An Unholy Union

“William the Bloody…” a gravelly voice came from a portly man in tan and plaid clothing, carrying a long dagger with a cross at the hilt. “Prepare to die.”

Spike jumped up onto the banister, his eyes adjusted and he saw he was outnumbered. “We all have to die. But not today.” He flew off the railing, game faced and ready to fight his way out.

Rebel yells echoed around the room as rogue demon hunters attacked from all sides. Guns were fired, swords were drawn, arrows flew from cross bows, blood flowed… flesh burned on crosses, and holy water ate into Spike’s skin. He gave as good as he got, swinging a plank he'd torn off a door around and slamming it into those who hunted him. The long nail attached to one end was buried into a body, so he struggled to tear it free, then twirled the plank before whipping it into the backs of two others and sending them hurtling through the air. Spike was more than a bit pleased to see that when they slammed into the wall, they brought a few crosses down with them.

A booted foot struck him in the chest and sent him sprawling. Spike growled and pulled his seered flesh away from the cross on the wall. Whipping his arm around, he gripped the neck of a hunter and slammed his head repeatedly into the wall, then let him slide to the ground. An arrow almost hit his head. He ducked, tumbled out of the way, and kicked a cross over to slow them down. His boots smoked.

“Come on boys, get him.”

Blood and sweat covered Spike’s body… their blood and swell, and his own… but he wasn’t done for, not yet. Roaring to drown out their shouts, he threw himself at the closest attacker. Fists slammed into flesh, hands gripped wrists, struggled to disable... struggled to hold each other fast. Spike got the hunter into a headlock and turned the stake in the guy's hand around, angling it to his stomach and then kicking him in the arse with his knee. Warm blood spilled over his hand.

The man he’d staked was a father and a brother of several. The light of hate flared in his family members’ eyes. They attacked at once, converging on the vampire with a powerful rage born of sorrow for their fallen. Minutes stretched like hours in close combat.
Every bone in his body felt like it was cracked or sprained, in pain. His knuckles swollen. His cut cheeks and eyes. His raw throat. There were so many men down… but so many left to go. Spike’s body gave out.

He was thrown against one of the crosses from the graveyard. Arms looped around the cross bar, he dangled from the cross, his bare chest sizzling and peeling away, the smell of burnt flesh teasing his nostrils. In a moment, he’d push away… remind them who William the Bloody was, that’s what.

Before he could make good on that, something hot pierced his flesh and bone. Spike arched back as a blade cut through is back like butter, slicing him open on one side. Blood flowed. Sounds dulled. Hanging from the cross, Spike fought the weight of the blackness that threatened to engulf him. Maybe he owed Sam an apology. Maybe he wouldn’t be there for Dean when the time came, after all.

*

Figures in black moved across the porch, creeping along till they reached the door. There were only two. One nodded to the other and a canister was pulled out of a pack. One of the figures pulled the pin, waited for the other to fling the door open and then tossed the canister deep into the house. More canisters were flung inside, and then the two figures wearing gas masks went inside and started attacking the hunters, knocking them out as smoke and gas filled the room.

The taller of the two rushed over to Spike, grabbing him, trying to dragging him out. The shorter one was whaling on the hunters, showing no mercy, only harsh brutal anger.

His mind almost as numb as his body, Spike mixed up the past and the present. “Sodding initiative,” he growled, trying to push the soldier away. He’d rather die here than be taken to one of their prisons again. William the Bloody reared his head, one last time… one last round… the silver dagger he kept at his side… Dean’s favorite… erupted into his hand, and he had its point up against the throat of his attacker.

Sam growled, "Damnit, Spike, we're here to rescue you."

The dagger slipped from Spike’s fingers and hit the ground. His gut clenched painfully at the thought of what he might have done… had been so close to doing. And there was the whole we aspect to what Sam said. Meant Dean was here…

Coughing up a bit of blood, Spike started to allow Sam to drag him, but then stopped suddenly and stretched down to the ground. The dagger now safely in his fist, he nodded, leaning most of his weight on Sam and doing his best to keep his legs moving.

