| Date: 12 January 2008
Characters: Spike, Dean Winchester Location: an alley Link to IJ: thread #32150 |
 Spike flung open the trapdoor and clambered through, rolling away instinctively as he let it slam behind him and only just managed to stop himself rolling out of the shadow and into the sunshine."Bugger." He wasn't going to get very far in broad daylight. He scrabbled backwards till he had his back against a wall and looked around wildly, breathing heavily. An alley. A pretty clean one, for a change, and not one he was familiar with. And he was familiar with most of the alleys in Sunnydale. It wasn't, after all, a large place and they were good places to hang around. Oh, and the trapdoor had disappeared. Standing up and feeling in the pockets of his duster, he discovered he'd also lost his fags. "Bollocks," he said forcefully. |
 The alley had seemed a likely enough place to start trying to track down some kind of portal or gate or just some shit that had brought him here from Dakota, but Dean wasn't getting any sign of anything.At least, not until the guy erupted from the earth behind him and started cussing. Dean slammed back, pressed against the wall, gun drawn before thought, aimed right at the stranger. "Who. The fuck. Are you? And where the hell did you come from?" |
| "Oh, fucking hell. Come on, give a guy a break!" Spike rolled his eyes, then narrowed them and looked past the gun to the man holding it. Wasn't wearing army gear. OK, good. Maybe not the Initiative, then. Also, it was a gun, not a taser. Or a stake. He sucked in his cheeks and stepped forwards a pace, taking his hands out of his coat pockets. There was no surrender in the gesture at all. He was just making sure his hands were free if he needed to fight. Of course, the fact that the guy was standing on the opposite, sunlit, side of the alley was going to make that a bit difficult. "Name's Spike. Came from a hole in the ground that seems to have disappeared. Who're you?" |
| "You came. Out of nowhere," Dean emphasized, not letting up one damn second. Not one millimeter, gun held steady in a two handed grip. And not, no chance in any kind of hell, giving his name. "What the fuck were you doing in a hole in the ground? 'Cause I gotta tell you, mostly people in holes in the ground are dead." Which didn't make Dean likely to trust them. |
| "Not that kind of hole in the ground!" Not this time, anyway. "It was this - it was - " Spike stopped, because there was no way that 'secret underground government facility' was going to sound any more sane. He shrugged, spread his hands and gave gun-guy a weary smile. "Look. I've had a really bad day and I don't know where the fuck I am or how the trapdoor disappeared..." Some kind of invisibility spell? He couldn't even remember exactly where the damn thing had been. "And I'm really not in the mood for getting shot, so supposing you just put the gun down, now, there's a good boy." |
| If there was one thing designed to get Dean even more pissed off, it was being fucking patronised. "Give me one good reason," he demanded tightly, still not moving. If Spike couldn't even say where he'd been before the hole in the ground - and Dean was getting pretty used to people turning up from nowhere, just not from the ground - then Dean wasn't letting down his guard. Or his gun. |
| Good sense never had been Spike's strong point. He narrowed his eyes again, measuring the distance from the edge of the shadow to the outstretched arms holding the gun. Not actually that far. And if he got shot, he figured a good kill should get that healing up pretty fast. Spike cocked his head to one side, weight shifting subtly. "Because if you put the gun down, I might let you live." Yeah, good sense was definitely not his strong point. |
| "Not good enough." Nowhere near good enough, in fact, precisely the wrong reason. "Already on a time limit here, buddy." And Dean wasn't about to let anyone cut him short. Threatening his life was not going to get him to put his gun down. Levelling and aiming precisely, he let off a single shot, placed to ricochet off the wall right next to Spike's ear. "Step out of the shadows." Because he was beginning to get suspicious. |
| "Fucking hell!" Spike sprang away from the wall automatically at the sound of the shot, agonisingly loud in his ear. He took one horrified look at the gouge in the wall, then looked back at Dean, and in the space of that second everything about him had changed. Confidence had returned; he looked relaxed and ready, a smirk spreading across his face. And he was a lot nearer Dean than he had been. "Why don't you join me over here instead?" he said casually, just before his hands shot out, closed over Dean's where they were holding the gun and tugged with all his vampiric strength. Not at the gun, but at Dean. And doing his best to force the muzzle of the gun away from his body at the same time. |
