Disclaimer: I own nothing and am further in debt to Kripke and Crimson1 for the loan of their creations.
A/N: Here is the second and final part. Dean and Sasha have to come to terms with Dean's attack. All three boys must come to terms with how it affects their relationship.
Thanks to everyone who took a moment to review. I was a little nervous in posting this, so your support and kind words were much appreciated.
As always, a special thank you to Crimson1 for allowing me to play so freely in her sandbox. Much love.
There be slash ahead…
The first thing Dean noticed was the smell of coffee. The second thing Dean noticed was pain. Everywhere. Which got way worse when he cracked one eye and light tried to stab through the centre of his head. Opening his eye was a really bad idea because suddenly the room was spinning. Dean felt the nausea building. He knew that he'd better start heading for the bathroom now because he was pretty sure it was going to take him a while to get there.
The minute Dean tried to move he let out a groan. He couldn't help himself. He barely moved at all and the pain blossomed in his head, his stomach, his ribs, his shoulder, and his back. And then Sasha was right there, his cobalt eyes shining with concern. And Dean hated that. He hated being the weak one, being the damsel in distress.
"Dean! You're awake," Sasha crouched by the bed.
"Brilliant statement of the obvious there, Sherlock," Dean croaked back and felt bad almost immediately. Dean was punished by the hurt look that crossed Sasha's face.
"Help me up," Dean's voice managed to convey the urgency of his request.
Sasha managed to help Dean up by grasping his arms, which seemed relatively unscathed from the night before. As soon as Dean was upright, the room pitched violently and he would have face planted if Sasha hadn't been essentially holding him up. Dean's determined forward momentum meant they kept going toward the bathroom, and Dean managed to regain enough equilibrium by the time they reached the door that he was able to shrug Sasha off.
Before Sasha could follow him, Dean had pushed the door to in his face and sank down at the toilet retching. There really wasn't anything to come up. Dean rested his head against the cool porcelain. This was the worst hangover he could remember – and without the benefit of a good time to go with it. Dean shuddered again at the memory of the night before.
His relationship with Sasha was no longer strange to him. He'd stopped thinking about Sasha in terms of being with a "man", of being gay, a long time ago. The words had ceased to be important to him. The people close to them had found their relationship to be perfectly normal and a logical outcome of who they were. Dean didn't think of himself as gay. He thought of himself as a guy who was in love with an incubus who also happened to be a guy.
It wasn't that Dean was naïve. Far from it. But he'd forgotten the kind of intolerance that was so prevalent in the world. Demons he got. People were just crazy. He'd never imagined having that kind of blind hatred directed at himself. This was different than simply being an outsider. As an outsider, he might be ignored or overlooked but not actively hated.
"Ok Winchester. Get your shit in a pile. It didn't happen. And it's never going to happen. Not like that. Not with Pete, not with anyone – awake or asleep." Dean shook himself and pushed up to look at himself in the mirror.
He wasn't surprised to see that he looked as bad as he felt. He was pale and a thin sheen of sweat was covering his face. He lifted up his Henley. The slash on his abdomen could have been a lot worse – just a scratch really. The bruises – many still shaped like boots – were a lot more spectacular. When he twisted to see his back, he hissed. The welts caused by the pool cue were a bit more disturbing, and they were covered at least partially by the binding Sam had applied to his ribs.
Before he could pull his shirt down, Sasha had cracked the door.
"Dean?" Sasha's concerned voice changed suddenly to a gasp as he took in Dean's new technicolour bodysuit.
"Don't you knock? It looks worse than it is," Dean tried to grin but it came out as more of a grimace. His left eye was still mostly swollen shut and the right was black.
"Maybe you should try to have a shower? It might help a bit," Sasha suggested. His voice was carefully controlled, but Dean saw a flash of red in place of the usual bright blue of his eyes.
"Sasha? You know it's not worth it to do anything about this, right?"
"Sam's already made that case."
"And you are totally on board, right?" Dean pressed. He wasn't letting this go.
"Sure. Have a shower Dean." Sasha closed the door.
Great, Dean thought. They'd have to get out of town somehow on what he had managed to stash in his boot. He had to get Sasha away from the temptation of beating the crap out of those guys. He was pretty sure that's what Sasha would do because that's exactly what he would do. In fact, he did want to go back and kick the crap out of them. But the thing that Dean wanted to do at all costs was spare Sasha from knowing the details of the attack.
Dean knew that he was mostly to blame. He'd let his guard down. He'd grown up in bars like that – the utter rat holes of the world. He knew that there was no tolerance of "alternative lifestyles" at a bar like that. He should have made all of that perfectly clear to Sasha before they even went in. What role he would have to play, what role Sasha would have to play. It wasn't Sasha's fault that he hadn't grown up in places like that. Even as a hunter, Sasha's hustle was to sing at more upscale bars. Well, any bar that had live music with any talent was more upscale than last night's.