Sam glanced back at Dean finding his brother in trouble. "Duck!" He shouted and fired but he hadn't realized he’d given a mental shove to his brother as he fired the gun at the same time. The bullet sailed past Dean before striking the man who was threatening him. "Let's go! Got him!" He started moving with his brother going past him and busting out the door, and once he and Spike were out, closing it and barring the door from the outside to slow the others down.

Sam got Spike to the car, shoving him in the back seat while Dean got in the front, getting the car started and pulling them away. "How is he?" Dean asked, pulling his mask and head covering off.

Spike groaned. “If I don’t die from this, your driving’ll finish me off.” He struggled to keep his eyes open, to see Dean, but he was slipping into the darkness. Too hard. This time he tried to concentrate on Sam’s face, which was closer. He moved his hand to the gaping wound at his side and knew he’d lost a lot of blood. Too much.

Sam was fiercely trying to stop the bleeding. "Dean, find someplace quick, he's losing a lot of blood."

Dean nodded and slammed down on the peddle. The Impala roared down the back roads until they got to a house and quickly got Spike inside.

Sam and Dean worked at getting Spike patched up. "He's lost a lot of blood, Dean," Sam looked to his brother.

Spike could hear their voices, but it was as if they were talking about him from the other end of a long, hollow tunnel. He knew why Sam had come… he needed him for the deal. But Dean? Don’t be a fucking git a voice, his own, whispered, but he could barely concentrate on the brothers’ voices as it was.

"I'll go get him some," Dean started to grab his keys when Sam shot up.

"No, I'll go, you stay with him," Sam took the keys.

Dean watched as his brother left before going back to Spike and sitting down, "See, this is why you need me around. Keep your ass out of trouble."

“For… for more than that,” he managed, putting his hand out. His perceptions were off, he could barely see and couldn’t find Dean, so he dropped his blood slicked hand and slowly let the paralysis climb up his body, from his extremities upwards.

Dean grabbed Spike's hand, holding it. "For more than that." He repeated. He leaned in closer, "You need blood now. Take mine."

Spike worked his throat. “No. Took… too much,” he tried to smile… to not remember almost draining Dean… to not crave his blood, thirst for it. Maybe if he closed his eyes, time would pass, and Sam would be back with what he needed.

"Damnit, you need it. Now stop arguing with me," Dean felt he could force Spike cause the vampire was weak. Just give him enough to get him to hold on. Dean wasn't about to watch or let someone else die.

One hand behind the vampire’s neck, he lifted Spike's head, and lowered his own down over him. Dean reached into his boot, drawing out his knife. He took the edge and ran it over his own throat, letting blood spill to get Spike to act.

"No... no... damn you..." When the first drop of Dean's blood splattered on his lips, Spike's ability to resist dissipated. 'No' became 'YES'. Instinctively, he reached behind Dean's head and pressed him closer, latching his mouth over the shallow cut and drawing in Dean's lifeblood. They'd connected once before, and this time it was instantaneous. With every lick, every suck, every swallow, the conduit between them strengthened. Loneliness and anger, that struck him the hardest. And fear.

Dean closed his eyes, holding Spike, letting the vampire hold him. He couldn't control his emotions. They spilled out but only in his blood, though his lashes were wet from un-fallen tears. When Dean started to feel light headed, he pulled back, forcing Spike to let him go. "Enough," he whispered then placed his hand on his cut, getting up and accidentally kicking the knife that Spike had dropped. He glanced down, frowning before getting a towel and holding it over his neck to stop the bleeding.

"Is that my knife?" He asked.

