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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)CasFR1819157,38473014,41127 Jan 1127 Oct 12Yes

Ch. 5 A

Dean was reluctant to nod off with Spike asleep, fearing what he might do without realizing it. Still, he had never attacked his brother. If they were in different beds, maybe it would be all right. Seeing that Spike had fallen asleep in a blink of an eye, Dean got up and wrapped the bedspread over him. He wasn't sure if vampires got cold, but it seemed like the thing to do. He studied Spike's face for a long time, the way his hair laid, his jawline, his high cheekbones, even his long eyelashes. Those soft lips, that no air whispered past, they'd touched Dean's skin and had pressed against his mouth.

Dean ran his fingers over his own lips. He honestly couldn't deny he was confused. Never in his life had he come across a guy he wanted to lay. He had gotten plenty of blowjobs from women, but never from a guy. Would it be different, he wondered. He had jacked off plenty of times and had plenty of blow jobs and knew what felt the best. Any guy with any experience did. Did that mean a blow job from a guy could be better?

In Hell, he had had sex with more men than he could count, on both sides of the dick. Since he returned from Hell he'd laid that girl he saved from the shapeshifter who was playing classic monsters. Lost his 'renewed' virginity to her. He hadn't fallen asleep though. The sex had been damned good, and he'd been extra careful with her, making certain not to do anything that could remotely hurt her. He'd focused purely on giving her pleasure rather taking for himself. She had given him plenty but he had been tense, concerned that in the midst of his pleasure he would hurt her.

Spike, he'd raped, and Spike thought nothing of it. He had sliced Spike's back open and Spike called it a paper cut. He realized he wouldn't be able to hurt Spike, not really, at least not physically. Emotionally? Dean wasn't at all sure if Spike was just interested in a good lay or interested in something more. Maybe...maybe, if Spike was cool with the idea, maybe Dean having sex with him would be an okay thing. He could find out if he'd hurt his sex partner, if he would want to. If he could have normal sex, or if he could have sex, fall asleep next to someone, and not hurt them during the night. He would be using Spike, plain and simple and if Spike wanted more, he wouldn't do that to the man. So long as Spike understood it was therapy after a fashion and was willing to help Dean through his fears, so long as he didn't expect anything long term, maybe it would be okay to use Spike like that. It would be consensual though. Dean would lay it all out, make sure Spike got what Dean needed. And hell, it would be a new experience. While alive, he'd tried damned near every other sort of sex possible, in damned near every position that was remotely feasible.

Yeah. Okay. He'd try. He'd ask. Spike could always say 'no.'

After turning on the porn channel, he watched the sex, switching to a different porn channel when the movie started to lean toward bondage. He had to jack himself off once when a particularly busty Asian babe was onscreen and doing it with blonde bombshell of a woman. Damn that was hot and Dean couldn't help himself. He just swallowed back his groans so he wouldn't disturb Spike and hoped like hell Spike didn't wake. It wasn't long after that, between the long day of fun, the heavy thoughts, and the jerking off, that it all caught up with him. His eyes drifted closed, the TV still on.


Just as suddenly as he'd shut down and gone into the deep sleep of a vampire, Spike woke, eyes snapping open and immediately seeking out the clock. Even before he established it was early evening, his senses locked onto several provocative facts. Dean's heart beats and deep breaths punctuated by the moans coming from the telly, Dean's scent, only muskier than usual ... edged with arousal and the scent of sex. Sitting up, he saw the tissue in the wastepaper basket between the nightstand and Dean's bed.
His entire body tensed, his stomach clenching and heat flooding straight to his cock with such intensity that a soft oath escaped him. His gaze swept over Dean who was asleep and half-sitting, with his chest bare and the sheets pooled around his hips. The thin material pulled to one side and clearly revealed the outline of the hunter's cock resting against his inner thigh.

In his evil days, or if Dean weren't already weighed down with so many issues, Spike would have taken what he couldn't get out of his mind at the moment. Running a shaky hand over his face, he allowed himself to imagine it. Creeping over to Dean's bed. Laying on top of him, touching him, massaging his cock right through the sheets until the hunter had a raging hard on that wouldn't be denied. He'd kiss him, and rock against him and tell him he was still asleep, or that it didn't count with the sheets between them, whatever it took, but he'd have the tumble he needed so badly.

Why was he torturing himself? Biting his lip, he swung his legs off the bed, wincing slightly as his jeans press down harder over his bulging arousal.


Alastair was leaning over him, leering, running his hands over him. "Such a fine specimen you are. You're going to make such a very good demon. Maybe we'll even get you a body that looks like you. Shouldn't be too hard. So do you want to put people on the rack, or do you want to fuck what ever comes along?" he asked, slowly stroking Dean's cock, making it obvious what he wanted Dean to do.

