(The characters are not ours, we're just playing with them
(Warning: Unlike the prequel, this story is about a Spike/Dean/Sam relationship, and therefore includes Wincest)
Sam lay in the king sized bed with his back to the pair beside him. They would have to have ended up at a motel where they couldn't get two beds. It should have been big enough, but not with those two. Besides, Dean always tended to be a bed hog, just like he was with the sheets and whenever he got a chance to eat pie. Sam always thought it stemmed from not ever truly having had anything of his own. Always giving up things for his little brother. Having to make due with pass downs. Even the car had belonged to their dad first. Dean's favorite leather jacket, again their father's. And his choice in music...that too. It had to wear on Dean's psyche. And right... there was a reason he was playing psychologist and trying to think of anything but what those two were up to.
Spike’s back was up against Sam's back. Dean was on the other side, facing Spike. He wasn’t really a cuddlier but then what he was doing wasn't cuddling. Words were whispered ... murmured against lips and skin, then Dean’s breathing filled the air, heavier, quicker at times, hitching at times. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Sam felt Dean's hand bump his back each time he got his hand behind Spike's back so he could caress, touch and grope Spike.
It was getting to the point where Sam wanted to tell him to switch places so he could get some decent sleep. But if he did, it would be an admission that he was aware of what they were doing and that he wasn’t asleep as he was pretending.
Dean's mouth was all over Spike's, his tongue searching, teeth nibbling at that bottom lip of his while he caressed, pinched and squeezed up and down the vampire’s body. The exploration was slow. "Shh," Dean whispered, "Gonna wake Sammy." He smiled as his body pushed Spike into the bedding so he was near on top of him. Clearly the concerns about waking Sam were outweighed by the needs of his body, and the telling bulge he was pressing up against Spike hip.
Spike gripped Dean’s ass and dragged him down harder over him, stifling a groan. “Sammy likes it,” he whispered, dragging his upper teeth lightly along Dean’s jaw, then teasing the corner of his mouth. He was holding the hunter so tight, they could barely move against each other.
Dean moves his hips slightly, rubbing himself against Spike. "Says you." He lowered his head, his teeth closing on the sensitive flesh of Spike’s throat to give him a sucking bite. In the dark of the room lit up by only a light outside the window, Dean could see a small dark patch marring Spike’s alabaster skin. A low noise rumbled from deep in his throat, even if the mark would disappear soon, it was his mark.
Just like that, Spike’s cock filled and surged... straining with need against Dean’s. Still gripping him, Spike ran his fingers along the crack of Dean’s ass over his boxers, heard his breath hitch deep in his throat. “Fuck me lightly,” he suggested, brushing his mouth against the side of the hunter’s face.
"Have we ever done anything lightly?" Dean asked as his tongue traced the shell of Spike's ear. He rolled them over so Spike was on top and his hand didn't just play on the outside of Spike's underwear but slipped under his waistband.
“Fuck... Dean...” Spike went momentarily silent at the intensity of sensations washing over him the instant Dean found him. He couldn’t help arching his hips slightly. “Yes... in Tulsa... we fucked very lightly and quietly in Tulsa. Best bloody six hours ever...”
Sam closed his eyes tightly. Those were the most torturous six hours of his life as he lay in the other bed, just listening. Similar to now but this was worse. The bed moved with each of their movements. They were closer so Sam could hear each whispered word as if it was whispered in his ear. He wanted to whine but swallowed it down while struggling to keep his breathing even.
Dean gripped Spike's ass and nodded, "True." He leaned up to kiss Spike. "But you’ve been teasing me all day." He pushed one finger over Spike’s sack and started to slide it up and down the underside of his cock, slowly pumping. "Slide over onto your stomach," Dean half commanded.
Spike groaned lightly and lifted up onto his elbows, trying to give Dean a piercing stare, though he didn’t know how successful he was seeing as his body was focused on one thing only... the pleasure point Dean had found. “You’re going to fuck me? Don’t know how I feel about that.” As if to emphasize his point, he dragged his thick cock up the length of Dean’s cock to his abs, then all the way down... nudging against Dean’s sac.
"Give a little, take a little, next time you can have me any way you want. Any
way," Dean stressed as he shifted, accidentally bumping his brother. If Sam made a sound, Dean didn’t noticed. He pushed Spike down, a gentle urging at the small of the vampire's back before sliding his hand up his spine. He used his other hand to tug at Spike's underwear, glancing over to Sam and only seeing his brother shift a bit.
