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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 3

Too smart, the hunter was too fucking smart and had figured out their plan. There wasn't a bloody thing Spike could do to offer him comfort. He tried to go slow, but Dean pushed back until Spike's finger was fully inside him. Spike tried to kiss Dean, leaning over him, seeking out his mouth, but Dean rebuked him. Once again telling him to just do it.

As if it wasn't bad enough that he was going to fuck the hunter who didn't want this in the first place, now the hunter also thought Spike was his death warrant. Sliding one hand across the back of the couch, Spike pressed his palm over the shards of glass he'd left balancing there. He put his weight on it and didn't stop until there was a steady trickle of scarlet from his palm.

Pulling his finger out of Dean, Spike closed his eyes and pumped his own cock a few times needing to get hard again. Aligning his cock to Dean's hole, he started to push inside, gripping the hunter's hip with his bleeding hand and continuing to stroke his cock with the other. He knew Dean was nowhere near open enough to take him without pain, but the game had been changed. Dean was impatient, the vampires were impatient, and Spike needed to do what he could to set up the situation to their best advantage.

"Sorry. This wasn't the way I'd have chosen to--" Before Spike could finish the apology he was whispering in Dean's ear, the hunter pushed back against him with a violence Spike had not expected. Biting his lip, he pushing himself the rest of the way inside the hunter, knowing he was tearing him up, knowing it by the scent of Dean's blood and his reactions.

Dean wanted the pain, wanted something to distract him from his imminent death. He knew he had surprised Spike and fuck, it hurt like a bitch. He hadn't quite contained his cry of pain as he felt the damage done. Wasn't like he was going to feel it long though.

Spike started to pump, making a show of it but not pulling out, not moving too far in or out of Dean's ass. "Move with me," he snapped, knowing the pain would be less if they moved together and it only looked like he was penetrating Dean over and over. The hunter was tight, his 'virgin ass' was so bloody tight around Spike's cock that even without much movement, Spike was getting a lot of pressure. Fighting his needs was getting more difficult too.

He would like to deny that the cries of pleasure from those around them weren't affecting him, but it would be a lie. Forcing himself to concentrate on Dean, he squeezed and stroked the hunter's cock, moving his hips in time with Dean's and trying like hell to give the hunter at least a bit of pleasure by finding his prostate.

Spike's constant hand on his cock did help, it did offer some distraction, though Dean's erection had started to wane because of the pain. Spike's renewed efforts were quickly bringing him back, getting him hard even with the pain. Then Spike did something that sent a spasm of pleasure through Dean he hadn't expected. He realized Spike's cock had brushed over that sensitive nerve cluster of his prostate. He knew about it. Any man who got a hand up the ass by a doctor knew about it, but he hadn't expected the intense pleasure. He moaned, even through the pain, and spasmed, clenching tight around Spike, throwing his head back. Holy crap. He would have laughed if he could have. To have discovered just how pleasurable a spot it could be right as he was about to die... Winchester luck sucked ass.

The volume rose in the room. There was a qualitative difference between how the vampires were acting before and how they were acting now. They paid less and less attention to Spike and Dean, and got more and more frenzied in their own activities. All but one, she was still watching and waiting.

Although it still hurt, Dean was determined to feel more of that pleasure, as much as he could before his throat was a bloodied mess. Looking at the vampire bitch, he grinned. "Better than I ever dreamed, bitch," he panted out.

He began to move counter to Spike, letting the pleasure outweigh the pain. He practically forgot where he was, he practically forgot everything. He wanted only to concentrate and feel and drink up as much pleasure as he could before ending up back in Hell for the rest of eternity.

Spike didn't know just when Dean stopped moving in tandem with him and instead started to make it real, this real. But there it was, he was fucking Dean, slowly, carefully, but fucking him. He couldn't let himself go, he wouldn't. He clung to his control, reminding himself constantly of how they'd gotten to this point, and he refused to move faster or harder even when Dean demanded it. Instead, he moved his hand faster, sliding some of his fingers over Dean's balls, giving him other sensations to contend with.

His eyes were half closed, but he was watching the vampires, satisfied that vampire lust was setting in. But her gaze was still on him. Bloody bitch Suddenly, he gripped Dean's shoulder with his bloody hand and dipped his head down into the curve of his neck. "Shout, make it real," he snarled the order, having seen that Dean did not take well to them. "Scream like you're in pain," he shook his head around, so it looked like he was tearing Dean's throat.

Dean was lost in the pleasures Spike was giving him when he felt the hand on his shoulder. This was it. The dance was done. Damn Spike for not have at least finished bringing him off. Spike's words confused him at first as did the wet hand he felt on his neck. Spike hadn't turned yet, he realized suddenly, and understood exactly his intent. Screaming death cries. Yeah he remembered those even though it was forty years ago. Even more, he remembered the screams ripped from his throat during his thirty years on the rack.

He let out a howl of agonized pain. He bit his own lip bloody, letting it flow from his mouth and giving gurgling coughs as best he could. She would be able to hear his heart beat though and he wondered how the hell Spike was going to cover that.

Spike started to fuck Dean hard, like he was in blood lust, like he was going to tear Dean apart from the inside. When he finally saw the bitch push a fledgling to the ground and mount him, Spike abruptly pulled out of Dean. Clamping his hand over the side of Dean's head so that he wouldn't pull away, he started walking backwards, making it appear as if his teeth were still imbedded in Dean and that he was dragging him by his throat.