Above all else, Dean just didn't want Sasha to blame himself. Turning on the water, Dean waited for it to run as hot as he could stand. He was still cold. Dean knew he was the one to blame. He'd brought this on himself. He'd allowed himself to wallow in his little dream world, forgetting the consequences of living in the real one. Wearily, he stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower.
As the water cascaded down his weary and battered body, Dean allowed the tears to come. Letting them strip away some of the pain of his battered soul as the hot water stripped some of the pain from his battered body.
Sam and Sasha were packing up the few things they had actually unpacked.
"I think we should let Dean rest for today and leave tomorrow," Sasha said.
"No. Trust us on this one, Sasha. It's best just to get out of town." Sam's voice was world weary. These were the sorts of towns that he had gladly left behind when he went to school. It was a whole different world.
"We still don't have any money."
"We'll figure something out. You keep Dean distracted and I can phone Bobby to wire us some money. He knows I'll pay it back. Dean will freak if he knows though."
"What is it with him and accepting help from anybody?" Sasha asked Sam.
"It's a big brother thing. I think he'd tell you it isn't in the job description." Sam smiled weakly at Sasha.
"Hmpf. I'm not his little brother," Sasha muttered.
"I think he's well aware of that," Sam did chuckle a bit at that. "Look. I'm going to go for some fresh coffee and to settle up the bill."
Sasha quirked an eyebrow at him.
"I'll simply suggest that we've already paid." Sam didn't meet Sasha's eye. Sam didn't really like scamming with credit cards and mojoing someone seemed even worse for some reason.
"It's an emergency, Sam," Sasha tried to reassure him, plainly seeing Sam's conflict.
Once Sam was gone, Sasha looked around for any last items to pack. He decided to get out some clean clothes for Dean. He picked what he knew would be soft and warm. After seeing Dean's injuries, he knew the car ride, however long it turned out to be, would be far from fun for Dean.
Slipping into the bathroom, Sasha left the clean clothes and gathered up the dirty, including the ones from last night that had gotten shoved into a corner. They were coated in blood and would have to be washed, but Sasha folded them anyway. He froze when he got to Dean's jeans. Suddenly, it all made sense. From Sam's warning in the bar to Dean's jeans. Sasha's eyes burned red. And then they faded back to blue and filled with tears. This had been his fault. He'd unwittingly placed Dean in danger.
Sasha was still sitting on the bed holding Dean's jeans when Sam got back. Sam's gaze was immediately drawn to the jeans, but he could feel Sasha's gaze boring into him. When he met those brilliant blue eyes they were awash in tears of anguish.
"Sam?" Sasha's voice was breathless, "Did they…"
"NO!" Sam immediately reassured the incubus. "No. I think they tried something, but didn't get that far. Dean didn't tell me the details. He just said they never got past his boxers. Used his knife to slice off the pants though, the bastards."
"Good. That's good. That they didn't…" Sasha gulped, "didn't…you know…."
By the time Dean emerged from the bathroom, they all had their masks firmly in place.
It didn't take them long to decide on a course of action. Dean needed to rest, but their need to get out of that town was greater. Dean revealed the money in his boot. It was enough for gas and food to get them a couple of hundred miles gone. Sasha suggested a town in Wisconsin. It was on the way to the case – still their ultimate destination – and it had a bar that Sasha had sung at before. They could hole up there for a few days until Dean recovered and it would get them time to get some new credit cards.
"Now we just have to pay up here," Dean sighed.
"Done," Sam replied.
"Huh? You got a secret stash you're holding out on us, Sammy?" Dean looked a little taken aback.
"No. Not like that…" Sam left it to hang in the air. The penny dropped for Dean with a resounding thud.
"Dude! Did you really? You really are like freakin' Luke Skywalker!"
"Don't get used to it." Sam refused to even crack a smile.
Five minutes later, they were in the car and heading out of town. All of their thoughts strayed back to what they had left behind, however.
Sam was driving. They'd suggested that Dean should sit in the back, but he'd refused, saying that with the nausea he was still experiencing, sitting in the back would put him right over the edge. So Sasha was alone in the back and Dean was hunched miserably in shotgun. He was twisted so that his relatively injury free left side pressed into the seat. This meant, of course, that he still couldn't really look out the front windshield. They'd grabbed some ice for his shoulder before leaving, and Dean was awkwardly trying to keep it in place. He laid his head on the back of the seat and closed his eyes so that he wouldn't have to look at either Sam or Sasha. Every jostle of the car sent pain lancing though his entire body. The ibuprofen he took earlier didn't seem to be helping all that much.