The scent of arousal teased Spike, made him ache that much the harder. The slide of Dean’s warm caloused palm up and down his back left him shivering with anticipation. Impatient, he grabbed a spare pillow and managed to shove it low under his stomach. “Go on,” he growled, looking over his shoulder and nearly losing it when Dean licked his lips.
Dean put his finger to his mouth, telling Spike to hush as he tipped his head toward Sam. Then he flashed that impossibly adorable grin of his that people couldn’t resist, and tugged his own underwear midway down his thighs. His cock was hard and needy. Dean gripped it, pumping it a few times before rubbing it against Spike's tight bud. Without real lube, it was gonna be a bit painful for them both but it was a pain that they both fed off. He used his pre-cum for some lubrication and then started to push inside.. Dean had to grit his teeth tight to keep from growling out.
Spike gripped the bedding, arching his neck and trying to hold back the sound of pleasure and pain. He felt Dean grow hard inside him, felt him pushing as far inside as he could... heard his harsh breaths and knew he was struggling to maintain control. Bucking, he urged him on, turning his head again, and silently mouthing his demand. “Fuck me... now.”
Dean pushed, straining a little and biting back swears before his hips connected with the curve of Spike's ass. He finally let out a shaky breath, just nodding to the mouthed words that commanded him. All he wanted ... needed... was to feel, to gather himself and after a few long breaths, he started to move, just slightly at first, dragging his cock along Spike’s pleasure point.
Each time Dean slowly rode him, all the muscles in Spike’s body tightened, his fingers bit into the bedding. Soon, he was lost in waves of desire and need, pleasure and more desire. Dean’s warm breaths caressed his ear faster and faster as the hunter’s breaths grew shallow. They fed each others’ need, spiraled higher, and moved faster and harder. The mattress started to shake and groan under their weight as Dean’s movements became more focused.
“That’s it ... yeah,” Spike shouted into the pillow, bucking, needing, urging...
Sam closed his eyes even tighter. He tried to keep his breathing even as his own cock filled and was starting to get painful. He bit his bottom lip as he heard a deep throaty moan that was strained to keep quiet. That had to be his brother. It was echoed by another that was muffled and a hand brushed Sam's backside. He almost jerked in response and it took every bit of control to keep from moving. He realized that the hand that moved was Spike's, reaching back to touch his brother.
He opened his eyes, looking at the wall, trying not to think of what was happening behind him. But the shadow on the wall didn't help. He could see Dean moving. See him throwing his head back then bend forward and lower it to Spike.
Words were spoken against skin, wet kisses were attempted and the breathing became more labored. And then Dean was releasing because he could hear it. Sam’s cock ached so much worse now, he had to struggle not to touch himself... not to allow himself the same release.
And it wasn’t over. The mattress kept moving under him as the other two men fumbled together, bumped into him so they could change positions. This went on and on... more murmurs, more bumps, the sound of Spike finding release. He was sweating, and they were nowhere near stopping....
Sam closed his eyes again, trying to shut out the grunting that was getting louder. He was trying not to listen when he felt a hand on him. "Sam," he heard Spike whisper his name then it was repeated by Dean. His heart pounding, he turned...
"SAM!" Dean shouted from the other bed.
Sam jerked awake and blinked, realizing, it was a dream. All a dream. But how much of it was? His raised his hand to rub one eye then the other, trying to come fully awake and shake off the dreams.
"Spike is bringing coffee, probably want to shower before he gets back."
Sam sat up, still groggy. He was in his own bed, not a shared bed like in his dream. Looking down he noticed his cock was still hard and made sure the covers hid that fact, "Okay, in a moment, um, let me wake up."
"Whatever." Dean continued to tie his boot.
Pushing the door open, Spike strode inside and set the cardboard drink carrier down. “Three cups of steaming coffee, a donut with all sorts of sugary crap,” he leveled a look toward Dean, “And a bran muffin.” When he turned to Sam, he smirked. “Nice dreams?”
Sam blushed and tried to glare at the vampire, "I'm gonna go shower." He threw back the covers, quickly heading for the bathroom.
