A/N: And here we are, at last! The end! This was a fun, if shorter, foray back into the Supernatural fandom for me, and a return of Sasha. I always like playing with him - as does Dean. ;-)

Remember, if you're interested in an original version of this epic, Incubus the book is available - well book 1 is with book 2 set for next summer - and I think you'll find it's just as entertaining even with several changes.

Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing this new installment! Enjoy the end!

Chance Encounter, Part 4

Sasha's eyes weren't the only incubus attribute that had started to show through. As Dean crawled on top of Sasha, the redhead spread beautifully beneath him on the bed, he noticed the fangs he had wanted to see again and the way the ends of Sasha's hair had grown longer. His skin looked paler too, and when Sasha reached for Dean's face, just to gently grip his cheek and tug him down for another kiss, his fingers were black.

Dean's mind blurred with thoughts of SashaSexFuckNow, as well as DangerBadStopThink, but he couldn't concentrate, couldn't chase away any of the thoughts telling him to keep going with thoughts of sense. He could feel Sasha's fangs pricking at his lips as they heatedly kissed, a sharp sting of claws in his hair where Sasha had him gripped, and firmness between his legs where Dean was straddling the redhead—firmness that wasn't all his own.

He wanted to get them both out of their clothes—now.

Sitting up on Sasha's hips, Dean removed his jacket and layered shirts in one quick lift of tangled fabric over his head, then tossed the offending items aside. He tore at Sasha's shirt, trying to get it over the incubus' head in turn, but it was taking too long. Sasha seemed to agree since he took his black, nearly fully formed claws and ripped the shirt off into pieces. Dean ran his tongue over his lips, finding the sight of the torn fabric strangely—intensely—arousing.

Sasha's skin was pure white now, save for the black of his clawed hands and feet, and—Dean stared in awe—his wings. They spread out beneath Sasha slowly at first, then stretched and expanded with a great flap of air, large enough that he could have folded them like a black blanket over both of them.

Horns had pushed out from Sasha's temples, curling up, down, and then inward like a coil. But even as Sasha's eyes glowed in the slightly dim room, and everything about him was so gloriously monstrous and surreal, Dean's eyes stayed trained on the wings.

Maybe it was because of his fear of flying that he found the wings so remarkable. He'd always appreciated birds, like hawks, and even sort of thought bats were cute—not that he'd admit that little factoid aloud. But to see such wings on a man—it was just so different like this. Different…because Sasha made it beautiful.

Spreading his hands out along the inside of both wings, Dean caressed the black skin as he would a great expanse of back or chest. He pressed his fingers in deeply and heard Sasha gasp from the pressure, from the attention.

"Dean…" Sasha purred in a grumbling lower register, bringing Dean's attention back to his white face, fangs, and bright glowing eyes. "The camera."

"I know…" But he didn't care. He knew he should, but he couldn't force his brain to work, hard as he tried, and so he felt his resolve to try at all start to slip. He just wanted to touch Sasha. He wanted them to build to climax and come together with Sasha looking at him just like that—with both of them just as they were.

Sasha looked up at Dean as if searching for an anchor, so when he found defeat and surrender, he surrendered too. Dean saw the world tilt and spin, then looked up with a gasp to find Sasha above him, their positions flipped.

"I want to fuck you…" Sasha rumbled, claws spread tentatively over Dean's chest, a knee on either side of Dean's hips, with their erections, hard and pulsing, caught in between, caged still by denim. "But Dean…she'll make me kill you. I'll kill you."

What a way to go, Dean thought, then shook his head in vain attempt to clear it. "I don't know how to fight it," he admitted, even as he grasped one of Sasha's wrists and contemplated sucking one of the clawed fingers into his mouth. He licked it instead, careful around the sharp point at the end.

Sasha growled—growled—and Dean pressed his head back into the mattress, letting the pulses of growing need shoot down his spine to his stomach—low.

Sasha's jeans had already been ruined at the ankles where his feet formed large raptor like claws. He tore at what remained of them until they were off then returned his attention to Dean. Some mental capacity was still with Dean, because he understood the urgency in that look and immediately shimmied free of his own jeans, taking his underwear off with them, rather than risk Sasha's claws tugging them free. He had some self-preservation—for now—but for how long?

I want that tongue inside me again… Dean's thoughts strayed, and all other thoughts fell away.

He spoke his desire, and without a moment's hesitation, Sasha had Dean's hips raised, arms hooked under Dean's knees as he pressed his tongue right where Dean wanted it. The siren venom had Dean so open, so ready and wanting, that he arched up and moaned as that slippery tongue slid all the way in. Sasha couldn't prepare Dean with gentle fingers—not when those fingers were currently talons—but this was a great start.

