I lied, I didn't fit in a flashback of the Sasha/Dean fight, and I'm fine with that. It just didn't work. Also, the contest for writing the 'Dean tells Sasha' scene has been extended to Sunday to accomodate a new reader. Please feel free to still enter. Remember, I'll write a scene for you of whatever you want between the charcaters, with the potential of it being canon to the story. Anyway, enjoy!
Part 2: Mistakes Made
--
Dean's hand started to lift of its own accord. He still had the gun he had been pointing at Kubrick—hammer ready, fully loaded. Sam's command was extreme enough that Dean retained full consciousness of what he was doing despite having no control over his traitorous limb. It made it so much worse. Dean tried to fight Sam's message of control but Sam's intent had never been stronger.
There were only a few yards separating them. Dean wouldn't miss.
No, Dean screamed inside his head, don't shoot! Stop! It's Sammy! But Dean's arm wouldn't listen. It continued to raise, his finger tight on the trigger, the gun leveling and aiming right at Sam's head.
"I'm sorry," Sam said, so sorrowful and obviously Sammy through and through—regardless of any darkness—that Dean knew this was crazy, knew this could never be the answer, devil's trap be damned.
Sam closed his eyes.
Dean's mind-controlled hand squeezed the trigger.
The force of the gun firing made Dean gasp. Or maybe it was the impact of suddenly being on his back, flat on the floor with a too heavy weight on top of him. Dean strained to focus his eyes. His chest was searing and the world wouldn't stop spinning around him. Slowly, he began to make out blue veins and a pale neck that was covered in cuts.
Sasha.
Dean's gun was sandwiched between them. With no other easy or obvious way to stop Dean, the incubus had simply thrown himself on top of him, catching the bullet with his own body.
Distantly, Dean heard Sam calling to them, but right now the last person Dean was in the mood to listen to was his brother. Instead he searched frantically in his brain to remember what bullets were in his gun. They had come here to fight a human; type of bullets weren't a priority. They had just grabbed guns and loaded them.
Silver, Dean told himself, hoping it wasn't just wishful thinking. He thought maybe the bullets in his current gun were silver, and in that case they wouldn't do anything to an incubus.
"Sasha?" Dean said, pushing his friend's body carefully to the side and off of him. That wasn't just for Sasha's benefit either; Dean could hardly move after the aggravation the impact had caused to his wounds. He had completely bled through Sasha's T-shirt and the world was growing hazy. He had to focus. "Sasha?" he said again, lifting up to look down at his friend.
Bloodshot and heavily veined blue eyes blinked up at Dean. The bullet would have gone all the way through but as Dean looked at the wound in Sasha's stomach he saw the skin slowly closing up, leaving Sasha no worse than he had been before.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Dean choked out.
Sasha pushed himself up a little as well. "Had to…stop you. Can't…can't lose either of you. Can't…just c-can't…"
Dean knew the feeling. He looked up past Sasha to glare at Sam who they were much closer to now. At least Sam looked stricken and ashamed, having finally noticed just how hurt both Sasha and Dean were and staring worriedly at Dean's blood-soaked chest. Sudden movement caught Dean's attention though, and he looked back at Sasha to find the incubus starting to crawl and scramble over to Sam.
"Why…?" Sasha was saying, his face anguished as he moved, speaking furiously to Sam, "Why would you…do that…to Dean? To me? Dean…s-sold his soul for you. How could you…toss your life away…like that means nothing…?"
Everything Dean wanted to say to Sam, Sasha was saying for him, and the words seemed to wound Sam just as much from one of them as from the other. "Why?" Sam repeated bitterly, his face contorting into pained anger again, "This is why!" he said, slamming a fist against the invisible barrier at the edge of the devil's trap, "I thought I could control it…but I was wrong. I had it right in the beginning. It's only a matter of time before…there's no Sam left. There's demon blood in me…I always knew that…and it's winning."
"Demon's…blood?" Sasha said.
He had reached the devil's trap on stumbling feet and finally collapsed inside of it to land against Sam, completely at his body's limit after pushing himself so hard. Sasha looked up at Sam, both clinging to each other for support. Dean could only see Sam's face entirely, and it was twisted with turmoil.
"I have more demon blood in me than you…Sammy."
Dean gasped as Sasha pushed Sam forcefully away from him and fell, barely catching himself with his hands as he hit the ground hard. Immediately, Sasha lifted one arm up and struck out towards the trap's edge. He met the same barrier as Sam had.
At first Dean was confused. He looked over his shoulder at the devil's trap he and Sasha had been in together. The marred paint was clearly visible where Dean had kicked it. He had broken Sasha free from the trap without even realizing.