Dean walked over, peeking in the bag first, making a sound before his hand drove in to pull out the sticky glazed donut and licked his fingers as he changed hands. He took a big bite, then talking with food to the side of his mouth, asked, "Sammy had good dreams? Don't know if I should be proud or applaud."
Spike cocked his head to the side in agreement. “You woke him up too soon, didn’t you?”
"How was I suppose to ..." Dean took another huge bite, "Know." He grabbed for the coffee, pulling one from the carrier and taking a careful sip as he walked to the bed and sat down.
In the shower, Sam rubbed his face and cursed himself for having such dreams, especially about his brother. What was his problem? What was going on?
Then an even more chilling thought hit him. How long had that dream been? Where did it start and end. He tried to puzzle it out under the pounding hot water when it occurred to him he should use cold instead, since his body was still vibrating from the dream. He could have stayed there until the water washed away the urges of his body and the cobwebs from his mind, but he didn’t want to look the fool by taking hours.
Climbing out of the shower, he started to dry off in front of the mirror as he did. At least one thing was real, he and Dean did get the tattoos. His stood out on his skin like a beacon. But where did reality stop and dream began? That was when a chilling thought occurred to him. Flinging the door open, he rushed out. "The card came, it didn't happen, did it?" He stood there looking between the two. “We didn’t save him...”
Dean turned his head, nearly choking on his coffee and mouth full of delicious sugary eats. "Well if you were playing cards, Sammy, you have a tell." He motioned with his head toward Sam's crotch.
“And little bit of lather isn’t hiding much, not when you’ve got a Goliath of a...” Spike’s gaze openly focused on Sam’s privates. He chuckled as the guy disappeared only to come back with a towel about his waist, looking as intense and serious as if they were in a life or death situation. “You don’t see the humor in this?” he drawled.
Even that didn’t get a smile out of Sam, so Spike tried to calm him.“Whatever happened between the time you left the bed and took a shower, can’t be that bad. Have your coffee, might feel better, yeah?”
Sam shifted his gaze between the pair, "You never talked to Lilith did you," he half asked Spike.
“You know I haven’t,” Spike said, sobering suddenly. “Your friend Bobby hasn’t come through with any contacts yet.” Time was short... very short now. The sharp reminder changed the mood in the room. “THAT was your happy dream?” He could have sworn Sam was aroused by his dream...
Dean didn't bother with licking his fingers this time, just turning to Sam as his younger brother quickly tried to dress. "You thought I was saved by a card game?"
Sam just lifted his head up at his brother not speaking, but the sadness was there in his eyes.
"Dude, have you ever known anything to be that easy for us?" He shifted around to face his brother. "We have a week. We got buttcus. Whoever has my contract, they’re hiding their identity. For all we know, it's Satan himself."
"Then we call a demon and I'll make them talk." Sam pulled his pants up, zipping the fly and fixing the button.
Taking his coffee, Spike wandered to the small window and pulled the dingy curtain to one side to look out into the dark parking lot. They’d taken to doing as much traveling as possible before dawn or after dusk to accommodate his allergy to the sun. Sometimes the brothers went ahead during the day and he’d meet them at night. Sometimes when he arrived, he got the feeling Dean half expected him to be a no-show. There was a certain relief in his eyes when he got there, though the hunter never said anything.
He rubbed the back of his neck. So Sam dreamt they’d saved Dean. It was no wonder, what with time slipping away from them one day at a time. They still had the plan of last resort... but none of them wanted to go that route, and he didn’t want to be the one to mention it. The truth was he still struggled with himself... wanting Dean to stay the way he was, human, with a heart beat that he loved... and another part of him wanting to possess him completely, make him his. He moved his jaw back and forth, then turned.
“That didn’t work with that bastard red head we caught and worked over.” There had been only so much they could do since the demon had inhabited a human body. “Do you have something else in mind?”
Sam ran his hands over his face. He then looked to his brother. So far, converting his brother to a vampire and then working on getting his soul back was the only plan they’d come up with. Besides, Sam worried that Dean’s soul could still be sent to hell, and then how would they get it back? "I think we need to go back to the hell's gate. Where it all started. Complete the circle.”
Dean twisted his head to shoot his brother with a look that said he wondered if the younger Winchester had completely lost it, "What!?"
"We need to go back there. If they take you, we have the key to open the gate and ..." Sam started.