By the time they were out of the room and he released Dean, the vampires had started to feed on each other and on the pregnant woman who was screaming. Seeing Dean take a step toward the room, Spike shoved him back. "Pull up your pants and let's get out. Now, hunter," he gave Dean a warning look as he tucked himself inside his jeans and zipped up.

Dean took a final look toward the room. They'd agreed no heroics. They had no idea if these were all the vampires or not. Getting out and calling in help was the only real hope these people had. He wondered what the vampiress would do when she found Spike and Dean gone. Probably assume Spike took off on his own after finishing Dean. Typically the newly turned stayed as part of the nest, but not always.

Dean did as Spike told him and followed Spike down a couple halls and into a pantry with a door that lead outside if the curtained window was anything to judge by. Spike started to slow and Dean shoved him forward. Dean practically ripped open the door and grabbing Spike's arm hauled him outside in the warm sunshine. Dean grinned when he saw they were overlooking the town and the motel and bar were just down the hill. "My baby," he murmured, seeing his Impala gleaming black in the parking lot.

Turning to Spike, he was baffled by the look of stunned amazement on the man's face. He grabbed Spike by the arm. "Dude, they may not all be fucking each other senseless. Let's go. That's my car down there." He tugged Spike toward a foot trail he saw, one probably used by the vampires to go down to the bar below.

If it weren't for the fear of getting dragged back into that house of horrors, Spike would have dropped onto his knees and stayed down. And if it weren't for Dean's pulling him along, he might have been frozen in place long enough to get caught. He was having trouble comprehending it, this, that his flesh not burning, not going up in smoke in the bright sunlight.

Wordlessly, he allowed himself to be dragged, almost falling once until he came to his senses. This would have to wait. Just as he'd insisted Dean would not play hero, Spike couldn't play the fool. Pulling his arm away, he gave a nod. "Car. I'm right behind you."

Every once in a while, he looked up the hill, but no one was following. He wouldn't be surprised if no one had ever escaped that place.

They finally reached the parking lot level and hit the asphalt. Someone sweeping the area outside the bar looked at them, gripped his broom tight and backed into the bar. Looking at Dean, and then at himself, Spike knew it was because they were a mess in their half dressed and bloodied states. He tried the door to the car and figuring Dean did not have the key, prepared to break the window with his elbow.

"Whoa! Dude!" Dean said and yanked Spike away from his car. "Keys are in my room." He waved his hand toward the motel room he never got to actually use except to put his stuff in. He'd left his keys beside his charging cell phone. He twisted the doorknob and put his shoulder into it and though the door gave some, it didn't open. Spike pushed him out of the way and Dean saw he twisted the knob hard and the door opened. Huh. Crappy locks.

Dean strode quickly inside, grabbed his duffel, keys, phone and charger. He walked back out to the car, unlocked the passenger side door for Spike, went to the trunk and, after a moments hesitation, slid a machete down into his duffel. Pulling on a t-shirt, he grabbed an extra one for Spike, a towel, some bottles of water and protein bars. He saw Spike had already unlocked his door. Opening the door and reaching around, Dean unlocked the back door and set his duffel on the floorboard, sliding the machete beside the driver's side seat and door. He dropped the water, towel, extra t-shirt and protein bars in the front seat, then took the driver's seat and started the car. Wasting no time, he peeled out of the parking lot and took off down the road.

Opening one of the waters, he guzzled it down, then ripped open a protein bar. He hadn't much more than devoured it before picking up his phone and calling Bobby. He told Bobby about the nest, the size of it, and the number of prisoners. It would be a major operation involving over a dozen hunters to take down that nest. Since Dean and Sam weren't exactly on the hunters' most loved list, Dean agreed it was best if he stayed out of it.

Shifting uncomfortably from his bloodied and aching ass, he finally glanced over at Spike. "How you feeling?"

"Hungry," Spike said, dragging his gaze away from the column of Dean's neck. Starved is what he really was, and really, he had no immediate prospects of finding a butcher. Taking one of the bottles, he twisted the top open and forced himself to drink the water.

Dean saw the lingering look Spike gave his neck. Had Spike already turned? Lenore's group didn't eat humans. Maybe Spike...maybe Spike could stay 'vegetarian.' Dean suspected Sam still had Lenore's contact information. If Spike was freshly turned, maybe if Dean could keep Spike from snacking on people as his first taste of blood, maybe it would help. If Spike didn't go all bloodlusty on him, maybe he wouldn't have to kill Spike. Spike had helped him and he didn't want to have to be Spike's executioner. The man had saved them both but what hunter would want to be a vampire?

Dean gripped the steering wheel, trying to decide what to do. When he saw some cows near a fence, but the house was a good distance up a dirt road and there were some intervening trees, he pulled the car over and grabbed his hunting knife from beneath the seat. Handing it to Spike, he looked at the cows, then back at Spike. He turned away then, cranking the volume on his radio a bit, waiting to see what Spike would do.

Spike looked at the knife, then at Dean. "End of the road?" A muscle twitched in his jaw as he tried to think. Between hunger and his awe at being outside during the day, he wasn't thinking too straight, but that didn't mean the hunter wasn't. Dean must have decided he'd turned or would turn, and was giving him a chance to get away.

Dropping the knife down onto the seat, he pulled the door open and bent to take the t-shirt. He pulled it on and gave Dean a salute. "Right then. You have your demons to fight, and I owe someone payback." He remembered Dean's promise to help him with that, but that was before Dean thought he'd been vamped. "Try not to get caught again, yeah? Goodbye, Winchester."

Shutting the door, Spike started to walk away, his face tilted up toward the sun. He had to be bleedin' dreaming this.