Dean trailed a hand down his chest and gave himself a firm, quick stroke. Then another. He felt drunk—dizzy. Like he'd last all night, and that sounded fucking amazing.

The door opened. Dean barely noticed the noise, because Sasha had pulled back and was guiding Dean's own fingers down to finish what he'd started—and Dean slipped two fingers in and stretched them with a moan.

"My, my, you two are worth every bit of anxiety getting to this point," came a female voice, though Dean didn't recognize it—not Jamie, but definitely the siren. "I almost fled, you know. Almost. But mmm…am I glad I stuck around. You two are going to make beautiful footage. You already are. And you've already had quite an impressive amount of hits. Don't you just love live-streaming?"

Dean shuddered, though he couldn't be certain if it was at the thought of some sickos watching this—watching an incubus curl him into a ball and have him fuck himself with his fingers—or that his need to stroke that sweet spot inside of him had him really appreciating just how flexible he could be.

Sasha looked back at the siren with a snarl over his shoulder, a deep animalistic snarl that made Dean work his fingers in faster—deeper. The incubus didn't move off of Dean though, but turned back to look down at him with hunger in his bright red eyes.

Come on, baby, fuck me, Dean thought.

A soberer thought followed it. We need to stop this—stop her.

But all he managed to say aloud was, "Sasha," like a desperate whine.

Sasha's claws carefully gripped Dean's wrists, spread them back to either side of Dean's head on the mattress, and shifted his hips forward. Sasha's tip was dripping; Dean was so open—the incubus slipped in easier than should be possible, not when Dean had never done this before. It was just that perfect amount of tight and filling and fuck yes. Dean arched his hips with relish, barely even twitching at the small scratches being left on his wrists from Sasha's claws, and pleaded with his eyes for Sasha to just fuck him into the mattress.

Dean wasn't a moaner. Almost never uttered a sound. Certainly not like any of the noises being pulled from his throat now. Claws had Dean pinned, Sasha's wings were spread wide behind him over the bed, Sasha's horns curled around his long red hair as his eyes flashed and his fangs glinted with a pleased grin. He was monstrous. A monster. But Dean didn't see it like that.

It had nothing to do with the siren—Dean didn't see Sasha like that. The beauty he saw, he really believed it. He'd believed it when he thought Sasha was just a man and they'd shared a bed after too many drinks. Wings weren't going to change that, not when Dean knew better.

With each thrust, each look of heat and wanting that passed between them, there was a brief flicker of horror and apology in Sasha's eyes. That's when it dawned on Dean, when he realized that maybe there was a way to beat this.

"Lovely, boys. Lovely. Now come for the camera. And my sweet little incubus…be sure you're taking more than your fair share as you feed from that poor hunter. Wouldn't want him walking away from this. And hunter, dear, I believe this belongs to you."

Dean felt the handle of his demon blade press into his left palm, knowing the feel of it too well to assume it was anything else. Sasha still had Dean's wrists pinned, but after the siren stepped away again, the incubus released him.

A wave of nausea and fatigue swept through Dean. Sasha feeding—taking too much. It had merely made him sleepy after sex the previous night, but this was different, he knew. This was dangerous. She'd have Dean stab Sasha with the iron, demon-killing blade just as the last of his own energy was drained, killing them both.

Dean gave a sharp cry of pleasure as Sasha pounded him harder, the incubus' slit red eyes shimmering with terror. This was happening and there was nothing they could do about it.

But there was something they could do. Dean was certain of it now. Even as he passed the blade to his right hand and held it at the ready, he looked at Sasha above him and spoke plainly.

"I want you to fuck me…"

Sasha cringed, defeated.

"I want you to fuck me," Dean said again, "not because of her, but because I want to, just like I wanted to last night. It's not her. It's me. It's you. It's us. Fuck her. If we want this for us then she doesn't have any control." Dean reached for Sasha's neck with his free hand and pulled the incubus' face closer to his own. "Do you want me, baby…? Do you want this?"

Sasha's eyes fluttered closed, then opened intensely, as sweet sensations of orgasm built around the dull pulse Dean felt of his energy draining. Sasha ran a tongue over his fangs. "I told you…I wanted you from the moment you first sat next to me in that bar."

"Hell yeah, you did," Dean choked out through another moan, and kissed Sasha bruisingly deep. The hand with the knife still gripped on tight, but Dean focused on that thought—that he wanted this for his own sake, not because of any control from the siren, and if he was in control of the sexy part then he could beat the rest of it too.

A low growl rumbled in Sasha's throat appreciatively, and Dean bucked up again, causing him to gasp from the kiss at how deeply Sasha struck within him. He was tingling from sensation, and he loved it. Because he wanted it.

