And Blood Screams (SPN/BtVS) - Chapter 1
Title: And Blood Screams
Artist: iria4285
Mixer: glasslogic
Fandom: Supernatural/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Type: het, slash, fusion, threesome
Word Count:
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Spike/Sam/Faith, implied Spike/Sam/Dean/Faith, appearances by SPN hunters
Warnings: Sexual content, strong language, blood, death, torture
Summary: Vampire!AU: Years ago, Sam Winchester lost his brother. Dean left him, left them all because he got back his bothersome soul. He joined up with hunters to fight evil and atone for his sins. However, Sam didn't let go that easily and Spike and Faith are pretty used to giving him what he wants. What he wants is to play a dangerous game with Dean's new friends: kill them off one by one until Dean only has only one thing left.
Faith fucking hated going to church.
She’d hated it even when she was alive, when Miss Olford would gather up the children in the orphanage and put them in their best outfits. They usually sucked. They were itchy and always patched-up. Faith stopped going when she was ten, got a ton of beatings when she’d veer off from the rest of the girls and wander the streets while the church bells rang and the ‘good folk’ took their seats.
“A disgrace to your name,” Miss Olford would shriek.
Faith would be feral with blood still dribbling from her split lip.
She still hated church, smiled at the people who came to Saturday mass in a way that made them uncomfortable, eyed the pastor in all the wrong places.
“I’m Faith,” she’d say and their eyes would widen at that complete fuck up of a naming system. It could be worse though. She could be called Virginia.
“And God said…” the pastor intoned.
Faith threw her head back with an audible groan and began to tap her booted foot repeatedly on the floor until Sam laid a large hand on her knee and hissed at her to, “Be quiet.” The people in front heard that and gave him an approving nod before turning back to the sermon.
Course, Sam and Faith were sitting in back while all those other ‘good folk’ were up in front so they didn’t see his hand begin to move from her knee, sliding upward. When his middle finger dug in between her legs, she grunted and he turned to her again with a solemn face. He placed a finger to his lips. “Shhh.”
His hand slipped away after that. He placed it neatly on top of his Bible.
“But god also said…”
Fuck, she hated church.
All Sammy’s fault they were there listening to someone preach about a heaven they sure as shit ain’t getting to and a God they didn’t give a shit about. Sammy was all gentlemen-like. He had a three-date rule and wouldn’t kill someone without taking a good look at them alive and breathing first.
She knows, remembers him fighting her three times. “I’m calling on the slayer,” he said. He brought roses. She brought a stake. Good times.
Faith leaned over and whispered inappropriately loud. “It done yet?”
Sam gave everyone around them an apologetic look before getting up. It wasn’t finished but Faith took the chance, dug her luridly-painted fingernails into his wrist, and pulled him out.
“Preacher-man said evil is gonna get thrown down to the pit,” she said when they got out.
Sam was all innocence: “We’re not evil. We’re just misunderstood.”
If Spike was there, he’d say, “I’m evil, pup. You’re a pansy.”
If Dean was there… Fuck him.
Spike wasn’t there. Faith was and she said, “Aw, babe, I’m evil. You’re a fucking bleeding heart.”
It’s true - kinda - but Sam still slammed her up against the church wall. He kissed her and bit her bottom lip hard enough so that she got that fine dribble of blood coloring her lips. Sammy pulled away after that. He always pulled away when it got good. Such a fucking tease.
They both turned as a black car rolled into the church parking lot, old and dirty and with windows almost as black as the car.
“How the fuck did Spike get out of coming to this shit?”
“Heads or tails,” Sam reminded her. “You lost.”
Spike joined them outside of the church doors. He entered first, threw both doors wide open. Sam and Faith came in right after. They shut both doors firmly behind them.
Let there be screaming.
XXX
Faith was a vampire slayer and that was another fucking joke. Almost as bad as her name.
Faith the vampire vampire slayer that hated slaying vampires.
She liked the rush of the fight. It got her blood pumping and her muscles burning but the ending was crap. She dusted them. They disappeared like they weren’t even there, like she didn’t just kicked their asses to kingdom come and saved some clueless person from getting sucked dry. It was bullshit. She didn’t like killing vampires, didn’t like the payoff. She liked killing things that left bodies as proof that she was there, she did it, the little fucker lost to her and everyone had better remember it.
They all lost to her, especially the pathetic ones that thought taking care of themselves meant screaming and screaming until the bad guy went away. This pathetic girl sure as fuck didn’t survive it.
Faith finished up her snack and shoved the girl to the floor. She lay there quietly with her eyes closed, her mouth open, and her mousy hair falling across her face. It was proof in all it’s ugly, easily-breakable little body.