Dean opened the car door when what Spike said sunk in. "What the fuck are you talking about?" Dean yelled at him. "You said you were hungry. Eat and get your ass back in the car." While Dean wished he could let Spike just walk away, he couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk another death because he fucked up. He'd have to stay with Spike, watch him, and make sure he didn't go all bloodlust, chow-on-humans vampire.

Turning, Spike looked at Dean, then at the cows. Wordlessly, he headed for them. So he wasn't being tossed on his arse, but the hunter was angry. Getting back into that car could be dangerous business, he realized that, but then why would Dean care if he fed?

The gnawing in his stomach suddenly replaced all thoughts. He tried to shift to game face, but when he touched his face, there was no change. What the fuck? But the moment he thought about quenching his thirst, sharp teeth exploded into his mouth, different than what he was used to, but they would do. Moving out of Dean's view, he grabbed one of the cows and chose the softest spot on its hide, on its neck.

Fifteen minutes later, he walked back to the car. There wasn't a speck of blood on his mouth or elsewhere. Almost warily, he got into the car, and pulled the door shut. "Where are we going?"

Dean turned the radio back down a notch. "A good distance from that fucked up place. Once they get your scent, they never forget it. We'll find a motel and hole up for a few days." Dean was silent for a few minutes. "Remember I told you I let a nest go? That they didn't feed on humans?" He glanced over at Spike and could see how leery of him Spike had become. "I'm thinking maybe we can track them down, get you hooked up with them. Keep you on the straight and narrow. Is that something you'd want? were a hunter...if you don't want something you hunted, I get it. I can...take care of things for you."

Dean knew he was taking a big damned risk. If Spike decided humans were more to his liking then Dean would probably be first on Spike's menu. He just couldn't not give the guy a chance. Spike had handled his bloodlust for a good half hour or more. If he had that sort of control, Dean thought it showed promise that Spike could maybe keep himself from going after humans. "So what do you think?"

He was trying to deal with the changes, understand what it meant to be a different sort of vampire, and now Dean was offering to kill him as a favor. The blood shot straight to his temple. "What do I think, I think you're a bloody idiot, that's what I think," he snarled. "There is no were. I am a hunter, I was a hunter, I will continue to be a hunter. I'm no different than I was when you were perfectly happy sharing a cell with me. A few changes maybe." He put his hand out, watched the sunlight dance on his skin, and looked back at Dean. "I don't need anyone to keep me on the straight and narrow, I've lived it for a decade."

"Dude. Dead. Undead. Whatever. Wanting blood for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. That's kind of a big..." He blinked, slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. "What the hell do you mean you've lived it for a decade?"

Hand on the dashboard, Spike cursed. "If you keep stopping every five minutes, we're never getting anywhere are we?" The hunter's gaze didn't shift off his face. "Right. You didn't think I was on a no-food, no-drink, no-pissing diet lifestyle, did you? I'm that other sort of vampire that you think doesn't exist. Or I was. Not sure what I am now." He blinked and stared right back at Dean. "But I do know I don't need any supervision and I definitely don't need any assisted suicide."

Dean had, of course noticed that Spike didn't eat those couple days, but he thought he saw Spike drink some water, maybe not a lot, but some. He'd assumed Spike pissed when Dean was asleep.

"You drank the orange juice after the bloodletting, when they made you," Dean pointed out. "And the food was rank. After three weeks of that crap, I'd probably want to skip a couple days especially if my cellmate was starved." He shook his head, trying to take it all in. He gave Spike a hard look. "Put yourself in my boots. What if I'd been the one they turned? Would you let a newly turned vamp out on his own until you were sure I was safe? Would you offer to take me down if I didn't want to go on being something I hunted? Don't you dare get all fucking high and mighty on me. The first fucking thing I offered was to get you hooked up with vamps I knew didn't hunt humans, ones who could help you through this change!" Glaring at Spike he added. "So you were a-a-a Dracula vamp," he said, not sure he really believed it. "Now you aren't. Are you one hundred percent certain the hunger won't be different, the needs won't be different?" he demanded. "What did you survive on before? The living or the dead? Deadman's blood is poison to their kind. What if it is to you now, too?"

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't bloody well know!" Spike's voice rose as he answered the questions Dean fired at him. "There are changes but I still feel like me, yeah? The rest of it, I'll figure out as I go. Not as if I have choice, is it? And who in their right mind drinks deadman's blood," he gave a visible shudder. "You must be thinking of buzzards not vampires, at least after the blood has cooled." He fell silent for a moment, not knowing what was expected. "Just drive, Dean. Get us somewhere not here and I'll be out of your hair." If his strength were all back, he could just leave. The truth of it was, he wasn't ready to be all alone yet.

Dean could see how upset Spike was, but hell, who could blame him?

"Yeah," he put the car in gear and pulled back out on the road. "You saved my life back there, you did what you could to try to make what they did easier. You helped keep me together in more than just one way. I'm not gonna forget that. You helped me through that and I'm gonna give you whatever help you need to get through this. As long as it takes."

Spike hadn't expected much. Sure he'd realized Dean was loyal and would go to great lengths to go the mile for someone he liked or at least thought he owed. But it had also been just as clear to him that this loyalty would not extend to vampires. After the treatment he'd received at the mansion, really, Spike couldn't fault him if his hatred for all things vampire only deepened, and that included himself. Moved, and yet uncertain how much of what Dean said he could rely on, Spike merely nodded.

Glancing over at Spike, Dean asked quietly, "So if you were a Drac-vamp, when's the last time you walked in the sun or saw a sunset?"