By the time Dean had had the ice on his shoulder for the required twenty minutes, he was shaking with cold, despite having the heater cranked up enough that Sam and Sasha had both had to remove their jackets. Sam suggested stopping for something hot to drink at the next gas station. Luckily, they didn't have to wait long.
Dean cradled the hot coffee that Sam had bought for him in his hands. He knew if he drank it, he'd be seeing it again, but it was warm and he was still so cold. He could be snuggling a hot incubus right now, but somehow he just couldn't bring himself to climb in the back with him. He needed a little space to deal. Which explained the hurt look on Sasha's face right now.
Sam finally took the cup away when it threatened to spill from Dean's lax fingers. Guessing that his brother was never going to drink the now cold coffee, Sam tossed it out his window, thankful for the environmentally friendly cup.
They drove for a couple of hours before stopping for something to eat.
"I'm good. You two go ahead without me," Dean muttered without even lifting his head off the seat.
"Dean, c'mon. You can't stay out here – it's too cold. And you need to drink something at the very least. You're getting dehydrated." Sam insisted.
"Don't be an ass, Dean. Your brother's right," Sasha agreed.
Dean cracked an eye and looked from one to the other. Concern radiated off of both of them. And those damn puppy eyes. He hated it when they double whammied him.
"'K," he gave in.
Dean drew the line at letting them help him out of the car or into the diner. He had on one of Sam's hoodies and flipped it up to keep the majority of the patrons from seeing his badly bruised and swollen face. They picked a back booth and slid in. Dean was slightly annoyed when Sasha slid in next to him. He didn't know why that was his response. They often sat together, but for some reason today it irritated him. When Sasha tried to lay a comforting hand on his thigh, Dean caught his wrist before he could touch him.
"Dude! I'm pretty much tenderized everywhere. My clothes hurt."
Sasha froze and pulled his hand back like he'd been stung.
"Sorry."
The situation was saved from being any more awkward by the appearance of their waitress. She smiled at Sam and turned up the volume on it for Sasha, but when her eyes landed on Dean, she gasped.
"Are you alright, honey?" Concern written across her face.
"Yeah. Just lost a fight with a door," Dean tried to give her one of his trademark grins, but again, he was pretty sure it fell flat and he diverted his attention to the middle of their table.
"Oh. Ok. Sure. Well, what can I get for you boys," the waitress turned back to her work.
Sam ordered the sandwich and salad combo, Sasha got a burger and fries, Dean got chicken noodle soup, and they all got coffee. Sam frowned when Dean ordered his.
"You're dehydrated, remember?" Sam pointed out.
"There's plenty of water here too," Dean countered.
"Sam's right, Dean. You need to drink." Sasha added.
"Fine," Dean ground out and picking up his water glass chugged the whole thing, slamming the glass back down so hard he almost shattered it and gaining the attention of pretty much everyone in the diner.
"Crap. Sorry." Dean almost instantly regretted his action as the water hit his empty stomach and burned. He let his head fall forward into his hand and closed his eyes.
He could feel Sasha and Sam's eyes upon him and he just didn't want to deal with them right now. He could take care of himself. Hell, he'd been doing it for years.
The waitress returned with their coffee and refilled Dean's water glass. Dean normally lived for the smell of coffee but in this instance, he thought the smell was going to make him lose his battle with Mr. Nausea. He did hug the mug in tight to his body to absorb the heat radiating off of it.
Sam and Sasha were making small talk about the upcoming case and the town they were heading to.
"I know a not bad little motel – it's cheap and clean. The bar that I sometimes sing at is just around the corner from it too," Sasha explained to Sam.
Sasha had made no further move to touch or get close to Dean. The incubus could sense the roiling emotions beneath the oldest Winchester's stoic exterior. He knew that what Dean needed most was the space and time to come to terms with this on his own. Sasha was betting that there would come a time when Dean would let him in, but he also knew that there was no hope of breaching Dean's defences before that time.
The food came. Sam and Sasha dug into theirs. Dean tried to force the soup down. It tasted good, and it was hot. He was still shivering he was so cold.
Dean managed to force down about half the soup. Sam and Sasha had finished their meals and were ready to leave.
"I'll catch up with you," Dean said after putting some bills on the table and following Sasha out of the booth. Sam nodded and headed for the door, but Sasha turned to follow Dean. Dean laid a hand on his chest.
"Dude. I am so not going to the can in a group." Dean's eyes locked with Sasha's blue. This wasn't up for debate.
Sasha shrugged and followed Sam.
Dean just made it into the washroom before losing his battle to keep the soup down. Actually having something to throw up didn't feel any better on his ribs. He quickly splashed water on his too pale face. Well, too pale except for all the bruising. He sighed and made his way back to the car. Sam had the engine running and Sasha had sprawled in the back.