"Get ready…only…one chance…" Dean gasped a breathy whisper into Sasha's shoulder.

Sasha nodded, then gripped Dean around the hips and lifted him, pulling Dean into his lap and giving Dean a perfect view of the siren standing smug and leering beside the camera.

Dean wrapped his arms around Sasha's shoulders and slowly cut a long line with the blade along his own left arm, catching just enough of his blood on the blade. He looked up and grinned at the confused siren, then wound his right arm back and threw the knife straight at her. It struck the siren clean in the shoulder—not his best shot, but it'd have to do.

The siren howled in surprise and pain as the wound crackled with the briefest wave of what it would have done to a demon. Her own venom in Dean's bloodstream was enough to hurt her, but they had to get her in the heart before she'd die.

Sasha slid carefully out of Dean, set him gently on the bed, then spun with inhuman speed and leapt at the siren with his wings spread wide and claws outstretched. She shrieked as he descended on her, clawing her with a fury that Dean felt too. Sasha had drained him enough that he felt dizzy, and he was still painfully hard. He lay back on the bed, watching, grinning, as the incubus snatched the knife free from the siren's shoulder and resheathed it where it belonged. Her final cry died off in a gasp.

As Sasha let the siren drop dead to the ground, he turned to face Dean, still transformed and gloriously dangerous looking with a bit of blood smeared across his white chest. He looked on Dean in awe, much the same way Dean imagined he was staring back.

Dean shifted his hips and spread his legs, feeling a great tightness having lifted with the release of the siren's control, but damn it, he was not letting this end unfinished. "You think…you got enough control left in you to finish the job without making me pass out?" Dean knew he might be a glutton for punishment, and offering to let an incubus feed from him when he was already pretty well drained was borderline stupid, but he had confidence in his priorities.

Sasha stalked back toward the bed. "I have very impressive self-control, Mr. Winchester," he said with a grin, his voice a deep sexy growl that made Dean's dick twitch. The redhead slithered up the bed, gripped Dean under the knees as he had before, and reconnected right where they'd left off.

The siren, whatever her power did, its absence made Dean feel the ache just a little more as Sasha thrust inside him, but he was still stretched and wet and buzzing from arousal that he hardly noticed. He stared with even more amazement at Sasha's incubus form—amazed both at the sight of it all and at how much it turned him on. He was thankful though when Sasha, having his control back, morphed one of his hands human and gripped Dean's shaft to pump him into climax with him.

Dean moaned through it all, wantonly, unashamed, because the way he felt deserved a moan of approval—he'd never experienced something like this before, laced with the adrenaline of a hunt well done. Not that he'd ever go looking for this type of situation, but he was pretty sure he was about to overdose from the endorphin rush.

Sasha came first, a swift disconnect and then release against Dean's thigh—which was hot and unexpected and had Dean twitching and shaking as he came soon after. They remained that way, frozen in position, and simply stared at each other, smiling, for several moments. Dean was only vaguely conscious of the still filming camera. A bang on the door and following crash as it was broken down caught his attention significantly more.

"Oh…my god. Dean, are you—" came Sam's concerned and flustered voice as he took in the scene.

Dean waved a hand up over Sasha's shoulder to indicate he had not been ravaged to death as feared—though embarrassed to death was a given, not that he could give it too much thought right now when there wasn't anything to be done about it. "Fine, Sammy. Just outsexed the sex demon and figured this hunt deserved a happy ending."

Sasha snorted.

Sam gave a choked huff, and Dean heard the door being carefully put back in place, then sounds of the camera being fiddled with.

Dean and Sasha disentangled slowly, and Dean took a moment to just lie on the mattress and catch his breath. He knew the room would spin once he sat up—he was still fairly drained, much as he'd enjoyed most of it—but eventually figured he should get decent so Sam wouldn't have to keep his eyes averted while working to clean up the scene.

They used the sheets to clean off as best they could, Sasha changed into his human form, and they both got dressed. Sasha grabbed a new shirt from his duffle since he'd ruined the one he'd been wearing—Dean had almost forgotten they were in Sasha's motel room—and they moved to help Sam finish the job.

As per usual on a hunt like this they'd have to dispose of the body and clean up any other remaining mess. Sasha wanted to check if the real Jamie was still alive, and Sam was insistent to get that footage offline as quickly as possible. As it turned out though, when they used Sasha's laptop to check the siren's website again, every comment left on the live-stream video was negative.

This is all a lie!

Fraud! I thought this was real!

Nice special effects, but I'm never coming back here again!