"Fuck" Dean said, afraid to counter what Alastair wanted him to do. He'd rather rip people apart, but he could always do that while he was fucking them. In Hell you could have a hard on for as long as you wanted, and seeing the blood and hearing the damned souls scream always gave Dean a hard on. "Fuck 'em on the rack?" Dean asked hesitantly, wanting to feel that slick blood all over him, blood that wasn't his.

Alastair waved him toward the racks and Dean was off with a grim grin. He walked along until he found a lovely woman with waist length blond hair. He got behind her and shoved his hard dick up her ass as he wrapped her hair in his hands, yanking her head to the side so he could ravage her mouth the way he was ravaging her body. At one point the blade the torturer was using on her went clear through the woman and into Dean's chest. It only made him fuck the woman harder as she screamed into his mouth. The torturer handed Dean a glowing hot blade and Dean began working on her back while the torturer worked on her front. He sated himself all day long with those on the rack, trying to get more creative as he went, trying to get that just right scream...

Dean awoke with a start and a hard on. The TV was still playing porn and he grabbed the remote and shut it off, then lobbed the remote at the screen. The remote bounced harmlessly off the TV, but the back cover flew off and the batteries spilled across the floor. He realized suddenly that Spike was awake and sitting on the bed across from him. He looked at Spike then looked away. "Sorry. Did I wake you up?"

Spike looked back from the remote on the ground and shook his head. "No. And what did that remote do to you?" he asked tightly, trying not to take in Dean's scent.

Dean stared at the blank screen of the TV. "Pissed me off," he said. His jaw clenched as he shifted uncomfortably. "I wanna ask you something. I know you're interested in jumping my bones. Is it know, like me seeing a good looking chick and I wanna get in her pants, or is it more than that for you?"

"It's a rather moot question, isn't it?" Spike gave a self deprecating laugh. "No one ever died of wanting to get into someone's pants, don't go worrying your head about it." He stood up and crossed the room, wondering if Dean had somehow picked up on his desires. Pushing aside Dean's shirt on the table, he muttered, "Where the bloody hell are my cigarettes?"

Dean slowly shook his head. "No, it's not a moot question. I know I'm fucked in the head. You know I'm fucked in the head. I haven't done anything sexual with anyone since I got back except for one girl. I was so fucking paranoid I was going to lose myself, that I was going to hurt her, I was treating her with kid gloves. Nothing wrong with that, but I was afraid to fall asleep with her, or afraid in the middle of my release I'd do something terrible to her. I can't really hurt, not physically. Yeah, I can hurt you, but you get it, you understand and I don't know, you can protect yourself from me. You're strong enough to stop me if I start to go over the edge. But you gotta understand, if we had sex, I'm using you to get through my issues. Nothing else. Just using you for my own selfish reasons. If you feel anything for me other than," Dean waved his hand, "friendship, then we can't...I won't hurt anyone else." Dean leveled his gaze on Spike. "So answer my question. You just want a good lay, or are your emotions tangled up in this?"

I'm using you to get through my issues. Nothing else. Spike whirled around, his gaze locking with Dean's as he remembered the first woman he'd loved telling him he was beneath her and then the Slayer cutting him with an offer that was the same as Dean's. A muscle throbbed in his jaw. "Use me? Charming offer, that. I think I'll pass, but thank you?" He turned back, and moved some of the other clothing around, then dropped down when he saw the pack had fallen onto the ground, next to the chest. "At least you're honest, I'll give you that."

Dean gave half a shrug. "I won't fuck with your head and honestly? That's the answer I figured I'd get. Probably the same one I'd give if you said that to me. Maybe I didn't say it the best, but no matter how I said it, it all boils down to the same thing, doesn't it?" He reached out and touched Spike's shoulder. "Doesn't change that I appreciate everything you've done for me. I'm not into the emo crap, but I gotta face that I needed someone to tell, to talk to, and I appreciate you listening and not judging. Whenever we part ways, know that I've got your back if you ever need it." He gave a soft laugh. "Who would have ever figured I'd end up friends with a vamp?"

Spike took a moment then got up and turned. He wasn't very pleased to find Dean in his space and it was on the tip of his tongue to tell the hunter to have a heart and go take a bloody shower. Instead, he stepped back and was careful not to take in any more of his scent, if he could help it. "I don't have the moral high ground, so I can't judge. Hunter and vampire, friends, strange," he nodded. "Maybe almost as strange as Slayer and vampire. "
Tapping the pack, he pulled out a smoke. "I'll meet you outside, if you want to go see what's happening at that carnival in the park." Without waiting for an answer, Spike headed for the door and walked through it, pulling it shut behind him.