"S-See…?" drifted over Sasha's small, trembling voice. Dean looked back and saw that Sam had crouched down next to Sasha, the ship-at-sea turmoil in his eyes ever strengthening. "Demon blood…doesn't mean dark," Sasha said, "It doesn't mean…evil. You choose that yourself." Sasha reached out to clutch at Sam again and Dean took in those hurt and pained profiles like a morbid picture. "Unless…you want Dean to shoot me too?"
Sam's eyes clenched tight against Sasha's words and a choked sound left him just as the first few tears streamed down his face. "I'm sorry," Sam said like a deeply held breath, pulling Sasha's fragile body into a fierce, enveloping hug, the two of them crumbled there inside a devil's trap neither could escape, "God, I…I'm so sorry," Sam sobbed again, his hazel eyes opening and lifting to look at Dean and include him as well, pleading silently with those same words.
Not good enough, Dean thought, and he hoped his own eyes said that clearly. He struggled to push up onto his feet. His chest was on fire and his steps swayed when he finally began to take them.
Dean approached the trap slowly, a hand pressed into his now freely bleeding wounds through the T-shirt, his gun forgotten. Sam stood up when Dean reached the trap, like he knew, leaving Sasha on the floor. Breaking eye contact only for a moment, Dean released the seal of the trap by kicking his foot through the paint. Then he reared back, and though Sam expected it, though Sam was ready for it, he still looked a little stunned when the blow struck.
Dean punched Sam clear out of the trap on the other side, knocking him back against the frame of the door behind him. "Never…pull shit like that on me again," Dean said with a voice like ice. He stepped into the trap, snarling unforgivingly at his brother. "You…don't get to…choose for me. You…you don't…you have…no…" Dean started trailing, feeling the energy falling out of his body suddenly like rain.
Like blood.
The world fell to darkness and Dean cringed as his body hit the floor. Dean shouldn't have even moved from the spot he was first shot at let alone pushed on carrying a friend, and then gone so far as to punch his brother, deserving as Sam had been.
Dean's vision was dark but he was still half-conscious, aware of hands rearranging his limps more comfortably and speaking soothing words. Dean heard both Sam and Sasha's voices drifting in and out around him. "I'm…fine…" he tried to say, but he wasn't sure if it came out loud enough to be heard.
He couldn't be in shock. He wouldn't allow it. He still had to yell at his brother for being a damn idiot and a selfish bastard. Just like big brother, Dean thought dryly, but he didn't care how true that was. He would never shoot Sam. He didn't care. Never, never, never. Fuck that long ago promise.
"Sammy…?"
"Dean, it's going to be okay!"
"S-Sam…?"
"Yeah, Dean, I'm right here," Sam's voice said, so close Dean imagined he felt his brother's breath on his cheek.
"Y-You're a…f-fucking asshole."
Dean could have sword he heard Sasha laugh strangely at that but it was too far away to be sure. Then the sound went from dim to nothing and Dean welcomed the peace of the first deep sleep he had had in weeks.
But it wasn't deep enough. Time jumped just as Dean remembered from the night Sasha woke up from his coma. Occasionally Dean would wake up enough to be aware of people or places around him, and he tried to keep track, to notice the passage of time, something.
He wasn't in the warehouse anymore, but leaning against a warm body with his baby's leather seats beneath him. It was Sasha's body—Dean could feel the cuts on Sasha's arms as he tried to hold Dean even though he was shivering and so weak. Sam must be driving, Dean thought.
The next thing Dean knew he was being lifted by strange hands and placed on something firm. New, unfamiliar voices drifted in and out of his hearing. Sam brought him to the hospital.
Vaguely, Dean remembered trying to talk to Sam, to find Sam's voice among the strangers, and he told his brother to go back to Sasha, help Sasha, the doctors would take good enough care of Dean. He hoped he actually managed to speak those words, he hoped he had actually said them to Sam, and god damn it, he hoped Sam listened. Doctors couldn't help Sasha; Sam could.
The lights were still out, as Dean liked to think of it, when the nurses or doctors or whoever tried asking him questions. He tried answering them, but doubted he was very successful. After that his next sleep was long and comforting, drug-induced, which Dean didn't mind one bit. When he woke up after that he knew it had been a long time but finally he was able to focus again.
Naturally, the light hurt his eyes a little since he had been in darkness for who knows how long, but the fact that he was opening his eyes at all made it bearable. Dean took stock of everything very slowly. He was indeed in the hospital, a little one since it was South Dakota. It was daylight, sunny even, so Dean knew he had at least slept through the night. He wasn't in pain, which meant he probably had a morphine drip and that was just fine. He had a single room and there weren't any voices. But there was pressure, soft warm, heavy weight that Dean could feel all the way down the left side of his body. Hospital beds were small, but Dean had company anyway.
