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Cabin Fever

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Summary: On a miserably cold and rainy day, Dean takes shelter in a cabin already occupied Spike. Spike/Dean slash

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Supernatural > Spike-Centered(Past Donor)CasFR18546,3912186,8817 Jun 1026 Jul 10Yes

Chapter One

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(Co-written with Brimstone Gold
The characters belong to Joss Whedon and Eric Kripke, we're just playing with them

Pairing: Spike/Dean
Fandom: SPN X-over BtVS
Ratings/Warnings: NC 17, PWP (light on plot), Slash, lite bondage)

It was fucking freezing. That was the only thing that kept going through Dean Winchester's mind as he shivered in his wet clothes.

Somewhere out in these woods was a supernatural creature. Their father's journal indicated something hit this area every seven to twelve years, usually right near the first day of spring. There weren't many campers out but there were always a few lunatics. It had been four days since the latest victim, a six year old kid, "Sean Harris," had been snatched from a rental cabin. The rangers had search parties out but with it dropping into the twenties or thirties at night, they were trying to prepare the parents for the sad fact it was more and more unlikely the kid was going to make it if he had simply wandered off.

The dad was out with the search parties when Dean had gone to see to the Harris family. After talking with the mother, Alyssa, and the kid's older sister, Willow, Dean learned the door to the cabin was locked, the windows were shut, and it was an overcast night. The family was returning from a vacation of skiing in the mountains (their first vacation in five years apparently) and had booked a two night stay in the cabin. They went to bed early after a day of hiking and an "exciting" night of playing board games. Four went to sleep in that cabin but only three were there come morning. No one had heard anything. The door was still locked and the windows were still shut. There were some odd prints in the ground around the cabin but the rangers assured the parents they were harmless animal tracks, probably a herd of deer. Willow described the tracks that she had seen and it jived with what John Winchester had theorized. A goblin.

Goblins didn't like sunlight and they tended to stay in caves or even burrows. While they didn't eat people generally (they were omnivores so it was possible), they stole kids away and made them slaves. When the kid got too big, big enough to be a danger to the three or four foot goblin or goblins, they were killed, plain and simple. The good thing was that if a goblin had taken Sean, Sean was almost certainly still alive. The bad thing was that goblins were a bitch to track down. They apparently stank worse than a dozen skunks in a small room, but you had to get close enough to smell them and their lair and they were pretty damned good at camouflaging those lairs.

While Dean was out on recon, Sam was back at the only motel in town researching past disappearances and looking at topographic maps. Dean had called and let him know that it looked like the searchers had pretty much obliterated any obvious tracks near the Harris cabin. A little ways away, Dean had found two that he thought might be goblin tracks and following in their direction found the footbridge that led to his current very wet condition.

Sure the footbridge was old, but he sure as hell hadn't thought it was in that bad of shape until he was halfway across and the boards creaked and gave suddenly and he tumbled twenty feet into the icy waters of the swollen river below. He cursed the strong current the whole time he struggled to reach the east bank of the river and avoid getting slammed into any of the debris the melting snow had brought down with it from the mountains. He was only partially successful in that avoidance as he collided with a tree and knew he would have some nice bruising along his hip and thigh. Swimming fully clothed, in boots, and a duffel bag over his shoulder full of weapons didn't make it any easier.

A mile downstream he finally managed to reach the bank and find a place where he could pull himself up and out of the water. The temperatures were in the fifties and he was a good ten miles in on the trails. He would have been just fine if he hadn't soaked himself to the bone in frigid water that ought to have fucking icebergs in it, it was so fucking cold. Even doing the ten miles assuming his best speed in this terrain, it would be an hour and a half before he reached the warmth of his car. This was going to suck and he'd be lucky, hell, lottery winning lucky, if he didn't come down with hypothermia long before then.

It was late afternoon and the temperature was dropping. He broke into a light jog, cursing his soaked boots and socks that squished with every step he took. After about a mile he found a trail and after quickly orienting himself with his map that was falling apart, he began heading back down the mountain and to his car. He stopped when he heard the low rumble of thunder and looked behind him to see black clouds. Great. Awesome. Fucking swell.

The black clouds rolled in fast and with it the pouring rain. If he hadn't already been soaked, he was now drenched and his teeth were beginning to chatter. The damned rain wasn't due in until tomorrow afternoon. Fucking weathermen. Couldn't get a freaking thing right.

He knew he had to face the fact he was not going to make it down the mountain without falling into hypothermia. He pulled out the drenched map again. There should be a cabin up ahead. He picked up his pace and it wasn't long before, through the pouring rain and spring foliage, he made out what he thought might be the hulking shape of a cabin. The slippery, muddy trail branched and he took the left fork. Within about 300 feet he was stepping out of the rain and onto the porch of the cabin with a relieved sigh. The curtains were pulled tightly closed and from the small sliver where the material didn't overlap, it looked like the cabin was dark inside. He knocked a couple of times, and then getting no answer, picked the lock and opened the door. The day cast gray shadows deep into the cabin but there was enough light to make it apparent it wasn't currently rented out.

He pulled out his cell phone and shook the water off as he stepped inside, hoping the damned thing still worked after the double drenching. Opening it up he grinned at the sight. Finally. A little bit of luck. It worked and had a signal. He speed dialed Sam.

"Hey," Sam said almost distractedly as he studied the map lying on the table in front of him at the motel.

"Dude, it's raining like a mother-fucker and I'm soaked. Found an empty cabin," Dean began going through the cupboards and found some canned goods and even a half eaten box of cereal, even if it was probably stale. "Yahtzee. Food and a fireplace. I'm going to crash here for the night."

Sam sat back at that. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Looks like Dad nailed it."

"Goblin," Sam said, almost relieved. It would be tough finding it but at least, for once, time wasn't against them. "You find any tracks?"

"About a mile east of the Harris cabin near the Telleran River, right about where that second 'L' in 'Telleran' is on the map. When's the rain s'posed to end?"

"It wasn't supposed to be here yet. Hang on." Sam pulled up the weather map on his computer. "Looks like sometime tonight, maybe as early as ten or eleven. They're saying more rain is coming in tomorrow afternoon."

"Awesome," Dean said sarcastically. "I'll call you in the morning and we'll figure out our game plan. My phone got wet, so don't panic if you don't hear from me. I'm kinda surprised it works considering I went for a swim."

