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Summary: Dean is a broken man who is plagued not only by memories of the horrific things he's done, but also by lingering dark needs that he can't control. For him, there is no hope, until he meets the vampire Spike under circumstances that could finish them both.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Supernatural > Spike-Centered(Past Donor)CasFR1819157,38473014,40627 Jan 1127 Oct 12Yes

Chapter 2

The challenges hadn't gone well and six humans were already dead before the assembly was half over. The vampires talked among themselves and, the next thing Dean knew, go-go boots girl had ripped out his IV and was hauling him toward the stage.

Crap was pretty much the first thing that came to Dean's mind. "What, my blood didn't taste good enough to keep me around?" Dean said to her as she shoved him up onto the stage.

She smiled sweetly at him. "Maybe we don't like sarcastic asses."

"Then you gotta hate me, bitch. Tell me you're the one whose ass it is I get to kick."

The vampiress hesitated and looked around at the others. The muscular man that was supposed to have faced Dean gave her a shrug. She smiled at Dean. "I'm going to enjoy ripping your throat out."

"Bring it, Bitch," Dean said.

Dean glanced quickly around on stage as he backed up. There were some pieces from the obstacle courses that hadn't been removed yet, even a couple bodies, and the stage was slippery with blood. She charged Dean. Dean sidestepped, slamming the heel of his palm square in her back but she didn't go down like he'd hoped.

She hissed, showing her mouthful of teeth and slashed at him. Jumping back, he wasn't quite fast enough and felt blood well up on his chest. His t-shirt had two long cuts across it. Dean dropped down and swept the vampiress' legs out from under her. He used that moment's distraction to dive for a piece of splintered wood from a broken crate. Before he reached it, she was on him, grabbing him by the leg. She swung him around and slammed him into a studded tire.

"Sonuvabitch," he cursed, kicked her in the face, and managed to get loose from her. He scrambled up and tried to keep some obstacles between them. Dammit, he needed that piece of wood.

Practically stumbling over a two by four, he stooped and picked it up. He still needed that sharp ended wood but at least he had a weapon of sorts. When she flew at him, he cold-cocked her across the face and she let out with a cry of surprise more than pain. She was already back on her feet before Dean had made it halfway over to the crate. Suddenly she was in front of him and she clocked him so hard he flew several feet through the air and slammed into the wall. He groaned, his head spinning. Spitting blood out of his mouth, he tried to climb to his feet, using the wall for support. He slowly crawled up it trying to shake off the blow, waiting to feel her teeth in his neck.

"Oh, the pretty boy got himself hurt," she sneered. She turned to the audience. "Anyone want to come help the pretty boy or shall I just rip his throat out now?"

Spike had been on the edge of his chair. He knew what happened if you spoiled their games, it meant punishment not just for you, but for others. It was as if these vampires made decisions on whims, it was part of why he thought they were on drugs. And that one there just proved it with her invitation.

He pulled out his own IV and stood up, immediately feeling he was being shadowed by two vampires making sure he was getting on the stage. There was silence in the room; no one expected volunteers. Placing his hands on the edge of the stage, he jumped up onto it. His strength was definitely improving and he hoped it would be enough.

"You keep calling him pretty. Must be because you've got nothing in that department, yeah? Come on then," he circled around, watching her expression darken with anger. "Let's dance."

He didn't have to ask her twice. With a screech worthy of a banshee, she came after him. Spike avoided a few of her blows, dodging them and diving backwards away from her. He'd gotten some of his speed back, that was good, but when he blocked a hit, it wasn't with ease or without pain. "Come on bitch, you can do better than that."

When she came at him again, Spike grabbed her shoulder and spun her around toward Dean. He'd seen that the hunter could fight and hoped he understood his moves. "Bloody hell, I think she likes you better," he mocked.

Dean couldn't believe Spike was stupid enough to come up on stage to help him, though Spike had said he had beat the vampires' games once before. They were playing deadly tonight, though, and Spike was just asking to get himself killed right alongside Dean. Still, Dean couldn't deny his relief.

When Spike made a present of her to him, Dean gave a solid uppercut to her stomach, then grabbed her head and shoved it down, bringing up his knee at the same time, slamming it into her face. "Can you blame her? I'm downright adorable."

She straightened up, blood pouring from her nose and fury in her eyes. Dean got in a left hook and the snap of her head sent blood droplets flying. "Keep her blood out of your mouth and wounds. Even one drop and you're one of them," Dean warned Spike.

She swung at Dean but he was getting a sense of her speed and reach at this point and managed to dodge. Unfortunately she hadn't opened herself up for a retaliatory strike. Dean worked his way closer to Spike. If she struck at one, it ought to give the other an opportunity to get in a hit. "What's with that miniskirt," Dean said to Spike. "Skank must think she's got something worth looking at."

