An Unholy Union

Sam had been gone for over two weeks, and all that time, Dean had been freaking. His brother had been taken by vampires to a place called Dark Haven.

Two burned down vampire nests and heaps of ashes later, Dean got one of them to talk and tell him Dark Haven was another dimension. Like the information did him any good - Dean found he couldn’t get in. He’d had tried so many times, only to end up battered, beaten and bleeding. He was running out of options.

He called Bobby Singer for help. Bobby told him this place, Dark Haven, was like a sanctuary for vampires. They went there with their human captives, to play with them, keep them as slaves, or worse. There was only one way to get in - as a guest or slave of a vampire.

Dean only knew of one that he could turn to. One that he couldn't stop thinking about. One he was falling for.

The vampire wasn't at the club, but after knocking some heads together, Dean finally found out which seedy little bar he could find him at. Wearing his cuts and bruises like medals, and with dark circles under his eyes, the hunter wasn’t at his best when he arrived at the bar.

After his eyes adjusted to the dark, he hesitated a moment and then went to sit down at a small table next to Spike. Not sure what to say, he blurted it out. "I need your help."

"Push off, mate. You and I've got nothing to talk about." Spike steadfastly stared into his glass, never mind that he was being torn apart by the scent of Dean's blood. But the hunter was walking and talking, so he couldn't be too badly off, could he?

As the silence drew out, Spike fought his body’s needs. He still hungered for the git... hungered for his taste, his voice... the hammering of his heart. Stupid that. Best he reinforce the ice walls he'd erected, block by block. It had been easy really. Each time he wondered what or who Dean was doing, he closed his eyes and remembered the harsh words he'd spat at him. Out of a universe of possible insults, he’d chosen the only one that could drive Spike away.

Dean had expected that. He expected a lot of things. Many scenarios played out in his head. Punching. Hissing. Throwing of objects or some goon friends of Spike’s coming out of the dark to drag him out. But nothing was going to stop him. This was about his brother and Dean was determined to get Sam back.

In a different situation, Dean would have allowed himself to be affected by Spike. By his scent. By his looks. By that clipped accent of his. Just by his nearness. Dean still craved the vampire. He still wanted to feel him against his body. Feel Spike touching him, fucking him, kissing him. God he wanted.

He shifted, his face still serious. "My brother, Sam, is missing."

Brother. The brother he'd do anything for... even go so far as to come and consort with the devil himself for something other than to satisfy a physical need he couldn’t control. Spike's temper shot up.

Twisting around on his chair, he cupped Dean's cheek, pushing the pad of his thumb roughly over a cut on the hunter's cheek and staring at the smear briefly. "Congratulations. Means you don't have to sneak 'round anymore to get some cock. You're free."

If Spike thought his temper shot up, Dean's exploded. Spike didn't know what Dean would do for family. For his brother. He shot an arm up, knocking Spike's hand away while the other took the table's edge and lifted, knocking it from between them. The hard thud and the clatter of shattering glasses made those around them stop to look.

He was up and out of his seat like a shot, his fist connecting with Spike's jaw, "YOU FUCKING BLOODSUCKER.”

Spike had been on edge for a long time. On edge with Dean... about Dean. Spoiling for a fight, he didn't think twice about hitting back and didn't pull any punches. Neither did the hunter, and since he was used to fighting demons, it wasn't a cake walk for either man driven to the edge. More punches flew, taking them around the bar room as they fought.

Furniture crashed and splintered under the weight of bodies that were thrown. Glass smashed to smithereens. Fists pounded mercilessly into each other. When Dean rushed him again, Spike was ready. A kick delivered to the center of his chest sent the hunter flying out the door. As Spike followed, he heard the bar tender shout about paying for damages.

Outside... there he was.... "Bloody son of a..." Spike threw himself bodily over Dean, who'd been getting up. They rolled. He caught a glint of danger in the Hunter's eyes, but ignored it. Between curses, each struggled for control.

Spike was pushed up against the pole of a street lamp. He used it for leverage to push back, and finally had Dean under him. With his fingers pointing up at the sky, he jammed his the flat of his palm up under the hunter's chin, choking him. He slipped into his vampire game face and snarled, knowing this would push the hunter to leave him alone... to get out of his life again, and maybe out of his head sometime. "You done playing with vampires," he demanded, applying pressure to his throat, and shifting back to his human face. "You ready to go mix with your own?"