"What? What were you doing swimming?"

"Wasn't my idea. The bridge looked sturdy enough," Dean said nonchalantly. "Dude, freezing my ass here. Need to get the fire going. If I don't call, I'll head back to the car and show up on your doorstep."

"Wait, at least tell me where you are," Sam said, not liking the idea of Dean up in the mountains without him and without a phone, even if it was just a goblin.

Dean spread the soaking wet map on the table, it ripping at some of the folds. "I'm at a cabin on the East trail, probably about eight miles in. Should be around K-17 on the map, cabin 29."

Sam looked at the map of the trails and cabins provided by the park service and scanned over it. "Okay, got it. If I don't hear from you by the afternoon..."

"Yeah, yeah. Bring cheeseburgers and beer. Trails are gonna be slick bastards so I probably won't make it out until about ten."

Sam chewed on his lower lip and shook his head. "No, stay where you are. I've got some ideas where the goblin might be holed up and knowing where you found the tracks, I think I can narrow it down. I'll come in to you in the morning."

No hike out only to hike back in? Dean could deal with that. Now all he needed was a sweet babe to curl up with in front of the crackling fire that he was getting damned anxious to get started. And to get out of his sopping wet clothes. "Sounds good. Remember, cheeseburgers and beer. And pie."

"Talk to you tomorrow, Dean," Sam said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Be careful."

"Dude, empty cabin. I'm fine. Bye, Sammy."

"It's Sam--" he heard as he closed the phone and chuckled to himself.

"Or not, empty, that is," Spike drawled, having come down the narrow stairs from the small loft. He'd been taking shelter from the daylight and now stood watching the husky voiced man who had his back to him and who was dripping water in a puddle around his feet. He guessed the bloke was one of the volunteer searchers who'd gotten separated from the rest of the group.

Dean damned near jumped out of his skin. It was hard to surprise him but the voice had come out of nowhere it seemed, the man silent as a ghost, and in Dean's line of business that was just plain bad. The hunter spun, dropping his duffel bag so the straps were wrapped in one hand. The sawed-off shotgun would be useless, the salt probably dissolved in the shells because of the river, but the other weapons would be fine if he had the time to get them out. Getting them out of the pack was the second step though as Dean's first instinct was to use the bag to slam into whatever--whoever--had spoken. A duffel full of weapons upside the head could ruin just about anyone's day.

The man was pale, dressed in a long leather coat, his hair bleached so blond it was practically white and he had high, distinct cheekbones. Dean topped him by a couple inches. In the dim lighting Dean couldn't read the stranger's eyes. His accent was British and at first glance, he was pretty damned hot for a guy. After giving the man a once over and seeing that the man didn't appear to be threatening, he let the breath out of his lungs slowly.

Putting on the charm and relaxing his stance, though he kept the duffel ready if needed, Dean gave the Brit a friendly smile. "Sorry. I didn't see any packs or stuff so I thought it wasn't rented out and I could get out of the rain. If you'll let me dry out and warm up, I'd appreciate the hell out of it. I'm Dean, Dean Young." He hoped the guy didn't wonder how Dean had gotten past the locked front door but he could pass it off as old cabins, cheap locks or something if he had to.

"Makes two of us, yeah? Not my cabin, I got out of the rain," the man said, walking closer, "Spike." His gaze fell on the pack Dean held ready, and he cocked his head. "You don't look like a hiker." Thing of it was, he'd never thought the man was a hiker, but now he wondered if he'd been wrong about him being part of the search teams. What if he had something to do with the disappearance of Xander's boy?

Spike? Dean studied the man. He was reserved, cautious, but Dean could appreciate that. If he didn't know a goblin was the most likely culprit for the kidnapping, he would wonder if this man, off alone this far back in the mountains even if it was at a park cabin, might be involved. He didn't see a pack, which was unusual, but it could be upstairs he supposed, guessing that's where the man came from. The biker boots the man wore, not unlike his own, might explain the name 'Spike.'

"That's because I'm not exactly a hiker," Dean explained. "I'm with the forestry service. I was on vacation but a kid went missing so I'm doing what I can to help." Dean dug in his pocket and pulled out the wet paper with the kid's picture on it. It was pretty much toast from the soaking but you could make out the basics. He set it on the counter beside the map and poked his index finger at it. "Sean Harris, six year old kid, dark hair, taken from his cabin a couple miles from here. Don't suppose you've heard or seen anything unusual?" Dean didn't figure the guy had, but hell, who knew. And just in case the kid wasn't taken by a goblin but a human monster instead, he watched the guy's reaction closely.

That explained the no uniform, but the duffle bag was still a bit of a puzzle to Spike. It wasn't Spike's business though, so long as the man had nothing to do with the disappearance, and if he did, the questioning made no sense since he couldn't know Spike was here for the same reason. "I know Sean," he said, watching Dean's reactions just as intently as Dean was watching his. "His parents are friends. Xander called me to help with the search."

Deciding Dean wasn't a threat, or that it would be better to find out now if he was, Spike turned his back to him and pulled his duster off as he walked toward the fireplace, dropping his coat on the arm of a chair before getting some fire wood from the wood basket. "You should get out of those wet clothes. Use my coat if you like," he said, crumpling some old newspapers that were stacked nearby, and using them as tinder then stacking the logs over the paper. Using his lighter, he set a long piece of rolled up paper on fire, and then pushed it in with the tinder, making sure it caught.

Though he appeared relaxed, he was very aware of Dean, both in the sense that he was prepared if the man wasn't up to any good, and in another sense. It had been a long time since a male had stirred Spike's interest, and this one, with his perfect features and eyes he'd wanted to stare into for far longer than he had, certainly had done that. If the timing wasn't off... Yeah, Spike might look to see if the bloke was interested in scratching the itch he'd bloody well started.

A friend of the family? Dean thought. The name Xander wasn't anywhere on the missing person flyers and I only know the father's name from talking with the wife, Dean mused. So why wasn't Spike with the search teams? Maybe he hadn't joined up yet? Seemed odd though. Still, the guy was starting a fire and Dean was shivering at this point. After a moment, he gently set his pack on the table, trying to keep the weapons from making noise as they settled against each other. Dammit he needed to get them out and drying too. Sure all the weapons were well oiled, but it just galled him to think of them sitting in his wet pack as soaked as he was.