Dean smiled, moving the fingers of his left hand and finding a T-shirt covered back. Sasha was curled into the crook of his arm, Dean knew that even without the sight of crayola red hair on his chest. How the incubus had managed to snuggle his way into bed with him—on top of the covers, but still—was a mystery Dean didn't mind one bit.
"Can't…believe you don't…hate me," Dean whispered, giving his best attempt to pull Sasha closer in some form of a one armed hug, "I messed…everything up so bad."
"Yeah, you did" came Sasha's voice unexpectedly. Dean had thought the incubus was asleep. "But what kind of friend would I be…if I didn't at least try to forgive you?"
That too red hair moved as Sasha lifted his head and Dean saw beautiful, healed, sparkling blue eyes. Sasha's face looked perfect too, free of any cuts and completely smooth. No scars. Dean was so grateful for that. Not because he wouldn't find Sasha attractive otherwise, but because he would never forgive himself for being the reason Sasha was marred.
It was his fault. All of it was. If only he had told Sasha sooner. If only he hadn't assumed Sasha left and realized instead that Sasha would never just leave. 'If onlys' piled up on Dean everyday but these new ones especially stung.
He loved having Sasha against him, warm and comforting and solid. He loved just having Sasha with him. He loved stealing kisses and being ridiculous together, especially when it annoyed Sam. He loved their conversations. He loved the way Sasha made his family whole again. He loved that night they spent together, the passion and the heat that lingered before everything went to hell. He loved…
He…loved…
Dean swallowed deeply, feeling strange, unwelcome tears rising to the surface. He fought them back down, clearing his throat with a strained smile. "Hey," he said, not knowing how else to begin.
Sasha returned the smile and everything about it was peaceful and wonderfully adoring. "Hey," Sasha said back, "How are you feeling?"
"Like I got shot in the chest with a shotgun?"
Sasha snorted. "Funny story about that," he said with a grin.
An answering laugh built in Dean's throat but he knew it would hurt too much to release, regardless of the wonders of morphine. "What about you?" he asked instead. Sasha looked okay, but those cuts had covered every inch of his upper body.
"Good as new," Sasha said with a smile.
Dean didn't buy that for a second, narrowing his eyes to better fish out the truth.
"My whole body aches," Sasha admitted in a breath, "But I'm okay. After Sam got you settled here he came back to the car to help me with the cuts. It took forever and used up most of my remaining stash of antidote, but really I…I'm okay."
It wasn't that Dean didn't believe Sasha, the incubus just sounded so sad, like he was leaving out important details that hurt too much to speak aloud. Dean didn't have to guess what those details were. He knew. "Sasha…I…I know I can't ever make this right, but…if I could…everything, telling you about the deal, letting you go that night, thinking you'd left, leaving you to that…that psycho…"
"Dean," Sasha interrupted softly, his body still comfortably fitting against Dean's and his head lifted to look at Dean with sorrowful affection, "Can we maybe…skip all this…and get to the making up part?"
Okay, it was highly possible the morphine had gone to Dean's head. "You're not going to yell at me?" he asked, almost entirely serious. He had expected another row. At least a small quarrel.
"Do I need to yell at you?" Sasha said with a quirked smile, though it wasn't really a question because he didn't wait for Dean to answer, "You know you were wrong. I know you're sorry. It's a big, horrible mess and there's nothing we can do about it, but damn it, I'm going to try. I'm not going to let you get away so easily." Sasha's smile twitched and his eyes lowered to the sheets pulled up over Dean's chest. "I've done lonely. I don't want to do it again."
Everyone leaves. Dean had learned that the hard way, and so to protect himself he became one of those people. No attachments. None other than Sammy. And Dad. Okay, so that hadn't worked out too well either. You can't go through life without any attachments, Dean knew that, he knew he could always potentially lose what he loved and hurt all over again. Sasha knew that too and took those same risks.
How much harder had it been for Sasha being an incubus, having to pretend he was happy and charming and desirable when he always knew he would have to leave in the morning and be left with nothing all over again?
Dean wanted to keep apologizing, to say a million 'sorrys' that couldn't ever be enough and hold Sasha tight like this for as long as it took to make everything okay.
Glancing up for a moment, Dean's eyes caught sight of a calendar on the hospital room wall and he couldn't believe where all the checked off days led to. He did the math in his head to make sure, starting with Sasha's birthday, and there was no denying it.
It was Christmas Day.
Fuck, their lives sucked.