"Here," Sam held a water bottle out to Dean as he slid into the passenger seat. "Figured you'd need to rinse your mouth out, and you're still gonna get dehydrated if you don't get some fluids in you."
Dean snorted but still muttered a thanks.
The rest of the afternoon passed in relative silence. Dean dozed uncomfortably in the passenger seat, and Sasha tried to sleep in the back as he would be out late playing at the bar.
It was a little after 5 when they pulled into the motel that Sasha had recommended. He ran in to get them a room as he had stayed there before, so they'd book Sasha one without cash or a credit card up front. Of course, as they liked Sasha here, the hunters wouldn't have used a fake card anyway.
Once Sasha returned with the key, they made their way into the room. It wasn't remarkable in any way. Just a clean, cheap room. Dean was so sore on climbing out of the car that he didn't even try to grab a duffle. Sam and Sasha exchanged looks.
"I'm gonna take a shower," Dean said. "Here's the last of the money if you want something to eat," he dropped it on the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.
"I'll go," Sam volunteered. He hoped that Dean might be ready to talk to Sasha.
"Thanks," Sasha said gratefully, stretching out on one of the beds to wait.
Sasha was seriously beginning to wonder if Dean was actually going to come out of the bathroom before Sam came back, but finally, he did.
Sasha studied Dean as he came out. Still much, much too pale. The swelling around his left eye had at least gone down, but that just served to make the way his eyes crinkled when in pain more obvious. Dean moved like a man over three times his age.
"Sam left you a present," Sasha pointed out the painkillers and water Sam had left on the table.
"Thanks." Dean swallowed them, took a breath and finished the water in the bottle. He was hoping it would stay down. He felt like shit. In fact, he felt like shit on Tuesday's toast. He sank down on the other bed. He really didn't want to lean back on anything.
Sasha got up and came to sit beside him, close enough that they were almost touching. He could feel Dean lean subtly away from him.
"Dean talk to me," Sasha's voice was quiet, almost but not quite pleading.
"Bout what?" Dean did not want to have this conversation. Not now. Not a hundred years from now. Not that he was lasting even remotely that long.
"Last night. What happened." Sasha's voice had lost the pleading quality.
"I was stupid. Under estimated them. Got the shit beat out of me. I thought the whole thing was pretty obvious."
"You weren't the stupid one though, were you?"
"Huh?" Dean actually turned to look at Sasha.
"I got you beat up, didn't I?" Sasha's voice was hard, accusing.
"What? Who said that?" Dean was going to kill Sam.
"Nobody had to say it Dean. I'm not stupid. Though you may doubt that after last night." Sasha looked at the floor.
"I saw your jeans," Sasha's voice was barely a whisper.
Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, Dean's thoughts were just stuck.
"I haven't cared what people think about my sexuality for a long time – well never actually. I love you, Dean, and I don't care who knows it. But that wasn't what last night was about. I let you down as a hunter. I didn't have your back," Sasha's voice resonated with the anguish that was clearly written on his face.
"This isn't on you. It's on me. I should have been more careful. I should have been able to get away." Dean's voice was quiet and Sasha saw the colour spread up his pale face.
"I'm gonna kill them," Sasha ground out, anger pushing all the other feelings aside.
"NO!" Dean turned and grabbed Sasha's arm, his eyes boring into the incubus' which were flashing red. "You will not. You will... Let. This. Go."
Sasha wrenched his arm away, missing Dean's grimace of pain, and stood up pacing the room.
"You can't expect me to just sit by and let someone hurt you!" Sasha wheeled to face Dean. "Let someone almost…"
"DON'T!" Dean cut Sasha off. "Don't fight my battles for me," Dean's voice was low but hard as steel. If he didn't feel like he was about to pass out, he would have been on his feet, shouting in Sasha's face.
"I care about you, Dean. That means I get to defend you!"
"I can look after myself."
"Oh yeah. I can certainly see that," Sasha's scathing tone was mirrored in his gaze which moved up the entire length of Dean's body.
"Screw you," Dean almost didn't regret raising his voice for that one. He stood from the bed, moving back into the bathroom and slammed the door.
"Dean!" Sasha shouted. He briefly considered knocking on or possibly knocking down the door, but he was just too frustrated and angry and hurt. Instead he grabbed the guitar and his leather jacket and stormed out of the motel room narrowly missing knocking Sam down.
"Hey! What about the food?" Sam called as Sasha stormed off.
"I'm not hungry. Don't wait up. I'll be late." Sasha called back over his shoulder, eyes flashing between cobalt blue and crimson.
Sam sighed. So that obviously didn't go well.