"I'm going to tear you apart, there'll be nothing left," she said through clenched teeth, coming at them with increasing speed. Dropping to the ground, Spike swung his leg in an arc at her ankles and sprang back up just as she started to topple. His victory smile was short-lived. Throwing herself forward, she dug her long nails into his stomach, tearing his skin as the weight of her body pulled her down. Shouting with pure fury and pain, Spike kneed her jaw, then bent down and head butted her. Almost... he'd almost shifted to game face.

"Bloody bitch from hell," he said looking down at his torn clothing and putting his hand over the wound. The fight was over, the vampiress was down.

When she went after Spike with the obvious intent to kill him, Dean had known he had only one shot. He'd dove and grabbed two pieces of broken wood, jabbing them into one of the dead bodies to coat the wood with deadman's blood. The vamp might be down, but he knew how fast they could come back. He buried the wood into her back, right where her heart would be. "Stay down, you bitch," Dean snarled.

"Spike," Dean said and slapped the second blood-coated piece of wood into Spike's palm as he pulled his own out of the vamp and looked for escape. There was the door they'd come in through and another door on the far side. Vampires blocked both their routes of potential escape. He placed himself to Spike's back, readying himself for the vampires that were leaping onto the stage.

"Far door," Dean hissed at him. It was a risk, an unknown, but that was where the dead bodies were usually taken out and maybe it was less heavily guarded.

Spike was looking with disbelief at the intact body of the vampiress. By all rights, she should have dusted when Dean staked her through the heart. Instead, she was laying there and moaning and still mouthing off threats. Far door. "I know I'm going to regret this," Spike muttered. It wasn't as if he hadn't considered all the ways to break out but, from the numbers of vampires he'd seen, unless he was at full strength, it was an impossibility. And even at full strength, it was questionable.

Grabbing Dean's shoulder, he pushed him ahead toward the door, jumping off the stage after him. He saw Dean dodge a few blows, then felt hands grab him. "Sod off," he pulled away and blindly punched a few people before it all went dark.

* * *

Using his shirt that he'd wet with water from his cup, Spike wiped the blood off Dean's chest and off the gash on his temple, then poured the water over his face. "Come on hunter, wake your arse up. Just got used to having you about, yeah? I don't want to have to break in a new cellmate."

Dean groaned and sputtered when he felt the water on his face. "What the fuck," he muttered as his eyes fluttered open. He sat up, looked at the shackles on his wrists and saw that they were still in the cell. "Guess we didn't make it," Dean said.

"Not even close. I did get something that might have you excited," he added with a smirk. "If you're done with your beauty sleep."

"Hey, these looks don't need any extra beauty sleep. What did you manage to lay your hands on?" Dean asked with interest.

Pulling the waistband of his pants away from his body, Spike produced a safety pin. "If you're as good as you say, we might be out of here after dinner." He knew that was about the time that the vampires had their 'buffet' and other sorts of entertainment upstairs and thought it would be the best time to break out.

Dean broke into a grin. "I could kiss you--" he said then cleared his throat. "You know that's just an expression." Dean took the safety pin and began slowly, carefully, unwinding its spring. Safety pins were both good and bad. They were strong, but that also made them hard to bend. If you weren't careful, it was easy to snap them as you unbent them. And it was pretty easy to stab yourself, which he did a couple of times, cursing softly. After bending the pin, he slid it into the lock on one of Spike's cuffs. He needed to feel what sort of lock he was dealing with so he knew how to bend the pin properly to pick it.

"How's your stomach? Looked like she got you pretty good," Dean asked as he practically shut his eyes, carefully poking about inside the lock.

"Looked worse than it was," Spike answered. He still bore some red marks, but they were mostly healed. Hopefully the hunter wouldn't notice such details or there might be some explaining to do. "Let's not rush things. They're still going to be in and out of here," he said watching Dean work on the lock. "If they find you with the bracelets off now..." Tugging his hand, he paced away, and back. Although he was feeling optimistic, he knew how petty these vampires were and about vampire grudges. That bitch they'd taken down might want her revenge. He only hoped she waited until tomorrow, when they'd be long gone.

Dean glared at Spike as he pulled his shackle out of Dean's hand. "Dude, working here," he said with annoyance. "I was just checking out how the locks work. You said after dinner, so I figured we need to stay put until then. Safety pins can be brittle, gotta work 'em careful." He grabbed hold of Spike's shackle again and after poking inside at the mechanism a bit longer, nodded and pulled out the pin. He began a slow and careful bend of the pin, double checking in his own shackle a couple times. When Spike said 'go,' he wanted to be able to pop these locks instantly and for once he had the luxury to be exacting.