The words echoed in Spike's head. He could still taste Dean, still craved him... Now, and back then - the day he'd left. He'd wanted to take a picture of Dean's... something, anything that would prove to him that their time together hadn't been a dream, that it had been real. The temptation to paw through Dean's treasured box of photos had been almost overwhelming, but in the end, he'd pocketed the Hunter's favorite knife. The one he kept on his body by day, and under his pillow at night.

Spike licked his lips and tried to sit up, but wincing, fell back again. The blood had helped, but it wasn't enough. He felt the weight of Dean's gaze still on him, waiting for a response. "Sue me."

Dean lifted up his knife as he sat down on the edge of the couch next to Spike. "You know I tore the car apart looking for this. Was my favorite knife. First one my father ever bought me." He looked over to Spike. "Get some rest. Sam will be here soon." It took everything he had to speak calmly while turmoil raged inside him. He wanted to yell and scream, even punch Spike for leaving him. For just walking out as his father had. His brother once hand. Leaving him alone. But then here he was, needing him. Dean knew he would have to wait for all that. Till Spike was stronger. For now, he would take care of him.

Father. Always the father came between them, whether Dean realized it or not.

"Thank you... and Sam." Spike finally closed his eyes, safe, safe with his boys.


*


The rest of the night and next day was a blur to Spike. He knew he'd been awakened and fed by the brothers, who took turns. He knew he'd been cleaned up, his bandages changed. And he was aware that Dean lay next to him on the bed, sometimes touching him as if to check whether he was alright.

Every feeding made him stronger, healed his broken bones, torn ligaments, and deep wounds. He woke the next evening and quietly got up all on his own. Dean was sprawled on the bed on his stomach, with one hand under the pillow... probably keeping a heavy hand on that knife of his, Spike thought with a smirk. Then there was Sam with his arms flung up over his head, looking even more innocent if that were possible.

Home The word echoed and resonated through Spike, and drowned him in both elation and sorrow. When he couldn't take the storm of emotions any more, he went to take a shower.

*

Dean was out upon the back porch, cup of coffee in his hand. Yes it was late at night, but when did that ever stop the Winchesters from drinking their brew of life. He was taking a sip when the door opened and he knew it wasn't Sam. Sam was 'dead' to the world in the bedroom, sprawled on the bed. Dean hadn't heard when Spike got up and went to shower. Tired these days, he slept heavy. Heavier than normal. And it was strange that he did. But deep down, he knew the reason.

Spike.

"Hungry?" Dean asked and motioned to the little table that had blood and a box of his strange cereal.

Spike looked over, met Dean's gaze, then looked away. "Just coffee," he said, popping inside to get a mug full. So much to say, and no way to say it. He lingered inside as much as he could, then came back and leaned against the door frame. "Why's he sleeping. Shouldn't still be... I should wake his arse up." Then we wouldn't be alone.
Dean glanced back, "Leave him sleep. Happens when you baby sit a vampire who wants to be awake all night and day moaning and groaning." He took a drink of his own cup.

“Sorry. ‘Bout that… ‘bout… everything. And thank you. I know you had to hurt your own kind to get me out. Hope it doesn’t bring you trouble.” That was the last thing Spike wanted, to bring them more trouble.

Dean gave a snort and shook his head, "Okay, gonna give you the 411. We are already in trouble with the other hunters because we opened up that damn hell's gate and let all those demons out. And as for getting you out, well, it was your friends from Dark Haven that set those hunter on your path. If Bobby hadn't called us to say where they were going, you would be crispier than bacon right about now. Guess they were pretty pissed at you." He looked back to him.

“Have that effect on a lot of people,” he answered, staring right back and knowing the Vampires weren’t the only ones. He coughed, very loud… loud enough to wake the bloody dead, he hoped.

Dean got up, shaking his head, "You know, if you can't stand the sight of me or don’t want to be around me, I'll just leave. You don't have to try and wake my brother. And at least I'll do it while you are awake."