"Without my skin smoking?" It made a difference. Spike had walked, or run, in the sun with blankets on top of him to get to a car and such. He thought back to that night when Drusilla had changed his life, thought of the date on the newspapers reporting his mother's death. "1880." There was a bit of a tense silence, one he didn't like. "You could at least say I look good for my age," he said, staring ahead, out of the window.

Dean was still processing the date. Spike was about one hundred and fifty years old, if you included his time as a human. Spike's comment sounded a little strained and Dean smirked at him, hoping to ease the tension. "You don't look good for your age....You look damned good for your age." Shaking his head, he added, "Damn, can't believe there are really vamps like Dracula. And that the Slayer is for real. And that you worked with her. That's fucked up. No offense." Dean glanced down at his phone and gave a sigh. He really needed to do it now. Picking the phone up, he hit speed dial one. He held it up to his ear and listened to the ringing. On the third ring, Sam answered.

"Dean, where are you? Are you okay?"

The sheer concern in Sam's voice made him practically wince with guilt. "Yeah, Dude. I'm okay. I ran into a friend, needs a little help for a couple days, maybe a week. I'm not blowing you off, but I gotta stick around and help him out. I'm in Tennessee right now."

"Dean, look, I'm sorry. I won't ask about Hell again."

Dean was silent for a moment. He could imagine Sam, with his brow creased, and looking at him with those hazel puppy dog eyes of doom, begging for forgiveness and ooking so damned young, hurt and innocent. "Yeah. Okay. I'll tag up in a day or so. Watch your back."

"Dean?" Sam said quickly, hoping Dean wouldn't just hang up on him again.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"I'm done. I swear. No more," Sam said emphatically.

"Good," Dean said, but there wasn't much emotion in his voice. He didn't know whether to believe Sam or not. Sam had been lying to him since he got back from Hell. "I'll talk to you soon. And go get laid or something. You sound tense."

He heard Sam's almost relieved laughter and smiled a little. At least he could still make Sam laugh. Even if he fucked up everything else, he could do that. "Later Sam."

He ended the call before Sam tried to say anything more and then tossed the phone onto the seat. "You need to call anyone, go ahead." He tilted his head and gave Spike a crooked smile. "Even in Rome. Just keep it short if you do, huh?"

Glancing at the phone, Spike shook his head. "I don't have a probation officer to check in with, it's the way I like it." He tried not to imagine Red gasping over his ability to walk in the sun, or Xander's suntanning jokes. "Thanks."

Hell? The word had been spoken clearly, yet it was hard for Spike to believe. Not because it was impossible, but because the chances of getting out were so slim. Clearly it wasn't something Dean liked to speak about, but he did dream of it. He had dreamt of it that night Spike had to awaken him and he'd admitted to having been raped. Right, it was probably for the best not to bring it up now.

"Your friends, the ones you called. You sure they can handle the nest?" Spike had been in shock earlier and hadn't asked questions. "Will they need a hand?"

"Bobby? Nah. As much as I know we both want to rip that bitch's head from her shoulders, best we stay out of it. Bobby has all sorts of hunter contacts. He'll take in a small army. Me and Sam, they're not really a big fan of us anymore so with that many hunters, probably a bad idea for me to be there.

Dean was silent for awhile but glanced discreetly at his watch periodically and cranked up the speed. He stopped for gas and had Spike do the filling while he went inside and paid. He returned with a twelve pack, ice, chips and a few other odds and ends. The sun was getting closer and closer to the horizon and he finally pulled off on a dirt road and took the hairpin turns probably a little faster than he should have but once he got to the top he grinned at Spike. "C'mon Dude. First time in 130 years you've been able to see a sunset. Thought we ought to do it right."

Motioning Spike to the front of the car as he grabbed the food he'd bought for himself at the gas station and a couple beers and went up to join Spike. He opened his beer with his index finger, it making a distinct hiss and took a long draw off it before he unwrapped and bit into one of the sandwiches he'd bought.

The view was breath taking. The trees were in a full blaze of late autumn color, though some had already dropped their leaves, the hills rolling away as far as the eye could see, some low lying fog settling in the valleys. There wasn't a house to be seen. Some thin cloud cover on the horizon began to slowly turn golden, then pinks, purples and oranges colored the sky as if a paint brush had been dragged across it.

Dean remembered this place from years back and would have been surprised it was still here if he didn't make a point to come here anytime he was in the area. He remembered his Dad bringing him here. Sammy was five. They'd eaten cold fried chicken and tossed a softball until the sun began to set. They'd sat and watched it, then watched the stars slowly begin to fill the sky overhead. It had always been a special memory for him and a special place to come. He didn't know why exactly he wanted to share it with Spike, but if the man hadn't seen a sunset in so many years, he couldn't think of a better place to watch one.

Leaning back and taking in the view, Spike muttered. "Thought you'd gone mad, the way you pulled off the road and drove to nowhere." Rubbing his hand over the top of the can, he nodded, then smiled. "It's beautiful. Almost enough to erase that place, to remind you that there are good things. Beauty. The sort that can inspire you, restore you." Looking down, he popped a can of beer open and cautiously sipped. Most vampires he knew didn't have a taste for food and drink, but he'd always been a bit of an exception. He pulled the can from his mouth. "Thank you," he looked over at the hunter and was only a little surprised that he saw as much beauty in those golden green eyes as he did in the sunset. Biting his lip, he looked away and lifted the can to his mouth again.

* * *

They'd driven for another four hours before Dean finally pulled into the lot of a motel. It was small, with maybe ten or twelve rooms. The neon light above it was on the fritz. Spike didn't care what it looked like on the inside, it would have to be better than where he'd been a 'guest' for the past few weeks.