"Okay, we're good. I'd guess ten seconds a lock, say a full minute to get us both out of the shackles. So what's the plan? And why do you look so worried?"

"Not worried. Just try to hold back on the gloating until we're out. We don't need to get them any angrier than they are." He moved back and leaned against the bars. "How did you do it? Paralyze her? And why the bloody hell didn't you do it sooner?"

"Who me? Gloat?" Dean asked innocently, cocking an eyebrow, then grew more serious. "Poisoned her. These vamps, deadman's blood makes 'em weak as a newborn baby. I couldn't do it sooner 'cause I had to get a hold of something to jab into her, but I also had to get it coated with deadman's blood first. Stupid of them to leave those bodies on stage, even for the fear factor." He gave a sniff. "Course the real drawback to that is now they know I'm a hunter. And that could be bad. Real bad."

Spike shook his head. "I don't think they've figure it out. Looked like you were trying to stake her with wood." He gave a shrug. "The blood could be accidental. Play stupid if anyone brings it up. Are you all right to run?" At Dean's nod, he went on. "Right, we go out the same way we tried to leave. I saw an elevator and stairs. We send the elevator to the top floor, whatever it is, so if anyone's on the lookout, that will distract them. We take the stairs and find a way out of the building. No heroics, no matter what you see," he said, giving Dean a piercing look. "If we don't get out, no one else ever will."

Dean nodded at Spike's plan. Sounded reasonable and their best shot. They knew people were on the floor above them. If the arena wasn't being used, hopefully it was empty. He gave a brief scowl at Spike's warning, but Spike was right. It would probably take both of them to get out or to make sure at least one of them got out. It sucked, but those were the facts. He undid the laces on one of his boots and slid the precious pin in the fold of the boot's tongue, working the tip into the leather a little. That should keep it good and secure, he thought, retying the laces.

"Let me see your stomach," Dean said, wanting to make sure Spike wasn't being macho about his injuries. He didn't want to suddenly have the man go down because of it.

Before Spike could respond, they both heard the click-click-click of heels striking tile as well as others footsteps approaching. Looking up, they saw go-go girl and six vampires swarming the entrance to their cell. The smile she gave was pure malice.

"We've decided we want a little dinner-time entertainment, and you two boys are our lucky winners," she practically purred. "Try anything, fight, argue, anything at all and we'll be dining on pregnant mommas and their delicious little newborns. Got it?"

Dean looked over at Spike then back to the bitch. "Yeah," he said and held his hands out for them to take off the cuffs.

She tsked and waved her finger in "no-no-no" fashion. Two vampires entered the cell and unfastened their chains from the walls, leaving the bracelets on them and grabbing the lengths of chain attached to each of them.

"'Fraid we're gonna kick your ass again, cunt?" Dean asked.

She stepped up to him and smiled sweetly, dragging a long nail down the side of his face hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. "Oh, someone's ass will be getting it tonight, I promise you." Turning on her heels, she headed back down the aisle. "Bring them."

Spike exchanged looks with Dean, but managed to keep his mouth shut. The more they antagonized them, especially her, the worse it would be. He just hoped this wouldn't muck up their escape plans. The farther they walked, the more puzzled he became. If they were going to offer them up to guests to feed on, the empty cells next to the assembly was where it was done, but they moved past them. He tried to walk slower, but was pushed and then dragged by the chain. "Hold on now, what's the rush?" For that, he got a blow on the back of the head.

The vampires were muttering among themselves. From what they said, Spike gathered that their fight on stage had triggered vampire lust, and they'd liked it. He hadn't realized it back when he and Dean had been fighting Little Miss Go Go Boots, but now he was quite certain the cause of their blood lust had been the cuts to his stomach. He had no explanation for why the scent of his blood affected them that way, but it had happened before. He was just lucky they hadn't figured out that blood, his to be specific, was their trigger.

The two prisoners were led up the stairs into the mansion itself. What had once been an elegant and beautifully decorated house was now in broken disarray. Paintings were torn in their frames, pillows and cushions were haphazardly tossed about. There were scattered pills on a countertop, and some lines of what was surely cocaine that had yet to be sniffed up. A coffee table was broken in half next to a white couch now splotched with blood. The curtains were closed but Dean could see golden sunlight at the edges of the red fabric.

They were led into a large room with a sunken wood floor. A lush white carpet was laid out over the floor.

Both the prisoners were pushed to sit down on one of the many couches arranged around the sunken floor and their shackles removed. Dean wiped away at the blood on his face. The scrape from her nail was shallow, but facial cuts bled like a bitch.

"Maybe they're going to offer us coffee," Spike hazarded though he knew invitations to the upstairs usually meant you weren't going back down. It wasn't dinner time yet though, but who was to say they didn't pick their entrée’s early?