Dean ignored the pain. It was just more to add to what he was already sporting. Glaring up at Spike with his hands around the strong Vampire's wrists, Dean struggled and then threw words up to Spike, "Damnit, I never played with you." It was an admission of sorts. Each time he’d gone back for more, he’d known there was something more… something he didn’t want to admit, even to himself.


He hissed in a breath as more pressure was added, "Vampires ... took Sam. He's all I have left. Can't ... let him die. Do anything for him." Dean had already given up his soul, so he offered something else to Spike. "You ... can have me ... turn me ... I'll be yours, just help me get Sam!"

I’ll be yours. The words rang in Spike’s ears, sending a thrill clear through his system. It was short lived. His face was as hard as his voice was bitter. “You’d say anything, do anything, wouldn’t you?” Even allow yourself to be turned into something beneath you. Those thoughts remained unsaid. Abruptly, Spike released Dean and got up.


Dean struggled to get his air, "Yes, for my brother, yes I will. I'd give you my soul but that’s taken. This is all I can give." Besides my love, Dean thought to himself. From the ground, he looked up at Spike, as if the man was his last hope. "Sam is all I have."

“It’s how you want it to be.” Spike shot him a look. He didn’t know the younger Winchester at all, but the older one pushed everyone away and worked at keeping himself isolated. You couldn’t miss it if you were blind. Not that he gave a fuck… not anymore.

Right. So why wasn’t he walking away? Why was he puzzling through this? Thinking most vampires would have killed or turned Sam, not kept him. If a vampire was really keeping him, had to be an older vamp, the sort that could control his instincts and lay long term plans or play diabolical games to fill the boring days, weeks, months, years and centuries.

“Whose got him, then?” There was a brief pause, “Get up. And wipe that blood off your face.” Spike dragged his gaze away from the gleaming scarlet rivulet at Dean’s mouth.

Dean pushed up off the ground. Spike didn't understand. Spike didn't truly know what the Winchesters had been through. What Sam was to possibly become. And as much as Dean would love to keep that from everyone, he knew he would have to tell Spike the whole story. No lies. No half-truths.

Standing, he dragged his jacket sleeve over his lips, blood stained the material. "I don't know who took him, just a bunch of vampires. They haven't killed him." Or so he hoped. At this point Dean wasn't sure but somehow he just knew.

"It’s a place called Dark Haven and I can only get in with a vampire." He drew a breath. "I have to get him out. If he stays there to long ..." Dean closed his eyes for a moment. "Since Sam was a baby, a demon was after him. Azazel, that was it's name. It had been trying to groom him to be the leader of his demon army. It took our mom when he was only six months. Our father hunted it and that was what Azazel wanted, cause it knew our father would train us to fight and to hunt. The demon took Sam’s girlfriend when he was in college just so Sam would be back on the road with me, honing his fighting skills. Then when we thought we had it, it tried to kill me. My father gave up his soul so I could live. We found a weapon to kill it." Which Dean now had tucked away at his back. It could kill Spike, but that was not what he wanted.

The vampire silently watched him, not saying anything while more words than he’d ever heard from Dean spilled out of the hunter’s mouth.

"I killed Azazel, but it had killed Sam, so I traded my soul to another demon for Sam to come back.” He took a breath, forcing himself to tell the rest. “When I brought Sam back to life, the other demon asked me if I was sure what I brought back was a hundred percent Sam. There’s… that darker side of Sam that could come out, and I think those vampires who have him know that. I'm willing to do anything to keep that from happening. To get him back. Turn me. Kill me. Whatever you want. After we get Sam back. Please ... You’re my last hope." The last part came out choked and small. Dean hated to show his desperation, but this was for Sam. He wasn't gonna fail his family. He couldn't.


That explained a lot about the hunter. His extreme loyalty to his brother, the reason... reasons they were so isolated... bloody hell, who wouldn't be if everyone around them, including themselves, kept dying? Course Spike had offered him a solution, one that the hunter would not contemplate... at least not until the brother was at risk and he thought it was the only thing he had to trade. The same brother he'd given his soul for. Now Spike knew why and how Dean was walking under a death sentence. But it wasn't the words that tore the vampire up on the inside, it was seeing Dean's red rimmed eyes and the tell tale shine of tears... it was the broken voice... the utter despair.

Sometimes you had to laugh when you wanted to cry. This bloody well was one of those times.