Spike felt his gut get wrenched out of him. “It’s not that… you bloody fucking well know it.” He muttered a few more choice swears. “I can’t stand…” a muscle flexed in his jaw, and he pressed his lips together, biting back the words can’t stand knowing I’ll miss the sight of you.

Dean snapped, "Then what was it? Got my blood? God knows you already had my ass enough times. So got tired of me and chucked me away? No use for me anymore. Entertained you enough? You're just like my father," the last part was spoken low.

Emotions raged, wound him up tight on the inside, pressing, building, wanting release. A dam broke, and Spike was in Dean’s face. “I could have had your blood and your arse all I wanted. I can still have it,” he said, raising his voice and brushing his body against Dean’s to make his point. “It’s not about what’s between us… there’s nothing wrong with that, never has been. But you…” he poked a finger into Dean’s chest. “You’re your father’s son. Always will be.”

"Shut up, my father's dead," Dean snarled and with hands on the vampire's chest, shoving him back.

Slammed against the door, Spike cursed and pushed him right back. “Not in your head, he’s not. He’s alive, and he tells you what to think, what to feel. I heard him, yeah?”

"He’s ALWAYS been in my head, since I was a kid. Telling what to do. What to say. How to feel. How to act. EVERYTHING!" Dean hollered back. "But he was a bastard. He didn't give a shit about me. All he had me there for was to take care of Sam. Always saying, 'take care of Sam,' and not once did it go the other way."

“I KNOW that… doesn’t change anything. Dean…” he ran his hand through his hair and looked toward the house. “Let’s not do this. Not now. You’re going to wake him.”

"Bastard," Dean snarled and punched Spike. "You’re no better than him." He turned and started walking down the stairs.

“Sod it all…” Rubbing his jaw, Spike followed him down and grabbing his arm, swung him around. “You might be right… I never claimed to be anything but a right bastard. But I didn’t mean to hurt you…” he shook his head, “… and unlike him, I could never ignore you. Use you. Forget you. Bloody fucking hell, you’re in here,” he touched his temple, “and here,” he touched where his dead heart was located. “But I’m not what you need. You may not know it here,” he tapped Dean’s temple this time, “but it’s true.”

"Just doing what is best for me?" Dean gave a sarcastic tone. "They all do. Not listening to what I want."

“I listened. I heard enough, yeah?” Spike bit his lip and tried to recall. Things that were said in the heat of blood lust were never crystal clear. “He told you that you couldn’t have it… this… us. Yes sir, it’s what you said,” he put his hand out to stop Dean. “Not blaming you. Just telling you… you can’t handle it, this…” his gaze dropped to Dean’s mouth and without touching the hunter, he felt a searing heat go through his system. “It will eat you alive, sooner or later.”

"And demons won't? That is what I used to tell to my father. But he screwed up my life. Couldn't even call me son! Hell the car I drive was once his. My favorite leather jacket, his. Even my music. But I know what I feel in here is me," He touched his own chest. "That I'm sure about and you or him not once asked me about it… what’s in here."

“Son of a…” Biting his lower lip, Spike looked away, but only for an instant. When he looked back, his eyes burned with his emotions. “Ask you? What happens anytime I get close? What happened when I asked you to phone me?” He spread his hands out. “What the bloody fuck happened in the hospital? You think I’m unbreakable… you think… Right, this isn’t the point.” He took a few steps away, trying to clear his head and to find a calm place.

"You don't fucking listen to me. You don't hear the words I am not speaking. Because its all about you. Always is!" Dean threw his body into Spikes, sending them tumbling.

Instinctively, Spike’s arms closed around Dean as they hit the ground. He tried to cushion Dean, but the hunter wasn’t having it. Instead, he was scrambling to hit him again, to hit him when Spike’s body was giving him other messages. “I hear them… dammit,” he shoved the hunter, tried to throw him off. “Don’t match what’s in your head, yeah? In your blood.”

Dean wasn't hearing it, trying to get his point across that he was his own person and that he was speaking from his heart. That he didn't listen to those voices in his head any more.