He looked at the leather duster Spike offered and wasn't sure it was broad enough in the shoulders. He needed a blanket but he suspected this place was a bring your own sheets sort of place. The place didn't have electricity, and it was damned unlikely there was anything in the place to wrap up in. If he took off his pants, there went the gun he had tucked in the holster in the back of his waistband.

Fuck it. He was cold, they were both guys, and Spike had offered the coat. He'd leave his undershorts on even if they were wet. He pulled off his jacket and hung it on the chair to dry, then began pulling off the layers of shirts, tossing them in the sink. He'd ring them out once his teeth stopped chattering. If the guy turned out to be trouble, Dean wasn't really worried. He could take the guy down pretty easily he figured.

He pulled his gun and holster free of his jeans and quietly slipped them into a jacket pocket then sat down and pulled off his boots and socks. After a moment of hesitation he peeled off his wet jeans and strode over to the coat. As he feared, the shoulders weren't broad enough. He had to settle for draping it over his shoulders though he'd have just wrapped it around his waist if he wasn't half frozen.

Walking over to the fireplace and the fire beckoning him, he couldn't help but let his gaze rove over the man's backside and the curve of his ass as he knelt there. Yeah, a nice body. A real nice body. "The coat's a little small so you're gonna see more of me than you might be comfortable with. Sorry for that. If there's a blanket in this shack, I'd 'appreciate it if you could find it. Thanks for getting the fire started," Dean chattered, moving in as close to the fire as he could manage.

Damn his skin was like ice. The fire was barely going but even the small bit of heat felt good. Unintentionally he mind popped up with the thought of how it might be nice to share a little body heat with the guy. He smirked. Yeah, that probably wouldn't put them on good terms if he hit on the guy with that suggestion. He'd probably get his ass slugged for it. He glanced down at the damage he'd taken from getting slammed into that tree while he was 'swimming.' Bruised and scraped. That was gonna hurt like a mother in the morning. At least there was only a little bit of watery blood, the scrapes just enough to give a drop beading up here and there but he was gonna have to clean it out. If there wasn't any soap, he'd use his flask of alcohol. After he got warm. He pulled the coat away from the wound, not wanting to get blood on the guy's coat.

Spike smelled the blood and turned and looked up to see Dean's scraped thigh through the opening of the coat. His gaze roved higher, over his abs and chest, then to his face. He saw that Dean's teeth were chattering together.

Getting up, he pushed the sofa closer to the fire place. "Sit here, but not any closer," he said. "Unless you want to lose your bits." His gaze had dropped to the center of Dean's body for just a moment, but he turned away and headed for the kitchen. Right, he knew what his body was telling him loud and clear, but he didn't think Dean would be interested.

Dean settled onto the couch. Yeah, the guy was right. He had to be careful but the 'lose your bits' almost had him snorting with laughter. With the way his underwear was soaked, his 'bits' were pretty damned obvious, though for as cold as he was his bits were just that. Little bits. And that almost made him laugh too. Okay, maybe the cold was getting to him more than he thought.

A moment later, Spike returned with a bottle of whiskey and passed it to Dean. He watched as Dean's shaky hand brought the bottle to his mouth, and heard it clatter against his teeth. Dropping down onto the couch next to Dean, he put his hands out and waved for him to put his legs up. "Come on then, put your legs over me. I'll give you a rub down." His gaze clashed with greens, but he didn't look away.

The burn of the whiskey was good, and it was decent whiskey on top of it all. At Spike's order, he cocked an eyebrow at the guy. He was sitting all but naked in front of a fireplace, a stranger's coat just about his only clothing, and the guy wanted him to put his legs on his lap. Dean met the man's brazen gaze and after another swig of whiskey gave a shrug. Warmth. That was all he cared about right now. He'd probably offer up the same if he came across a guy in the condition. Dean twisted and stretched his legs out across the man's lap. Yeah the good looking guy could rub him down, rub him up, and rub him any way he wanted to.

"So why 'Spike'?" Dean asked.

Starting to rub Dean's leg from knee to ankle, Spike raised startled eyes up to meet his. "Doesn't make a good story. Besides, it falls in the category of 'I'd have to kill you if I told you,'" he said, rubbing a little harder, his thumbs digging into Dean's muscles, while his palms moved quickly over his skin to generate heat.

Dean laughed a little. "Yeah. I got stories like that." Damn, the guy knew how to give a decent massage and his touch was definitely warming Dean up in more ways than one. That was going to be all sorts of awkward if he got much more warmed up in one area because it wasn't like he had any way to hide it if his cock decided it was warm enough to make a reappearance and show its heartfelt interest. He could always pull the coat off his shoulders and drape it over his lap if he had to.

Spike moved to Dean's other leg, eventually rubbing the man's foot between his hands. His gaze was already traveling up his thighs and he could almost feel his flesh of those powerful muscles rippling under his hands. When he finally moved his hands up to Dean's inner thigh, he met his gaze again, and saw a flash of interest. "Not making you uncomfortable, am I?" he smirked, brushing his hand lightly across Dean's abs as he moved around to his other thigh.

Dean couldn't help but notice the man looking him over. Huh, maybe he wouldn't get slugged after all. Then Spike's hands moved up to his thigh and oh yeah, his freezing little pecker began to creep its way out of its warm little spot inside him. If was fucking amazing how far a guy could draw up when cold. Thoughts of being cold were rapidly being replaced with other more interesting thoughts. His stomach clenched at the light touch of the man's strong hands. Dean took a long draw on the bottle of whiskey locking his gaze with the other man.

Chuckling softly Dean shook his head once. "You'd have to try a lot harder to make me uncomfortable." He let his own gaze drift over the man's body, then returned cool eyes to the stranger. He focused a moment on his mouth and thought of how long it had been since he'd had a man's lips around his cock. Dean licked his own lips and let his thoughts meander down that path, thinking how he really wouldn't mind remedying that in the near future. In the very near future if Blues Eyes' hands crept up much higher. The rain was still pounding down, his clothes were still sopping wet in the sink and on the floor, and it wasn't like he could really go out after the kid at the moment. He was still too damned cold if nothing else and they'd have the most success in morning, looking in the mud for fresh tracks.