"Your last hope. First time I've been called that. Usually get the 'last nightmare’ bit," he said, striding over and putting his arm under Dean's and around his back to support him as he walked to the Impala parked at such an angle that it would have received a ticket if the coppers'd been abount. He looked into Dean's face, "Your left hook could use some work. You get this look right before you strike. Dead giveaway that," he smirked, even though the coppery scent of blood mixed with the hunter's unique scent were giving the vampire ideas he didn't want or need.

Dean leaned against the car, sore and tired. He’d drank more than he’d eaten, and hardly slept the past few days, and he was feeling the effects. "I'll work on that," he muttered, looking over at Spike. The man was several inches shorter than him but with greater strength. If Sam hadn't been missing, Dean would have paid more attention to the butterflies in his stomach and the ache he felt inside him to be near this vampire.

"It's been a nightmare for me already, trust me. This isn’t the first time Sam's gone missing but now it's different. There are more demons out there. A great deal of them wanting to kill him. Others wanting him to lead this damn fuckin' army. I just want my brother back. You know. I mean… Haven't you ever lost someone? Would you do anything if you could to get them back?"

Spike walked around to the passenger side and gave him a long look over the top of the car. Dark Haven was just that, a haven. Cause trouble inside, and all would be fine. Bring someone's captive or slave out, then you might be buying yourself a lifetime of trouble if you pissed on the bloke and got yourself on the 'kill on sight' list. Not that William the Bloody worried about these things, and not that he was arsed to tell Dean. "Been around over a hundred years. It's happened now and again." He opened the door, "we leave tomorrow night," he jutted his chin toward the horizon where the sun was about to rise.

Dean glanced over his shoulder toward the sun then slipped into his car. The engine was the most comforting sound he heard all day and judging by how the sun was rising, it was best they go somewhere near. So he turned the Impala around, and headed to his motel. "Sorry, guess you’ll have to stay with me." Within a few moments of muttering those words, Dean was already pulling up to the back of a dingy motel.

He climbed out and opened the door of the room, allowing Spike in. The place was a mess of empty pizza boxes, bottles, weapons and towels with dried blood. Dean pulled his jacket off and then the Colt was slipped out. At least he didn't have to use it on Spike which, honestly Dean was grateful for. He sat heavily down on the bed.

The first thing Spike noticed was there was only one bed. His gaze flicked to Dean, but he didn't say anything. The second was that the place looked like a bloody sty. The third was that Dean looked more tired and broken then he'd ever seen him, and that included the time he was nearly killed and laying in that hospital bed. Right, he didn't like to think about that time. It only stirred up pain and anger.

Jaw tightening, the vampire silently moved around the room, picking up empty food packaging, and bottles. Plenty of them... whiskey, vodka, gin, cheap beer. By the time he was done, the small wastebasket in the room was overflowing, as was the one in the bathroom. He got rid of the red stained towels, and returned with a fresh wet one and a medical kit.

Dean watched in a sleep deprived daze as Spike moved about muttering under his breath about the state of the room. When Dean had his mind set on one thing, he usually stopped paying attention to other things… and being neat wasn’t high on his list of important things, anyway.


Really shouldn't be doing this. "Look up." Standing next to Dean, he started to wipe at the dried blood on his face and his knuckles. He was so close... so close to that mouth of Dean's... a mouth that could deliver heaven in one breath, a joke in the next, and cutting blows that stabbed through even the defenses of a hardened vampire.

Shifting on the bed to make room for Spike to sit down, Dean made little faces as Spike tried to clean him up. At one point, Dean drew in a deep breath and Spike’s manly scent filled his lungs, making him wish this were a more pleasant time.

"Take off the shirt," Spike said, gruffly, looking downward toward where Dean's clothing.

Dean looked down and was not able to recall how that blood got on his shirt. He pulled it up over his head, tossing it to the floor. "Thank you," he said, turning head to Spike, "In advance. In case I don't tell you later."

"Just making sure you're in shape for tomorrow." Right, it's all he was doing. Making sure he would be ready for what was coming. He slathered some antibiotic ointment over a gash at Dean's side, and then quickly covered it with a bandage, fighting the need to run his mouth lightly over it. Over Dean’s rippling muscles.

Dean wanted to lean in and kiss him. To feel those strong arms around him. To have things back the way they were. He sighed heavily. "Have you been to this place?"

Spike finished, and caught himself stroking his palms up and down Dean's lean abs. There was an awkward silence for a minute, and he pulled his hands away, standing up.