Leaning against the wall, he looked down and lit his cigarette. The hunter might not know it, but he'd hit a nerve. A raw one. Spike was all for one night stands and 'no strings.' One thing he wasn't prepared to do again was to be used. There was a time when Buffy had done just that. Not that he'd been blameless, but he wasn't going there again, and the parallels here, now, with Dean, were too close for his comfort.

"Gimme ten and I'll join you," Dean called after the vampire, knowing that with Spike's sharp hearing, there was no doubt he'd heard him. Dean still had his hard on from his nightmare. He turned on the shower and kept it cold. He would not jack off, not get any pleasure from a hard on that came out of giving pain to others, even it was just a dream. He slammed his fist into the wall. He wanted the dreams to stop. He wanted the things he felt inside him to go away. He wanted Sam and himself to be brothers again, and for Sam to trust him again. And now he wished he hadn't said a damned thing to Spike. It was obvious he'd hurt Spike with his request and he didn't know how to make amends. He didn't know how to make amends for anything anymore.

His teeth practically chattering as he got his arousal to wilt to nothing, Dean reset the two knuckles he'd dislocated when he punched the wall. He was sweaty from his nightmare and made the shower a little warmer as he quickly washed off. It was girlie, but he didn't really want to go out into the chill night with wet hair so used the blow dryer to get his hair dry and quickly dressed. After picking up the parts of the remote and setting them by the TV, he grabbed his keys and wallet. Pausing at the door, he looked around the room hoping Spike would stay a few more days. He wasn't really ready to be alone or to go back to Sam, which he might as well be alone when he was with his brother. It felt that way, anyhow. God, he hoped the carnival served beer.

A few minute later, Dean was in the car and leaned over, unlocking Spike's door.

Once he got inside the car, Spike relaxed slightly. He looked out the window and could see the lights from the various rides. "We could have walked," he pointed out. "But you need some place to put all the dolls you plan to win." The careless tone was a little forced, but he'd get there. The hunter owed him nothing and had done nothing wrong, other than to disappoint him. He did wish the offer had never been made, then he could still enjoy the light flirting they sometimes engaged in.

Dean started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. "Last time I walked back to a motel, I ended up in chains," Dean said giving Spike a look. "Not that I regret the final outcome of that. I got a friend who actually knows how to have fun, can blow off an apocalypse, and you got the ability to walk in the sun and get immunity to holy symbols and crap. Rough trade, but worth it. Course I'm a selfish prick."

Dean found a place to park and both men headed into the carnival. Dean pulled Spike to a stop in front of a game with balloons and darts. "You Brits are good at darts, right? Show me what you got."

When they walked up to the stand, Spike rolled his eyes. "This? This isn't a test of skills, it would take skill to miss the balloons." Naturally several people were throwing darts and a few of them missed and glared at him. "Eyes closed," Spike said, taking up a guy's challenge and holding his hand out. It didn't look as if the man would give him the dart so he said, "If I miss, I'll get you two rounds." Between that, and the man's son now pleading, the man turned over his second dart.

Spike looked at Dean, then back at the board covered by balloons. Closing his eyes, he threw the dart and opened them in time to see and hear a balloon burst. "Right, I should be on America's Got Talent," he said, smirking and nudging Dean with his shoulder to move it along.

Dean smirked back. "Okay smart ass, so you choose the next game or ride or whatever. And no, I am not going up in the hot air balloon unless you go with me."

"I think I've had enough of dare deviling for one day, big Bertha was big." They walked through a throng of people and made their way to the next aisle of games. "That one there has your name all over it," Spike said, pointing at the water guns. "Let's see if that child there beats your arse." A very happy child with lots of stuffed animals at his feet was sitting there and inviting others to join the game. The more players there were, the bigger the prizes.

Dean sat down and handed over the money. "All right, let's have it."

Most of the seats were filled when the man behind the counter gave the go. Dean was bulls eye dead on but it was a race between him and the kid. The munchkin could shoot. Dean was going to let the kid have the win when he realized the little girl next to him was trying her best but just couldn't quite keep the water on the target. His 'mountain climber' reached the top first. He pumped his fist in the air. "Yeah!"

The man behind the counter asked him what he wanted. Dean looked over the prizes, then leaned close to the young girl beside him. "I dunno what to choose. What would you choose if you were me?"

The girl looked at him shyly and pointed to a stuffed unicorn. "That's the prettiest," she said softly.