"That an invitation?" Cocking his head, Spike pushed each of his hands up Dean's thighs, brushing lightly over his cock, then working on his stomach and chest. As Dean's muscles tightened under his palms, he cursed softly, "bloody hell." Slowly, he slid his hands up and down Dean's sides, and leaned in a little, wanting to pull him up against his body and to kiss those tempting lips. "Been told I'm one of those people who takes a mile, if you give an inch," he warned gravely.

"Thought you guys did the metric thing," Dean murmured, making no move to stop anything the man was doing.

"The 'inch thing' was ours too." Spike's hands slipped up Dean's chest, lingering over his nipples, then rubbing him down properly, before his motions turned once again into caresses.

Oh, hell yeah, was Dean's thought when he felt Spike's hands running over him and there was no doubt the man was warming him up. He arched a little as the man's hands drifted over his nipples. He saw the lust growing in the man's eyes and knew his own were probably looking just as hungry.

On hand slipped up the column of Dean's throat, the vampire swallowing as he felt the strong pulse under his hand, before moving it to the side of Dean's face. "Just warming your lips, yeah?" It was the only warning he gave before leaning all the way in and covering Dean's mouth with his own. He pushed his tongue past Dean's lips, into the heat of his mouth, and immediately tangled their tongues together. The bloke might be cold, but his unique taste mixed with whiskey... it was so bloody hot, a low moan escaped the vampire.

Dean wrapped his arms around the man's hard body and pulled him up tightly against him. The man could kiss, that was for damned sure.

Spike's moan was all it took for Dean to echo it as he reached one hand between them and ran his hand over the man's groin, feeling that hardened flesh trapped inside his pants. He was really regretting leaving his wet underwear on, but that would be easy enough to remedy soon. His sole focus at the moment was threading his fingers in Spike's belt and tugging on it, getting it to release. His hand was deft and fast as he flicked open the button to Spike's pants and cracked the zipper enough to reach inside and stroke that firm flesh with a needy moan. He expected more heat to be radiating from the man, especially in his groin, but he just chalked it up to them both being cold. They wouldn't be for much longer.

Oh yeah, this man wasn't shy. He was forward, and adventurous, and demanding, just the way Spike liked. Moaning as Dean's hand moved over his cock, Spike deepened the kiss, tongue fucking Dean's mouth, thrusting it in and out as he slid his hand up and down Dean's throat, using it to move Dean's face from side to side, where he needed it. He tasted so good, like the rain. His heart was strong, and powerful, its beats reverberating through the vampire, sending his need spiraling.

Dean hadn't been tongue-fucked like this in a long time. Okay maybe never. The man's strong hand at his throat was guiding and pushing him just where the man wanted him to go. Dean's fingers curled and his nails dug into Spike's back, then slid down to that strong ass he had admired. He thrust his finger through the belt loops and tugged, using his other hand to open the zipper fully, giving him better access to the man's cock. It also gave him the room to slide his hand down the back side of Spike's jeans, which he took full advantage of, reaching in and squeezing the man's firm ass.

Spike's cock thickened and hardened under Dean's touch, making the vampire ache for more. He groped his way down Dean's chest, then curled his fingers around the waistband of his wet shorts. One quick strong tug as Dean lifted up, and the shorts were half way down his legs. He pulled them all the way off and dropped them next to the couch, and immediately closed his palm over Dean's cock, pressing it against Dean's thigh and squeezing. As he felt blood surge to the man's cock, he groaned again, breaking the kiss to allow Dean to breath, but quickly reclaiming his lips.

Dean drew in a deep breath when Spike finally let him, gasping as Spike's hand put pressure on his stiffening cock. He was used to topping, to being the more aggressive one, but there was no way to roll them over so he could be on top without them falling off the damned couch. And Spike had too many damned clothes on. Spike's mouth was already back on his before he had a chance to divest Spike of his shirt. Then he was being tongue-fucked to within an inch of his life again, moaning into the man's mouth. As much as he hated to admit it, he was melting like a virgin, losing all control to this man. He wasn't used to that either or to groaning like a porn star as Spike's aggression inflamed his lust to new heights.

Dean moved his hand from Spike's ass to the crack between the cheeks, running his middle finger down until he felt that sweet puckered flesh under his touch. He pressed and circled there, matching the rhythm of the tongue fucking he was getting as his other hand stroked Spike's hard cock, thumbing his slit and coaxing the pre-cum free.

Bloody hell, if he wasn't careful, this man would bring him off before he wanted. Resisting the intense urge to thrust into Dean's fist harder, Spike concentrated on pleasuring Dean, wanting to see this man who seemed too sure of himself completely out of control. Instead of taking his cock in his hand and stroking, he kept pushing and squeezing it against Dean's thigh, rubbing his palm up and down, loving how hard it grew, how it throbbed and leaked. Even when Dean thrashed and lifted his hips, Spike kept kneading his cock, trapping it against Dean's flesh, using the man's own thigh to stimulate and frustrate him.

Any attempt for Dean to focus was rapidly disintegrating under Spike's skillful, if maddening, stimulation. He would have demanded Spike take hold of him, jack him, but his mouth was too full of Spike's dancing tongue. His chilled skin felt scorched everywhere it touched Spike. He hadn't even gotten Spike undressed yet for chrissake. Fuck, with a lover like this all the time, he could probably give up women without looking back. The man was probably around Dean's age but shit, this man knew his business.

"Fuck, Spike, dammit," Dean managed to gasp when Spike broke their kiss. He was panting hard and trying to thrust and find satisfaction. He was still stroking Spike's own shaft but it was erratic as the guy worked Dean into a frenzy. Before Dean could demand Spike finish him already, that hot mouth that tasted of cigarettes and whiskey and Spike was pressed against his own and Dean was moaning into it. He was fucking putty in this guy's hands.

As their tongues clashed, Spike sensed Dean's growing need. He finally closed his fist around the man's thick cock and stroked a few times, before pushing Dean's cock down against Dean's belly. Using both thumbs, he started to press down and stroke up the sides and underside of Dean's cock, from his balls, all the way up his shaft, hard and fast, groaning into his mouth as Dean bucked up.

Dean's eyes widened at the entirely new stimulation Spike was giving him. He moaned loudly and his hips thrust and bucked and there wasn't a damned thing he could do. Spike was bringing him off, finally, and it felt amazing. He gave up trying to maintain any control whatsoever and let his body do what it wanted or rather, whatever Spike wanted it to do.