Fuck. He wanted him. Wanted to kiss him. To touch him. To make him forget everything... his troubles, his brother... everything.

Filled with nervous energy, he started to pace the small room. "Used to go there all the time in my wilder days." His gaze flicked to Dean. "Didn't bring too many people back out with me," he admitted. "It's like an amusement park for vampires. Anything goes... no holds barred, no rules. All humans belong to someone." His cock stirred. Whether Dean knew it or not, he'd be going as Spike's human, live at his mercy, fuck... be fucked at his command.

Dean looked down, "And my brother is in there." He looked back up to Spike. He wanted to go right now. Wanted to tear into there with the Colt blazing. Colt. That was something he would have to tell Spike about. Dean couldn't carry it. Couldn't carry weapons, if what he was thinking was right. "So if we go, I would have to 'belong' to you." Dean didn't need an answer. He grabbed the Colt and stared at it for a long moment. "You should carry this in then."

It was a rather old looking gun and on the handle was a pentagram carved into it. There were also old Latin etchings along the barrel. Dean held it out to Spike. "It’s the gun I used to kill the Demon. It’s a gun made by Samuel Colt. It will kill you. Kill them. Kill anything supernatural. And if we need to escape, we are gonna need it. I have more bullets for it." He turned grabbing his bag and pulling a box out. "Made them myself." He sat it down and looked at Spike. "So. Tell me what to expect."

A gun that could kill him. Spike only believed it because Dean said it, and he knew his business. If it were anyone else, he'd dare them to shoot him just to prove them wrong. "We'll take it," he agreed, pacing away and returning.

"Expect me to treat you like you're...beneath me." His eyes flashed for an instant, then he walked away, had to. "Whatever you're thinking, it will be ten times worse 'n that. And..." he turned and aimed a stare at him, "you can't go about trying to help people. Misery, pain, death... you sit there, and you watch, and you take it. Got that? Until we find Sam, you don't do anything to draw attention." Since they didn't know where little brother was, it wasn't as if they could go in with an actual plan. "Getting out with someone else's property, that'll be the trick of it. That's where it'll get interesting. Best be ready to fight for your life."

Dean gave Spike a half guilty look at those words. Beneath me. That was what he said and he hadn’t really meant them. "I got you. Just sit there. Easier said than done," Dean watched as the vampire paced. A breath or two passed, before he spoke again. “I've been fighting since I was four."

"Four." A four year old had better things to be doing, but if evil had been after him all his... no wonder Dean was fucked up. And wasn't it just like him to be drawn to the fuck ups of the world? "Then you'll learn to sit now, yeah? That, or to die... and your brother with you." It was harsh, but getting through to someone like Dean wasn't easy... not about things he didn't want to hear or do.

At least Dean wasn’t arguing, that was something. Right. There was still the issue of only one bed. Spike hesitated only for a minute, then began to strip. He didn't look at Dean, didn't ask, just pulled his tee shirt off, kicked off his boots and dragged his leather pants down. With his back to Dean, he carefully draped his clothes over the back of a chair. "Not sleeping on the floor, mate. Move over."

When that moment came, Dean couldn't for the life of him drag his eyes away from that all too lethal body. He wanted to whimper but only got up and walked around to the other side of the bed. Boots, jeans and a knife were removed before the knife was shoved under the pillow. A habit, nothing against Spike. And then the Colt was placed right by his side of the bed.

With only his black boxer briefs, Dean carefully lowered his body down into the bed, rolling to his side away from Spike. Away from the temptation. And away so that his semi-erection could not be seen. Besides, sleep was not gonna come to Dean right away. "Just, no hogging the covers." Dean said, trying to throw in a bit of humor.

"No shooting your bed mate," Spike answered, completely naked, on his back, with his elbows spread wide and head resting on his palms... or pressing them down into the pillow, just to keep from reaching out and dragging the hunter to him. Course he knew the hunter was interested, or at least his body was interested. The scent of his arousal, coupled with memories of how well he took to being fucked... all the sounds he made, the demands when Spike played with him, all of that had every muscle in Spike's body tensing... every nerve screaming for him to do something about it. "Night," he ground out, forcing his eyes shut and willing his body to behave.