"Coffee? We'll do you one better," the vampiress waved at a fledgling who quickly brought them what looked like two glasses of wine. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, drink it," she said. "After all, you can't go on a romantic date without some wine and... candlelight."

The low lights cut out, and candle chandeliers were lit up.

"Right, they've all gone mad now." Sniffing the wine, Spike took a drink.

"I prefer whiskey, thanks," Dean said.

The vampiress looked at him and shook her head. "No fighting, no arguing, nothing, remember? Or shall we bring up a mommy and stick some straws into her? I'm dying of thirst."

Dean gave a sour smile and took the offered wine. Red wine. If there was vampire blood in it he'd have no way to know. If they had impressed the vamps, maybe they planned to turn both him and Spike. If they did...then maybe he could get the prisoners out, even if he ended up snacking on a few in the meantime. But he could get them out and get himself out, let the hunters know about the nest...and come up with a way to decapitate himself. Yeah. Easy.

Like Spike, he sniffed and then took a sip. Shit, he wasn't really a wine drinker but he knew good wine when he tasted it. This was high end stuff. He sipped it slowly, getting a little unnerved as all the vampires' eyes seemed to be focused on himself and on Spike. There were whispers and giggles, and a couple of the vamps were feeling each other up. He kept his game face on, but he was getting decidedly uncomfortable. God, he hated being the center of attention.

Spike found staring back at the vamps had no effect. They just stood there, watching them as if they were the most interesting sight they'd seen in centuries. Clearly they were being toyed with and the game had yet to be revealed. "Let's get on with it, shall we?" He started to stand up when he found several vampires right behind him, one of them shoving him down and pushing him at Dean. "Bloody..." A little of his remaining wine sloshed over both of them. He pulled away from Dean and looked back at their audience.

Apparently they'd been waiting for some additional prisoners to be brought up. All four of them were pregnant, some of them crying and protectively holding their bellies.

"Do we need to give you a sample of how much we mean what we say?" The bitch asked, dragging a carving knife across the belly of one of the women. "I want an answer!" she shouted, pressing the blade.

"Please... please don't hurt my baby ... " The stunned prisoner's entire body shook, though her sobs were silent.

"No. No sample." Crystal blue eyes as cold as ice stared at the vampiress and Spike promised himself that he would take her out of this unlife with his bare hands and enjoy it.

Dean started to get up but quickly sat down when the woman was threatened. "Whatever you want," he said, giving the vampiress a look of death. He couldn't wait to behead the bitch.

The vampiress smiled, her eyes glittering. "Now that's the cooperative little lovebirds I want to see." Her face turned hard. "Finish your wine!"

Dean's gaze didn't waver from her as he upended the glass and drank the last of it.

Her gaze shifted to Spike. "Kiss him," she said, motioning toward Dean. "And I better see some tongue action."

Spike tensed. Suddenly, all the words she'd tossed out at them started to haunt him. Love birds. Girlfriend. Date. "It's not assembly," he said, not even stealing a glance at Dean. "Why?"

"Because I want to get off to you nailing your pretty boy. I want to see how long he can keep that smirk on his face."

Dean suddenly wished he had more wine, a lot more wine to drink. He looked at Spike who was staring down the bitch, then his gaze went to the pregnant women. He clenched his jaw so tight his teeth hurt. Ripped from the clutches of Hell only to find a new Hell on Earth. Alastair would be laughing his ass off right now. And just where the fuck was Castiel in all this? Dicks. Angels were dicks and useless pieces of shit. They were probably getting their jollies off on this too, watching, seeing Dean get a little bit more of his just rewards. He felt that dark gaping hole inside him grow a little bigger. He wondered if Spike did swing that way or if this was going to be as hard for Spike as it was for him.

"Just do it, Spike," Dean said quietly. He deserved this and so very much more for all the horrible things he had done in Hell. What was getting fucked one more time? It didn't matter. It just didn't matter anymore. He was going to die here, or become a vamp. Sam didn't know where he was and couldn't go up against these odds and survive anyhow. So much for God having work for him. Well fuck God and fuck all his angels.

Spike turned around and locked his gaze with Dean's. "It's not going to end with a kiss," he said quietly, knowing full well he was keeping the audience hooked on the drama. "That's just the beginning."

"Yeah, I know," Dean said, resignation in his eyes. "So tell me something, before you stick your tongue down my throat. You ever made love to a guy before?"

Spike felt something break inside him. Only it wasn't a part of him, it was Dean. The hunter's pain, his story. "Never one as good looking as you," he answered, placing one hand on the side of Dean's face. "Now don't get any ideas that I'm a bloody poofter, but..."

"Get on with it!"

The pregnant woman screamed then started to plead.