When Dean stopped stroking him completely, Spike repositioned so his arousal pressed against Dean's thigh, giving him the pressure he needed each time Dean bucked and thrust. He rode Dean's arousal as much as the man himself, encouraging him to thrash harder, doing everything in his power to make it so.

Dean rode the climaxing pressure, the pleasure, the pain of his need to come until he felt his balls tighten. He wrapped his arms around the man, pulling Spike close as he arched, the release tightening every muscle in his body. His cock pulsed hard, shooting hot spunk between them as Dean shouted into Spike's mouth. The orgasm shook him, rolling out from his groin in waves of ecstasy.

Dean's shout, the urgent tugging on him, pushed Spike over the edge a moment behind, fucking into Dean's leg even as he kept stroking him, milking him of everything he had. As the ache low in his belly eased, he kissed Dean more gently, sucking on his lower lip as he pulled away. Staring into jade eyes still fuzzy with lust, he used his knuckles to stroke the side of the man's face. "They didn't teach you this in forestry school, did they?"

Dean groaned softly as Spike pulled away. He blinked in momentary confusion at Spike's comment then chuckled. "Uh, no. No they didn't. I've got no complaints wherever you learned that whole warming up someone bit, though." He leaned up and kissed Spike again, slipping his tongue in for a moment then laid his head back down, breaking the kiss. "Gotta teach you about this concept called breathing though. Damn, dude."

Running his hands slowly up and down Spike's side he grinned at him. "I think we got your clothes dirty. Why don't you get out of 'em, so you can, you know, rinse them out later and set them by the fire to dry or something. It's still raining pretty good. Can't really hunt for the kid in this downpour. And I'm still a little cold and all and you make a decent blanket. Don't want me coming down with pneumonia or something, right?"

"You're not just trying to get me naked, are you?"

Giving Spike his most charming smile he said, "Absolutely. But for completely impure thoughts. Not an innocent idea among them. Really."

"Right then... keep those impure thoughts," the vampire encouraged, leaning and kissing him one more time before getting up. He started to walk toward the kitchen, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the back of a chair, then pushing the jeans down his arse, bending over and taking them off. He could feel the weight of Dean's gaze the entire time. "Look all you want, yeah?" Smirking, he headed into the kitchen to take care of the washing.

Dean was definitely looking and definitely liking. He had watched Spike pull off his shirt and the way the firelight played across his muscles was damned fine. When Spike stripped out of his jeans he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning in approval. He'd wished for a busty babe to curl up with by the fire--okay to fuck his brains out with by the fire. Spike was no busty babe but Dean had absolutely no complaints with the substitution. "Hey, grab my clothes out of the sink and my jeans, too while you're at it. They're not gonna dry over there."

When Spike returned, he dropped all of the clothes in front of the fire, spreading them out. Using some tongs that he didn't need, he also placed a few opened cans of food right into the fire since there was no gas to start the stove. His gaze briefly met the other man's, but he ignored the question in those brilliant green eyes and headed upstairs.

A few minutes later, he was back with the curtains from upstairs. Spreading one set on the floor in front of the fire, he nodded at Dean. "Come on, then. And bring a few cushions."

"Anyone ever tell you you'd make a good wife?" Dean grinned at the guy. "Getting my wet clothes, cooking, making the bed up," he teased. "So what's for dinner, honey?"

"Bangers," Spike answered without missing a beat. "That would be 'sausages' in American." Crooking a finger at the handsome man, he sat down on the make shift bed. "And yeah, I would make a bleeding good wife."

"Mmm, I definitely like banging and sausages." No longer limited by the narrow sofa, he settled down by Spike and ran his hand over the man's cock. Now he could be the aggressor. "Big thick sausages," he murmured as he leaned over Spike and sampled his lips, then kissed his way down to his jaw line where he nipped then licked over it to soothe the bite. He continued working down until he reached the man's neck, still slowly stroking and fondling the man's cock. He bit the man's neck then sucked on it, pulling the flesh into his mouth, only to nip again, giving a soft moan.

"Right... keep talking about big thick sausages and you'll have me coming before long," Spike answered, giving a low groan as they kissed, and then Dean's mouth tortured the sensitive flesh of his throat. Between that and Dean's calloused hand moving over his thickening cock, Spike writhed and made sounds of pure unadulterated pleasure. Just how the bloody hell had he gotten this lucky? To have camped in an empty cabin, to have this man walk in, and for him to be good looking, warm and willing. There was a twenty percent chance he was only dreaming this, and wouldn't that be a pity?

"Oh, I'll make sure I have you coming, but not until I'm ready for you to come," Dean said, confidently. Pushing Spike onto his back he slid his knee in between Spike's legs, then kissed and nipped along Spike's collar bone and straight down his sternum. Reaching Spike's nipple he grinned evilly at Spike and latched on with his lips. He gave the man no mercy as he sucked, rolled his tongue around and around it, caught it lightly in his teeth, then sucked hard. His free hand deftly found the other nipple and began rubbing and pinching what soon became a tight nub. His cock-fondling hand drifted to the man's balls and he played with them, rolling them gently in his fingers for a few minutes before drifting deeper, searching out that tight ring of puckered flesh. He pressed his body against Spike's, trapping his cock, slowly sliding back and forth over it, keeping it stimulated.

As Spike writhed and groaned, a thousand flames licking at his skin everywhere Dean touched him, he had to admit this man's experience could rival that of any vampire he'd ever slept with. His cock pulsated with need. Lifting his hips, he pushed against Dean's warmer body, hand on the man's back and ass, pulling on him to force him down harder against his rock hard erection. "Make a great blanket, pet," he said, dragging one hand up along Dean's spine, then higher, running his fingers through his soft hair, fingers curling around the strands as pleasure washed over him in waves when Dean's finger brushed repeatedly over his hole, leaving him groaning for more.

Damn the man was strong, Dean thought as Spike pulled him closer and practically held him in place. The hand moving along his spine and up his neck had Dean shivering and tingling at the sensation. No, god dammit, he was going to take charge this time. There was no doubt Spike liked Dean's fingers at his hole. Dean put his fingers in his mouth and got them wet, then returned them to Spike's hole. He slowly pushed his middle finger in, going straight for the sweet spot.