"Ah. You know, you're right." He nodded to the guy to give him the unicorn. He took it and winked at Spike. "You know, I'm on the road a lot. I don't know that I can give this unicorn a good home. You think you could take care of it for me?"

The girl's eyes grew big and she nodded. "Yes, sir. I'd take real good care of it for you!"

"I bet you will." He handed the unicorn over to the girl and she skipped happily away, the stuffed animal clutched tightly against her chest. Dean grinned at Spike.

He looked around and saw "The Octopus" ride. He'd always liked that as a kid. It had four different arms, each with compartments that spun. The ride spun and the arms went up and down too. He remembered he'd tossed up a chili dog once after having ridden it about ten times in a row. "That!" Dean declared. "Or is that too daredevil for your weak disposition?"

Stung by the question, Spike started to march toward the ride. "You've swam, gone sliding, and had a large pizza all to yourself. Is your human constitution going to make impossible for you not to throw-up after the ride? I'm not prepared to clean you up or ride with a certain putrid smell all the way back to the motel," he warned.

"Hah! My 'human' constitution will be just fine." They paid for their tickets and got in line. They were up on the very next ride. Dean didn't figure Spike had ridden one of these before and if you pressed your foot against the bottom edge, it would twirl your compartment faster.

The ride began slowly enough, then began to pick up speed, the compartment spinning lazily this way then that. Pressing his foot hard on the floor, the compartment began to spin quickly and threw Spike right up against Dean. Laughing, Dean stopped pushing his foot on the floor and then did it again. "What's the matter Spike. Can't keep your seat?"

"What the bloody hell is this? This is supposed to be fun?" he demanded, pulling himself away and trying to find a rhythm to the spinning. Just when he would start to enjoy it, it would spin out of control again and he'd go crashing into Dean, "Shouldn't you be yelling or something?" He gripped the frame of the compartment, giving Dean a look of disbelief after seeing the sheer joy on his face.

Dean was laughing and while he wanted to keep the secret, he wanted Spike to share in the fun. He reached over and pressed down on Spike's far knee so Spike's foot pressed into the floor. They began to spin so Dean was thrown into Spike. "Physics at work. Sam tried to explain it to me once. All I know is it's fun!"

Dean pressed his foot down and reversed the spin of the compartment.

It was a good thing Spike figured out why he was being touched the way Dean was touching him or there might have been some trouble. Now that he realized what Dean was showing him, his gaze narrowed and he stepped down hard, cracking a smile when Dean started to slide over.

Somehow, by the time the ride came to an end, they were both laughing. Still, the instant they got off, Spike reminded Dean not to get sick on him, and then dramatically held onto his shoulders from behind, forcing him to weave about, while at the same time declaring, "S'alright. You'll be fine, just breathe. Hold your food in, breathe. I've got you."

Naturally, many pairs of eyes were on Dean and there was laughter both by people who realized Dean was fine and others who did not.

Dean made gagging sounds, turned, and acted like he was going to throw up on Spike. He laughed at the momentary flash of concern on Spike's face. "Dude, it would so take more than once to make me throw up," he said given Spike a playful push. Dean paused and looked longingly at the air filled tent that kids were bouncing around inside of. That had to have been one of his favorite things to do as a kid. He only got to go in one a couple times and of course, he was far too big and heavy for one now. "Those were fun," Dean said with a sigh.

"No... abso-fucking-lutely no." There was always a chance Dean would try to get him to hop around like a bunny and Spike wanted to nip that in the bud.

Dean looked around at all the different food vendors. Hot dogs, sno-cones, cotton candy, funnel cakes...

"Spike, you said you had a bit of a sweet tooth. You ever had a funnel cake? I'll warn you. They're evil."

"I don't like fennel," he answered, making a face. "Biscuits. I like biscuits." He sniffed the air and could clearly smell chocolate chips. "I won't tell you what I'd dip them in," he said, a malicious glint in his eyes as he looked at Dean.

"Not fennel, funnel." Dean made a face. "And I know perfectly well what you'd dip them in. And that is just gross." Dean went over and got some funnel cake. "C'mon, try," he said, returning to Spike's side and holding the plate of rich fried pastry coated in powdered sugar out for Spike.

"It looks like brains, or really thin intestines, with fairy dust. It's a girl's dessert, isn't it?" Spike asked, gingerly taking a bit, shaking it free and tilting his head back as he lowered the stringy pastry into his mouth a little at a time. He chewed, pleasantly surprised by the uncomplicated flavor. "You're right, it's evil. Let me take the plate off your hands," he offered as if it was the most magnanimous offer of all time.