It was as if he never heard. Spike spoke only to Dean. "This I know how to do much better than that other thing you think I know nothing about, yeah?" He moved his thumb across Dean's lips and noted the haunted look that was still in his eyes. "They want a show, let's give them one. Only it won't be the one they're expecting. You keep that smirk on your face, I'll help you."

"I'd like to give those bastards a show like we did last night," Dean said, but the gentleness in Spike's eyes almost comforted him. All the times in Hell, it had ranged from demonic creatures to humanoids like Alastair. No kindness, no concern. Their intent had always been to cause Dean pain and themselves pleasure. He'd sucked cock that had gone so far down his throat he'd choked. Had the back of his throat punched through with the less than human demons. Had suffered the worst tortures of Hell while being buttfucked. They'd bring him to the edge but never let him come, never let him find anything but the overwhelming need for release. And then when he'd gotten off the rack, he had done the very same thing to the other damned souls. The very God-damned same thing.

His eyes stung with unshed tears. He wouldn't give these vampiric bastards the pleasure of knowing that this was one of the worst things they could do to him. The only worse thing would be to make him inflict torture on others, like he'd learned to do in Hell.

Forcing his armor, his trademark smirk, on his face, Dean gave a small nod. "Don't worry about me, this is old hat," he said with bravado. "So you gonna show me how you got that name of yours?" he asked as he ran trembling fingers along Spike's face.

"Your mind is in the gutter. That's a good sign." He let Dean touch him, felt the slight shake in his hand as it skimmed over the surface of his face. "Paris Hilton. Close your eyes and think of her," he said, massaging Dean's shoulder then sliding his hand up behind his neck and slowly drawing him closer.

Dean managed a huffed laugh. "I'll try." He shut his eyes, trying to imagine just that but all that came to him were overwhelming images of Hell and his brain grabbed at them and hung onto them with a vengeance. His breath simply locked up and he stiffened, his hand on Spike's shoulder trying to push him away as he tried to pull back. A sound broke from Dean as he found Spike's hold unbreakable and he couldn't pull away. He didn't want this! That was all he could think of, any thoughts of the threatened pregnant women gone from his mind. He heard the laughter as he struggled, laughter he'd heard for thirty years. "No," he begged softly.

"All right. No. No, I won't be kissing you, not unless you ask for it." Spike was trying to give the power of choice back to Dean, but after a moment, it was clear he wasn't getting through. "No, I won't be doing this, unless you ask," he said, firmly, but gently brushing his mouth over Dean's.

"Rip his clothes off. Fuck him," one vampire demanded.

There were a lot of requests flung at them from the peanut gallery, but only the bitch with the grudge counted, and she'd said kiss. "Not going to give you my tongue, either," Spike said, tracing the contours of Dean's lips and then running his tongue across the seam of Dean's mouth.

It didn't matter what he asked, what he pleaded, Dean knew he had no choice. This was Hell. He was damned here for eternity. For Sam. So Sam could live. He kept waiting for the other tortures, waiting for the lash or brand or knife. Nothing came but a brush of lips and a probing tongue. If he...maybe if he cooperated...if he said yes...he'd said yes before hadn't he? He slowly parted his lips, unsure what sort of tongue he would find in his mouth. Barbed, forked, fire...he'd had them all. He waited for the pain, his eyes squeezed shut, wondering how bad it would be this time.

Using his thumb to pull on the corner of Dean's mouth, Spike leaned in and pushed his tongue into Dean's mouth. He stroked Dean's tongue, trying to engage it, and even when he couldn't, tried to make it seem like they were really kissing. He moaned, but it wasn't real, no more real than the kiss.


His head snapped around and one of the pregnant women was on the ground, bleeding from her throat. He started to get up when another was pushed forward.

"I don't have the rest of my life for this. You moved fast enough during assembly, now move here. I said I want to see tongue, and I want to see skin. Rape the bastard if you have to, or both of you and all of the mommas... I'll have you spread on a long table and raped and eaten."

Dean's eyes opened at the sound of a woman's scream. Confused, he looked around, trying to piece together where he was, what was happening and then it all came rushing back. He saw the woman dead on the ground, blood still spilling from her throat. The bitch's words cut through Dean and he saw the next woman pushed forward, a knife at her throat.

"Stop!" Dean yelled at them. "Don't hurt her." He used one hand to turn Spike's face back toward his own. "Closing my eyes. Bad idea," he said and pulled Spike into the hottest possible kiss he could. Another woman and child wouldn't die because of him and his weakness. He pushed his tongue into Spike's mouth, their tongues tangling. Dean's hands ran up Spike's back. He leaned forward a little so Spike could hold him, touch him.