| Holy fuck. Only one kind of thing that moved that fucking fast, and that wasn't human. Demon. Freaking demons had found Bumfuck. And that meant that unless he could get free - fast - he was in deep shit. Instead of resisting the grab and pull, Dean went with it, heart racing, adrenaline surging, barrelling forwards into Spike with all his strength, finger automatically closing on the trigger to fire another bullet, this one landing in something that sounded meaty. "Fucker!" he growled, twisting and using the impetus of his rush to lift back, balance precarious as he kicked out, high and hard, with his right foot, trying with every speeding heartbeat to pry the demon away from him. |
| Dean coming with him threw Spike off balance, but at least it got him out of the sun. That was about the only good thing that happened. After that, pain burst through him, sharp and bright from the gunshot, duller in his thigh where Dean's kick connected. Then it exploded in his head, white and blinding. He let go of Dean instantly and stumbled backwards till he hit the wall. He slid down the wall to the ground, yelling in pain, holding his head tightly as if to stop it flying apart. It took him a while to realise his hands were smarting. He cracked an eye open and saw they were smouldering from the exposure to sunlight and immediately wrapped them round his chest under his coat to put a stop to that. When the agony in his head had subsided to a nasty throb, he squinted up at Dean, face even paler than usual, eyes wide and afraid. "What the fuck did you do to me?" |
| "The fuck did I do to you?" Dean echoed, still bent over for balance, but snapping back to action stance as soon as he was free, gun aimed right back at Spike and sure, it was shaking, but he was the one that had the freaking gun. And that was good. Pretty much the only good. Hadn't done a damn thing to turn a demon into that kind of fear, though he wouldn't begin to pretend he wasn't enjoying it. "Fucking tried to kill me, buddy!" |
| "Makes us even, then," Spike growled. "You tried to kill me too - or did you think I'd enjoy being shot?" He huddled up, wrapping his arms further round himself, the fingers of one hand surreptitiously investigating the bullet wound in his side. Not too bad, though it hurt like hell. He needed blood. He was starving hungry, tired and hurting, but blood would put all that right. He lurched to his feet and staggered theatrically into Dean. Shorter distance and better angle this time and he was able to knock the gun to the side enough to lunge for Dean's neck without getting shot this time, shifting into game face as he went. And then he was tumbling backwards again, tripping over onto his arse, yelling and clutching at his head as agony flared again, even brighter than before. |
| It wasn't even worth trying to point out that he hadn't done anything of the kind until the demon had threatened his fucking life. Fucking demon didn't go down easy, either, making another try for...his neck? Holy shit, a fucking vampire. Gordon would be laughing his roasted ass off. Didn't even have to try and drive it off before Spike was dropping away, hollering like a stuck pig and curling tight. Dean braced himself, quick check that he'd still got a round in his gun before training it on Spike. Lead bullets weren't going to do shit to a vampire save make him bleed a bit, but Dean was oddly okay with that. "Will you quit it? I'm not gonna be your dinner. Or lunch. Or whatever freaking meal you're trying to get out of me." He thought for a second, still watching Spike. "And neither's anyone else here." |
| "Yeah, I'm getting that impression," Spike snarled, not even looking at him, just waiting for the pounding in his head to subside. By the time it did, the face he raised to Dean had returned to normal, though still pale and sickly. "This is some kind of test, isn't it?" he asked weakly. "I'm still in the Initiative, aren't I? What have you done to me?" |
| Fucking hallucinating vampire talking bullshit. "Haven't done a single damn thing to you." Except the shooting thing, and Dean figured that Spike already knew about that one. "Been snacking on dead man's blood, vampire? 'Cause you're fucking delirious." |
| "Haven't been snacking on anything. Bloody starving. Why d'you think I went for you?" Spike extracted a hand from beneath his coat and rubbed his face wearily. "'m not normally that desperate that I'd go up against a gun just for a meal." He paused, studying Dean. Maybe it wasn't what had been done to him but what the guy was. Maybe not the Initiative after all. "What are you?" he demanded. Some kind of telepath demon who caused pain in your head as a weapon? |