"Dean? You can come out of hiding. He's gone now," Sam called at the bathroom as he put the food on the table.
Dean emerged from the bathroom. He wasn't really sure if he was relieved he didn't have to continue the conversation or not. He looked disinterestedly at the food Sam was placing on the table.
"Did you have to tell him?" Dean asked as he sat at the table, careful not to lean back.
"I didn't tell him anything, Dean. He's not stupid. He cares about you. He loves you." Sam sighed in frustration.
"He thinks it's his fault. I'm afraid of what he's gonna do." Dean stared at the table and then looked up through his lashes at his brother.
"We'll talk to him tomorrow, Dean. Both of us. Maybe we got too comfortable too fast. We are still learning to work as a team. It just feels so natural to have Sasha around, we forget that he hasn't always been and he hasn't had quite the same experiences as we have," Sam as always articulated the whole problem.
"Lucky him, to experience the best in life Winchester style," Dean's tone was bitter.
"Hey, you're the one that has always maintained that it wasn't all bad. For now, you have to eat something. I brought you some beef broth and toast." Sam tried to reassure his brother. Sasha would be singing until late tonight because they needed the money. They'd all talk tomorrow, and they'd get past this little glitch.
"Thanks, Sammy," Dean reached for the food.
Dean managed to choke down about half the soup and the toast. His stomach wasn't particularly happy about it, but it also wasn't just rejecting it either. Dean was swaying slightly in his seat by the time he'd finished. He couldn't believe he'd slept pretty much all day and was still exhausted. His body was throbbing everywhere again.
"Dean?" Sam said quietly to get his brother's attention. "Let me look at those cuts and then why don't you turn in?"
"S'ok, Sam. I checked it all myself," Dean gave himself a shake. "It's not even 8 yet. I'm not going to bed. I'm not five!"
"Whatever, but you're falling asleep in that chair, so humour me and move over to the bed and let me take a look those cuts."
"Anybody ever told you you're stubborn?"
"Pot? Have you met the kettle?" Sam quipped.
In the end, Dean did as Sam asked, flipping on the tv to distract himself. He was able to keep himself from flinching away from Sam's touch. It was Sam, damn it. Sam was satisfied with how Dean was healing for the moment. He brought more painkillers and some water over, handing them to Dean. Sam had also gotten some ice to put on Dean's shoulder.
"It's a little early, but I've got a feeling that even though you're not five, you will be asleep in five, so take these now." Sam waited until Dean had finished the water.
Dean finally gave up trying to sit up to watch the tv and curled onto his left side again. He didn't quite make Sam's five minutes before he was snoring softly.
Sam shook his head sadly. He gently got Dean under the covers, turned off the tv, removed the ice from his shoulder, and set a glass of water and some more painkillers beside the bed for if Dean woke up during the night. Sam flipped open the laptop after cleaning up the remains of dinner. He left Sasha's in case the incubus was hungry when he got back.
Sam had been working for a couple of hours when Dean started to get restless. He was muttering in his sleep and tossing his head. The muttering became more audible.
"No. Please….don't…no…no…'m not like that…no…please."
Sam cringed at the words and pleading tone of Dean's voice. When Dean started to move his arms and legs and the agitation seemed to have progressed into a full blown nightmare, Sam moved quickly to his brother's side and grasped his arm, in both an attempt to still and wake him.
"Dean! Wake up! It's just a nightmare," Sam raised his voice to wake his brother as quickly as possible. He wasn't quite prepared for Dean to swing his right fist straight for his head.
Sam ended up on his butt on the floor but managed to avoid Dean's blow.
"Dude, what the hell," Dean blinked blearily around and groaned softly. He was sweating and shaking and his shoulder was throbbing.
"You were having a nightmare, Dean. You ok now?" Sam's concerned face hovered over Dean as he stood up to smooth the covers over his brother.
"I'm fine, Sammy. Just a dream. Go way." Dean swatted Sam's hands away and shut his eyes.
"Fine." Sam huffed and went back to the computer. God how he hated that word. He didn't fail to notice that Dean's breathing didn't even out into sleep for quite some time.
Sam started and woke up. He had fallen asleep at the computer at some point, but something had woken him up. He hit the space bar to fire the computer out of hibernation and its soft glow illuminated the room. Sam checked the computer's clock. It was 1:30 am.
He immediately checked Dean. He hadn't moved and was still snoring softly. At first, Sam had thought it was Sasha, but the incubus had not entered the room. Then the penny dropped. Sam had heard the Impala door. He quickly rose and slipped outside. No one was near Dean's precious baby. Sam tucked the gun he'd grabbed into the back of his jeans and flipped his t-shirt down over it. He walked around the car to make sure it was secure. He found nothing and was about to go back inside when he realized the guitar was sitting in the back seat. Sam immediately scanned the parking lot. No Sasha.