"I understand…I understand why you couldn't tell me," Sasha was saying, tears in his voice though Dean couldn't see Sasha's eyes anymore since the incubus had laid his head back down on Dean's chest, "I was just so angry. At the situation, not you. Okay, so maybe I was a little mad at you too," Sasha added with a choked laugh, "But I do understand. I'd have to understand…since those same reasons…are why I've kept something from you."
Wait. What was that? Dean stared at the top of Sasha's red head, wanting to see blue, to understand what Sasha meant, but the incubus didn't move.
"It's nothing looming in the future like the demon deal," Sasha went on, snuggling in closer and tighter to Dean's body, "But I have to tell you. I don't want there to be any more secrets. I don't want to risk screwing this up over stupid things, even though I…I don't know what you'll think of me once you know."
Dean tried to remain calm. Whatever it was, Sasha was probably thinking it was worse than reality. The incubus wasn't quite as much of a drama queen as Sam, but he still had a tendency to blow things out of proportion when something weighed on his conscience. Dean didn't say anything, allowing Sasha to find the courage to say whatever it was and stroking small circles over Sasha's back so the redhead would know he was listening.
"You can't imagine what it was like," Sasha started, "The way my friends…the way everyone looked at me after I said I wanted to be hunter. Shiarra said she wouldn't allow it. People I'd grown up with and known all my life wouldn't even talk to me. I just…I couldn't stand it. I had to get away. I…I ran away."
Something told Dean that this point in time was not when Sasha showed up at Bobby's door, or at any of the other hunters' homes. Whatever Sasha was about to tell him it happened before then.
"I was too young, newly matured. I…I needed to feed."
Dean's breath hitched. He could feel—literally feel—Sasha's grief and the inevitability of what Sasha was going to say.
"I'd never fed from a human before. We're supposed to be trained by our guardians after the change to learn how to control ourselves. I thought…I thought I could handle it. She was older, seventeen or eighteen I think. It was my first time other than the change, but not hers. We both wanted it, both needed it. I thought it would be okay. But I couldn't…I couldn't stop. I didn't know how to stop. I…I killed her."
There it was, the punch-line Dean had been waiting for but still didn't want to hear. There was no doubt Sasha was crying now. The incubus was trembling. Dean wanted to erase the whole thing from Sasha's mind, but it didn't change anything he felt for Sasha. Of course it didn't.
"Nothing could have kept me from being a hunter after that. Nothing," Sasha said firmly, even though his words were quivering, "When Aunt Shi found me…she knew. And she knew she couldn't stop me from becoming a hunter anymore, didn't even try. I…I had to be a hunter. I had to protect people from creatures like me."
Suddenly, everything made sense. The sadness ever-present when Sasha's shields were down, it was more than loneliness. And Dean hated it. "You're not like the things we hunt," he said, "You don't think that, do you?"
At last Sasha lifted his head and his eyes shone with wetness, tears staining his pale face. The incubus' answer was clear. "I'm sorry I lied to you," Sasha said, timid, as if he was awaiting some awful blow.
"You didn't lie," Dean replied with a smile, small and pitying as it was, "You've never hurt someone because you wanted to. And if you think you're the only hunter with an innocent's blood on their hands then you're an idiot. It happens. Even when we know what we're doing it happens. Someone else of your kind might have enjoyed it, might have let it take them over. You became a hunter." Dean widened his smile and lifted his free hand to brush the hair back from Sasha's face. "A kickass hunter with sexy eyes and pop culture trivia up the wazoo. My kinda guy."
A laugh got strangled in Sasha's throat on its way out, the tears in his eyes erupting in new streams down his face at the great relief Dean had just given him. He was smiling while he cried, so Dean took it as a success. And then Sasha's hands were on either side of Dean's face and the incubus was desperately kissing him. Dean could barely lift his head but he gave just as good back, seeking out Sasha's tongue for those familiar deep kisses he loved so much.
A few of Sasha's tears fell onto Dean's cheeks and he realized Sasha was crying harder as they kissed. When Sasha finally pulled away with a gasp, he was sobbing the way Dean only did in the shower, open and raw. His forehead fell against Dean's and his blue eyes fluttered closed.
"I love you, Dean," he said on trembling lips, "Please don't leave me."
A shock jolted through Dean's body. Sasha sounded so small and desperate that Dean was reminded of being in the warehouse again when Sasha's mind wasn't all there. Dean knew Sasha meant these words though and that scared him so much he couldn't move. In all the times Sam had pleaded about his need to save Dean from the demon deal Sam had never broken down like this. This love was different. This need was different. Dean didn't know how to deal with it.