They all were.
There were bodies laid across the floor, slumped in their seats, or leaning against the walls. There was a bloody handprint on one of the stained glass windows, throw-up in the corner, and a cross at the front with a crucified Jesus who looked down as everyone in his place of worship was slaughtered. Faith could guess he disapproved.
She flipped him off.
There was a laugh to her left and Spike came out of a candle-lit alcove. He looked at the cross, took a drag off a secret, and blew it upward. “You think he’s watching us?”
“I think he likes the show,” Sam said. He sat in the front of the church, baggy jean jacket decorated with little splashes of blood, his hands loosely holding someone between his legs. “It’s like a sacrifice. We send them up to God, right?”
Faith snorted, “Yeah, Sammy, we send them up to God.”
Sam looked back at her with his thinking face. Then, he cracked a smile. “You’re so faithless, Faith.”
“I don’t think this bloke likes it,” Spike said. He moved over to Sam. Faith followed.
The man between Sam’s legs was the Pastor. He sat on the floor with his back up against the seat. Sam’s legs were holding him up on both sides. When they approached, Sam grabbed him by his hair and pulled his head back so that it rested on his lap. The Pastor looked up at the roof with unfocused eyes. There was a stream of blood running down the side of his neck.
Spike sat beside Sam, throwing one arm over the back of the seat.
Faith swung one leg over the Pastor’s and then settled on his lap.
“Hey, Pastor.”
“Pastor Jim Murphy,” Sam supplied even though they both knew she didn’t care. But Sammy just had to know little details like that, share with the class.
‘Do you want to know a slayer’s average lifespan?’ he’d asked her the night they met. ‘Do you want to know mine?’ he asked afterward, an offer in the form of a tease.
“Do you know how many were in your church tonight, Pastor?” Faith asked.
A blink was her only response.
She slapped at his cheek twice. “Come on! We wanna know how many people died. Sammy here keeps a scorecard.” She leaned forward and mock-whispered. “We’re winning.”
Sam leaned over, blocking the pastor’s view of the ceiling with his innocent face. “Don’t listen to her. I stopped counting when she killed off our competition.”
“Don’t listen to either of these ones,” Spike said. “We never had competition.”
Jim spoke to them for the first time that night. It was said in a near-whisper but there was still something stubborn in his voice. “You had hunters.”
Spike tugged Sam back. He got off the chair and hunched next to Jim. He blew smoke into the man’s face. “None that lived to tell the tale. They lost their heads and their arms and one of them even lost their balls. Faith carried them around in her back pocket.” He looked up at Sam. “Why’s he still alive then?”
One cue, there was a ringing.
Sam pulled a cellphone out of his pocket. “Pastor Jim was waiting for a phone call,” he said. He checked the caller ID and then pressed ‘talk’. He didn’t speak.
The person on the other end waited for a few moments before clearing their throat loudly. Then, “Heeellloooo! My party time is limited, remember? Sun goes up. I go down or she goes down. Whatever.”
Sam stared down at the phone, an unreadable expression on his face. Spike looked up at him. Faith sighed impatiently. With the fun bits over, she was reminded that this whole thing was pissing her off. Plans for their old friend. Stress the ‘old’. She reached out and plucked the phone from Sam’s hand.
“Hey babe,” she said into the receiver.
There was a long silence. “…Faith?”
“Awww, you remembered me. Remember this.” She flipped the phone until it was facing the pastor.
Sam put one hand on Jim’s jaw and one on the back of his head and twisted until a loud crack could be heard.
Faith returned the phone to her. “Three guesses what that was.” She hung up.
They sat there after that, a dead pastor between them and Saturday night churchgoers spread in so many parts around them.
“Bit anticlimactic,” Spike said.
Sam took the phone back from Faith. “Think he got the message?”
“We painted the place red Sammy. If he doesn’t, he’s blind and stupid.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed but she wasn’t taking that shit back. Dean ditched them. Simple as that. Sticking up a big, bloody ‘welcome home’ sign was Sam’s deal. Not hers. She got off the preacher only to be stopped by Spike’s hand on her wrist and, fuck, he was a pushover. “Leave something,” he said. He smiled up at her. “You know you want to, pet,” he added, like that was the real reason all along, like Sammy didn’t have him wrapped around his little finger.
Faith looked at Sam’s thinky face. “Fuck.” She grabbed her bag, took out her spray can, and moved over to the wall. “Hey, brat! Give me a hand.”