It turned out appearances were deceptive. Once they checked in, he found the room was quite nice. There were two double beds, a nice sized telly and a small dining room area. It even had a tiny patio, which would work out perfectly since he didn't want to hear the hunter complain if he wasn't a smoker.

Dean announced he was going to take a nice long shower. When Spike told him he was going to go out to get cigarettes and a few other things, he sensed the hunter's hesitation. Telling Dean to lighten up and pointing out he wouldn't have ridden with him for four hours, until his arse was bloody flat, if he planned to disappear on the man, he left. He'd wanted to make the point that the hunter was not going to be his 'keeper' and the fact that Dean didn't follow him out showed Spike that the point had been taken.

A half hour later he returned with smokes and a few items of clothing stuffed in a small duffel bag. He'd 'borrowed' them from some closed stores and he'd also pinched some money off a rich bloke who'd never miss it. Just as he was dropping the duffel bag down next to his bed, Dean came out of the bathroom.

Spike's gaze swept over his half-naked form, lingering for a moment where the towel slung low at Dean's waist. Pulling his gaze away before thoughts of licking droplets of water off the hunter's chest took too firm a hold, he toed off his boots. "Nice to get the grime off, yeah?" Turning, he barely glanced at Dean as he passed him and went to take a shower himself.

Vampires didn't need showers, but he'd always enjoyed some human rituals. Besides, it would allow Dean to get dressed or get into the bed without Spike being there to watch. That might spare both of them.

A short time later, Spike got out of the shower, dried off and pulled on the shorts he'd brought with him. Walking into the room, he grabbed one of the new tee shirts, pulled it on, and turned to ask Dean if they were going out, and if not, was that rattling sound really necessary? What he saw had him stunned. Dean had his eyes closed, his sheets covering him to the waist but his chest was bare. The bed was shaking and Dean was wearing a smile like he was in heaven or on the verge of orgasm.

Spike's stomach clenched. He should go out, leave for a while, do something... something physical.

Dean was more than a little disappointed when the magic fingers machine shut down. He was out of quarters. He hadn't had that many to start with, though he had tried to make it a practice to keep a roll of quarters in the car, he just hadn't done that since he got back from Hell. Letting out a heavy sigh, he opened his eyes and found Spike looking at him with surprised or even shocked written all over his face.

"Magic fingers," Dean said with a grin, jerking a thumb toward the machine. "Gotta get more quarters tomorrow."

It had felt nice that shaking, vibrating bed, easing away some of the tension. Would have been better if he'd pulled out his music player, but he was too tired to go digging for it. After the past couple days of horror, Dean kinda felt like he'd just crawled out his coffin all over again. He was tired as hell, but really didn't want to go to sleep, afraid of what he would see when he shut his eyes. The thought of curling up with a warm body was attractive to him, reassuring even. He looked at Spike and debated. He didn't want anything more than something to hang on to while he slept. Even when his father had died, giving up his soul for him, he wasn't this shaken. When he'd first got out of hell, all he really needed was to hear his brother's slow steady breathing in the next bed, something constant from his life from before. But Sam wasn't here. And Spike was a vampire...didn't breathe for any reason other than to talk and smoke. When Spike went to sleep, there would be no sounds coming from him. The room would be dark and Dean would feel so alone.

He was not touchy feely, and in almost any other situation he wouldn't ask, but he, he would not admit he was scared. He was just shaken up. And at the moment, even with Spike being a vampire, he didn't care. He needed something, someone, so desperately, and hoped like hell it would keep some of the nightmares at bay. He'd drank some of his bottle of Jack, but he knew even a drunken stupor wouldn't help him tonight.

"Spike, would--" he hesitated and looked away. He sucked at this, at admitting he needed anything or anyone. He took a deep breath and tried again. "I don't want to sleep alone tonight. I just...I want someone next me. Nothing else. Just someone there. Would..." he swallowed hard and looked up at Spike, his eyes begging Spike to understand without him having to explain, and for Spike to understand how hard it was for him to ask this. "Would you sleep beside me?" he finally said in a rush.

Beside. Not 'with.' Spike wrapped his mind around that concept and told his body to behave. "An invitation to a slumber party, how can I resist?" Right, that was going to be the hundred thousand dollar question, how was he going to keep his hands to himself? "Move your arse over, Winchester. And I hope you're not the sort to steal all the blankets."

Relief welled into every fiber of his body and the breath rushed out of him. Dean immediately moved over to give Spike room to settle down beside him. Since Hell, he'd only been with that one chick that he lost his 'renewed virginity' to, and to have someone in the bed with him struck such a deep chord of need inside him. He didn't care it was a guy tonight. He also knew he needed a little bit more than just feeling the weight in the bed. "Can I...crap...can I maybe sleep next to you with..." he huffed and felt his cheeks redden. Shit. When the hell was the last time he'd blushed? He wasn't sure he could ever remember blushing. "What I'm trying to ask is if it would be alright if I, maybe sort of, held onto you."

Was Dean trying to kill him? Right, he was already dead, but that was a technicality. Spike swallowed and opened his arm, putting it around Dean so the man could roll closer and lay on his chest. "The last time I offered, you almost had a fit. Didn't even know I was a vampire then." Or that he swung both ways. "I'll take this as a compliment," Spike said. That, or intentional torture. He closed his eyes as he felt Dean's warm body against his, Dean's clean fresh scent making him slightly dizzy with thoughts of doing much more than just laying here.