The hospital room door opened, permitting a pretty young nurse with a clipboard. Sasha immediately pulled away from Dean and started rubbing at his eyes.
"Oh, I'm sorry," the nurse said, her feet faltering as her face filled with blushing embarrassment, "I have to check his vitals," she explained to Sasha, smiling in a way that said they had spoken before. Then she turned to Dean and continued her trek to the bed. "Good to see you're awake, Mr. Einziger. Your brother and uncle are outside talking to the doctor. I'm sure they'll be in soon."
Dean took quick stock of those details. Bobby must be his uncle. But was Dean's name Dean Einziger or something else? Maintaining a con required that he know these things. Dean Winchester did not have heath insurance or any working credit cards.
Gentle fingers pushed into Dean's hair and he felt the weight against his side leaving him. Sasha's eyes were impressively dry when Dean looked up, though some redness still betrayed that the tears had been there. Sasha was smiling again though. Dean knew he could handle anything as long as Sasha still smiled at him. God, he loved the touch of those fingers too.
"I'll go tell Sam and Bobby you're awake, okay, Dean?" Sasha said, giving Dean in one simple sentence the very information he needed. Their first names were all their own. Sasha leaned down to kiss Dean's forehead then and Dean flicked his eyes to the nurse, finding her smiling at them as she busied herself with Dean's chart and machines. "No more accidents like this are ever allowed to happen," Sasha added, giving Dean the other bit of info he needed.
An accident. As good of an excuse as any.
Then Sasha was leaving, walking away, but Dean couldn't bear for them to part just yet. There were so many other things to say.
He managed to snag one of Sasha's hands with his own before the incubus could get too far. Dean's breath hitched when Sasha turned around. Damn those eyes. "We're…we're good, right?" Dean said, unable to muster up anything more than that, not with someone else in the room.
Sasha took Dean's hand and lifted it to his lips, making Dean feel so silly in front of a nurse he normally would have hit on, but he didn't care. Not really. He loved those lips. Owned them, damn it. They were his. "Yeah, Dean," Sasha breathed against his fingers, "We're good."
The nurse kept this secretive little smirk on her face the entire time after that while checking Dean's IV, asking how he was feeling, telling him that the doctor would go over more of the details like what medications he would have to take, all that. She was really cute—short black hair, dark brown eyes, a sway to her hips when she moved. Dean liked it all. But there wasn't an ounce of him that wanted to do more than smile charmingly at her and enjoy the pretty little package she made.
To be honest, it kind of creeped Dean out. He was in a relationship and amazingly his wandering eyes weren't wandering.
"You know," the nurse said, Keaton, Dean had discovered, as she made her way to the door, "Your boyfriend's a real sweetheart. Didn't leave your side once, right there with your family. He must really love you."
Dean's first instincts were to correct her on the use of the term 'boyfriend', but really, what could he say? The word still sounded off to Dean but mainly because it didn't seem fitting enough. Sasha was his lover and his family and his best friend. There needed to be a new word to encompass all that, one that didn't make Dean blush or feel stupid, or that sounded as vaguely ridiculous as 'partner'.
But since that new word didn't yet exist, Dean decided not to correct her. He just smiled and nodded his head.
"Yeah," Dean agreed, "I guess he does. Wouldn't put up with me otherwise, right?"
Keaton laughed. "You're going to be fine, Mr. Einziger," she said as she left, and despite any looming devil deals, Dean believed her.
--
Dealing with Sammy was an entirely different matter. Dean barely looked at his brother when the whole group came in a few minutes after the nurse had left—Sam, Bobby, Sasha, and the doctor. The conversation grew tense when the doctor left because anything Sam said to Dean was ignored, Dean's attention remaining on Sasha and Bobby alone. Dean didn't know if Sam had mentioned to Bobby the little 'shoot me, Dean' stunt he had pulled, but judging by Bobby's confused looks, Dean guessed that was a no.
Sasha was the one who finally pushed things, making up some excuse or another to usher Bobby out of the room with him and leave the brothers alone. Dean wished he had the strength to smack Sam upside the head. He almost risked it anyway. He was still so mad, so disbelieving that Sam had even done that. What had the idiot been thinking?
"Dean, will you at least look at me?" Sam pleaded, moving to the chair Bobby had been sitting in that was right up next to Dean's head, "I was scared, okay, and angry, and I know that's no excuse for what I pulled, but—"
"You're right, it's no excuse," Dean said bitingly, his eyes snapping to Sam's with a sharp edge. Fuck the damn puppy-eyes; Dean wasn't giving in to them this time. "You asked me to promise I'd kill you if I had no other choice, if there was no other way, and against my better judgment, I agreed. That does not give you the right to force my hand with your fucking mind powers! I make the choice, not you. I decide when there's no other way, not you."