Spike's description of brains or intestines had Dean's stomach a little less sure he wanted the funnel cake until Spike tried to take it away from him. "Oh no you don't. You can have half," Dean said firmly. "So long as you stop describing it in terms of body parts." Pulling off a piece, he stuffed it into his mouth, glaring at Spike. Powdered sugar smudged his lips and one side of his cheek. "And it's not a girl's dessert," he said with his mouth full.

Dragging his gaze away, but not fast enough to have missed the powder on those wickedly full lips, or to have felt the crazy desire to lean in and lick it off himself, Spike took another piece. "Worms then, worms that crawled through flour, yeah?" He ate a bit more, taking the time to savor the flavors. He waited until he heard Dean swallow before thinking it was safe to look up. "Sodding..." He waved in the direction of Dean's face. "Wipe your mouth, you've got sugar..."

"Worms I can do," Dean said, pulling off another piece as he licked his lips, licking away the powdered sugar. He stuffed the next piece in his mouth, the sugar powdering his lips worse than before. He chuckled as Spike now had some powdered sugar on his face. He led Spike over to a bench and set the plate down between them. "You ever ride amusement rides before? Or done a carnival--when you weren't hunting? Just doing it for fun?"

"No." Stretching his legs out, Spike leaned back and turned toward Dean. Since the hunter was intent on torturing him with the way he ate and licked and wiped his thumb across his mouth, Spike was going to just have to suck it up. Maybe he just needed to find someone to shag, though the idea didn't hold much appeal at the moment. "Lots of firsts today. Sunrise. Swimming. Acting like a bloody idiot going down slides and," he pointed with his chin towards the ride they'd just taken. "And you and your poofter cake," he smirked.

Dean copied Spike, leaning back as he continued to work on the funnel cake. "I can't tell you the last time I took a few days off from hunting. If I've ended up someplace like this," he waved his hand around at the carnival, "I was working. Spring Break. Working. When Sam was a kid, I'd snag money one way or another and try to get him to places like this. Give him a chance to be a kid. Usually couldn't snag enough cash for both of us, but a few times I could. Dad took us a couple times too. When I got older, money was hard enough to come by, I wouldn't spend money on frivolous things like this. Needed it for ammo and motels and food. And alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol." He passed a glare at Spike. "You seem to be doing a pretty good job on your half of the 'poofter' cake."

Dean saw a couple guys walk past that definitely gave them both a once over, and the dark-haired man's gaze lingered on Spike, drinking Spike in. Dean felt a flare of jealousy. The two men paused about ten of fifteen feet away and talked between themselves. The dark-haired guy's companion seemed to be encouraging him. Finally the guy came back and slowly approached them. "Are you two...together?" he asked, his gaze definitely focusing on Spike.

"Yes," Dean said quickly, practically before he realized it. He glanced at Spike, suddenly feeling a little guilty. If Spike wanted to hook up with someone, it wasn't fair of Dean to stop him.

Spike would have told the pair to fuck off, but Dean's 'yes' took him by surprise. After the things Dean had said, could he even believe there was a spark of jealousy? He was probably just trying to fool himself, and yet, he couldn't help but want to know for sure. He introduced himself and almost as a second thought, introduced Dean while staring right back at the dark-haired man. "Are you alone?" His gaze flicked to the other man standing in the distance, then back.

"I'm Marshall," the guy said. He glanced back at his friend. "Yeah, I'm single. Kenny, he's straight. Wife, two kids. I broke up with my boyfriend about two months ago. Kinda a small town, not a lot of gays around. Have to go into the city to find any action. I just thought if maybe you weren't together or if one of you," and his gaze lingered again on Spike, "might swing my way, we could maybe go out for drinks or something, after the carnival. We still can, the four of us, if you want. Couple people around here can get a little vocal about not liking gays, but they're all bark." Marshall grinned. "My dad's the sheriff so no one really messes with me."

Dean had to grind his teeth to keep from saying anything aside from a polite nod. He wasn't Spike's keeper. Although he struggled to get the words out, and they were definitely a little more petulant than he would have liked, he gave a reluctant nod to Spike. "Go ahead if you want," he ground out. "I can head back to the motel," he said with a shrug, but he wouldn't look at Spike.

"Dad's the sheriff, that's convenient. Still, not even an underground club?" Spike searched Marshall's face, then slapped his hand on top of Dean's thigh. "Tempting, but I'd better not." He made sure to infuse his tone so it was clear to Marshall that a 'yes' would buy him a world of trouble from Dean. "Might run into you again though, this being a small town, yeah?"
Marshall gave nod. "Yeah, I understand. I hang at Rookies a lot of nights after I get off work. If you two want to come by. They have good burgers and BLTs. Special on beers on Tuesday nights, too. I, uh, I love your accent, by the way." He gave them both a smile and caught back up with his friend who gave him a one armed hug and then they headed on down the fairway.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled. "That wasn't fair. You should have gone with him if you wanted."