"Sodding hell," Spike cursed at the blinding light that hit him behind his eyelids, then groaned as Dean didn't slow down but pushed deeper inside him, unerringly finding his prostate. "Done this before, have you?" he asked in a strained tone, lifting his hips up slightly, inviting Dean to push another finger in him. He didn't need to be prepared, but it didn't make this any less pleasurable. The thought of having this man inside him, of squeezing his muscles around his cock... it was making his cock leak already.

Dean grinned at Spike's reaction. He wasn't quite certain how Spike would react, but he was definitely pleased by the response.

"No. One-hundred percent virgin. Heard about it on Oprah or something," Dean said. He could tell Spike wanted more and he was happy to oblige. He began finger fucking Spike then slid that second finger in that Spike seemed to be thirsting for while he continued to work on Spike's nipples and pectorals with his mouth, tongue and teeth. Spike definitely seemed to like it when he bit hard enough to leave marks.

"Bloody effing hell!" Spike practically came off the floor, the unexpected sharp pain sending more blood to his already almost too hard cock. "Didn't know how much I like virgins," he said, lifting his head and returning the favor by biting Dean's shoulder. Only, he kept Dean's flesh firmly between his teeth, holding him hostage. His hips moved of their own accord, lifting up to help Dean penetrate him deeper and deeper. Pressure built low in his belly, had him giving of sounds of pleasure, until he couldn't take it anymore. Releasing Dean's flesh, he practically snarled and jackknifed up, pushing Dean's body up with his own. "No more games. Time to fuck," he said, barely waiting until Dean's fingers were out of him before he turned and faced the fireplace on all fours.

Damn Spike bit hard, was Dean's thought, unable to pull away with Spike's teeth practically buried in his shoulder. With Spike lifting up, letting him in more and more, rubbing their bodies together in the process, Dean felt his cock growing heavy again, and begin to leak. He was startled when Spike was suddenly upright, Dean falling back, unsure what was happening. Spike's words penetrated his lust laden mind, and seeing Spike on all fours, presenting himself to Dean sent such a surge of blood to his cock, Dean groaned.

Turning to look over his shoulder, Spike's gaze locked with those heat-filled greens. Grasping his own cock, he started to stroke, already imagining Dean inside him, willing him to mount him now, to take him.

"I like the way you play," Dean said, the fire crackling in the fireplace nothing compared to the fire in his veins for this man. He wasted no time moving up to Spike. The man wanted it and wanted it now, no preamble, no more stretching, he could see it in the man's eyes.

Aligning his cock with Spike's waiting hole, he nudged in just a little, then grasping Spike's hips snapped his own forward, burying himself in Spike in one fluid motion. He practically shouted in pleasure, suddenly encased in that body, muscles gripping around him. "Oh, God, baby," Dean moaned, running his hands over Spike's chest as he curled himself over Spike, just absorbing the sensations. He wanted to give Spike a minute to adjust to his fullness even though every muscle in him screamed for him to start taking Spike and taking him hard.

Spike thought he'd been ready, but he hadn't been fucked in a long, long time. The sharp pain, the intense burning, the sensation of being stretched to the limit, of being full, all came rushing back as Dean penetrated him fully in one stroke, burying himself to his balls. Spike stretched forward, arching his back like a cat and turning his head to the side, his mouth skimming against Dean's chin. He felt Dean tense against him, felt his stomach muscles rippling against his back, his thighs tightening, dying to unleash all of the power in his body. "Kiss me, but don't move," Spike said, a hint of steel edging his words.

Dean took Spike's mouth, pushing in a little deeper if that were possible. He began to tongue fuck Spike and suddenly he felt Spike clench around him, clenching and releasing in rhythm to Dean's tongue. Dean groaned at the sensations. He started to pull out but Spike clenched down on him almost painfully and Dean couldn't, only making a loud groan in response. Spike wanted to play that game. Two could do that. Since he couldn't pulled out he began to roll his hips putting pressure on Spike's prostate, then easing it as he rolled his cock in Spike's hole. The sensations were coursing through Dean heightening his desperation to fuck the man absolutely senseless, to pull the man up and make him ride his cock as he fucked up into him, then shove him back down to finish off. Those images running through his mind made it harder and harder not to start pumping in and out of that hole.

Spike wasn't sure just when his game had turned into Dean's 'game point.' What he knew was that he was Dean's prisoner in this as much as Dean was his. Their bodies were locked together in a slow torturous dance, one stimulating the other, neither able to go at full run, even though every cell in his body cried out for it. Each time Dean's tongue penetrated his mouth, all Spike could think about was getting fucked just as hard. Blinding heat flooded his body in waves each time Dean's cock pulsed against his prostate.

Even in his heyday, Angelus hadn't been as imaginative as this human who was slowly driving Spike insane with need. He clenched tighter around Dean's cock, the man's groan sending electric heat through his system. The pressure was building low in his belly, his need rising, overwhelming him. Breaking the kiss suddenly, he dropped his head down, stretching his body forward. "Never been so bloody hot for it. Fuck me," he said, pulling forward a little more so Dean slipped partially out of him. "Hard."

Dean felt Spike ease his clenching, releasing him, and Spike's words drove searing heat through him. He was beginning to get an idea of why the man might be called Spike. The man wanted hard. He could do that. Grabbing Spike at the waist Dean began to pound into him almost mercilessly. He wanted to come, he did, but the thought of fucking up into the man, he just couldn't get that image out of his mind. Practically growling, he shoved deep into Spike, wrapped his arms around the man's chest and pulled him upright.

"Ride me, baby, ride me," he demanded, fucking up into Spike's ass but needing Spike to help to get the effect he wanted, that he was certain they both wanted.

Spike snarled a warning as he was suddenly pulled upright but when Dean's powerful thrusts didn't stop and what he wanted filtered through the haze of his lust, he cooperated. His knees were on the ground, on either side of Dean's. He pushed up and used the force of gravity to lower himself hard, riding every inch of Dean's hard cock like he was sliding up and down a pole. He bounced harder, matching Dean's thrusts, head thrown back as the force with which he was being fucked had him seeing bright lights behind closed eyelids. Each time Dean pistoned into him, he pushed down, grunts tearing from back of his throat, enjoying being held so tight if he were human, he'd wear bruises at his ribs or chest. They were going at it so hard he had to put one hand down on the ground for support, using it to push up. "Holy... fucking... hell," he said, turning his head on Dean's shoulder. Their mouths crushed together in a jerky, almost painful kiss that couldn't last. "Fuck..."