Dean had planned on sort of maybe spooning up to Spike, resting an arm over his shoulder and chest, just to have a person to hang on to while he tried to sleep. He felt a little awkward, feeling kinda chickish but Spike was generous enough to let Dean use him like this so he wasn't going to bitch about it. He moved over into Spike's arms and rested his head against Spike's shoulder and put a leg between Spike's legs, mostly because it was the most comfortable position.

"I didn't have a 'fit'," Dean said. "I just prefer to be the one with the arm around someone's shoulder. Big brother syndrome. If someone told me a week ago that I'd be laying in the arms of a guy, let alone a vampire, I'd have told them they were fucking nuts, it wouldn't happen. Ever. But--" he gave a small shrug, "you don't mind and I don't want to be alone tonight." He snuggled in a little closer, though he would vehemently deny he was snuggling. He was just getting more comfortable. "Thanks Spike," he said softly.

If someone had told Spike a few weeks ago that he'd be laying in a bed with a bloke that looked like Dean, just to sleep, he'd have told them they were bleedin' nuts. Even now, he wanted to tell Dean Winchester he was off his rocker for expecting him to just lay still while he inserted his leg between Spike's and slept on his shoulder, with his warm breaths fanning Spike's throat. "Our secret. It never happened," Spike answered a bit tightly as he reached over to the nightstand and shut off the lights. It was early, but they both needed a good rest. It was looking more and more to him like only one of them would get it.


Alastair stood over him, his sharp teeth gleaming in the red light of fire and flames. "Really Dean, one of my best students and still you stay on the rack. You've said 'yes' before. Isn't it time to get off and do what you were born to do?"

"Fuck off," Dean growled. He had failed before, he wouldn't again. He would hold onto his humanity. That thought was lost to his screams as the skin was peeled layer by layer from his body an inch at a time. The 'rest' inbetween the tortures was almost as bad. The anticipation of when the tortures would begin again, of how creative Alastair or one of his cronies would get this next time would gnaw at him and ratchet up his fear. Time...time was hardly a concept in Hell. The torture went on for hours or days, ripping him apart only to have him be whole again once they had obliterated his body just so they could start anew. There were breaks, breaks he considered the end of the 'day,' but the accompanying 'night' was always too short.

There was no food to fill his painfully empty stomach, no drink to quench is unbearable thirst. Just a break, a rest. His head would fall forward and he would shut his eyes in something resembling sleep, but there were no comforting dreams. The nightmares were almost as bad as reality. Sometimes they were worse.

"Sam's coming along nicely, darker than you could ever imagine of that sweet innocent brother whose memory you hold onto." Alastair laughed. "Soon his eyes will be as dark as the deepest black and there'll be no love left in his heart. Just anger and hate. I'm certain he'll be here to visit you soon. The brother you failed. He might have made it to Heaven if you'd let him die instead of selling your soul to us. He might have made it there if you'd done as your father asked and killed him. But now, the Boy King is becoming one of us, ready to pick up his sceptre and come into his own. He'll be a glorious leader," Alastair crooned. Dean wasn't certain which was more painful. All the tortures of Hell, or the knowledge he had damned his brother by not letting him go.

The 'waking' was always abrupt, fire breathed down his throat as his mouth was ravaged by some demonic creature, his insides torn and shredded by cocks that were too large for his hole, his body rocked brutally as they fucked him while he screamed in agony, as his body was gnawed on and eaten away. It was one of the many ways a day began on the rack. There were days when demons who looked like Sam tortured him and fucked him. Sometimes it was his father, his mother, Bobby, or any number of his friends and acquaintences through his years on Earth.

He didn't know how long he told Alastair to fuck off but finally, he nodded mute agreement to his offer. He had accepted before. He had failed before. Just as he failed now. His body was healed as he stepped free of the rack. The pain was gone, but not the hatred and fury that filled his soul. Ripping and tearing, torturing, using all the skills Alastair had taught him to give back the pain he had suffered. He shouted his triumph every time he beat down a soul, every time he convinced another soul to join the ranks of Hell.

He was good at his job. He'd always been good at his job, no matter what the job was. Hell was no different. Failures, he had many of those on Earth, but not in Hell. In Hell he was better at everything. He was praised by Alastair, made to feel proud, rewarded for his accomplishments. Given souls to rape, to find pleasure in and he took. He took and took and took, grim delight filling him every time he heard them sob or wail or beg him to stop. It only made him fuck them harder, more brutally, as he carved them into pieces, eviscerated them, burned them to ash, waiting for them to renew so he could do it all over again.

Dean's cock was heavy between his legs. He needed release, he wanted to hear the screams and begging. He needed to hear it. He forced his newest victim over, spread his legs and without warning thrust into him. His knife was in his hands as he fucked the man hard, shoving his face into the mattress and then drew his knife across his victim's back and heard the cry of shock. His hands were slick with blood and it felt so natural, so right, until he was abruptly thrown off his newest victim. How dare they! He came at the man in the dark, ready to bury the knife in the victim's belly, wanting to see the entrails fall free of their gut, when a fist slammed into his chin and he was once again thrown back, thrown back so hard he hit the wall. Wall?

He was dazed, his knife falling from his hand as he realized he wasn't in Hell anymore. As he realized his newest victim...had been Spike. He stared in horror at the shape of the man coming toward him.

Tears filled his eyes. Dear God, what had he done? A sob broke from him. He didn't care that he was naked, that his hands were coated in blood, as he struggled to his feet and tried to run for the door. This was why he hadn't fallen asleep in the same bed with anyone since his return, he had been so afraid of what he would do. And he had been right. He was a monster, worse than anything he had ever hunted.

