Disclaimer: I own nothing and am in Kripke and Crimson's debt for the loan of their very valuable assets!

A/N: This is the missing scene between Sasha and Dean that occurs between Chapters 23 and 24 of Crimson's Incubus. If you haven't read the original, you are missing perhaps the best story on the site! So, off you go and read that first! Really, go back and at least read the end of Chapter 23 – how's that for the best homework ever!

I know everyone has written this scene in their heads, so I hope this meets your expectations on some level…

There be very gentle slash ahead…

Incubus - Chapter 23

Painfully, Dean turned his eyes away, because he didn't think he could look at Sasha when he said this.

"Sasha…there's something I have to tell you."

Dean drew his knees up to his chest and hugged them close to his body. He was shaking. He could feel all the good feelings just leaking out of him, leaving him hollow. He'd been an idiot to think that this kind of happiness could ever exist for him.

"Dean?" Sasha prodded gently, placing one large warm hand on Dean's back, the other coming up to rest on Dean's bicep.

"C'mon. Talk to me. You said you weren't freaking out. You know that I could never hate you. Just tell me."

Sasha's voice was low and warm like his hands. Trusting Dean. And it made Dean hate himself more. He knew he shouldn't have let things happen without telling him.

"We…we…" it was just so hard. So hard, to break both their hearts. "We don't have time." It came out as barely a whisper.

"Dean, please. I don't understand." Doubt and concern crept into Sasha's voice.

Dean kept his eyes firmly on the wall.

"Remember we told you about Cold Oak?"

"Of course. You killed the demon that killed your mother." Sasha's face creased in a frown. He couldn't see how this was connected.

"Yes. But before that."

"You and Sam were separated. You thought you'd lost him but got there just in time."

"We weren't. I wasn't."

"Dean, I don't understand."

"I was too late. Sam died. Sam died in my fucking arms; the same as I thought you had." Dean bit the words out. The words hurt almost as much as the actual event had. Dean doubted that sensation would ever change.

"But he wasn't really dead, Dean. The same way I wasn't really dead." Sasha's hand rubbed soothing circles on Dean's back.

It had all come rushing back because of recent events. Sasha was sure that Dean was just overloading on emotions. Sasha knew that Dean was so much more than what he let the world see. The tough, don't give a shit guy. There was a passionate heart beating beneath that no chick-flick exterior. But the tough shell made the soft interior that much more alluring to the incubus.

"No Sasha. He was really dead." Dean's voice betrayed no emotion.

"But…. But that's impossible. Sam's here. He's alive."

"I made a deal." Dean's voice was a pebble hitting the bottom of a well.

"What? What kind of deal?" Sasha's hand dropped to the bed. His voice barely a whisper now. Denying where this might be going.

"My soul. For his. Crossroads Demon." More pebbles.

"What does that mean exactly." Sasha knew he was getting this all wrong.

"I have less than a year left. She gave me a year. It's up in May." Echoes of pebbles.

"No." Sasha didn't think he could breathe. He didn't think he would ever breathe again. He pulled away from Dean.

Dean cringed as Sasha pulled away.

"I'm sorry. I tried to tell you. But when you said you didn't care if all we had was tonight. That you'd gladly just take tonight. I…I…"

"You're a selfish bastard," Sasha bit out and pushed himself off the bed.

Dean had no come back for that. He'd said as much to Sam.

"I couldn't live without him," Dean choked out. He dared to look up and around at the incubus.

Sasha was standing about two feet away from the bed. His arms were clutched around himself.

"I had to. I've protected him my whole life. I couldn't just let him go," Dean pleaded for understanding.

"You should have told me."

"I tried. It just never seemed like the right time." Dean's voice was a whisper again. His eyes fell back to the bed.

"It never seemed like the right time?"

"I don't want everyone to know. I don't want people to pity me. Look at me differently."

"So I'm just lumped in with 'everyone' else?"

"At first. Yeah, but…"

"I thought we were friends. We had that, I thought. Maybe I was wrong." Sasha's voice had become very soft. He sounded so young.

"No! Once we started to be friends, I didn't want it to change. I didn't want you to change. I didn't want for you to have to deal with that burden."

"Does Bobby know?"

"Well…um…yeah." Dean paused before rushing on. "But he was there. At least, he was there before. He saw Sam die. And then we kinda showed up on his doorstep. That was awkward."

Dean half smiled at the memory of the look on Bobby's face when he opened the door to see Sam standing there. Sam who he had last seen very dead on the bed in Cold Oak.

"So you don't mind burdening Bobby."

"Are you listening to me? He. Was. There. Technically, I didn't tell him. He figured it out on his own."

"So what? I should have figured this out on my own?" Anger started to filter back into Sasha's voice.

"I didn't say that. Don't put words in my mouth," Dean pleaded.

"I guess it's no wonder that you didn't trust me with your little secret as I'm so dumb."

"It wasn't that I didn't trust you. I didn't want to hurt you. I thought we had time. That Sam and I would figure it out and solve it before it was too late, and I wouldn't have to tell you."

"You didn't want to hurt me. Bang up job there, Winchester." Sasha's voice was cold.

"I'm sorry. I was wrong not to tell you. Sam kept telling me to tell you. It never seemed like the right time. I was hoping for more time."

"You're damn right you were wrong. And Sam? Sam couldn't tell me himself?"

"I begged him not to. I promised I'd tell you."