This was exactly what Dean wanted, fucking up into this fine specimen of a man. He wasn't used to the weight and strength, usually fucking up into women but this put adrenaline and lust into him like he didn't think he had ever felt. To feel Spike slid up and down on his cock, to be buried balls deep time and time again. He was hitting the point of no return, it was now or he'd be coming. He shifted again, pushing Spike back to all fours, putting his hand in the middle of Spike's back and pushing his chest to the floor.

"Stay there," Dean growled, grabbed Spike at the hips and lifted his ass, and began pounding harder and harder. He grunted with each snap into Spike, his cock pulling out, and sliding all the way back in, hitting Spike's prostate with every stroke.

As Spike's elbows hit the ground and Dean's heavy hand kept him down, showing him the position he wanted, Spike's lust went through the roof. His intense reaction to the manhandling confused him but had him submitting to Dean's will, and he wasn't sorry. How could he be when he was being fucked this hard, pleasured within an inch of his life? The man's thick hard cock was penetrating him to the hilt with each stroke, stimulating that place inside him that sent pleasure shooting through him, making him want to scream for release.

Instead of allowing Dean to continue to push him forward every time he fucked into him, Spike started to push back, so there was no give, no forward motion of both bodies. He clenched his inner muscles around Dean's cock, forcing Dean to push harder, giving him more friction, desperately wanting to push him over the edge now.

"Fuck!" Dean gasped, chasing his release harder and harder, amazed the man was holding his own. A sudden blinding light seemed to explode inside him, his balls drew up unbelievably tight and he gave a final hard thrust into Spike feeling his seed fill his lover, spilling out as he began to pump more, but finally slowing down as the last of his cum was spent. "Oh my fucking God," Dean gasped, curling his body over the man his cock still rested inside of.

As he took Dean's last thrusts, Spike squeezed his own cock, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt Dean's hot cum filling him. It was all it took for him to come, groaning in pleasure and pain as his climax ripped through him with unexpected violence. He was wet with his cum on the front of his body, and Dean's leaking down the back of his thighs. He should be satisfied, but he clenched around Dean's softening cock, milking him for everything he had, and then finally resting his head on one arm, with Dean still on top of him.

"Bloody amazing, and I'm not saying that lightly," Spike said, his voice still husky. "Gave me a work out I wasn't expecting." And a few more things he hadn't been expecting, but he'd liked... definitely liked it, a lot.

Dean groaned softly as Spike finished him and prayed the man had no intention of trying to get him hard all over again. He was drenched in sweat, still gasping for air, and he knew his muscles were going to be sore. He hadn't worked that hard fucking someone in a long time. Hell, maybe never.

Staying inside Spike he bit Spike's shoulders, sucking on it, then licked over the bite, not fighting it as Spike got back on all fours. He slowly worked his mouth up further and further until he reached Spikes neck where he bit and sucked more. Whispering in Spike's ear he said, "You're the best fuck I think I've ever had and I'm not saying that lightly." He nipped down Spike's jaw and when Spike turned his head Dean captured his mouth starting gently, then letting some heat come into it as he pushed his tongue inside that hot wet space. If he hadn't just come so fucking hard, hadn't just fucked so hard, he would be rocking his hips, getting himself hard while still inside Spike, and taking the man all over again.

Breaking their kiss Dean finally pulled out of Spike with a groan. "Lay down, on your back," he told Spike, nudging him with a light hand. When Spike complied, Dean immediately moved between Spike's legs and ran his tongue in one long stroke up Spike's body, licking up Spike's cum. He grinned down and the man beneath him. "Always good to follow up with dessert. And you're fucking delicious."

Spike had been sure Dean would collapse and sleep. Instead, the man surprised him again, this time with his gentleness as he cleaned him up in ways that were sure to have Spike's cock twitching very soon. Watching Dean through half lidded eyes, he wished this moment would last forever and knew he'd never forget it. The sex had been mind blowing, but this... he couldn't remember anyone ever having done this for him, not after their own release at least. Reaching down, he ran his fingers through Dean's hair, moaning softly as Dean's tongue laved at his thigh and cock. "Glad you've got a sweet tooth, yeah?" He sucked in an unneeded breath as blood started to rush to his groin.

Dean was fucked out and exhausted, but he had always liked to give the one he'd fucked, who had given him so much pleasure, a little extra attention before collapsing in sleep. Or before slipping out the door, getting back to his own motel room, and collapsing into a sex-induced sleep.

"C'mere, kiss me," Spike said, his other hand reaching down to grab Dean's arm and slowly dragging him up his body, then wrapping his arms around him, one hand sliding over his ass, his middle finger unconsciously rubbing up and down Dean's crack, not quite reaching his hole. Dean's mouth landed messily over his, and Spike gave him a long, slow kiss. He'd meant to stop there, to allow Dean to rest, but the part of him that had allowed Dean to dominate him needed to return the favor. And he did, by holding Dean in place with his arms, pressing his legs and knees tightly around Dean's legs, and tongue fucking him with the same intensity as he been fucked, stabbing his tongue in and out of the wet heat of Dean's mouth, taking him as surely as he'd been taken.

When Spike wanted a kiss he let Spike pull him up. Damn damn damn, this guy could fucking kiss. If he got in a little sleep, he thought he could definitely get in a couple more rounds of mind-blowing sex before morning. And there were still the sausages heating in the fire. He ought to remind Spike to pull them out before they fell asleep. He'd be starved when he woke up. He liked the gentle kiss Spike gave him and felt Spike's finger drift dangerously near his hole. He groaned a little softly. Spike didn't honestly expect him to be able to come a third time did he?

Dean wasn't prepared for the way the man suddenly gripped him and held him firmly in place and Spike began doing things to his mouth that was making his exhausted and worn out cock struggle to rise to the occasion. There was no fighting or denying that mouth, the insistence of Spike's tongue, and the promise of what Spike wanted to do to him. Thoughts of this tongue fucking happening at his hole...he didn't bottom often, he didn't like not being in control. It took a helluva lot to convince him to bottom, but right now, just as on the couch, he felt like he was at Spike's mercy and was groaning back into Spike's mouth, frustrated Spike held him so tightly he could hardly move. Spike's hold was iron. He struggled against it briefly, but there was no budging the man and he reluctantly submitted to Spike's control.