"Oh, I would have." He banged his knee into Dean's. "If I'd wanted." Lifting his hand off Dean's thigh, he took a bit more of the funnel cake. "He liked my accent."

Dean felt a little anger at Spike saying he would have but he really didn't understand where the anger was coming from. He wasn't sure if he just didn't want to share Spike with anyone right now because...because he was having too much fun having someone to hang with, someone who thought like him sort of, had the same sort of twisted sense of humor, and someone he could show things to and see the almost innocent wonder, the sort his brother used to have. He didn't have to look after Spike, didn't have to worry about him.

"It's a poofter's accent," Dean accused teasingly but he couldn't deny he kinda liked it too. He was not going to give Spike that ego stroking though. Spike had enough of an ego.

"It's a poofter magnet," Spike corrected, giving Dean a long look. "Now if you're done resting, let's go find ourselves some drinks." Pulling up off the bench, he looked across the park. "I think there's a place right there ... unless you want to go to the place they're having that wet tee shirt contest."
"There's good," Dean said, not really wanting to go to see a wet tee contest. He didn't want any distractions and after having just put the kibosh on Spike's possible chance for fun, that didn't seem right. "Unless you want to go."

"Only if you're entering," Spike grinned, then started to stroll across the park. He really shouldn't make so much of the jealousy Dean had exhibited. It could mean anything. It probably meant everything but that he wanted something from Spike, something not meant as 'therapy.' He had to get his mind off the things Dean had said or he would obsess over them and ruin the rest of the evening. Forcing the thoughts away, he chose a path through the arts and crafts section and kept Dean entertained with his over the top talk about how various items reminded him of things from the 1800s, things he'd hoped never to see again, such as crocheted doilies, which he then had to show Dean who had no idea what he was talking about.

By the time they reached the small bar, he'd been subjected to more 'old man' jokes than he could keep count of, though he was used to them. They found a booth near the bar, and ordered hard liquor. Beer, they had plenty of in the room.


Dean was pleasantly inebriated by the time they left the carnival, playing a few more silly games on the fairway as they walked back to the car. Driving the short distance back to the motel, he couldn't help but wonder if this was what it was like to have a normal life. Then he reminded himself that a 'normal life' meant working nine to five at some boring job day-in day-out with only the rare chance to lounge around. He wasn't sure which was worse. The thought of a nine to five job or the impending apocalypse, and a soft laugh erupted from him.

Spike gave him an odd look.

"Nothing," Dean said with a dismissing wave. "It's probably only funny because I'm drunk."

As soon as they got inside the room, Dean pulled off his layers of shirts, casting them carelessly aside, then he stood at the end of the bed, spread his arms out, and fell backwards. He really should brush his teeth but then just didn't care. After trying to toe his boots off he gave up. He would have to sit up and untie the laces and that took more effort than wanted to expend. "I dunno how we're going to top today," he said, glancing over at Spike.

Looking down at Dean spread out on the bed, Spike had a number of ideas on how he'd like to top. "Teasing a vampire when you're smashed is not a good idea," he said, feeling a little buzzed himself, though he wasn't certain it was the alcohol. Could be high spirits, after all that being cooped up, and this hunter's company.
He'd taken his own shirt off and undone his jeans when it became clear Dean was going to need help. Bending, he untied and pulled off first one, then the other boot, letting them fall heavily. Dropping onto his knees between Dean's legs hanging off the bed, Spike crawled forward on his elbows on either side of Dean's body and started to undo his belt buckle. The bloody thing didn't want to come undone. So much for his good intentions, to get Dean undressed and in bed before... yeah, it wasn't happening. His mind had already gone to the gutter, what with his sudden awareness of the heat emanating from Dean's body and wanting, more than anything, to kiss the indentation on his abs right above the uncooperative belt buckle.
Dean didn't complain when Spike pulled off his boots. He wasn't that drunk, well no drunker than he'd get most nights. He just wasn't motivated enough to care about taking his boots off. His eyebrows did rise when Spike was fighting to get his belt undone. He lifted his head and seeing Spike between his legs like that, those sweet lips right near his cock, had a whole bunch of new ideas popping into his head and heat spiraling to his groin. He reached down and gave his belt that extra tug to get the latch released. Once the belt was unhooked he let his hand fall back to being outstretched onto the mattress. He left it up to Spike to make the next move though he knew the fact he was beginning to sprout some wood with Spike right there between his legs ought to give Spike an idea of what moves Dean was sort of hoping for.