While the mystery of Sasha's whereabouts concerned Sam, he knew he couldn't leave his brother, so he slipped back into the motel to wait for the incubus to return.
Dean was restless around three and stumbled into the bathroom and back. Coming back to the bed, Dean noticed the painkillers Sam had left out for him and gratefully took them. As Dean carefully lowered himself back onto the bed, he noticed Sam was still fully clothed and lying on top of the blankets on the other bed. Dean smirked. Mom's waiting up. Bet the kid is in serious crap for staying out too late.
Dean was a little hurt that Sasha hadn't returned yet. He wasn't sure that he was up for talking yet, but he wanted the incubus close. Dean stifled a groan as he lay back down, trying not to wake Sam. It didn't take long for Dean to fall back to sleep as his injured body tried to heal.
Sam was woken by the sound of a key in the lock shortly after 6. The sun was just coming up and filtered weakly in the door with Sasha before it was abruptly cut off by Sasha closing the door. Sam had enough light to see that Sasha was a bit dishevelled and moved as though exhausted but otherwise looked fine.
"Where have you been," Sam asked quietly.
"Not now, please Sam? Can we talk in the morning?"
"It is morning," Sam shot back.
"Please, Sam." Sasha's voice betrayed his exhaustion.
"Fine. But we are going to talk. All of us." Sasha didn't mistake the conviction in Sam's voice.
After a quick trip to the bathroom, Sasha carefully climbed into bed with Dean. Like the night before, Sasha curled in to spoon Dean without actually making contact with his injured back. He gently and tenderly kissed the back of Dean's neck. Dean's subconscious welcomed the comforting presence of the incubus. His conscious mind might still have gotten in the way, but Dean hummed quietly in response without waking up.
Dean smelled coffee and felt warm breath on the back of his neck. He knew that the moment he moved his current state of bliss would be shattered, so he stayed still for a moment to enjoy it. At least the drug hangover was gone. His head wasn't aching. He felt Sasha behind him and for the first time since the bar it felt right and it felt safe.
Dean started to take a deep breath in preparation of moving and was rewarded by a sharp pain from his broken ribs. He huffed and managed not to cough. And then Sam was there.
"You want a little help getting up?" His voice was just over a whisper.
Dean grunted, and Sam reached down to help him sit up to put as little strain on Dean's back, ribs, shoulder, and abdomen as possible. While Dean rested on the side of the bed, gathering his energy to make it into the bathroom, Sam grabbed painkillers and water, handing them to his brother. Dean smiled tightly in thanks and downed them.
"How are you feeling? Be honest for once," Sam had a cross between the bitch-face and the puppy-face happening. Dean was as always bemused by Sam's ability to do that.
"Better. I think. Definitely better after a long hot shower. What time is it?" Dean stood up slowly and was pleased when the room didn't tilt.
"Almost noon. Coffee'll be done by the time you are."
Dean paused before heading to the bathroom, looking back at the still sleeping incubus. There were dark shadows under his eyes and a slight frown passed over his face in sleep. His too red hair fell across his face and one hand seemed to be groping out in search of his missing companion.
"What time did he get in?" Dean asked quietly.
"'Bout 6."
"Damn." Dean retreated to the bathroom.
By the time Dean got out of the bathroom, he was feeling a whole lot better and Sam and Sasha were both sitting at the table. They were both nursing coffees and there was an uncomfortable silence between them. Dean got himself coffee and sat down at the table with the other two.
"So. Where the hell did you go last night," Dean took the bull by the horns.
"Dean," Sam warned. Dean hunched a shoulder in denial at Sam but kept his green gaze fixed firmly on Sasha's blue one.
"I went to the bar to sing." Sasha reached into his jacket, hanging on his chair, and pulled out a handful of bills, tossing them on the table.
"Last time I checked, bars didn't close at 6 in the morning," Dean ground out. He took the opportunity to really look at Sasha's face. He looked pale and tired; he still had dark smudges under his eyes. Dean realized he probably needed to feed.
"What do you want me to say?" Sasha replied quietly.
"If we're going to hunt together, you need to be completely honest with us," Sam jumped in. "I heard you when you put the guitar in the car."
"I think you both know what I did."
"How the hell…of all the stupid…what if…" Dean sputtered.
"Just start at the beginning, Sasha, so we know how bad this is gonna be,' Sam interrupted his brother.
Dean's scowl almost had his eyebrows knit together and he was clenching and unclenching his jaw.
"Fine. I finished up at the bar around 1, came back here to drop the guitar, flew back to that rat hole, beat the crap out of that stupid Pete and his buddies, and flew back here. Satisfied?" Sasha glared at the brothers. Defiant and unrepentant.