Sam rolled his eyes but complied. He lifted her up onto his shoulder until she could start spraying right over the head of Jesus.
She sprayed carefully, a small smile slowly appearing on her face.
After she was done, she patted Sam’s head. “What do you think?”
On the wall above the cross was a simple message:
Did you miss us?
XXX
Ah, shit, she’d made Sammy all sulky. Did you miss us? No, he fucking didn’t. She slammed her head back on the seat. Sammy didn’t blink from his sulking in the backseat. Spike put the radio louder. He pounded on the steering wheel, banged his head to whatever shit was blasting out of their crappy speakers.
She looked in the mirror. Sam sat against one window and had his long legs spread out across to the other side of the seat. He looked straight ahead with his down-turned lips and resentful, narrowed eyes.
The world’s biggest spoiled fucking brat.
She banged her head against the seat again because this was bullshit. Sammy was in a shitty mood. Spike wasn’t even singing the words to the damn song like he was supposed to.
And it was Dean fucking Winchester’s fault.
“Hey,” she called back to Sam. “Think we can find whoever sings this shit and rip out their vocal cords.”
“Why don’t you try it, pet?” Spike said “Fraid you’re gonna have to go all the way to hell for that.”
Faith shot an exasperated look at Sam.
There was a small smirk on Sam’s face. Small but, fuck it, it was there and you couldn’t expect much more since Dean left, couldn’t expect those wide smiles and hungry eyes.
And did she mention it was all Dean fucking Winchester’s fault?
“This is bullshit, you know?”
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “What’s bullshit?”
She got up and slid through the driver and passenger seats. She slid up Sam’s hard body until they were nose to nose. “You know what I’m talking about.” She dug her fingers into his hips.
Sam circled both of her wrists with his hands, squeezed hard enough to bruise if she was human. “Not in the mood,” he said.
“I am,” she shot at him. “And since it’s all your fault we’re here begging for his attention like desperate little bitches - .”
Sam shoved her back by the shoulders.
She caught his shirt, pulled at it so that it rode low, and shot forward to nip at his exposed collar bone. She hooked her fingers into the belt of his denim jeans and boxers (and why the fuck did he bother with those) and pulled at them until they got stuck. With his baggy pants and narrow hips, they went halfway down without her even needing to unbuckle them.
He was already hard. “Not in the mood, my ass.”
She scooted down a suddenly unwillingly willing Sam and - .
HONK!
The car swerved and Faith rolled off of Sam to slam into the back of the passenger seat and fall into the narrow space between the passenger seat and the backseat.
“Well, bloody hell!”
“What the fuck, Spike?!”
Sam laughed loudly. He pulled himself up onto his knees and looked around Spike’s head. Faith followed his gaze and saw Spike’s erection clearly visible in his pants.
“You feeling left out Spike?”
Sammy was smiling.
Faith crawled out of her cramped space, pushed Sam back into position and leaned over Spike herself. “Sorry, Spike-y,” she said. “Only got a bit ‘till daylight and you’re the designated driver remember?”
“Bitch!” he growled.
She laughed. “Find somewhere fast.” At that, she pulled back. She fit her body back over Sam’s, looked down at him with a mischievous smile. He exchanged it, glancing over to the mirror where Spike’s blue eyes were on them more than the road.
He was going to get them into a crash.
Fuck yeah.
Sam pushed her shirt over her head, wrapped an arm around her waist and yanked her body up against his. Faith’s head grazed the roof. His teeth dragged along the blood that had dried between her breasts.
“Fucking teases,” Spike muttered from the backseat, pushing down on the pedal and sending them flying down the road.
Sam pushed down her pants and underwear while Faith kicked off her shoes, putting a crack in their back window when she kicked off the left one. The pants were tossed onto the passenger seat. They heard Spike groan and move uncomfortably in his seat.
Sam held tight to Faith with one arm and hooked the other arm over the back of the seat. He used it to make an awkward rise and roll, rolling them until Faith was on bottom. He pushed her legs apart with one knee, raised her arms until her hands rested above her, her fingers touching the roof.
He shoved two fingers inside her while shoving his tongue into her mouth.
Faith gripped impatiently at his pants until the top bottom broke off and they came down the needed distance. He just kept up with those long fucking fingers curling up inside her and his tongue sliding along in her mouth. Faith wasn’t known for patience. She reached down and caught a hold of his dick and pumped him until the dumbass finally took his fingers out.
Then, finally, he was moving in.
Faith’s fingers dug into Sam’s hips as Spike took a sharp turn. They bounced down a dirt road and then made another sharp turn into darkness, a bridge probably, a car width and a few feet extra worth of safety from the sun’s rays. It was hardly anything and they’d have to practically be in each other’s laps the whole day so they wouldn’t burn.