| Because he was a fucking tasty treat, was pretty much what Dean had been working on, and the vampire's words stung his pride, sparking cold into his eyes. That question about what he was, though, hell, yeah, he could answer that one. "I'm a Hunter," he told Spike, not about to lower the gun even if there wasn't any sign Spike was planning another attack. "Name's Dean Winchester." |
| Spike saw the wounded pride in the kid's eyes and smirked, feeling just a little bit better. "Oh, it's not 'cos you're not pretty," he confided. "Go for you like a shot, I would - if there wasn't a danger of getting shot." He frowned. "And what the hell is a Hunter? A Demon Hunter?" |
| "Got it in one, vamp." Ignoring the jibe about being pretty - cause hell yeah, anyone could see he'd inherited the looks in the Winchester family - Dean shifted his stance. Arms beginning to ache, and holding the gun braced much longer would mean they'd start shaking. No matter what kind of benevolent spirit had intervened to keep Spike off him the first two times, Dean wouldn't bet on his chances for a third. He backed off, further into the sunlight, far enough that even with demon speed, he'd see Spike coming in time to draw again, and lowered his gun, chin rising in response. |
| Oh, thank fuck for that. The moment the gun was lowered away from him, Spike started to relax properly. Well, as much as he could without knowing what the hell was going on or where he was or what had caused the pain in his head or... anything. "And you're human?" he asked, just to check Dean wasn't some kind of pain-inducing demon. Whatever he was, he was good. And young. And that little lift of his chin was kind of cute. Spike grinned. "Relax, mate. I'm not going for you again. Third time might kill me." |
| "Kill one of us," Dean muttered. Wasn't taking bets on which one. And he wasn't fucking cute. Sammy was cute. He was hot. Built. Sex on legs. "Human last time I checked, yeah." Though fuck only knew what that crossroads demon had done to him. |
| "'S not you then." He was starting to believe that. "Must be me. Those bastards have done something to me." He put his head in his hands, aware that the wound in his side was going to take a darn sight longer to heal if he couldn't feed, not to mention that he was hungry. "Fuck. This is just bloody fantastic." |
| "Don't read me wrong, vamp, if I knew a way to stop your kind attacking people I'd use it." Even that nest living on fucking rats, man, that was fucking gross, and he still didn't trust a one of them not to turn. "What bastards?" Because he'd really like to shake them by the hand. |
| "Yeah, I got that." Spike scowled, and forebore to mention that all Dean had to do was drag him into the sun and hold him there, because he wouldn't be fighting much once the headache kicked in. He just hoped that wouldn't occur to the kid. "Bastards who zapped me and stuck me in a cell and did who knows what to me while I was out of it. Well, I think I'm starting to find out what they did to me. Bastards!" It was just starting to sink in what this might mean. If he got a bloody migraine every time he tried to hurt or bite someone. He'd never felt so helpless in his life. |
| Dean was grudgingly impressed at anyone who could get a vamp tranq'd and captured and then, apparently, neutralized. Not a scrap of sympathy for the vamp in question, though. "Try rats," he advised with a smirk. "Oh, and you might wanna watch yourself - sun's gonna burn away those shadows in a couple hours." |
| The kid was right, too. Spike pushed up to his feet, flinching as the movement caused pain to flare again in his side, and staggered backwards to lean against the wall again. From there he looked anxiously up and down the alley. A few doors he could try, on this side, a few on the other, in the sun. Failing that, it was going to be a case of pulling his coat over his head and making a run for it, hoping he found somewhere before he went up in flames. "'M not eating rats," he said, automatically. "'M not bloody Angelus." |
| "Then you'll starve." Much Dean cared for that, one less vampire. "Have fun doing that, won't you?" |
| "Oh come on, what century are you living in? 'Cos it's nearly the @!st where I am and there are options other than bloody rats!" And there was still the possibility that it was just Dean, that the kid had some sort of charm about him, and that he'd be able to feed on other people just fine. Not that he was going to mention that to the bloke with the gun. |
| "Twenty first and forgive me if I'm not up on the feeding habits of crippled vampires!" His tone dripped sarcasm. The one relieving aspect was that he didn't remember seeing any rats around town, so starving was looking a distinct possibility. That cheered him up enough to offer a brilliant grin. |