"And go in there and get me back?" Dean shot up. "Are you nuts? No!"
"You got a better plan?" Sam snapped back standing strong against his brother.
The brothers argued and fought the same way as they did everything else in their lives, with the passion and fire of someone whose time was too short to be wasted with banal words and empty days.
After letting it go on a bit, “It’s not a bad back up plan,” Spike said quietly. None of them knew exactly what would happen to Dean, if he was soulless due to having been vamped. There were no guarantees. Seeing the fire enter Dean’s gaze, Spike raised a hand. “With one change. Sam will not go in, not ever. He’s the one they want... makes no sense for him to walk in there.”
"What the hell did you put in that coffee?" Dean demanded, making a show of examining his cup. "You think it's gonna be just walking in, ask directions and they hand my soul over?" Anger and panic edged Dean's voice. "No. I won't allow it."
"You can't stop us, Dean," Sam answered. "You gave up everything for me. For Dad. Even now you won't let anyone take care of you for once. It's gonna happen, like it or not. Like you, I'm not gonna let you go that easily. I know Spike won't." He looked to the vampire for some confirmation.
“We’re not letting you go, period.” Spike strode toward his furious lover, and put his hand on his back. “You listen to me, yeah? You’re not going to hell in the first place, so retrieval won’t be necessary. But we...” he nodded toward Sam, “... we need to know there is a way to get you back if ... if things don’t go the way they should. You can’t take that away from us.”
Dean felt his body respond. It always did whenever Spike touched him. It wanted to go weak. To relent to the two and just give in. But his anger kept his knees locked. Kept him standing and fighting, kept him from just rolling over to their will. He pulled away, "I don't like it. There has to be another way."
"You even listening to Spike?" Sam asked as he stepped closer. "It's a back up plan. Look. We head there, repair the tracks and well if the gate needs to be open, the demons will stay in."
Dean rubbed his forehead, "I have a bad feeling."
"It's the donuts you ate and dinner last night." Sam answered.
There should be laughter, but there wasn’t. Spike tried again, this time wrapping his arms around Dean and stroking his back. “It’s a bad business. Nothing’s going to give you good feelings about it, other than ... a dream. But we’ll get through this, just like we got through Dark Haven, and just like we got through that ambush at the plantation house. We don’t leave anyone behind. Not ever.” His voice was thick with emotion and determination. He wasn’t giving Dean up, nor his brother. He’d found his family, and he wasn’t about to let a bloody demon break it up.
Dean looked down into the eyes of his vampire lover. There was nothing dead about those eyes, he could read the emotions burning brightly, the kind you couldn’t hide. He shifted his attention over to Sam, this time having to look up at his taller and younger brother.
"Let us, Dean, please." Sam whispered.
There was a long pause, with two out of the three of the men holding their breaths. Dean finally made a bit of a face before answering, "Okay."
“Right... okay.” Spike released him and gave Sam a look of relief. “If he’s this difficult as a human, I don’t even want to imagine him as a vampire.” Demon. He’d almost said demon
* * *
They’d been traveling hard... day and night. During the days, Spike was holed up in the back of the Impala under some irritating barricade so he wouldn’t turn to smoke. He hated every minute of it and spent hours trying to convince Dean that very dark window tinting was a good thing... something he should embrace.
Using the back roads, they’d come across a single room cabin... a shack that was falling apart on the outside. They’d agreed to stretch their legs and rest for a few hours. Spike returned from gathering wood for the old fireplace and was happy to smell coffee. That was one thing none of them could do with out.
He kicked the door shut, and gave Sam a nod of approval. He’d brought some blankets and cleaned up a bit by pushing the trash and knocked over furniture to the corners of the room. There was a single cot against the wall. “Bloody useless,” he muttered, looking at it. “Too short for you, too narrow for us.”
"Sleep on the floor," Sam responded. He was bent over the fire and had a pot of coffee brewing on it.
Dean was pouring a line of salt along the windows and door. He glanced over and shrugged, "Not a first time."
Sam glanced back to Dean and he sighed. He was worried about his brother. Time was short and soon the hounds would be coming. He remembered how they terrified their victims and couldn’t bear to see them do that to Dean.
Seeing Sam pull the coffee pot out of the fire and set it on a broken piece of tile, Dean took it and poured a cup, holding it out to Spike, "It will be like a slumber party." He smirked.