Spike hit the lights for Dean's benefit and approached him again. "Are you awake now?" he asked, having realized Dean had been sleep walking. At first, the attack had angered him, made him think just maybe he'd been lured into Dean's bed for the purpose of being killed, but the attempt to rape him made no sense. The lack of response from Dean to his questions had tipped him off. Now, Dean was anything but unresponsive as he dry sobbed.

Spike was in front of the door before Dean could ever reach it. His back touched the wood and smeared sticky blood across it. Reaching out, he grabbed Dean's arms and held him in place, searching his eyes for a moment, before pulling him close and enveloping his shaking body. "Shshsh, you're awake now. It's all right, yeah?" He glanced over Dean's shoulder at the bloody mess on Dean's bed and let out an unvampiric sigh.

Dean tried to shove Spike away but couldn't break the iron hold he had on him.

"It's not okay! It's not fucking okay!" Dean shouted. "I just raped you! I started carving up your back like a Christmas turkey! You should kill me. Just fucking kill me!"

Gritting his teeth as Dean struggled and pressed his palms against his chest, Spike didn't allow Dean to break free. "If you'd been awake, I might have. Stop it, bloody hell, stop fighting me," he demanded, shaking Dean hard until the hunter did what he asked. "Look at me. You think the people who get freed from that vampire nest are going to be able to go home and slip back into their lives as if nothing happened? No, some of them are going to act out. They're going to have nightmares. They might do worse, and they've only been at that place at most for a few months. I have a friend, he was sent to a hell dimension. Came back in a few months but he was there for decades. How long were you there?" He didn't pretend not to know that Dean had been there, not anymore.

Dean's teeth rattled as he was shaken, and still it was hard to stop fighting to get away. Spike's words didn't mean anything to him until Spike said 'hell dimension' and his blood iced immediately. His knees would have given out if Spike wasn't still holding him up. How did Spike know? "Forty years," he whispered, unable to deny the blatant question, as the tears tracked down his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he murmured. How did you make up for raping someone?

Using his thumbs, Spike wiped Dean's tears and started to walk him backwards to the unused bed. Pushing him, he forced him to sit. "I know you are." He could tell there wasn't a flicker of self forgiveness in Dean's eyes. "We'll call it even, then. I'm sorry for what I did to you for the entertainment of our hosts. Don't look at me like that, it is the same. Either we both have an excuse, or neither of us do."

"No, it's not the same. You did it to try to save those women from being slaughtered or all of us being raped. Now? Here? I did it because I wanted it and just took it. How can it matter it was a dream? It's what's inside me now." He laughed bitterly. "Or what isn't. Humanity. You're a fucking vampire and you're more human than I'll ever be again. I'm useless. A piece of trash that should have been discarded and left to rot. Why was it me? Why was I chosen to be rescued? I'm not worth it. I'm just not worth it."

"I'm a vampire who wreaked havoc, raped, pillaged and murdered for much more than forty years, and I wasn't asleep, yeah?" Spike sat down on the bed next to Dean. "Many won't forgive me for that, and I don't blame them. The important thing is, I forgave myself and let it go. I've got a new mission now, the one that's always been yours. Saving people. That is never useless.." Cupping the hunter's face, he forced Dean to look at him. "I was in that place for weeks. Who got me out? Who saved all of those people, Dean? Just think about them home in their warm beds or being taken care of in a hospital and out of that deathhole, and then tell me again that you weren't worth saving."

"You got us out. Your idiotic concern for me when she had me by the throat in the cell and then again when I was up on the stage. You came up with the plan and dragged me out of there. I was just...a useful prop." Dean took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on what he should be focusing on. Taking care of the man he'd just hurt. "C'mon, let's get your back cleaned up and bandaged. You're bleeding all over the place." Deflection from himself, he was always good at that. No matter what Spike said, no matter what the angels said, he was just a tool to be used. A broken, rusted-out tool that could sometimes still do the job it was meant to do. At least part of the job, anyhow.

"A very useful prop. If you hadn't used that deadman's blood trick of yours, I wouldn't be here, would I?" He let that sink in, then turned his back to Dean, pulling his sliced up tee shirt off. "If I haven't healed already, that's one negative to your sort of vampires. Just clean up the blood," he passed the tee-shirt to Dean. "And you owe me a new one."

Dean saw that the wounds he'd given Spike were deep but were already closing up. The blood had slowed to a mere trickle. "You're almost healed," Dean acknowledged as he wiped up the blood. He was still leaving smears of it behind. "Bathroom," he said and got up, leading Spike in there and starting the shower. "In," he ordered as soon as the water warmed up. He didn't let Spike say 'no,' instead whipping down Spike's shorts and pushing him toward the shower. Dean had a fair amount of blood on him too so followed Spike inside. He didn't want to leave the dangerously contagious blood on himself any longer than necessary.

Soaping up a wash cloth, he began washing Spike's back. "So how did you know I'd been in Hell? And what made you change from being a blood sucking son of a bitch to a demon and vampire hunter out to help people?"

Palms flat against the tile, Spike started to mouth off, "You know, most places walking into a shower with another guy means one thing..." Right, this wasn't the time. Or place. Or right man to proposition. "Heard your brother on the phone, that's how I know." He threw his head back, allowing the warm water to wash over him for a moment, then looking down again, enjoying Dean's hand on his back. "A little blonde that comes in a five feet two inch package and carries a sharp stick got me into helping. But I'm still a blood sucking son of a bitch," he smirked.