A flash of unexpected heat went through Spike as Dean kissed him for real. The soft moan that sounded from the back of his throat was real too, even if it was accompanied by a flood of guilt. He knew they had no choice, but he also knew that any pleasure he got out of this was at Dean's expense.

Dean couldn't deny one of his joys in life was pulling an unintentional moan out of the woman he was kissing. He was a damned good kisser and knew it. It was odd hearing a moan that wasn't feminine but that didn't change the way his cock twitched at the sound.

Spike gripped Dean's sides, running his hands up and down before moving them under his shirt. Muscles rippled under his palms, tensing and flexing. He could feel Dean stiffen and force himself to relax and stiffen again each time his hands moved to new territory. Breaking the kiss, Spike dipped his head down and kissed Dean's throat, sucking lightly on his flesh, moving his mouth back and forth. He moved over Dean's Adam's apple and gave it some attention as he started to move his hands over him again, slowly pulling Dean up as he got up off the sofa. He pulled Dean's shirt off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor, then drew him back into his arms.

As the man kissed him, Dean had to admit Spike was good, the way he kissed him and nuzzled his neck, drawing him to his feet with him hardly realizing it. He was the one who did that to woman, disrobing them while he kissed the hell out of them. And suddenly he felt flesh against flesh and realized his shirt was gone. When the hell...?

This time, Spike was determined to make Dean forget where he was. Sliding one knee between the hunter's legs, he pressed his thigh lightly against Dean's cock, just letting him know it was there as he slanted his mouth across Dean's and started to tongue fuck him. It was easy for Spike to block everyone, but he was aware of the groans and that the vampires watching them were losing their clothes too. But Dean... he wanted to protect him from that, and the only way to do that was to make Dean lose himself.

Dean moaned as Spike began to fuck his mouth with his tongue and put light pressure against his slowly hardening cock. He pulled Spike tighter against him and rubbed his groin against the thigh that offered pressure to his dick. His hands slid down from that muscular back to Spike's jeans-clad ass and pulled him up tight, beginning to groan with need.

Taking Dean's arousal as a good sign, Spike kept kissing him, moving his mouth back and forth, and swaying their bodies from side to side. He kept their bodies in motion, touching Dean everywhere, his face, his throat, his back and chest. He wanted to whisper things, to tell Dean he tasted good, that he felt good. He wanted to tell him this was okay, that they could be good together, fuck everyone else. But deep down, he knew the only way to help Dean was to make him forget who he was with. That meant the less he said, the better.

Fingers sliding into the front of Dean's waistband, Spike kissed his way down Dean's throat, causing Dean to throw his head back to give him access. Right then, he heard groans and curses from their audience and knew how Dean must look to them. If there had been a mirror in the room, he wasn't sure he could have resisted having a look himself.

Dean heard the sounds around him, the voices, but they were different, not the laughter, not even the filth when he fucked a damned soul. The voices were approving, if lustful. He didn't like to be the center of attention, but those lips working down him felt so good and at this moment he didn't care if others saw. He had always liked trying to get away with sex in public places when he was younger, and he wasn't beyond it now, though frankly beds were roomier and more comfortable. He liked too that there was only one set of hands on him, one set of lips. There was nothing better than doing it with the doublemint twins but he was in control then. Here, he wasn't and a part of him knew it so having only one person fucking him was something of a comfort.

He felt the hands at his waistband and reached down and popped the button open to give those searching fingers easier access. He was losing himself under the skillful attentions of...Spike. That thought made him tense, but then he felt fingers at one nipple while a mouth covered the other and he moaned, arching against that mouth and fingers tweaking and rubbing, turning his nipples into hard nubs. His hands went to his lover's head, holding him so his mouth stayed at his nipple.

"Take me out," Dean said, beginning to run his fingers through his lover's hair.

The vampires gave catcalls, encouraging Spike to move faster, to suck Dean off, to throw Dean down and fuck him within an inch of his life. The vampiress who'd come up with this form of entertainment smiled and waved a fledgling over with a glass of wine. She nicked her finger with her teeth and saw the blood well on her skin. A couple crimson drops fell into the wine glass and she stirred it with her cut finger.

"Wait until I tell you to take it to him," she told the fledgling. Looking around, she was pleased to see the other vampires in various states of undress, watching the two men and getting off. The finale would be sweet, so very very sweet.

Shoving Dean's shorts out of the way, Spike grasped his cock and pulled it out. The shuffle of feet told him people where moving to get better views. He wasn't ashamed, but he resented being the entertainment for these bastards and he hated what they were doing, making him do, to Dean. They were going to survive this, and then they'd teach this bunch a lesson.