“Will you be wearing pink frilly things and showing Sam make-up tricks? Thanks.” Taking the cup he brought it to his lips then burning his mouth, jerked it away.
"Serves you right," Sam answered.
Dean chuckled, "I think Spike suggested it cause that is what he has longed for. He wants little pink ribbons in his hair."
Sam chuckled as he blew over his coffee then took a sip.
“That your way of calling me a ponce
?” Spike fixed Dean with a heated look. “You know there’ll be hell to pay later... much later. Sam too, seeing as there’s only one room.” He let Dean wonder on the form of punishment and went to sit at the table.
“Take it as you like," Dean answered as he lowered down to the floor.
Sam chuckled going down as well to cross his legs. "Well, we aren't far from our destination. Maybe a couple hours travel."
Dean looked over into the fire. He felt like a giant clock was ticking behind him. With each beat of his heart, it took another second from his life. Soon he would be experiencing what his father did. What Sam did for that brief time before he was brought back. And honestly, it scared the hell out of him.
It was getting harder to laugh, or to keep the moments light. Something would always remind them this wasn’t just any other day, it was a day closer to the end. Sitting on the chair and looking down at the brothers, Spike almost crushed the cup in his hand. No choices... no good ones, it was the story of their lives. Who the bloody hell had dealt them their cards? Spike wished he could get his hands around the throat of the guilty party.
He drummed on the table, aching to pull the older Winchester into his arms... to make him forget for a few hours. To tell him all would be right. But he could tell from the hard, stoic look on Dean’s face, this wasn’t the time.
“Sam, what can we expect?” They’d done their planning, Spike would turn Dean one night before the one year mark, and then they would have cheated the Demon. But the demon would probably still come to collect, and they’d have one angry demon on their hands.
Sam shifted his eyes to Spike, the firelight reflecting off the side of his face. Shadows danced and it gave Sam a dark look. "When the hell hounds came for that man, he heard them but I didn't. He just told me where they were. Dean will hear the howling long before we will."
Dean snorted as he took another drink.
“Howling. Sodding hell!” Spike didn’t notice he’d pushed his cup over and the liquid was pouring off the table. “In the car... I’ve been hearing the occasional howling. Thought it might be wolves, yeah? And earlier—“ His head snapped toward Dean. “You holding out on us, mate? Do you hear them?” He was up and crossing the few feet that separated them.
Dean had been trying to move to get away from the coffee but then he was being pulled up by his collar by two strong vampire hands dragging him to Spike’s his face level. "I thought we were just passing wolves," Dean tried to lie.
Sam shot up as if someone pricked his ass with a needle. "Dean, why didn't you say anything." He was grabbing the keys to the Impala and rushing out the door.
Dean just gave an innocent shrug, at least as innocent as he could get.
“What’s the matter with you?" Seething, Spike jerked Dean’s collar. “Do you want them to catch us by surprise, is that it? You want this to be over... Well you listen to me, it won’t be over... not like that... never like that.”
Dean looked away, not able to answer. "Just... wanted to hold on a little longer."
Spike was ready to shout at him, whatever his answer... it was a sure thing he’d get shouted at, only nothing came out of Spike’s mouth. He didn’t want to turn.
Only this time it wasn’t because of his hate for vampires, it was for all the right reasons. Paling, he dropped his hands. Inches separated them, might as well be miles. “Sorry,” Spike whispered as Sam walked inside. “I... let’s get this place sealed off. We’ll hold off as long as we can.” Wasn’t much more he could do or say or promise.
Sam looked between the two and knew something happened. Something was said, something that left a gaping wound, only he didn’t know which of them was hurting. He tossed Spike a bag and then one to Dean. "Let's get started. Faster the better."
Dean caught the bag and started in the back, finding a window and sprinkling the blackish powder along it. Sam started on the other side, doing the same. Who knew words could have that much power. Dean should have. Enough of them cut him sharply.
As Spike moved around, making sure the door and windows were barred, and the few bits of rickety furniture were moved to up against the small windows and in front of the door, he wore his silence like a mantle. Inside, a battle was raging... the same one he’d fought since the night he’d started to turn Dean and then changed his mind. Back then, he’d stopped because he’d thought Dean was under John Winchester’s power... that he’d feel guilty or hate himself for failing his father by allowing himself to be turned. Now he had a new worry. Dean. Dean himself did not want this. He drew a breath he didn’t need, and went back to see if there was more salting that could be done.
