean Winchester. Four years and yet he could remember every moment of those first few months, those first few days, like the time had barely passed. Nothing about any of the years that had gone by had been easy, nothing other than each other, than being together, and Heaven knows that wasn't anything near easy in the beginning.

They had missed each other more than once, missed opportunities, and almost missed their chance to be together entirely, and yet somehow, in the end, Sasha and Dean had earned their happy ending, even if the only thing that was perfect in their lives was something that might seem small and unimportant to someone else.

It was everything to them. What they had. What they had fought for. What they knew instinctually every time their gazes met. All of the implications of being an 'us' instead of each other alone. What existed between them was enough to withstand the worst of horrors.

Even the end of the world.

"You okay?" Dean asked, scrunching his brow at Sasha while he sat cleaning his gun. They were in the room of the Roadhouse that had been dubbed the arsenal, and for good reason, as it housed every weapon they could ever need on a hunt.

Sasha had a shotgun sitting useless in his lap, holding a rag and supplies to clean it that he had barely touched. "Fine," Sasha said, smiling wistfully. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

"You."

Dean's smile twitched in that wonderfully rare bashful way that only ever happened when Sasha surprised him. "The grease and sweat turning you on, baby?" he said to mask that he was close to blushing.

Four years was only a mark of time. Sasha never planned to ever stop surprising Dean. "Always," Sasha said in reference to the sweat and grime that only made Dean's ruggedness reach higher perfection, "But actually…about all the different ways we might never have gotten here, and yet…here we are."

"About to go on some boring ghost hunt?" Dean queried, not quite understanding.

Sasha just smiled. "No. Here…together."

You're not human…are you?

Sasha reached out for Sam but Sam jumped back and raised the knife in his hand, the one he had stabbed into Sasha's stomach, thinking he was the villain. Dean moved back as well, readying his gun, and that was just it-it was all too much. Sasha had nothing, no one, to hold onto, and so he fell to his knees and forward, one hand on the floor to hold himself up while the other pressed to his wound.

It wasn't bleeding, not really, but it stung. It stung like nothing Sasha had ever known, other than a few careless cuts that he had been able to treat quickly in the past. This time the wound was deep enough and close enough to his heart that he could already feel himself dying.

"Please…" Sasha gasped out, not wanting to die, not like this, not by the hand of new friends who hadn't until this moment known he was just another monster.

"Please?" Dean repeated, a cynical laugh on his lips. "You're kidding me, right?"

Sasha looked up at him, at Dean, his friend, he had thought, maybe more if Dean would only admit that he liked it when Sasha teased and flirted, but now Dean's gaze was hard. Dean hated him. Instantly hated him, and the pain Sasha was feeling only increased at the thought of yet another friend hating him just because of what he was.

Sasha tried to get them to understand. He wasn't the killer. He had seen her, almost caught her, but she was too fast. He hadn't meant to lie. No one knew the truth. No one could know the truth and accept him. Not his own kind who could never get past him being a hunter, and not other hunters who could never get past him being an incubus.

That left him nothing.

Nothing.

Sasha could feel the poison of the iron everywhere under his skin, burning like acid, so painful he couldn't move or think clearly, collapsed on the ground trying to explain, trying to understand while he laughed and cried and couldn't stop thinking about how foolish he was to ever think he could have what his parents had been so lucky to find.

"We don't fall in love…that often, you know. My mother…was a succubus, and…she went and fell in love with a hunter. He didn't care…what she was. He became one of us…to be with her. When he wanted…to keep hunting…she said…sure. But his…friend…wasn't as accepting. All that man saw…were monsters…even among people…he could have…trusted."

And now it was happening again. To him. To Sasha, without ever having found the joy his parents had known so briefly.

The rest was a blur around Sasha. What he said. Something about the girls, the killer, the succubus, but his head was heavy, and his body was starting to turn numb. He was so tired. He just wanted to rest, to sleep. To die. And then Sam and Dean's voices were floating around him.

"What do we do?"

"How do we help you?"

And everything changed.

"Hey, I can…I can do it myself," Dean said, fall-down drunk and leaning heavily against Sasha right where Sasha wanted him and had trouble controlling himself with Dean so warm and close.

"You sure?" Sasha said.

"Sure I'm-" Dean started to say, but he pushed with a little more force than he should have to get away from Sasha and headed for a nose-dive right into the floor.