Until then, Spike did the only thing he could, which was to try to make this good for Dean. Kissing his way down Dean's chest, he sank down onto his knees in front of him and started to lick his length. The strokes of his wet tongue were slow and deliberate. He listened to Dean's heart beats and to his breaths, using them as cues to know what worked, what gave the hunter the most pleasure and what sharpened his need. All of this, he used to whip up Dean's desire, licking him and then sucking him, moving his mouth up and down along his hard shaft. His hands cupped Dean's ass, kneading his cheeks over his jeans and ignoring the calls to pull the denim down.

The sounds of others fucking or wanking each other off filled the room. The scent of arousal, Dean's, his own, and everyone else's was almost overpowering. Spike struggled to maintain control, to make this about Dean and to be certain he felt as little pain or discomfort as possible.

Part of Dean knew exactly where he was and exactly what was happening. The hunter in him even listened for changes in sounds that might make him want to try to look beyond the candlelight and calculate a possible escape. Part of him wasn't sure where he was and that he was still in Hell was at the fringes of possibility. This was meant as punishment and humiliation...but in Hell it never felt this good. And there was no dreaming in Hell. There was rest and terror and nightmares, but no dreams. The last part of him was empty, had no desires, no hopes left. It was the burned out shell of what was left of him after forty years in Hell. That he didn't have to think, that he didn't have to do anything but feel the pleasuring of his body, it was a small blessing, a small light in that great maw of darkness that ate at him a little more every day. There was no little brother to protect here. There was no little brother to try to keep from falling into darkness. There was no father to hate, or feel he had disappointed or to beg for love and approval. There was no Bobby to look in the eye, to disappoint. There was no mother whom he barely remembered to miss. There was also no woman to please, to make squeal and pant and moan and then to escape from come morning. This was for him. This was all his.

He could tell from the gentleness of the touch of the lips on his dick and the tease of the tongue that Spike was enjoying it. He didn't hold that against the man. He should enjoy it if he was. He was amazed at the way Spike tested out different things and seemed to be able to tell right away if Dean liked it or not. It wouldn't end with the blow job...nailing your pretty boy... The bitch wanted him hating this, and he did, even as he moaned, he hated the thought that he was going to be fucked and there wasn't a God-damned thing he could do to stop it. She wanted his smirk gone, and she'd won that... but he wasn't gonna give her that victory any longer.

Dredging up his smirk, he looked down at Spike, shocked to find how hot it was to see that good looking man taking his cock in his mouth. Blood surged into his dick at he watched Spike work him. His hips began to rock, wanting to push his cock deeper in the man's mouth but making sure that he didn't give the man any more than what he could take. This would not be like Hell, forcing his cock into one of the damned and pistoning as hard and deep and fast as he wanted. He remember then that, when he fucked the others, he was permitted release and he remembered how damned sweet it was. Taking what he wanted and seeing their agony and tasting their terror. He wouldn't do that to Spike, wouldn't just use him.

As he carded his fingers through Spike's hair, their gazes met. Dean's smirk was in place but he made sure his eyes told Spike the truth. That it was okay. Whatever happened, there was no blame and there should be no guilt for him to carry.

Spike wasn't sure what was going on in Dean's mind, but he caught the smirk. The bastards weren't going to win. It didn't matter how broken Dean was, that rebellious part of him that Spike had glimpsed a few times was here and would fight. Nothing could have made Spike happier at the moment, other than not being here at all. Hallowing his cheeks, he started to move harder and faster up and down Dean's shaft, his hands on the man's ass guiding him, showing him he could fuck his mouth. Still, though Dean thrust his hips, Spike could tell the hunter was holding back.

"All right, fuck him already," the vampiress demanded, her own hand moving between her legs. She wanted to see Dean fight or beg, or break and he was ruining it now, ruining it for her even if it was just an act. "Do it or someone else will."

In a fluid motion, Spike rose up, not making it obvious that it was because of her order. He moved behind Dean, kissing his neck as he reached around and closed his hand around his cock, squeezing and stroking. "You've got one job, keep smiling, that's all," he said, wanting Dean to only concentrate on the one thing. He ground his own hips against Dean's denim clad ass, knowing Dean would now feel how aroused he was but it wasn't like he could hide it. He would be inside this man soon, and wanted him to be used to the idea first.

The bitch just had to ruin it. Dean had been more than ready to start fucking harder and release, though he'd try to make sure he gave Spike warning so Spike could pull off. The sudden loss of Spike's mouth made him groan. Spike's hand returned almost instantly to his saliva slick cock, easing Dean's need while at the same time ratcheting it up. When he felt Spike's lips on his neck, he tilted his head giving Spike all the access he wanted. Besides, he knew it would drive the vamps up the wall seeing Spike suck on his neck. The groans he heard made his smirk even more genuine.