Dean stood there, in the middle of the room as the fire flickered. He looked at it as the flame got low from a wind. He heard a howl and his head turned to look out the window then barking came, mixed with growls.
"You hear them?" Sam asked, going to his brother.
Dean looked back, not answering.
"We can't wait, we need to change him. Now." Sam spoke with urgency. There was a bit of panic that was starting to creep upon him.
The sound of thunder rent the air, emphasizing Sam’s words.
No one spoke.
The seconds stretched to minutes, and the rain started to pour. It pounded against the window panes and the door as surely as the hell-hounds would.
And still, three men searched each others’ faces. Sometimes there were no answers.
Sam looked at the door and the wind was picking up. It was gonna blow the dust soon, breaking the line and letting the hounds in. Sam stared at the door as it rattled before turning back to the two. "You have to do it, now." Sam half ordered. Panic building in his voice.
Dean looked over to Spike, his heart pounding. Fear was in his blood but he wasn’t showing it on his face. Or at least he was trying to cover it.
This was it. Ground zero. It took Spike a long moment before it sank in and he moved.
In a few strides, he was in front of Dean and pulling him close. Gaze laser focused on the hunter’s greens, he choked on his words. “Forgive me.”
And then his mouth was clamped over Dean’s, his tongue probing and seeking Dean’s.
Spike wanted it over, he’d try not to drag it out this time, but he wasn’t going to hurt Dean, and he didn’t care if Sam was right there, he was going to make sure his hunter’s path to death was paved with ecstasy. He wasn’t going to give him time to think about it, to freak out over it, to weight the rights and wrongs of it.
Dean couldn't bring himself to pull away. He couldn't move at all, except to kiss. His hands grabbed at Spike's shirt, holding on to keep either of them from turning back.
Sam watched, the two kissing and he felt a pain in his heart. He was just watching, letting his brother be turned. Just as Gordon was turned. He swallowed a lump that was trying to form.
Dean melted into Spike. His tongue danced over Spike's and he half forgot what they were going to do.
The hunter became the center of Spike’s universe. Every hard kiss, every stroke of his hands, every brush of his body against the hunter’s was calculated to arouse and inflame, to burn out thoughts of anything but this... what was between them.
One step at a time, Spike dragged Dean back with him until he felt the rocking chair hit the back of his knees. Tongue fucking Dean into a state of oblivion, he managed to strip him down to his jeans.
Dean's world started to spin out of control. Wave after wave of pleasure hit him with each rub of hips against his, brushing just the right spots. Dean could have easily gotten off this way with just one more rub but Spike was pulling back and his outer shirt and his tee shirt were pulled up over his head, exposing his talisman and the tattoo that flickered in the fire light.
Turning Dean around to face away from him, Spike ran his hands up and down his sides, then gripping his hips, sat down, settling Dean on his lap. Before he could come back to himself, Spike locked lips again, this time moving his hands over his abdomen... bare skin stretched taut over beautiful muscle. Fuck, if he wasn’t careful... he was going to be too lost in pleasure to concentrate.
The vampire's plan was working. Dean was so distracted all he could think about was the sensations washing over his body, and the need to tongue fuck Spike right back. He leaned back, as far as he could, stretching, crushing his mouth against the vampires.
Sam moved quickly to the door, placing a new thicker line of black powder down. He glanced back in time to see Spike's hand move down lower over his brother. It was clear Dean was enjoying it. His cock showed a clear outline through his jeans. Sam swallowed hard and wanted to say faster.
Dean cupped his hand behind Spike's head, his body trembling and the cause was unclear. However his body twisted a little as he deepened his kiss. Dean pulled back a bit, whispering, "I'll forgive you. I love you."
Spike knew a thing or two about end of the world promises, but he was love’s bitch... and hope always lurked in a darkest corner of his unbeating heart. “We’ll fly off the rafters... we’ll ... be forever.” Siding one hand up to Dean’s throat, he pushed on his jaw, pulling him close. One last time, he took his mouth, tasting, loving, fucking, wanting... needing...
(A/N: Let us know what you think?)