Spike's gaze flew to Dean's. He hadn't thought Dean was really capable of helping himself, and since he was, he'd expected censure in his eyes. Seeing none, he bit his lip and popped the top button of Dean's jeans. Still, Dean was motionless, just watching him. "Do you want to..." he made an unzipping gesture, the fingers of his other hand skimming over Dean's flesh right above the waist band of his jeans where he'd need to hold the material, if he was doing the unzipping for Dean.

Dean couldn't help being amused. It was like that time when he was twenty and had gone out with Melinda Mulrooney. M&M they called her which was really the only reason he remembered her name. They'd both gotten pretty smashed at a party. The waitress had a little apartment on the second floor, and Dean had to carry her up the stairs. She was still conscious, just pretty damned drunk. Dean was drunk, helladrunk, but he was good at functioning drunk unless he was smashed beyond smashed. He'd gotten her into her apartment. Her t-shirt and shorts were soaked from the wet-tee contest and he didn't want to leave her in those wet clothes. He'd undressed her and she had watched him do it. She'd told him earlier in the night she never slept with a guy on the first night, though he swore he would change her mind. Even drunk, she had told him 'no.' So here he was, undressing her to get her out of her wet clothes, wanting nothing more than to touch that tempting flesh. She kept watching him but never said anything. He found an over large tee that he figured were her pajamas and put her into it, kissed her lightly on the lips, then fell asleep in the chair beside her, wanting to make sure she was okay. Apparently she was a fairly lucid drunk as well, because the next morning she gave him the kiss from hell and thanked him for respecting her and not trying to take advantage of her. That next night, 'no' never crossed her lips.

"You can," Dean said, getting a little harder still, feeling Spike's hand at his waist.

Spike tugged the zipper down slowly, pulling it slightly away from Dean's body and more than a little aware of the hunter's erection. Absolutely normal biological response to being touched in the area, not different than what probably happened when Dean was examined by a doctor, he told himself. Grabbing the sides of Dean's jeans, he pulled them down, one side, then the other, until they were to his knees and he was able to peel them off. "Right, inside," he said, standing and shoving his hands under Dean's arms and pushing so he could turn him and get him into the bed.

"You're a tease," Dean mumbled as he let Spike manhandle him, getting him moved further up on the bed and pulled back the bedspread. When Spike was helping him move under the covers, Dean twisted suddenly and pulled Spike into bed with him. He was above Spike looking down into surprised blue eyes. Leaning down he kissed Spike lightly on the lips.

"I'm too tired and too drunk for more than that. But you can sleep in my bed if you want," Dean said, then couldn't help but lean down and kiss Spike a little harder before rolling off him. Stuffing an arm under one of the pillows, he had his back to Spike and was laying on his side. He left the sheets still folded back, as if waiting for Spike to slide into bed with him before tugging them up.

Another opportunity to sleep next to the handsome hunter and go slowly mad with need. "How can I refuse an offer like that?" Spike asked, quickly stripping to his tee shirt and shorts and getting in the bed. He rolled close, spooning behind Dean and put an arm over him. It didn't help the feelings this man stirred within him, but tonight, Spike would make bleeding sure any movements by Dean would wake him and they wouldn't have a repeat of that sleep walking episode. He wasn't sure Dean could take that one more time. Spike nuzzled the back of Dean's neck, his arm curling tighter around Dean.

Dean relaxed in Spike's arms and tugged the covers up. When he felt Spike tease the back of his neck, he gave a soft "mmm" and stretched his neck to give Spike better access if he wanted it. He was honestly too damned tired to get very worked up, though he had no doubt if Spike decided to get frisky with him, he would respond. His cock was already half hard. Wrapping his arm over top of Spike's, he murmured a soft, "Thanks." He hoped he was tired enough and drunk enough that he wouldn't have nightmares tonight. And maybe, just maybe, with Spike there holding him, he would even feel safe and human and get some honest to god sleep.

Making an unintelligible sound of acknowledgement, Spike closed his eyes. He had to distract himself, and he did, thinking... wondering whether this was history repeating itself. The Slayer had used him for a time, and Dean proposed to. Once, the night before Sunnydale went to hell, he'd held Buffy just like this, all night long. He hadn't felt like her sodding brother or friend, he'd wanted a lot more, but he'd done it because it was what she needed the most then. Maybe it was what Dean Winchester needed from him, and maybe Spike was doomed to the same end.
...He carefully stuck the spoon in his sleeping brother's mouth, took a picture of him with his cell phone, then made enough noise to wake the dead. Sam freaked and sputtered and the practical joke war was on with itching powder and everything in his car turned on and blasting, it was just like old times before Sam went off to college...