Feeling Spike's hard cock pressed against his ass surprisingly didn't make him uncomfortable. They both knew what was going to happen, that neither had a choice in the matter, though he knew Spike was going to get a lot more pleasure out of it than he was. He wanted to get a bit of pleasure of his own though and his pleasure was pissing off the bitch.

He reached up to run his hand through Spike's hair and twisted, kissing the shell of Spike's ear. "Kiss me," he whispered.

When Spike brought his lips to Dean's, Dean wasted no time and shoved his tongue inside Spike's mouth, fucking his mouth even as he fucked Spike's hand. He let go of Spike's head and reached down, shoving his pants lower. He focused on the kiss, trying to ignore the memories and fears of being raped again and again. The vampire bitch wanted him broken, wanted him wallowing and begging Spike to stop. No matter what he thought and what he wanted, those would not be the words that came out of his mouth. Infuriating her was probably a damned bad idea. Look where it had gotten him so far, but he didn't care. He really didn't figure he was walking out of here alive anyhow. Knowing that, and knowing that when he died he would be back in the clutches of Alastair, back on the rack for at least a few years until he once again faltered, this might be damned near the last bit of pleasure he got. Reaching behind him he undid Spike's jeans and unzipped them. He hesitated only a moment before reaching in and touching Spike's hard flesh.

Breaking the kiss, he whispered. "You better be as good at this as you say. How often do you get a virgin ass to fuck?"

If Spike included the days when he'd been the scourge of Europe, then the answer was countless. If Dean ever found out about those days, the rapes, the murders, it wouldn't be good. Pushing those thoughts out of his head, he wondered how Dean qualified as having a virgin ass when he'd more than hinted that he'd been raped. Maybe the hunter was putting that behind him, just like Spike was putting his own past behind.

"It's not just the arse... it's who is attached to it that counts, yeah?" He stroked his knuckles across Dean's cheek bone, biting his lower lip as Dean's hand moved over his hard flesh. He really didn't need any more stimulation, he was trying to keep his own enjoyment to a minimum, and it would help him keep control.

Hands at Dean's hips, he pushed Dean's jeans down, turning in irritation when he heard the vampire bitch screaming at him to stop.

"Bend him over the couch."

Spike's gaze traveled down her body, to the hand that moved between her thighs. He gave her a mocking look and, closing his arms around Dean, started to pull him behind the couch. The instant Dean put his hands on the back of the couch, a fledgling walked up to Spike and pushed a glass of wine at him.

Spike tried to refuse but was ordered to drink it. Frowning, he took it and drained the entire glass. Blood. He turned his gaze to the vampiress and noticed her malicious expression and the way she was pleasuring herself faster. That's when he recalled Dean's warning about their blood, it could turn a human just like that. This sort of vampire didn't need to drain a human and then feed them their blood in order to turn them. Well she was in for a surprise then, wasn't she? She thought he'd turn on Dean during sex and feed on him. Diabolical bitch.

He smashed the glass against the wooden arm of the couch and ignored the vampires who watched him, expecting trouble. "Get away and let me get on with it," he snarled at the fledgling.

As soon as the guy was out of the way, Spike spit on the tips of his fingers and leaning in, started to wet Dean's hole. Knowing the hunter was nervous, he used his other hand to grasp and stroke his cock, slowly getting him worked up again.

Dean wasn't stupid. When Spike was given another glass of wine and he wasn't? He shut his eyes briefly. At least he wasn't being turned though he felt sorry that it would be Spike's fate. Guess God decided I wasn't the right man for the job. Guess I did fail that test with Samhain. When he opened his eyes again, he met the vampire bitch's gaze and his smirk turned evil, his eyes hard. "I'll see you in Hell, Bitch. I'll keep a special place on the rack open just for you and I'll make sure you end up there. On my rack. And it'll be my games you'll be playing then. You're a fucking amateur. I'll show you how it's done right."

He hid his wince when he felt Spike's fingers at his hole, his eyes locked on the vampire bitch who looked slightly disconcerted by Dean's words. He moaned softly when Spike's hand continued to work his cock. He twisted his head then and looked back at Spike, trying to think through the pleasure of Spike's hand sliding up and down his shaft. "Sorry Spike. Sorry they chose you. Just do it before you lose control." He gave Spike a fresh smirk. "Try to jack me off before you kill me, huh? It'll be a helluva lot better way to go than being ripped apart by a hellhound."

Dean turned back around and braced himself. Braced himself for the pain of Spike's cock splitting him open, pain that would surely be followed up with Spike's teeth ripping out his throat. He whispered quietly. "Sorry, Sam. I fucked up. Again."

He felt the tears but wouldn't give the bitch the pleasure of seeing them. She would think the tears were because of Spike or because he knew he was going to die, when really, they were tears of regret for failing Sam this last and final time.

"Get it over with!" he yelled at Spike.
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