Apparently, seeing a gargoyle have sex with some blond guy proved the videos were fakes. Of course Dean still wanted to track all those assholes down for enjoying the site because they had believed it was real sex and death—which it had been—but there wasn't much they could do. Once again all Dean could think was: Demons he got. Humans are crazy.

Sam admitted he'd been knocked out while leaving the bathroom and was stuffed into a utility closet until he came to. He said he didn't want to hear the details of how they'd beaten the siren, but was thankful that they had. If he blushed a little the rest of the night any time his eyes fell on Dean or Sasha, well, Dean knew better than to tease him about it.

"Yeah, Garth, I know," Dean said with a roll of his eyes. He'd been stuck on the phone with the gangly hunter all morning, as Garth wanted every little detail about the hunt—something about keeping good records so future hunters could try similar tactics.

Dean had calmly explained that if another hunter ever found himself in the exact same situation that he had been in, he would use his father's journal for toilet paper. Garth made a Dances with Wolves remark and let the matter drop.

"I got it, I got it, I'll ask him," Dean said, giving Sasha a nod when the redhead looked over with a questioning head-tilt.

Sasha had ended up crashing with them considering the state of his own room, and when Sam made a crack about Sasha sharing Dean's bed—they'd slept together twice, the least Dean could do was share his bed with the guy—Dean had asked for a reminder of Sam's recent sex life which shut Sasquatch up pretty quickly.

Meanwhile, Sam was currently snickering as he packed his bag, while Dean sat on his bed and flipped his brother the bird.

"Seriously, dude, we're ready to hit the road. We'll call again once we're closer. Just don't do anything stupid until we get there. Okay? We'll see you in a few hours." Dean promptly hung up before Garth could offshoot into any other tangents.

"So he's going to wait for us?" Sam asked as he slung his bag over his shoulder to take it out to the car.

"Unless he really wants to anger a coven of vampires by himself," Dean scoffed. He stood and turned to Sasha. "He said he'd like it if you came along too, since it's such a big job, and we…'work so well together'," he said with air quotes, since he'd heard the innuendo over the phone when Garth said it and felt they were necessary.

Sasha snickered, ready with his own bag as well. "If you don't mind me riding in the backseat. I hitched to this town. Don't often have a steady vehicle myself."

Dean nodded. He'd been hoping Sasha might say that.

Sam headed for the door. "More the merrier," he said, then blanched. "In the car! Not that I meant…not…" He turned beet red then bolted out the door.

Laughter erupted out of Dean free and easy, as it always did where Sam and embarrassment were concerned. His 'enlightened' baby brother sure could use a lesson in tact. And he always said Dean was the awkward one where anything gay was involved—of course Dean had never walked in on Sam naked with another man.



"So, Dean," Sasha said as they headed for the door together, "that whole thing, you know…what happened last night. And the night before," he added with a smirk.

"Yeah?" Dean prompted slowly.

"Well, since we'll be hunting together again, I just want you to know…I wouldn't be opposed to a third time."

Dean held back the larger grin that threatened to spread over his face. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. You have that gorgeous car, and well, I get the feeling you're one hell of a driver. Be nice to find out for myself." Sasha winked, then moved ahead of Dean for the Impala's passenger side door as they left the motel.

Dean's steps stuttered as he registered Sasha's meaning. Sam was already safely in the front seat, staring forward like he didn't want to risk saying anything else stupid.

Eh, he'll get over it eventually, Dean thought.

As he passed Sasha on his way to the trunk, he gave a careful look around to be sure no one was out on the street watching them, and swatted the redhead's perfect ass in those too-tight jeans. "You read my mind, baby. But if Garth walks in on us this time…we're killing the witnesses."

Sasha laughed. "Might take a while, seeing as how many people saw that video. Of course, we erased it from the web, so…guess we just have to be sure no one gets a hold of your phone." He tossed Dean another wink as he slipped into the backseat.

Dean paled for maybe a moment as he opened up the trunk. After depositing his bag next to Sam's, he slipped his cell phone out of his pocket and checked his recent downloads. Low and behold there was a new video, and as Dean started to play it, he swallowed low in his throat. Sure it was all part of some psycho's fetish, but…plenty of the footage was good—straight up, gut-wrenchingly sexy. Dean tugged at his jeans as he watched Sasha start to transform in the video then clicked his phone closed. He'd have to watch the rest again later.

The trunk slammed shut with a resounding bang of finality. Siren dead. New hunter on their 'sane enough to work with' list. Plenty of regular sex on the horizon. Dean didn't even feel that lightheaded anymore after a good night's sleep. Apparently he recovered from feeding an incubus rather quickly, which seemed like a pretty fair trade off.

Yep, Dean thought. Totally worth it.


See you next ficcie! (and don't be surprised if I return with something new next year to promote Incubus book 2)