...He was at the zoo, talking to the wolves, telling them about Sam being in college and two had come close to the fence, their ears up, watching him with interest. They 'murffed' and whined and seem to talk back to him as if giving him counsel about his brother. For a week he did that and they were always there for him, listening and watching him. Before he left that town he snuck back into the zoo and did one of the stupidest things he had probably ever done. He got those two wolves out of the zoo, got them to follow him out and hop into the car with him. Nothing stranger than having two wolves with their heads hanging out the windows as he barreled down the highway. He took them to a cabin he owned in Colorado. They stayed with him for a few days until he told them to go, it was their new home, and off they went. He never told anyone about the primitive cabin he had bought from a girl, or about the wolves who always seemed to know when he came to visit and showed up on his doorstep.

Suddenly it was a year later and he was back at the cabin. The wolves were there and showed him their puppies and he wrestled and played with them. The rest of the pack was leery of Dean but after staying there a few days decided Dean was a member of the pack. It had been so very very cool and he had been so happy...

...Lisa was all over him and they spent a couple days doing nothing but sleeping, eating and making love. Gumby Girl had been one of the most amazing lays of his life and when it was over, there was a carnival in town and he took her there, winning her stuffed animals, going on all the rides, and jumping around in the 'spacewalk' tent with her. Arm around her waist they were headed for food when he saw two people making out on a bench. He nudged her and grinned and realized then that he knew them. It was Spike and Marshall. Marshall had his tongue down Spike's throat and Spike's hands were all over Marshall. Dean growled like one of the wolves from his wolf pack, leaving Lisa behind as he walked over to them, yanking Marshall away with inhuman strength. He pulled Spike to his feet and kissed him hard, his hands caressing that lean, muscular man.

"I'll take care of you, yeah?" Spike whispered in his ear. "If you want me to. Stay with you always. If you'll love me. Can you love a man?"

Dean stepped back from Spike and looked into those beautiful blue eyes, and began to shake his head. "People I love leave me, or die," he whispered.

"Well now, I'm already dead, mate. But you can't love me, so maybe he can." Spike walked away from Dean and joined back up with Marshall. Dean called to him but it was like Spike couldn't hear him and he watched as Spike and Marshall left, arm in arm...

Dean opened his eyes to a dark room. He smiled at the flashes of images he remembered from his dreams. He hadn't been up to his cabin in a year. He hadn't even told Sam about it. It was his own little private haven, though it was about as primitive as you could get. He'd bought it from a girl who had taken him up there only to find a chupacabra in the area that had damned near killed them both. She didn't ever want to see it again and sold it to Dean for twenty bucks. He owned the cabin and a good chunk of land around it. He wondered how his wolves were doing and thought about those pups all grown up. To this day, he had no idea what made him get it in his head to rescue those two wolves, and why in the hell he trusted them not to take his arm off or something. He'd have to wait until spring to go visit, he was certain the snowfall would make it near impossible to get to the cabin. The hike was a bitch on a good day.

He realized suddenly that he had dreamed, not tossed and turned from the nightmares that always plagued him. He felt the weight up against his back, Spike's arm around him. A sudden jolt of jealousy went through him at the memory of Spike and Marshall making out, even if it was just a dream. He turned in Spike's arms and looked at the vampire's face. I don't do guys he reminded himself. Never had even a remote interest in guys. But Spike did something to him. Spike made him feel something and he hadn't felt something in so long. Would he be using Spike? He honestly wasn't sure, but he did know he wanted to kiss those lips, claim Spike as his, and not see Spike taking up with Marshall. He wanted Spike and that really messed with his head. Why? Why would he want Spike? Yeah Spike was handsome, almost kind of exotic with those high cheek bones and emotional eyes that just shouldn't exist in the face of a vampire. Maybe because in Hell, gender hadn't mattered and it mattered less to him now than it had before he went. He kept remembering the pleasure that had vibrated through him when Spike was pistoning in him while the vampires watched. He liked that feeling, it was like nothing he had ever really felt before. He remembered Spike's kisses, and the way Spike touched him. Yeah it was all kind of fucked up that he had good memories while being forced to have sex with Spike. All kinds of fucked up, but he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have Spike make love to him without there being anything forced between them. Lukewarm Spike had called it. What did Spike consider hot? He suddenly wanted to know, wanted to know more than anything.

He leaned in and kissed those tempting lips that no breath passed through, kissing him gently and running his hands over Spike's muscles. When Spike opened his eyes, Dean could see them glint and see the man start to push him back and away.

"I want hot," Dean whispered. "Show me hot."

I'd call you a slackard, but since you've been under the gun, I'll cut you a break.
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