Sasha was thankful for his incubus reflexes and that despite having drank at least as much as Dean, he was more aware, at least enough to catch Dean before he could finish his collision with the ground. Sasha shifted to better keep balanced, pressing both of them against the back wall of the tiny hidden hallway by the bathrooms. The more Sasha steadied them, holding Dean so close, the more he allowed his body to press forward.

He could almost hear Dean's heartbeat and feel the swirl of uncertain emotions raging inside Dean like a storm.

"Hey," Dean said, squinting into Sasha's face that was close enough for Sasha to steal a kiss. And he wanted to. So badly. "You gotta quit that. I may by drunk…but not that drunk. We had a deal, remember?"

Oh Sasha remembered their deal, and their kiss. Their first kiss. How Dean had raged against him and yet immediately melted when their lips met, for one brief moment leaving all of Dean's hesitations and insecurities behind and kissing Sasha back before Dean's brain caught up with him and intervened.

Sasha smiled, unsure if he could let Dean pull away so easily this time.

"I know," Sasha said, "I remember. I lay off…if you feel nothing from our kiss."

Even as Sasha said it, he felt the flare of anger that echoed behind his words, because he could feel Dean's panic, Dean's hesitation that was stronger than ever, and Sasha knew that he would not get what he wanted tonight without taking it.

So he took as much as he dared.

Slamming Dean back into the wall and pinning his arms above his head to press in closer, Sasha could feel the contours of Dean's toned hunter body all the way down, with the almost imperceptible softness of Dean's belly that proved he did indeed like to eat.

"How much of an idiot do you think I am, Dean?" Sasha said, softly but allowing an edge of that anger because he couldn't help feeling cheated that he had finally met someone who made him feel so intense with want and yet his quarry was determined to turn away. "I'm an incubus. You. Can't. Fool. Me. But if you're going to go to this much trouble…to pretend…you don't want me…"

Sasha released Dean, knowing that if he allowed himself to go too far, Dean would never see him as something other than a monster, and he didn't think he could live with that. So he stepped back, leaving Dean frozen with his arms above his head, panting, and flushed, and so enticing it took all of Sasha's strength not to fiercely kiss him.

"What more can I do?" Sasha finished, smiling, though the expression almost hurt to conjure.

He walked away, because he couldn't stay there. He couldn't look Dean in the eyes and face rejection again from the one person he had ever truly wanted for himself.

And everything changed.

Not now, Sasha thought, the only thing he could think, because as tired and sore as he was from the iron in the air, and as much as he knew there were things more important than him, like Gordon, he couldn't bear the thought of dying, not now, when Dean had almost been his.

Sasha knew he was falling, had fallen, but he didn't really feel the impact. The sting of the metal sticking out of his chest was too great.

His chest. His heart.

He was going to die.

"No, no, no," Dean chanted, echoing Sasha's thoughts. Dean's voice sounded so distant, but he was right there, pulling Sasha against him.

Sasha hated that he couldn't really feel it, Dean's touch, and so he reached out himself, seeking Dean's face, his beautiful face, but the skin and rough graze of stubble slipped away and Sasha's arm dropped limp beside him.

No, Sasha wanted to say, not now, I can't. I can't lose him now when I barely had him. Dean.

"You're okay…you're okay," Dean said, but his eyes were wide and panicked as he looked down at the jagged piece of metal sticking out of Sasha's chest. He knew the truth of what he couldn't say, what Sasha could already feel happening. "No, no…you're okay…you're gonna be okay…"

"D-Dean…" Sasha forced his voice to work, his lips to move, because he needed Dean to look at him, not the metal, not Sasha's undoing, but at Sasha.

The pain was greater than Sasha had ever known before, but the sight of Dean's green eyes turning to him, even wet and reddening, lessened the ache, and he just wanted to feel Dean again. Sasha tried to lift his hand and touch Dean's face, but he couldn't.

"No," Dean said again, shaking his head and clinging to Sasha with such possession and need that Sasha almost might have smiled to hear it. "The antidote. Sam has some. He's around here…somewhere. He has to be. Sam!"

Dean's emotions were vibrant to Sasha, more so than he could ever remember, and all of them, every surge of pain and panic and grief, was because Dean couldn't bear to lose Sasha either.

"You'll be okay. We just…we just need the antidote and you'll be okay. Sammy!" Dean called again, but Sasha knew better than to believe it would be that easy.

Sasha watched Dean clench his eyes shut, watched the tears streak down Dean's face, and despite the pain and how much Sasha was trembling, he knew he couldn't leave without a kiss. His arm flopped uselessly when he tried to move it, so he didn't try again. Instead, he lifted his head, his chest on fire with the movement as he pressed his lips to Dean's.