Spike dodged a blow, rolled away and before he could get up, Dean had him by his shirt and was straddling him. The first punch landed on his jaw. He was prepared for the second, and gripped Dean’s fist. So much anger… didn’t he know? Surging up, Spike melded his mouth against Dean’s. What was meant to be a move to distract backfired badly. The vampire was slammed with need… need to fill the void that had been his life since the moment he’d walked out on Dean.

“Damn you,’ he growled, gripping Dean’s hair and trying to tear him away, but inexplicably following with his mouth… still kissing him, still seeking out that tongue of his for more.

Dean was stunned but his mouth remembered how Spike tasted. His body remembered how he felt. Filled with need, want and desire, he wouldn't let Spike pull away too far. He was at him again, kissing him harder, pushing him back. God, he missed him.

“This is not solving any—mnph,” mouth on mouth again, Dean’s hand was on his waist and Spike reacted instantly. Hard. Hot. Heavy. He arched his back as he started to sit up, and found his shirt being tugged roughly over his head. “Dean… are you listening?”

Dean could hear the seams of Spike's clothing strain as he pulled that shirt off and tossed it aside. His mouth next latched over the vampire's, again devouring him and trying not to give either of them a chance to speak. With shirt gone, Dean's hands went to their next task, getting Spike’s pants open. Dean also hoped, the answer to Spike's question was coming over loud and clear.

White hot fire raced through Spike, derailing any good intentions. Groaning against Dean’s lips, he pushed his hands under the hunter’s shirt, kneading his back, aching for more, skimming his palms around to the front of his pants and undoing them. “What happens after we fuck,” he just barely managed to ask, unable to ignore the heat of anger still flashing from Dean’s eyes.

"Just shut up for once," he growled and slammed Spike back into the ground. He dropped over him, kissing him while his hand dropped down into those pants and grasped his cock. "God, I need you," he hissed out before kissing him again.

Blood surged into Spike’s cock, thickening it… making it throb in Dean’s hand. “Can’t fight this… can’t anymore,” he groaned, giving up. There might be hell to pay later. Glass to be walked over. It would be like going back to square one… tasting what had to end, but he couldn’t fight it without some help, and Dean wasn’t helping.

Only sheer willpower held him in place while he allowed Dean to touch him all over, to squeeze him… to kiss him like the sun wasn’t coming up tomorrow. “Fuck…” A sheen of sweat broke over his body as he took the hunter’s anger, took his need, gave in to his every demand.

Dean's mouth moved all over Spike. His teeth pulled at skin and his fingers pumped over Spike's cock. Dean then grabbed Spike's wrist and pinned him as his dropped his hips over him and started rocking against him. He remembered how that always drove Spike crazy to no end.

Spike arched, rising clear off the mossy ground as a deep groan broke from the back of his throat. He ached to reverse their positions, to master Dean, to fight him, to show him all the things they had yet to try. But he took it, he raised his hips like a piston, seeking, needing more friction, he let the hunter bathe him in lust… work him up to a fevered pitch. And all the while, he kissed Dean everywhere he could… his throat, his shoulders… the tattoo that should have been meant for him, that would have been in a perfect world.

An unwanted shot of sadness swept through him at that thought. He had to drive it out… drive it out of his head and his system. He jackknifed to a sitting position, pushing Dean down his legs so he could grab the guy’s jeans and drag them off. Dean lifted up slightly to allow Spike to get rid of his own clothes, then Dean’s shirt was gone too. They stared at each other for a split second, and then Spike closed his arms around Dean and rolled him under.

Inexplicably, he whispered. “There’s nothing perfect in this world. This is as close as we get, yeah?” And then he set himself loose, let the lust take over, pushing one knee between Dean’s legs, gathering him up… using his mouth and teeth, his tongue to brand him all over again, to remind him what the love of a vampire could be like.