Light flooded into the room through the gaps of the cheap shutter slats, piercing the dark. Time ticked by, Dean wasn't sure how long but he finally moved, turning to look at Spike. This vampire had turned his world upside down. "I didn't mean what I said back in the hospital. It's just me … my way of pushing you away because I didn't want to see you hurt. Didn’t want you hurting when it’s time for me to go… die. I couldn't put you through that. Even though I love you, I couldn't do it. I'm sorry. You were never beneath me. You were always higher than me." Dean stared a few more moments at the sleeping vampire, then turned over. "Forgive me."

Hours later, still in the grips of the sleep of the undead, Spike instinctively reached for the warm body next to him. He knew that scent, knew every plane and indentation of muscle and flesh, recognized the protesting murmurs, and felt his need rise in response to a heart beat he knew and loved. He was plastered to the hunter's back, one of his legs pushed between Dean's. One arm slipped under Dean, cradled him, held his chest. His other arm dangled over Dean's side, with his palm cupping Dean's cock. They weren't in Dark Haven yet, but there was no doubt about it, the predator, the demon in him claimed the hunter already. Mine.


Dean shifted, moaned a bit. There was coolness to his back. Hands groping at him and then he felt someone at the back of his neck. Dean suddenly felt claimed and this time, it didn't bother him. He was alone, vulnerable and he needed the attention. Wanted it. Craved it. Dean looked down at his chest, moving a hand to place over Spike's. He even felt his cock fill as a little sound came from the Vampire.

Dean half turned, and looked over his shoulder at the vampire whose eyes were still shut. Turning all the way around to face Spike, but not saying a word, Dean reached out and ran his fingers through those white locks. How strange it was that there was no warmth, no heart beat, but yet he could feel another sort of heat emanating from the vampire. He leaned in, softly kissing him.

Spike came fully awake... aware. He'd gone too long without this... without Dean. One fucking kiss, and there was ignition. Growling, he rolled on top, staring down at him for an instant. Heat and hunger was what he saw... need. He felt Dean start to pull him down. Unable to resist, Spike grasped Dean's wrists, slammed them down on either side of his head, and curling his fingers around the metal railing of the headboard, held them there much like cuffs. Lowering his head, he covered the hunter's mouth, pushing his tongue past his teeth, tasting him... filling him, fighting him and loving him all at once.

Dean bucked, but didn't fight. If anything he arched his neck and reached up as Spike lowered down to kiss him. His tongue curved around Spike's and took from him what he offered. His own fingers curled and grasped metal, holding himself there as he lifted his body a bit to push up against Spike to show him, to make him feel just what he wanted.

Spike wanted more... needed more... needed Dean bucking and screaming under him, and he would have it. Breaking the kiss, he moved down, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the hunter's throat. Staring at his broad, tanned chest until his flat male nipples tightened, and then lowering his mouth over one of them, he lathed and teased... devoured.

Dean hissed and arched. Desire burned him. Need burned him and he gasped as his nipples were teased. He couldn't prevent his body from squirming and rubbing. Wanting more contact. Needing more. He didn't say anything, just let his raw emotions show. He groaned with need and allowed himself to be claimed. If anything, he wanted it.

God he was responsive. The hunter wasn't hiding his reactions and Spike couldn't have asked for anything more... not when he was getting exactly what he needed. He scraped his teeth one last time near Dean's nipple, then stealthily closed his mouth over a healing wound.... licking... the coppery taste of Dean's blood inflaming. Abruptly, before he was tempted to open up a new wound that the hunter did not need, he moved his mouth lower, clear down to Dean's belly, still imprisoning his wrists, though it was now a stretch.

He nipped, and licked and sucked as he moved his mouth back and forth in slow circles, each one just a bit closer to the thick cock straining for his attention. Spike squeezed Dean's wrists, "keep them there," he ordered, letting go and smoothing his hands up and down Dean's sides, over his abs, his chest, moving in tandem with his mouth, and then curling his fingers around the waist band of his boxers and bringing them down, inch by inch.

Dean didn't even fight the order. His fingers curled more tightly around the bars and he wanted to cry out. To swear at the vampire. He had him so steamed up, he thought he was gonna explode. His breath grew ragged. His chest rose and fell in rapid motion. He wanted him. Needed him. If this kept going he was gonna voice it. He was desperate and knew Spike could taste it.

Raising his head, looking down the length of his body, he saw white hair. He saw movement and his hips rose off the bed anxious for Spike to just pull his underwear down. Off. To make them vanish from his body and litter the floor on the other side. Now Dean was his. He was wet, his cock cried with want.