Finally, finally Spike let him come up for air for longer than just a breath or two. "Dude, are you part rabbit? Jesus. How many times can you have sex back to back?" He looked down into the man's eyes. Huh. He never would have said a guy had gorgeous blues, but yeah. They were. His lips were red and swollen, looked pretty fucked out and, well crap, he could just stare at the man for hours.

"Lemme go," Dean told him, kissing him lightly on the lips and rolling off him when Spike finally relented. "Get the bangers, smangers, whatever the hell they are out of the fire so they don't burn," he mumbled, his eyes already half closed. "Then come back to bed." At this point Dean was struggling to stay awake and not succeeding very well.

Spike smirked. He was part something but definitely not a bleeding rabbit, and that part of him received great satisfaction seeing Dean looking so fucked out and exhausted. That part of him took credit for Dean's swollen full lips, his lust blown and unfocused pupils, and the warm flush that covered his body. "Thought you were starving." His smirk stayed firmly in place when Dean didn't answer, and all Spike could hear was his steady breathing.

* * *

It was still night and Spike had been very comfortable on the floor in front of the fire, laying on his side with his body curled around Dean's. But the rain had stopped, and the vampire had to return to his search for Xander's son while it was dark. He'd reluctantly peeled his body away from Dean's and dressed quietly in the dark.

For a long moment, he watched Dean's face, studying it in the golden glow of the flickering fire. There were many attractive people in the world, but in his hundred years, there were only few that Spike would describe as beautiful. Dean was that, from his chiseled features to his surprisingly plump lips that softened and balanced his ruggedly male looks. He was built and fit, a man who used every muscle in his body or exercised often. Maybe when all this was over, Spike would find the ranger again.

As he walked out into the night, Spike knew there was no maybe about it. He would find Dean and see if the man was interested in more than a night of sex between strangers. He didn't think so, and maybe a part of him hoped it was nothing more because that could get complicated with him being a vampire. Still, he wondered whether in the morning Dean would remember his comment about being a good wife. He'd rekindled the fire, folded Dean's dried clothes, and rearranged the curtains to cover him. His breakfast was sitting in a tin next to the fire with tongs, so that all Dean had to do was put it in the fire for a short time to reheat it. Smiling at the imagined comment from Dean, he raised his head and started to search for any out of place scent, or Sean's scent as he took off into the night.

* * *
Immediately Dean reached for his gun under the pillow...but there wasn't one. Pillow or gun. He scanned the room. Fireplace with a fire going, curtains over him, his stomach rumbling and... no Spike.

"Spike?" Dean called out, getting to his feet and listening. Nothing. He saw the tin with the food and moved it into the fire. He pulled on his undershorts and pants. "Hey Spike!" he called again. Still no answer. Dean grabbed his gun from his coat and tread softly upstairs in his bare feet. No Spike. He gave the room a quick once over but didn't find anything.
Rubbing the back of his head, he scowled. Yeah the rain had stopped but it was dark. The fire had burned down a bit. Maybe Spike stepped out for a piss. He'd give the guy a minute because he didn't want to step out into the dark yelling for the guy. Quickly he finished dressing, grateful his clothes had dried out pretty thoroughly and taking note that Spike had folded them for God's sake. Yeah, the man would make a great wife and for just a moment he had an image of him walking in a front door, calling out "Honey, I'm home" like they always did on those TV shows and Spike was in the kitchen in tight jeans and no shirt, baking him an apple pie. He shook that ridiculous image away with a soft laugh. Though he did like the idea of a shirtless Spike in tight jeans. Glancing at his watch he saw it was almost midnight. Since Spike wasn't here, he quickly opened up his bag of weapons and scanned over them. Yeah, wet, but okay. Although he didn't have to, he would prefer to change out the bullets in his magazine, or at least dry them off. His father had taught him well and he could break down clean and reassemble everything in his pack in under fifteen minutes if he had to.

Goblins. Beheading killed them, and fire would do them some serious damage but not kill them. They didn't like fire and bright lights. Bullets would just piss them off.

Where the hell was Spike?

Dean checked his machete and changed out the flare gun charge with a fresh one from the water tight pack the spare rounds were packaged in. It was probably okay, but no sense taking chances. His high-beam flashlight with enough candle power to blind those motherfuckers for a few moments was working fine. Since Spike still hadn't returned, Dean used it for more light as he quickly broke down his 9-mm, popped the bullets from their magazine and did a thorough wipe down. Satisfied, he just as quickly reassembled it and dried the bullets before reloading them. With everything dry, there shouldn't be a misfire or jam, hell there shouldn't be if it was still wet, but he would keep in mind the gun might not be at a hundred percent.

Dean strode over to the fire and pulled out the can. Using his pocketknife, he stabbed one of the sausages out of the can. Yep, Spike would definitely make a good wife. A perfect wife if he could breakdown and clean weapons, kill supernatural monsters, and cook burgers and bake apple pie.

Okay, still no Spike. He stepped outside and found Spike's boot prints leading away from the cabin. What the fuck? Why would the guy be out and about after dark? That's when predators of the non-supernatural type were about as readily as the supernatural type. The guy was strong, but Dean hadn't seen any weapons on him. Was he a fucking idiot? Dean hesitated. He couldn't just let Spike go off into the night by himself. Maybe Spike had a pack Dean hadn't seen. Still...

"Aw, dammit Spike," Dean muttered. He went back inside and dialed up Sam as he quickly finished off the sausages. "Sam, where do you think the goblin is?"

Sam was still awake studying information and maps when the phone rang, surprising him. What was Dean doing calling him at midnight? "What? No way Dean, you're not going out without back up. What if it's a nest?"

"I won't go up against 'em without you, okay? Look there was guy taking shelter from the rain like I was, a friend of the father's and a friend of the missing kid. I fell asleep and now he's gone. I don't think the guy has any weapons or anything. I need to find the fool and get him to safety. So where's the goblin danger zone so I know if he's walking into more trouble than he realizes."

Sam hesitated, then gave Dean the coordinates of the areas he thought the goblin might be in. "I'll be up there first thing in the morning," Sam told him. "Call me when you find him."

"Yeah." Dean closed the phone and quickly shouldered his pack, keeping his machete, in one hand, flare gun in his coat pocket, and gun in his back holster. He headed out, grateful for the moon's light as he tracked Spike down the muddy trails.

(It's been a while since I've written Spike!)
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