"Dean, I'm sorry," Sam said without losing a step, his eyes wet just as Sasha's had been earlier, "Suddenly being trapped like that, in a devil's trap, Dean."
"I know."
Sam sat up a little straighter and Dean would swear he saw his brother shiver. "How I killed Kubrick too…I keep thinking about it. How…easy it was. How I didn't even think, I just…" Sam clenched his eyes shut like he could make it all go away if he just didn't look. "It's all so easy. The powers. Using them. Sometimes it scares me so much I just want it all to stop, but I can't. I keep needed them to save you, to save Sasha, to save people, and what if that's how they plan to get me? Using my weaknesses against me, forcing me to use my powers until they take me over, and I…I…"
"You idiot," Dean growled, leaning forward painfully and reaching over with his hand full of tubes to grab Sam's arm and force those hazel eyes to look at him, "Sasha got in that devil's trap with you, remember? It doesn't hold evil, it holds things with enough demon blood in them to trigger the seal, that's all."
"I know," Sam said, even though he was shaking his head, "But it didn't work on me before, only now. I've had demon blood in me since the night of the fire, Dean. The Yellow-eyed Demon showed me. Why is it different now? The only explanation is the powers. Using them must…amplify it…just like Kubrick was saying."
Fuck. Now, Dean was really getting angry. He increased his grip on Sam's arm and hoped it was enough to hurt. "Do you think you're the fucking Antichrist? Do you? Are you going to believe those freaks just because you're scared? To hell with Sasha being in the trap, think about what he said. You make the choice. Only you can choose to be evil. If the opportunity comes and you choose it willingly…I'll kill you," Dean said evenly, even though he wasn't sure he believed his own words, "But damn it, Sam, I know you never would. Because it isn't in you. So demon blood is. So crazy demonic powers are too. So what? You're still Sammy. You're still Sammy," he said again, softer, gentler, his grip loosening and becoming more like comfort, angry as Dean still was. What more did he need to say to get through to Sam?
At least Sam was nodding now, his eyes still wet but not crying, and when he looked, really finally looked into Dean's eyes, all Dean saw was his little baby brother. "I want to believe that, Dean. I do. And if you're right, if that's really what it is…then I promise I won't choose anything but you."
Dean didn't like the way that sounded. "Sam…"
"I'm going to save you, Dean. I'm sorry I was a selfish idiot. But no matter what happens from this point on, no matter what it takes, I swear I'm going to save you."
That still didn't sit well with Dean. For all the things Dean had ever seen, even recently with all the death and pain lined up in a horrible row, nothing had ever scared Dean quite as much as the way Sam said those words.
No matter what happens. No matter what it takes.
Dean didn't want to think about what that might mean.
--
By the time Bobby and Sasha came back into the room, Sam and Dean were bickering casually like usual, and though it would take a while for Dean to stop being pissed at his brother, Dean, just like Sasha, kind of wanted to skip all the angst and just get to the making up part already.
"Dean, you're crazy. Do you even actually remember what those Christmases were like?" Sam was saying as Bobby and Sasha opened the door, "They weren't fond memories for me, okay?"
"What are you talking about?" Dean couldn't accept that Sam only looked back on Christmas when they were kids as some form of torture or disappointment. He barely even realized that Bobby and Sasha had joined them again. "Okay, so maybe Dad wasn't always with us, and that was a bust, but…we still had fun, yeah?" Unconsciously, Dean brought a hand up to his chest, remembering the Christmas he told Sam their dad was a hunter and then Sam gave him his ever-present pendant. Dean looked down with wide eyes though when he found the pendant wasn't there.
"Oh yeah," came Sasha's voice, and Dean looked up to find Bobby grabbing for a new chair and Sasha standing beside the bed, fishing in his pockets. Sasha smiled. "I took your necklace off in the car yesterday. I think I was still acting on delusions, but I was afraid the hospital would lose it or something. Here." Sasha produced Dean's pendant from his jean pocket and leaned over the bed to place it back on Dean's neck.
Dean took a deep breath while Sasha was close to him, reveling in the scent he had missed so much. It had been dulled, ruined, non-existent when they saved Sasha from the warehouse. Dean wasn't sure if that was just because of lack of shower for five days or if it was something more incubus-based.
"Now you're Dean again," Sasha teased as he pulled back, "And what were you two arguing about? Christmas? Is it even possible to argue about Christmas? I was down south last year on a hunt. Horrible. I need snow. Silly childhood thing I guess. I was so afraid I'd miss Christmas completely this year."