| "Haven't been around Sunnydale very long, obviously," Spike grunted, reacting to the grin by getting ready to run at a moment's notice if the gun should show any sign of asserting itself again. Then the kid's words began to filter through. "Hang on. You're a bloody time-traveller?" |
| "Not by choice." No, not the gun. He'd got better than the gun for vampires, reaching inside his jacket and feeling in the pocket for the familiar shape of his crucifix. "Where the fuck is Sunnydale?" |
| "Come on, we can't be far from Sunnydale! They didn't have time - " Spike stopped, realising that since he had no idea how long he'd been out, they could be on the bloody moon. "Pleasant little town couple of hours from LA," he said casually, tilting his head to the side and watching Dean reaching into his jacket with morbid interest. If the kid had a stake, he was dead, because he didn't have a chance of outrunning him, weak and wounded as he was. He sucked in his cheeks, trying desperately to think of a way out of this. The only thing he could come up with was: keep talking. "If we're not in Sunnydale, where are we?" |
| LA. Fun little town, with way too much freaky shit going on for Dean's liking. Still, he was pretty sure that this wasn't LA. "You're not in Sunnydale any more, Toto. You're someplace that doesn't even exist. Outside time and space." He might have been dramatising a bit, but hell, it was all he knew. |
| That was sufficiently unexpected that Spike temporarily dropped the tough-guy act and simply stared. "What? We've slipped through to a demon dimension?" Didn't look like he'd expect a demon dimension to look. Looked rather Earth-like, to be honest. He frowned. "Where'd you come from, then?" Because he was going to make very sure to avoid wherever it was when @))& came around. |
| "Where do I come from, or where was I last?" Different things. Hell, wasn't exactly that they - he - even had a home so much, these days. Maybe the car. Hell, yeah, his car, his baby, sweet Impala, she was home. |
| Spike shrugged. "Ideally, I think I'd like an itinery of everywhere you've been since !(((, and exactly when. Then I'll know how to avoid you when I get back home." If he got back home. "Since I'm not likely to get that, though, you fancy toddling off and giving a bloke a chance to recuperate from his gunshot wound and bloody migraine in peace?" |
| "Dakota," Dean replied shortly. It was as much as he was willing to give, but the wooden crucifix inside his jacket helped with the confidence. Smirking, he backed up a step, hand still on the crucifix. "Hey, my pleasure. Have fun with that sunlight thing, yeah?" |
| Spike was surprised to see the kid apparently willing to leave him alone - he'd seemed like the type to stand over him and watch to make sure he burned. Not that he was complaining, though. "Oh, it'll be a bloody ball, I'm sure," he said sarcastically. He flapped a hand towards the end of the alley. "Off you go then. I'll be just having fun here, dying." |
| "Better make a start on that, then." Dean withdrew the crucifix, flipping it over in his hand, and bared his teeth in something nowhere near a smile. "Might come back and finish the job myself if you take too long over it." Not right away, though. First he was going to head back to the hotel and hit up that library, see what they had in there about demons that threw people through time. And wish that Sammy was doing it so he could stick with the shooting and fighting and burning. The stuff he was good at. |
| Spike snarled at the sight of the crucifix, an instinctive reaction even though it wouldn't hurt him anywhere near as much as a bullet or - apparently - trying to hurt Dean. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He said nothing. Enough sense had seeped into his brain to stop him taunting Dean with a comeback that would have Dean stepping up to finish the job right now. He just flopped down onto the ground, leaned back against the wall and rested his forearms on his knees, looking as hopeless and as harmless as he could. Get rid of the Demon Hunter, and then he could go and try some doors. He looked up at Dean when he didn't move and flapped his hand again impatiently. "Go on, then." |
| No point even replying. Continuing to flip the crucifix, Dean strolled off in the direction of the hotel, outwardly carefree. Inwardly, freaked the fuck out about finding freaking demons in Bumfuck. |
| Spike watched Dean till he was out of sight. Then he pushed himself up to standing, with a groan as pain flared in his side again, and started to check the doors along the shady side of the alley. The fifth door along opened. Spike slipped inside, closed the door behind him and leaned back against it, closing his eyes. He'd figure out how to get to somewhere more useful in a bit. Right now, he was just going to rest. It'd been a bloody awful day. |