Damn, he would have to remember how sharp Spike's hearing was, not that he should be surprised. In a way it was a relief to acknowledge it to someone who wasn't a friend, who didn't know why he ended up in hell, that he didn't have to justify it to. Spike seemed to take it in stride. Dean went to Hell and came back. End of story. Spike would probably want to know more and if he asked...Dean might tell him.

How the hell could he feel a sort of kinship growing with Spike? Still, he supposed in a lot of ways they weren't really all that different. Other than the whole Spike was a vamp deal of course. That really ought to bother him, but it didn't. Maybe a part of him hoped Spike would turn on him and kill him, but from what he'd seen, that wasn't Spike. Spike was...good. Lenore and her nest went 'vegetarian' purely for survival, to try to avoid being hunted and to just lead quiet lives. That wasn't really good, that was necessity. With Spike it was different, Dean could just feel it.

"The Slayer? She's only five-two?" Dean asked, assuming that's who Spike was talking about. "I really don't understand why she let you live. I take it you had stopped killing people before she ever came into your life, or she believed there was something in you worthwhile." Dean didn't bother being embarrassed as he wiped down the blood that had soaked through Spike's shorts and trickled down his legs. He simply washed Spike's cheeks and went on down to wash the back of his legs.

Spike stiffened as Dean touched his arse, then relaxed. "Not quite. I was the big bad she was fighting," he said, a little pride creeping into his tone. "I wasn't as easy to get rid of as she thought I'd be. She wasn't either." He pushed away from the wall and turned. "Tried to kill her more than once. I was so busy hating her I never did realize I lov... liked her. Next thing I knew I'd switched sides."

Dean chuckled as he stood up, trying not to look at Spike's cock. He didn't want to embarass the guy. Though with both of them naked in the shower, Spike was right about the assumptions that could be made but as far as he was concerned he was just cleaning up the vampire blood that could too easily turn someone. "Fell in love with your arch enemy. If that isn't a good story for Hollywood, don't know what is. Ought to write it up and sell it."

Spike's shoulders were a little bloody from where Dean's blood-slick hands had tried to push him away and it had soaked through the material. As he washed off Spike's shoulders, he inadvertantly made eye contact. Spike's eyes were blue. He had noticed, but not really noticed before. A nice shade of blue. In them he saw thinly veiled desire and suddenly the memory of how good Spike's kisses were popped into his head.

"Uh, here. You can get anything I missed," he said putting the soapy cloth in Spike's hand. He reached for another wash cloth to wash himself off.

Wringing the cloth out, Spike wondered if Dean felt the same jolt of electricity that had gone through Spike when their eyes met. Maybe not, maybe he'd seen and rejected what he saw in Spike's eyes. He draped the washcloth around the hook on the tile, and opened the door. "No one's ever cleaned me up before." It was a thank you of sorts before he stepped out, closing the glass door behind him.

"My fault you ended up like that," Dean said. The shower suddenly felt empty and less warm without Spike there. He sighed to himself. He had tried to lose himself in his work, trying to deny how lonely he really was, especially since he got back from Hell. His and Sam's relationship had changed, there was a tension between them that hadn't been there before. Did Sam hold it against Dean that Dean sold his soul and went to Hell? Or was it that Sam had been unable to free him and felt guilty? Or did he feel guilty that he had taken up with Ruby in some sort of friendship...not a relationship. He wanted to deny that possibility vehemently, but when he first found Sam, there really was little doubt Ruby had been there as more than someone just dropping by for a visit.

There was tension between Spike and himself too, but it was different. He knew Spike wanted him, wanted to kiss him and sleep with him. He...wasn't sure what he wanted. Spike's presence eased something inside him. It was as if he could let his guard down. Spike knew he was a hunter, now knew he'd gone to Hell and back again, literally. Dean knew Spike was a hunter and a vampire. There just wasn't that big elephant in the room between them. He couldn't deny he liked Spike's company. At this point, too, Spike had had his dick up Dean's ass and vice versa. He remembered again the pleasure that he'd felt when Spike angled just right. He hadn't been lying when he told the vampire bitch he didn't know it could feel so good.

Did he want to sleep with Spike? Of course not! He didn't swing that way! Yet...was there really anything wrong with it? No, it didn't matter to him if two guys got off on each other. He had certainly been propositioned by guys enough times, though he'd always turned them down with as much decorum as he could. He also knew, though he wasn't by any means ready to even think about trying for more sleep. The thought of sleeping alone again the next time he laid down was even less than attractive. With what he'd done though, he shouldn't sleep beside anyone ever again. Hell, he and Spike should get different rooms, just to make sure he didn't hurt Spike again.

He finished up washing and rinsing and got out of the shower and toweled off. Towel wrapped around his waist, he stepped out into the room and got dressed.

"I don't really feel like trying for anymore sleep tonight. I'm going out to see if there's a twenty-four hour diner around here. You wanna come with?" He hesitated a moment then added, "since you lost all that blood because of me, are you hungry? It was my fault. If you wanna...take some from me, it's okay." He couldn't believe he was offering to let a vampire bite him, but better him than some innocent. And he was certainly anything but innocent.

Spike had stripped the sheets and wiped the door free of red stains, hoping Dean would forget what happened. As he looked away from the telly to the hunter, it was clear Dean didn't intend to allow himself that. "Paper cuts don't leave me hungry. Don't you think you should get some rest? I'll stay awake, you don't have to," he said, moving over on the bed.

Dean paled a little at the thought of laying down for more sleep. He had bad nightmares. He always had bad nightmares, but that one had been more impressive than normal. Then again, when was the last time he had gone to bed sober?
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