"Jesus," Dean swore, "You don't think an incubus attacking them might draw a little attention?"
"I didn't assume my incubus form, you idiot. I wanted them to know exactly who was kicking their asses and why."
"You asshole!" Dean managed to shout despite his bruised ribs.
"I wasn't going to let them just get away with hurting you!" Sasha raised his voice too. "I wasn't going to let them get away with almost rap--"
"DON'T!!" Dean shouted, interrupting and slamming his fist on the table. "Don't ever say that." His voice lowered almost to a whisper.
Dean glared at Sasha.
"I don't need you fighting my imaginary battles for me," he ground out. "Maybe I don't have freaky super powers like you two, but I've been fighting my own battles for a long time. I don't WANT you fighting them for me."
"It wasn't like that," Sasha tried to reason with Dean.
"The HELL it wasn't. It was EXACTLY like that. I am NOT your god damn damsel in distress." Dean's fist hit the table again. He couldn't bear the thought of them thinking he was weak.
"Dean, I could never think that," Sasha's voice had lost its heat. He could feel the pain and confusion beneath Dean's anger.
It was then that Dean glanced down to Sasha's beautiful hands. They were bruised and swollen with scrapes across the knuckles.
"Damn it," Dean said. "You need to get ice on those."
"You can't do things like this Sasha. Running off and following your own agenda. If we are going to be a team, you have to act like part of the team. That means each member knows what the others are doing. We make decisions together." Sam had his earnest professor voice on, but for once, Dean didn't object to either the tone or the content of Sam's speech.
Sasha dropped his head. He was so used to doing things on his own. But he loved being a part of something larger than just himself.
"I'm sorry. I just wanted to try to make it right." Sasha finally said quietly looking at the table.
"It wasn't up to you to make it right," Dean insisted quietly.
"It was my fault that you got hurt," Sasha insisted.
"It was my own fault," Dean maintained.
"It was just as much my fault," Sam interjected. Sasha and Dean whipped their heads around to stare at Sam as if he had two heads.
"Seriously. I've been watching your back in places like that for long enough to read the signs, Dean. I never should have left you alone there." Sam's feelings of guilt were clearly strewn across his face.
Dean sighed. Not another one, he thought.
"Look. I'm a big boy," Dean said. "I told you to leave Sam. And Sasha? Apparently, I wasn't as subtle as I thought I was. I screwed up. I'm just glad that I'm the only one to suffer the consequences."
"Jesus, Dean!" Sam spit out. "You sound like you think you deserved this! Were you even listening? We're a team. We share equally in everything. And if you don't think patching you up and watching you in pain isn't enough of a consequence, think again."
Dean looked at Sam and Sasha. Really looked and saw how drawn both their faces were. His stomach sank. He really was a selfish bastard.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
"So not my point, bro." Sam shook his head.
"So I guess this is a learning curve for all of us," Sasha broke in to try to relieve some of the tension. "We are all responsible for each other and to each other. So what we have here is a freaky three-way street?"
"I guess you could put it like that," Sam acquiesced. "But Sasha, you have to know that beating them up doesn't solve anything. It just gives them more reason to hate people different from them."
"Maybe. Maybe not. But do you really think that people like that ever change? If nothing else, maybe now they'll think twice about doing that to the next guy."
They sat in silence for a moment. The moment was shattered by a loud grumble from Dean's stomach.
"What?" He raised one eyebrow. "I haven't had a decent meal in days!"
Sam chuckled. "Fine. Let me get a shower and then we can get out of here and get something to eat."
Dean was glad the chick flick moment was over for now. He had pretty much reached emotional overload. He knew they were still going to have to keep defining and re-defining how they worked together.
"Dean?" Sasha said quietly once Sam had disappeared into the bathroom. "You don't think you deserved that beating do you?"
"What? No! Why would I? And why would you even ask that?" Dean babbled.
"You don't think that you should be punished because we're together." It wasn't really a question or a statement. "Do you, Dean?"
"Of course not."
"Then why won't you even let me touch you?"
"Dude! We've been sleeping together in the same bed."
"Yes. Sleep. Like you could do with your brother."
"I'm sore, you know," Dean's answers were getting increasingly defensive.
Sasha got up and walked over to Dean's chair. He reached out towards Dean's face. Dean's first reaction was to recoil from the touch, but he managed to stop himself. This was Sasha. He loved Sasha. He loved Sasha touching him.
Sasha paused with his hand half way to Dean's face when he saw him flinch and pull back. He waited until he saw Dean relax and then he gently stroked Dean's cheek with his thumb, carding his fingers back through the older hunter's hair. Finally Dean leaned into the caress. His eyes had fluttered shut.
"Are you ashamed of us? Of us being together?" Sasha's voice was almost a whisper.