Dean was cursing up a storm, murmuring low under his breath as he worked his mouth against the Vampire. This was probably as close as either of them would get. Dean had accepted it long ago. His heart pounded so hard and heavy, he couldn’t hear anything beyond Spike's words. It skipped a beat, and he knew Spike adored that… always gasped or reacted when it happened. Dean was ready for Spike, had long been.

"Fuck me, Spike," he pulled him down and kissed him.

“What you said,” he agreed, unable to think of even one game to play this time. His tongue dueled with Dean’s, taking possession of his mouth, as he slid his hands down the smooth, taut skin along his sides to grip his hips. He fucked him slowly, letting the fire between them build to an inferno before kneeling and readjusting his cock, teasing Dean’s entrance for two strokes before pushing inside. Blinded by lust… by need, he croaked the hunter’s name, moving slowly even as it killed him.

It was all just bliss now. Lovely, burning bliss. Dean swore then moaned out Spike's name as he moved his own hips to adjust. Now the burn was becoming sweet and heavenly. Dean's hands were on Spike's arms, holding on as if he feared the vampire would leave again.

Once Dean started to fuck, Spike couldn’t hold back. He pushed inside again, and again, breaking his kisses to watch Dean’s reactions, to read the need in his glazed eyes… to see him lick those swollen lips. So hot… so fucking erotic, and the hunter wasn’t even trying. A mindless urgency held Spike in its grips as he dragged Dean closer and fucked, and fucked him. With each thrust, he brought them closer to heaven, closer to that one moment of happiness no one could take from them. Not Dean’s father. Not anyone.

Dean grunted with each thrust, his body moved slightly but Spike pulled him back. Dean's face reflected the pleasure, his eyes closing and his back arching a bit before he grabbed Spike and pulled him down, bending him, bending himself as he kissed him. He then ran his mouth along Spike's jaw and to his ear, "Want to feel you cum in me."

That wasn’t a problem. Spike was ready to explode as sensations rocked his body each time they move together. He impaled himself deeper … harder inside Dean’s tight sheath, letting the sounds breaking from Dean take him careening over the edge. He came hard and fast… hot and deep inside the hunter… but he kept fucking, trying to keep his mind off another need that was working its way into his consciousness.

Fuck. He swore under his breath as Dean repeatedly brought his throat to his mouth… brushed his pulse over his lips. Just as he’d feared, his vampire instincts wanted what he’d cheated them out of last time. A son. His son. His lover. His companion forever. He started to shake… Fought. “No…. oh God …. Please… run…” he pleaded, closing his eyes as he felt him come against his stomach. “Please…”

Dean was drained of energy and he had to catch his breath. But then Spike was pleading him. Dean shook his head, "No."

Spike started to shake so bad, his teeth rattled. “Go…” he shoved at Dean, trying to pull away, trying to fight the terrible craving. “Hurts…”

Dean pulled away just a bit, but hen he grabbed Spike, jerked him to his body and held them tightly together, "I asked you to the first time. I wanted you to." He cupped Spike's cheek, "I wanted to be with you then because I loved you."

Spike was in hell. How else would you describe a place where you had to reject heaven? He swallowed hard under the intensity of Dean’s gaze. It hurt as much as the craving. He moved his face to the side, scraping his teeth across Dean’s palm, fighting not to break his skin. “Because I love you. Because of it,” he hoarsely tried to explain his next action, mustering all of his will power and breaking free of Dean.

He rolled away, trying to close his mind to the barrage of images… his teeth sinking inside the hunter, the mingling of their blood… a family for all time. A few tears escaped from his eyes, but he wasn’t looking at Dean as he snatched his clothes and started to silently dress.

Dean looked down, closed his eyes as he felt rejected once again. But then he looked at Spike while he dressed, they both dressed. "Is it always gonna be like this?"