There, Dean knew Sasha would be on his side. "Sam doesn't want to do anything," Dean said, so glad he had someone else to complain to about this, "I mean, I know we can't do much anyway, I'm not exactly in any shape to leave, let alone go caroling and Christmas shopping, okay? But come on," Dean said, turning to Sam again, "You giant Grinch. Everyone's awake and alive on Christmas. That's not a miracle to you?" Dean knew he was being ridiculous, but he figured that was the only way to get Sam to see his point of view. Besides, Sam owed him so much right now, he couldn't believe his brother would hold out much longer.
And just as Dean predicted, Sam looked like he was about to crumble. "Well, what are you expecting, Dean? Us to steal a tree for your room? Sneak in food? We're in a hospital."
"Well there are a bunch of small trees in the lobby," Sasha said thoughtfully, "I doubt they'd miss them."
"That's not what I—"
"And I kind of already snuck in some food. Or rather Keaton did," Sasha admitted, grinning around at everyone, "Nothing big. She has it in the nurse's lounge for us. I'll be right back." Sasha grinned wide at Dean as he left. The guy was too good to be true, Dean thought. But then, no, Sasha wasn't. Sasha had flaws, Dean just didn't care.
"Sasha!" Sam tried to call after the incubus, but Sasha was gone. Sam let out a great sigh but he was smiling, the first honest smile he had worn all day. "It's a wonder I didn't see this thing between you two coming a long time ago," he said, "You think way too much alike."
Dean grunted at that. "We think alike? Yeah, says Dweedle Dum about Dweedle Dee. Babysitting the overemotional angst twins is just what I wanted for Christmas, thank you." Suddenly, Dean remembered Bobby, and how Sam had sort of just said something about how Dean and Sasha were a thing now. He looked over at Bobby and the elder hunter was laughing lightly to himself. "Hey…Bobby, about—"
"I said I didn't need to know, remember?" Bobby said with a smile, understanding easily where Dean had planned to take the conversation, "I have it pretty well figured out on my own anyway. Bit of shock, no lie there, but…the both of you," he said, indicating Sam and Dean, "seem to have found whatever it was you've been missing since John died. Not that I think of Sasha as John's replacement, coz…actually, that would be kind of unsettling. But whatever happiness you boys can find in this life, being hunters and all, by God, you better take it. It's a rare enough thing to even remember what happiness is when you've come this far. Believe me on that."
Oh there was no doubt Dean did. He just didn't want to have to give up any of the happiness he had found recently. He wanted Sam and Sasha and their hunter lives, just without the ticking clock. He didn't want to leave, but he might not have a choice. And that's what he hated most, why he was still angry with Sam even though they had technically made up—having choice taken away from him.
A very human hate, actually.
"So I figured," Sasha began as he came back into the room a few minutes later, all smiles and carrying a white box, "We may not get Christmas dinner, but that doesn't mean we can't have dessert." Sasha grinned, Keaton, the nurse, coming in behind him covertly with paper plates and plastic forks. When Sasha reached the bed, he opened the box to reveal to Dean a very large and fine looking pie. "Blueberry. Always my personal favorite at Christmas. I…had a feeling you'd like that."
If Dean had ever doubted that Sasha was the right man for him—wow, man—then he was an idiot. "Dude, you brought me pie? You're amazing," Dean said, so hungry for that pie it hurt. He hadn't had real food in so long again. He really needed to stop letting that happen.
"Aren't there hospital rules or something?" Sam said with a raised eyebrow, looking past Sasha at Keaton.
"Oh, they're not too picky about things like this," she smiled, "Especially at Christmas. There's only a handful of us on staff today anyway. You boys just enjoy."
Dean had to hand it to smaller towns; sometimes that stereotype about people being nicer was very true. He could tell this wasn't homemade pie, but his nurse had still gone to the trouble of picking something up probably Christmas Even night so her patient and his family wouldn't be completely without Christmas festivities. That was going a step beyond, even if Sasha had asked in his more than likely ridiculously charming way.
Still, everything wasn't okay. It just wasn't. It couldn't be when the deal still existed like a guillotine above their heads—all of their heads. Dean wasn't in this alone, not even a little. But that's why they could pretend, at least long enough to mumble out 'Merry Christmas' and enjoy some blueberry pie, because none of them were alone.
Keaton had returned to her rounds and Dean was about ready to request a second piece of that oh so delicious pie when Sasha's cell phone started to ring. The incubus dug the phone out of his pocket, looking a little surprised, since most of the people who called him regularly were all in one room. But then he was smiling and picking up the line. "Hey, Ellen, Merry Christmas," Sasha said brightly.