But Spike wasn’t about to wait any longer.
He was working on his belt as he switched off the car’s ignition.
He reached over the passenger seat to put it up and cursed when the piece of crap seat flipped forward and smacked him in the head.
And, fuck, it was uncomfortable. The backseat was too small. She had one leg raised up against the back window and the other hanging off of the seat to give Sammy room between her legs. Spike shoved his knee into her thigh as he squeezed into the back. He pushed Sammy forward and Sammy pushed her forward so that she was bent against the door and, with each rock of Sam’s hips, the door handle made its indentation in her back.
Spike was bent oddly over Sam’s bare back as he positioned himself and there was no bothering with finesse or making him ready. He just slammed forward and Sammy slammed forward, let out a groan of mixed pain and pleasure. Sam, blood-sucker to the end, took one of Faith’s finger into her mouth and bit at the pads.
Spike moved inside Sam. Sam moved inside her.
So fucking good and so fucking uncomfortable with Spike cursing every now and then as he tried to get a better grip and knocked his head on the roof or probably got the door lock up his ass.
Sam lifted his head. She could feel her blood sliding down her hand. She could see it on Sam’s lips and teeth as he smiled down at her, pupils blown wide, hungry.
Sammy was happy. When Sammy was happy, Spike was happy. When they were both happy, they weren’t boring the fuck out of her and that made her happy.
Fuck it. They’d be good like this, just the three of them.
Next Part
Artist: iria4285
Mixer: glasslogic
Fandom: Supernatural/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Type: het, slash, fusion, threesome
Word Count:
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Spike/Sam/Faith, implied Spike/Sam/Dean/Faith, appearances by SPN hunters
Warnings: Sexual content, strong language, blood, death, torture
Summary: Vampire!AU: Years ago, Sam Winchester lost his brother. Dean left him, left them all because he got back his bothersome soul. He joined up with hunters to fight evil and atone for his sins. However, Sam didn't let go that easily and Spike and Faith are pretty used to giving him what he wants. What he wants is to play a dangerous game with Dean's new friends: kill them off one by one until Dean only has only one thing left.
Faith fucking hated going to church.
She’d hated it even when she was alive, when Miss Olford would gather up the children in the orphanage and put them in their best outfits. They usually sucked. They were itchy and always patched-up. Faith stopped going when she was ten, got a ton of beatings when she’d veer off from the rest of the girls and wander the streets while the church bells rang and the ‘good folk’ took their seats.
“A disgrace to your name,” Miss Olford would shriek.
Faith would be feral with blood still dribbling from her split lip.
She still hated church, smiled at the people who came to Saturday mass in a way that made them uncomfortable, eyed the pastor in all the wrong places.
“I’m Faith,” she’d say and their eyes would widen at that complete fuck up of a naming system. It could be worse though. She could be called Virginia.
“And God said…” the pastor intoned.
Faith threw her head back with an audible groan and began to tap her booted foot repeatedly on the floor until Sam laid a large hand on her knee and hissed at her to, “Be quiet.” The people in front heard that and gave him an approving nod before turning back to the sermon.
Course, Sam and Faith were sitting in back while all those other ‘good folk’ were up in front so they didn’t see his hand begin to move from her knee, sliding upward. When his middle finger dug in between her legs, she grunted and he turned to her again with a solemn face. He placed a finger to his lips. “Shhh.”
His hand slipped away after that. He placed it neatly on top of his Bible.
“But god also said…”
Fuck, she hated church.
All Sammy’s fault they were there listening to someone preach about a heaven they sure as shit ain’t getting to and a God they didn’t give a shit about. Sammy was all gentlemen-like. He had a three-date rule and wouldn’t kill someone without taking a good look at them alive and breathing first.
She knows, remembers him fighting her three times. “I’m calling on the slayer,” he said. He brought roses. She brought a stake. Good times.
Faith leaned over and whispered inappropriately loud. “It done yet?”
Sam gave everyone around them an apologetic look before getting up. It wasn’t finished but Faith took the chance, dug her luridly-painted fingernails into his wrist, and pulled him out.
“Preacher-man said evil is gonna get thrown down to the pit,” she said when they got out.
Sam was all innocence: “We’re not evil. We’re just misunderstood.”
If Spike was there, he’d say, “I’m evil, pup. You’re a pansy.”
If Dean was there… Fuck him.
Spike wasn’t there. Faith was and she said, “Aw, babe, I’m evil. You’re a fucking bleeding heart.”