Having pulled Dean's boxers only half way down, so that they still trapped part of Dean's cock against his body, Spike smirked. Anxious and hot... that's just how he liked his boy, but he planned to get him much hotter. He kissed him over the thin material of the underwear, then dragged his tongue over it... over both the material and the part of his shaft that was free of the boxers. He licked him again, just as lightly, then put his mouth sideways over Dean's shaft, holding him... pressing his tongue against him in a throbbing motion. Inhaling the heady scent of his need, and inching closer to the point where it was getting bloody fucking hard to keep teasing.

There, that released a swear. And several others flew from Dean's lips under breaths. Dean's whole body trembled. A shudder that surely rocked Spike as well. He swallowed, lifted his head to gaze at Spike, his tongue running over his lips. Fuck.

He closed his eyes when he finally felt Spike's tongue over his flesh and now Dean was squirming to get his underwear fully off, trying to drag his body up to make them roll down, however, Spike's strong hands held Dean in place, pinning his hips. That alone caused a painful groan to come from Dean's parted lips.

"Want it off, do you?" Spike laughed as Dean used his hip to hit him in the face. He'd take that as a 'yes' and... ignore it. He paid more attention to Dean's cock, making sure he felt the difference between those parts of him that were covered, and those that received the full-on pleasure of skin, to skin. It went on and on until the almost violent thrashing of Dean's body and his gutteral demands broke through Spike's lust induced haze.

Suddenly the blood was pounding at Spike's temples, and fire was inching through his veins. He couldn't wait... not one bleeding second longer. He knew Dean didn't like to waste clothing... he'd complained about it often enough. The sound of tearing cloth said how much the vampire cared about that.

Now that Dean's cock was revealed in all it's glory, he sucked on it from base to crown... three times. It was all he could give the hunter before he crawled up his body and ground his hips down. Holy fuck, the way Dean instantly locked his legs around him and started to buck up against him sent unbelievably intense sensations through Spike.

Get a hold of yourself, mate. And yet he couldn't. Positioning his cock over Dean's he started to fuck him. Hard. Fast. Furious. Fucking him into the mattress, fucking him into oblivion while he struggled to keep his eyes open, to watch his lover.

Dean's heart raced and pounded in his ears as he strained to get more friction, more pressure. He stretched to try and kiss the man over him, to suck and lick his mouth. Sweat pooled across his body as he furiously thrust his hips up as far as he could. It was intense. So fast and furious, it almost hurt. Dean started to grunt, tried to breath. It was so intense, he was on fire. The energy built between them and exploded. Before Dean knew it, he was releasing with a strangled cry.

Spasms of pleasure ripped through Spike as he pumped faster until he shuddered and collapsed on top of Dean. He laid his head on the other man’s heart, listening to his heart pump and beat, and tracing the edges of the tattoo on his chest, pretending he didn’t know the truth, and pretending he’d never seen Sam’s matching tattoo. A few moments to dream, that’s all he was taking here. He’d round the corner of reality later, but right now it was him, and it was Dean, in a bed. His eyes widened. “Sodding hell, this is the first time… in bed.”

Dean finally let go of the metal over his head to lowered his hands down to rest on Spike's back and arm, gently stroking. Why was it with them the sex was so intense? Unlike any other time in his life. He looked down at Spike, fearing if he spoke the magic would be gone. He couldn't help smiling a bit, "New step in our relationship?" Christ, did he just say that?

There was a silence, but it was filled with more of Spike’s dreams. Then again, reality was always round the corner, wasn’t it. “You practicing for Dark Haven? Doing a good job, there.” Too good.

Why did Dean feel crest fallen? Was that all this was to Spike? "No." came the single word, all too soft for a normal human to hear.

“Right. Good answer,” Spike dropped a kiss on the hunter’s lying mouth. It was alright, really was… he was used to this. He could even play along. “I needed this. Really. Needed. This.”

Dean cupped his hand behind Spike's head, gripping his hair and holding him still for a moment before kissing him, softly, deeply then pulled back slowly. "Me too," was all he could answer. He bit back the rest. It was clear to Dean, things were never gonna be the same. Just something else he messed up.

“Sleep then. Wake me if you need anything, smirking, he moved off Dean, but rested his head on his shoulder. “I’m sure I’ll be waking you…”

Spike made good on that promise. They woke each other up every few hours, just to go at it. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes it took three minutes, and they fell back asleep. Sometimes they showered. It was all a blur … a fuckfest that would be ingrained in the vampire’s memory forever.

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