Dean immediately helped, easing the effort by holding Sasha's head in place, but it wasn't enough. Dean tried to give Sasha the kiss he wanted, but Sasha's couldn't feel it, he couldn't feel anything. So with the last strength in him, he reached out to feel Dean the only way he had left.

The words that weren't there were clear in Dean's emotions. Not just pain and panic, and grief, not just regret and guilt, but the brightest emotion of all that Sasha had never known as brilliantly as Dean was feeling it for him now. He had never known that feeling directed at him, had stopped believing it was even possible anymore. But in Sasha's last moments, Dean was giving it to him, and for that Sasha knew he could die happy.

And everything changed.

Everything changed. And changed again.

There were arguments and there were interruptions, there were close calls, and once, Sasha had died, truly died, only to be brought back purely because Dean loved him enough to know that Sasha would rather die than see Dean change into something he wasn't.

Because Dean Winchester was perfect just the way he was.

"Can you wipe the sentimental look off your face, please," Dean said, breaking into Sasha's thoughts. "You're gonna screw me all up for tonight." But despite Dean's words, he was only half serious, because he was grinning, and his face was still a little red from blushing.

Sasha set the shotgun he had been almost cleaning aside and stood up. He crossed the small room filled with other guns, and knives, and some things only a hunter would understand as a weapon. He crossed to Dean and didn't stop until Dean had to set his gun aside too, because Sasha climbed right into his lap and almost unbalanced the chair.

"Baby," Dean laughed in surprise.

"I just need you to know something," Sasha said, legs on either side of Dean as he sat comfortably in Dean's lap, though he knew he was too heavy to stay there for long.

Sasha took Dean's face in both hands, feeling that tanned skin and the rough rub of stubble that was so familiar he always frowned a little right after Dean shaved, waiting for the bit of scruff to grow back. Dean's eyes were full of emotion that Sasha could read without using his incubus abilities. It was an emotion that had only glimmered there in the beginning, but shined gloriously one awful night, and blossomed into the nights that followed that they were thankfully allowed to live together.

"There were a few times, too many times, that something one of us did or didn't do might have ruined this. There were so many ways this might have slipped through our fingers, and yet…I have you. And for all the other things that go wrong, you're always perfect."

"Sasha-"

"Perfect," Sasha insisted. "Even if I'm not. Everything I am now, everything that makes me proud to be me and happy, at least a little, everyday…wasn't really there yet, wasn't really anything…until you loved me."

Dean looked stunned. The words Dean once couldn't say at all had been said by both of them so many times since, and yet Sasha knew as he looked at Dean, at that face and into those dampening eyes, that he had surprised his love yet again.

With his fingers playing lightly at the little hairs of Dean's neck, Sasha pulled just gently enough for Dean to know what he wanted and lean in. There would always be something special about their first kiss that they could look back on and laugh about now. And there were kisses afterward that had even come with tears. But no kiss with Dean Winchester was boring or ordinary, not the roughness of the hair on his face, or the way he could so easily take the kiss over and pull Sasha closer, hungry for him the way Sasha would have thought only an incubus could be hungry.

Sasha scooted his body further forward, their chests flush, his hands tight around Dean's face while their mouths locked tight and tongues tangled heatedly and yet so easily too. Easy. As hard as it had been in the beginning, as hard as so many other elements in their lives had been, just being them and together had always been easy.

"Baby…" Dean said again when they pulled apart, his voice low like a growl.

"Yeah?" Sasha grinned back, flushed himself and so thankful to be the one person lucky enough to have claim on one of the few truly good men. Better than he could ever be himself.

Dean blinked at Sasha heavily. "Can you get off? You're kinda heavy."

A laugh escaped Sasha, purely happy. He lifted up off of Dean, but remained close, invading Dean's personal space. "I can get off any time you want me to," Sasha said, and kissed Dean again.

Dean grinned, and laughed, but didn't say I love you. He didn't need to, the emotion was so strong, projected at Sasha, not just something Sasha could feel on his own. It was projected because Dean knew just as Sasha did that their first moment of exchanged 'I love you's' hadn't been said with words.

Sasha returned to his chair. Dean went back to cleaning his gun. They looked at each other from across the room, both flushed and grinning, and fully aware of how they would celebrate later that night when the hunt ahead of them was over.

This time everything did not change, because the things that matter stay the same.

THE END

~Crimson