“Not always.” Spike’s tone was clipped. He stole a glance at Dean and swore. “Didn’t you ever have to walk away from someone because you loved them?” He ran his hand over his face, knowing it had been a mistake to get close again.

He walked over grabbed him, spun him around then kissed him. "Yes, I have." He let him go. "I can't be saved. I'm gonna turn into a demon. And I’d rather ..." He swallowed hard.

Spike saw the hesitation. A vampire was a demon too, even with a soul like Spike. “No you’re not. I won’t let that happen, Dean. Your brother won’t let it either.” He hugged him close, breathing in his scent, feeling his heart beating against his chest. “We’ve got a plan, yeah? You’re coming out of this alive. Trust me.”

Dean just held him, tightly. He wanted to say he believed him. Wanted to say he knew he could trust him and Sam to save him but things hadn't been looking good. "I do trust you."

“Well that’s something. You’re not taking it back… or that other thing you said.” Leaning his chin on Dean’s shoulder, Spike saw that Sam had come out on the porch and was watching.

“I see you two worked things out," Sam pushed from where he was leaning and stepped down the stairs.

Dean looked over toward his brother, "Yeah, sort of," he gently pushed Spike away.

“Good morning, or should I say evening, Sunshine.” Spike smiled at the younger Winchester. “Keeping vampire hours now, are you.” Bad joke.

"Only when one’s keeping me awake all day and night," He stopped before the two, towering over them. "I hope you two left me some coffee."

Spike gave a nod. “If you’re hungry,” he looked at both brothers, “I can manage making dinner. Least I can do for…” he cocked his head. They knew.

"Can we trust him to cook?" Sam asked in turning and heading toward the house.

"Sure, why not. Besides, I'm starved," Dean smacked Spike's back and started heading up the stairs. "Oh, and while we eat you two can tell me this plan you have on saving me."

Shit. Slowly following them inside, Spike came up with a plan… charm, divert, keep him laughing and give him no time to ask more questions. That was the ticket.

Under their watchful and skeptical eyes, Spike cooked up the grandest breakfast he could. Cheese omelets, bacon, and fluffy pancakes. As he cooked, he told them to relax, he’d done this often for his girls. Even took special orders such as blueberries in the pancakes, not that they had the ingredients necessary now, but he was capable. Been the best cook in that bunch, at least.

Sam set the table, and Dean… Dean was lounging around giving orders. “At least take the food to the table,” Spike said, knocking Dean on the shoulder much like Sam did all the time.

Dean had rolled his eyes, grabbing the dishes to set them down. Spike and Sam's diversion worked. Dean forgot about his question, for now. Dean dropped down beside Sam who was already lifting his fork. "This actually looks pretty good."

“Course it does.” Spike gave him a hurt look. “Looks good, tastes good. Like its maker.”

They had breakfast for dinner. Sam and Dean picked on each other. Other times the two ganged up on Spike or Spike sided with one of the brothers. It was almost like old times.

Long after they were done eating, Dean left the table. "You can clean up little bro. That's what you were born for anyway."

"I'm always cleaning up after you," Sam commented as his brother walked away. Sam then turned to Spike.

Spike ran his fingers through his hair and met Sam’s gaze. “How’re we going to keep him from going around the bend? When he finds out… and when I leave.”

Sam drew a breath. He had lied to Dean before and it upset Dean. "Do you have to leave?"

“Don’t want to. Don’t…” How could he explain that he felt like he belonged, that all three of them did? “I want to stay, more than anything. But…” he glanced toward the doorway Dean had gone through. “I’m afraid I’ll turn him. The compulsion is stronger now, and he’s not bloody helping. He won’t stop me.”

"Then you just have to be stronger," Sam reached out and touched him.

“It’s like saying no to the one thing that can save you.” He tried again to explain, but Sam was still staring at him, demanding he make the effort, that he do it for Dean.

Spike gave a nod, “Yeah. Alright.”

(A/N: Slightly long chapter here *sheepish grin*.)