"So nice to have friends," Sasha bit out, the pain clear in his voice. "Friends are supposed to trust each other. I'm pretty sure that's in the fucking definition."

"It wasn't that I didn't trust you. I just needed more time." Dean was beginning to feel like a broken record. He didn't know how to get through to the incubus. Possibly for the first time in his life, Dean wished he were Sam. Sam would know what to say.

"That's your answer or excuse or whatever for everything, isn't it? I need more time. I need to go slow. Were you hoping this would never happen if we went slowly enough?"

"No… God… No." Dean's gaze pleaded with Sasha for understanding. For understanding of the emotions Dean didn't understand himself.

"You should have told me sooner, Dean. Did it ever occur to you that besides the fact that I deserved to know, maybe I could have helped? Or don't you trust me enough to help you?"

Dean couldn't breathe. This was exactly what he'd tried so hard to avoid. He'd hurt Sasha so deeply. Sasha who told him he longed to find someone he wanted to see when he woke up in the morning. Someone who was just for Sasha. Sasha had let himself need Dean. He'd trusted Dean.

Suddenly Sasha was right in his face. His too blue eyes flashing. Dean was drowning in the depths of those twin pools. Instead of the longing and affection that he usually saw when he looked into those eyes, Dean saw a storm-tossed sea. There was hurt and betrayal. Dean hoped he was imagining hate and repulsion, but he flinched back and broke the eye contact by closing his eyes and then focusing his gaze back on the bed.

Sasha's breath was hot on his face.

"You. Are. An. Asshole."

Dean might not be looking at Sasha but he could hear the pain and heartache he felt in his own chest echoed in Sasha's voice. Dean cast about frantically for some way to make this better. To make Sasha better. To make Sasha not sound hurt and broken.

Dean shut his eyes again and pressed the heels of his palms into them. He knew Sasha was right. He was an asshole. He didn't deserve Sasha. He didn't deserve Sam. He didn't deserve even one night of happiness.

"You should have told me. You should have trusted me. You should have trusted us."

Sasha was grabbing for clothes. He felt so exposed. He couldn't think.

"I need some air. I'd prefer if you weren't here when I got back." Sasha managed to choke out, pulling on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket. And then he was out the door before Dean could say anything else.

Dean's head fell to his knees. He heard Sasha move through the hall and heard the door open and click shut. He dragged himself from the bed. He couldn't think. He didn't want to think. Damn it. He couldn't even find his clothes. He grabbed the horrible tiger pants.

As he made his way through the living room to the stairs, he heard Sam stir.

"Dean? Everything ok?" Sam's whispered concern floated out of the darkness.

"No." Dean's whispered reply was short and so quiet that Sam almost didn't hear it. But Sam did hear the devastation behind the one word. His heart bled for his brother. He watched as he dragged himself up the stairs. Sam only hesitated a moment before shadowing his brother up the stairs.

Dean instinctively went for the shower. As he entered the bathroom, his legs almost betrayed him, and his stomach finally did. He retched uncontrollably for several minutes, all the good food leaving his body just as the good feelings had fled.

When he was done and felt like he could stand again, he peeled off the horrible pants and climbed into the shower. It wasn't long before he was wracked with the sobs of his anguish. For what he'd done to Sasha. For losing Sam. For losing Sasha. For losing his best friend. For losing his best chance for happiness.

Sam stood vigil on the other side of the door, his forehead gently resting against it as he listened to his brother sob under cover of the sound of the shower.

Dean slid down the wall until he was sitting, knees drawn up and back pressed against the wall. The water started to cool.

Dean heard the door to the bathroom open and soft footsteps. Someone shut the toilet and lowered themselves onto it.

The water was cold and Dean's teeth were beginning to chatter, but he couldn't seem to work up the energy to get up.

And then a hand was snaking in the front of the curtain, turning off the water.

"Jesus, Dean! That's friggin' ice cold." Sammy. It was Sammy.

And then a hand was snaking in the back of the curtain, thrusting a towel at him.

"C'mon, man. Get out."

Dean obeyed. He couldn't not do what Sam told him to do. It wasn't psychic mojo. It was brother mojo.

Dean quickly towelled off and wrapped the towel around his waist. Finally pushing the curtain back to be met with the concerned face of his brother. Puppy-eyes in full force.

"Jesus, Dean! You're just about blue you're so cold." Sam shook his head in exasperation and worry.

"Don't worry, Sam. Won't be long now and I won't have to worry about being cold."

Sam just looked hurt.

Great. It seemed to be his night for hurting the people he… what? Loved? Liked an extra special lot?

"I'm sorry," Dean choked out and dropped his eyes.

"For what? What happened, Dean?"

"Please. Don't. Not now. Not yet."

"Ok." Sam soothed. He knew he couldn't push Dean now. Not when he was like this. "Go to bed. You're exhausted. Everything will look better in the morning." Sam ushered Dean ahead of him and towards the pull-away. A large warm hand rested on his back, steadying him.

Dean just dropped the towel and curled up under the sheets, drawing his knees up to his chest as he lay on his side, turning his back to his brother and his face to the wall. He just wanted the oblivion of sleep.

He'd never prayed so hard not to dream.

A/N: Just one fangirl's maybe….

In very exciting news – and I'm thrilled to be the one to break this – Incubus now has its own website! I'm not 100 sure of the policy on posting web addresses here, so I will leave that up to Crimson… Or you can PM me!