"NO!" Dean glanced up quickly through his long dark lashes and then his eyes went back to the table. But he grabbed Sasha's wrist and held it firmly in place.
"I'm not ashamed," Dean insisted. "It's just that it's been so easy up til now…"
Sasha snorted. "Easy? Do you remember how long it took me to get you to admit you even had feelings for me? Do you remember how many times you denied it and back tracked and all out ran away?"
"This was never how I pictured myself." Dean admitted quietly.
"What? In a relationship? In love?" Sasha pressed.
"No. None of it." Sasha was momentarily shocked by Dean's reply.
"You deserve to be happy, Dean. We both do." Sasha turned Dean's chair slightly and squatted down in front of him, placing one hand gently on each of his knees, looking up now into Dean's face.
"Somehow I don't think the rest of the world shares your opinion."
"Fuck them, then," Sasha said fiercely.
"No thanks. I've already had that invitation and turned it down," Dean quirked one side of his mouth up into a bitter smile.
"I wish I could have protected you from that forever," Sasha's voice was almost a whisper. "It's hard when you realize some people will hate you for what you are and what you can't change."
Dean realized that Sasha was talking about more than just his sexual orientation. Sasha had had to deal with being an outsider all of his life. More so even than Dean.
Dean reached out a hand to Sasha. The first time since the attack that he had done so. He gently stroked the crimson hair back from his face and it was Sasha's turn to lean into his touch.
"It's gonna take me some time…" Dean trailed off.
"It's ok, Dean. Just let me be here to help when I can."
"You already have." Dean smiled at the incubus and drew his head to him, gently but firmly kissing him on the forehead.
"I'm not ashamed of you. I mean who could be? You're adorable. But baby? You also stink right now," Dean wrinkled his nose and smirked.
Sam found them still smiling and Sasha laughing when he came out of the shower.
"Apparently, I need to shower too," Sasha said and brushed past Sam into the bathroom.
"You guys ok?" Sam asked quietly.
"We will be," Dean smiled at his brother.
They were quiet as Sam drove to the nearest diner. Sasha had recommended the food as good, filling, and cheap. Something was still nagging at Dean, though.
He cleared his throat as he got stiffly out of the Impala.
"Look. I just have one final thing to say. We may be a team and equal and all, but you know that at the end of the day, that's not quite the way it is." Dean started.
Sam and Sasha had come around the car and waited for Dean to continue.
"You two have those freaky super powers going for you." Dean smiled. He never wanted either of them to think that affected the way he felt about them. "All I've really got going for me is my big brother mojo."
"Dean," Sam and Sasha said simultaneously.
"Scary," Dean laughed, "and I guess you've got a little doublemint action going for you too!"
They all laughed and made a face at that, but it did help to break the tension that had started to build.
"Dean, I love you. So does Sam. We can't help but want to protect you back," Sasha started.
"I do take some pride in my own abilities, you know." Dean broke in. "I need to feel like I'm playing some role here. I can't change who I am, and I don't want to." Dean was frustrated by his inability to articulate his feelings. Of course, that's because normally he just refused to try to articulate them.
"And because it can't be said enough, I'm not ashamed of us, you idiot! Or you." To prove his point, Dean grabbed Sasha and placing one hand on either side of his face quickly pulled the incubus to him and kissed him hard. Sasha was too shocked to resist and Sam gaped openly.
Dean broke the kiss.
"Don't ever expect that to happen in public again," Dean said and pushed Sasha ahead.
"And just because I'm not kissing you, it doesn't mean I feel any differently about you," Dean grabbed Sam and pushed him in the same direction.
"If you two emo-twins are satisfied, I need to feed my shockingly neglected stomach!" Dean had had enough chick-flick to last for at least a month.
Sam and Sasha swung around in tandem and stared at Dean.
"Jerk!" They both said simultaneously. They swung their eyes back to each other and burst out laughing.
Coming up in between the other two who had started to walk toward the diner, Dean swatted both of them on the backs of their heads.
"Bitches!" Dean grinned and walked between them and into the diner.
A/N: And so begins the healing process. As always, I'm dying to know what people think…..
And finally, a little shameless self-promotion in the name of a good cause. K. Hanna Korossy is hosting a Supernatural fanfic auction for the next two weeks (June 28-July 12) to benefit a fellow writer, publisher and friend who is in need of a wheelchair. Twenty-two writers (including myself) and two vidders have offered their talents and time to this endeavour and every penny bid or donated goes to the fund. The auction can be found at www(dot)thefreeauction(dot)com, under Miscellaneous-General. Registering to bid is fast and easy. If you have any questions, please contact K. Hanna Korossy. Here's a great way to have a story written for you and help raise money for a good cause!