They hadn't heard from Ellen in a very long time. Although, Dean wouldn't be surprised at all if Ellen called Sasha just for that Merry Christmas. He watched as Sasha listened carefully, enjoying the way Sasha's features twisted and changed and then lit up again.
"Of course we would!" Sasha said with more exuberance than Dean had heard in a while, "Well, it'll have to be a few days, but to be honest a little vacation is just what we need. No, I know we can't slack, I understand. We're more than happy to lend a hand. Yeah, sometimes I can't believe we're still together either," Sasha said, winking at Sam and Dean, "We'll let you know when we leave. Can't wait to see the new place. Have a good Christmas."
"New place?" Dean questioned when Sasha put down the phone.
Sasha was all beaming smiles as he replied. "They've been rebuilding the Roadhouse," he explained, "Jo's back home helping too. Hunters have been passing through to lend a hand, but everyone's been cleared out for a while now and Ellen needs help finishing up a few things. I volunteered us. I know you won't be able to do any heavy lifting, Dean, but you can relax then and Sam and I can help with the fix-it stuff."
"Yeah," Sam said, apparently all over this idea which was a pleasant change from his usual dissenting, "That'll give us a chance to rest up. And some more time to figure out where to go next. I haven't had much luck lately finding any…leads about demon deals," Sam's voice dropped as he steered the conversation unintentionally towards the worst possible topic, "Anyway," he jumped back in, forcing a smile, "It's great hunters will have the Roadhouse back. That could be a lot of help. There are still so many demons on the loose."
"And I can't believe we haven't seen Ellen since the Devil's Gate," Dean said, "Sure you talked to her, Sam, when she gave us that heads up about Sasha, but that's it. I was starting to think she didn't like us anymore," he added with a mostly mocking pout.
"Well she did call me," Sasha grinned, "You're just part of the package now. You coming with us, Bobby?" he said, turning to their older counterpart.
Bobby squirmed in his seat. "I think you boys have been enough excitement for me for awhile. You can stay until Dean's ready, of course, then go on ahead without me. Give those Harvelle women my best though. And make sure you call me before things get crazy next time, will ya?"
Dean wanted to say something smart like 'Well if we knew when things would get crazy, we'd avoid them,' but he was distracted by Sasha laughing, loud and easy. Because Dean knew now how well Sasha could pretend that things were okay even when they really weren't, he wasn't sure he believed it.
Sasha's eyes moved over to Dean, sparkling as true and real as Dean could imagine them, and when the laughter faded and all that was left was a somewhat somber but very loving smile, Dean knew he was looking at reality. That expression was real.
"Speaking of the few women in our lives," Sasha said, jumping back into jubilance, "I better give Shi a call. It's Christmas and it has been about a week, not to mention all that's happened since she left us." Sasha took his phone and made to leave the room for a little privacy.
Dean called after him. "Can you maybe leave out the part where it's all my fault. You know, for the sake of my life." Dean had no doubts that Shiarra would dismember him in a heartbeat if she felt he deserved it.
Walking back towards the bed, Sasha reached out and brushed his fingers through Dean's hair again. It was kind of crazy how much Dean liked that. "It wasn't all your fault," Sasha said, "Well, maybe a little of it was. But the blame for most things is pretty even." Dean didn't miss how Sasha's eyes flitted across the bed at Sam. They shared a look of somber understanding and then Sasha's attention was back on Dean. "We're in this together, got that? So stop trying to be the hero. You offend too many people on a regular basis to pull it off anyway." This time the smile on Sasha's face was pure humor and Dean knew that too was real. "And just think," Sasha said as he moved towards the door again, "After you're well enough to leave, we can head to the Roadhouse and have that vacation you promised."
Vacation. Time was short and the bad guys certainly weren't resting, but Dean still liked the sound of that. He smiled at Bobby and even a little at Sam before closing his eyes and laying back comfortably on his pillow.
Vacation, he thought again.
"Halleluiah."
tbc...
A/N: See, no cliffie. :-) I told you. Dean's alias, for those who like little jokes, is the name of the lead guitarist from the band Incubus. Couldn't resist. Also, the con went wonderfully, and I have a treat for you all. I had four commissioned drawings done of Sasha, two as an incubus, two as a human. I will let you know when artist #1 posts them so I can direct you there. I'm still tracking down artist two, but if all else fails, I'll just post the pictures somewhere myself. They're wonderful.
More and more people keep coming to me with ideas of alternate scenes they want to write and whatnot. Please, if you ever get the urge to borrow Sasha, you can, just let me know. It's not that I want to give permission, I just want to be able to read it! Thanks so much everyone!
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