It’s true - kinda - but Sam still slammed her up against the church wall. He kissed her and bit her bottom lip hard enough so that she got that fine dribble of blood coloring her lips. Sammy pulled away after that. He always pulled away when it got good. Such a fucking tease.
They both turned as a black car rolled into the church parking lot, old and dirty and with windows almost as black as the car.
“How the fuck did Spike get out of coming to this shit?”
“Heads or tails,” Sam reminded her. “You lost.”
Spike joined them outside of the church doors. He entered first, threw both doors wide open. Sam and Faith came in right after. They shut both doors firmly behind them.
Let there be screaming.
XXX
Faith was a vampire slayer and that was another fucking joke. Almost as bad as her name.
Faith the vampire vampire slayer that hated slaying vampires.
She liked the rush of the fight. It got her blood pumping and her muscles burning but the ending was crap. She dusted them. They disappeared like they weren’t even there, like she didn’t just kicked their asses to kingdom come and saved some clueless person from getting sucked dry. It was bullshit. She didn’t like killing vampires, didn’t like the payoff. She liked killing things that left bodies as proof that she was there, she did it, the little fucker lost to her and everyone had better remember it.
They all lost to her, especially the pathetic ones that thought taking care of themselves meant screaming and screaming until the bad guy went away. This pathetic girl sure as fuck didn’t survive it.
Faith finished up her snack and shoved the girl to the floor. She lay there quietly with her eyes closed, her mouth open, and her mousy hair falling across her face. It was proof in all it’s ugly, easily-breakable little body.
They all were.
There were bodies laid across the floor, slumped in their seats, or leaning against the walls. There was a bloody handprint on one of the stained glass windows, throw-up in the corner, and a cross at the front with a crucified Jesus who looked down as everyone in his place of worship was slaughtered. Faith could guess he disapproved.
She flipped him off.
There was a laugh to her left and Spike came out of a candle-lit alcove. He looked at the cross, took a drag off a secret, and blew it upward. “You think he’s watching us?”
“I think he likes the show,” Sam said. He sat in the front of the church, baggy jean jacket decorated with little splashes of blood, his hands loosely holding someone between his legs. “It’s like a sacrifice. We send them up to God, right?”
Faith snorted, “Yeah, Sammy, we send them up to God.”
Sam looked back at her with his thinking face. Then, he cracked a smile. “You’re so faithless, Faith.”
“I don’t think this bloke likes it,” Spike said. He moved over to Sam. Faith followed.
The man between Sam’s legs was the Pastor. He sat on the floor with his back up against the seat. Sam’s legs were holding him up on both sides. When they approached, Sam grabbed him by his hair and pulled his head back so that it rested on his lap. The Pastor looked up at the roof with unfocused eyes. There was a stream of blood running down the side of his neck.
Spike sat beside Sam, throwing one arm over the back of the seat.
Faith swung one leg over the Pastor’s and then settled on his lap.
“Hey, Pastor.”
“Pastor Jim Murphy,” Sam supplied even though they both knew she didn’t care. But Sammy just had to know little details like that, share with the class.
‘Do you want to know a slayer’s average lifespan?’ he’d asked her the night they met. ‘Do you want to know mine?’ he asked afterward, an offer in the form of a tease.
“Do you know how many were in your church tonight, Pastor?” Faith asked.
A blink was her only response.
She slapped at his cheek twice. “Come on! We wanna know how many people died. Sammy here keeps a scorecard.” She leaned forward and mock-whispered. “We’re winning.”
Sam leaned over, blocking the pastor’s view of the ceiling with his innocent face. “Don’t listen to her. I stopped counting when she killed off our competition.”
“Don’t listen to either of these ones,” Spike said. “We never had competition.”
Jim spoke to them for the first time that night. It was said in a near-whisper but there was still something stubborn in his voice. “You had hunters.”
Spike tugged Sam back. He got off the chair and hunched next to Jim. He blew smoke into the man’s face. “None that lived to tell the tale. They lost their heads and their arms and one of them even lost their balls. Faith carried them around in her back pocket.” He looked up at Sam. “Why’s he still alive then?”
One cue, there was a ringing.
Sam pulled a cellphone out of his pocket. “Pastor Jim was waiting for a phone call,” he said. He checked the caller ID and then pressed ‘talk’. He didn’t speak.
The person on the other end waited for a few moments before clearing their throat loudly. Then, “Heeellloooo! My party time is limited, remember? Sun goes up. I go down or she goes down. Whatever.”
Sam stared down at the phone, an unreadable expression on his face. Spike looked up at him. Faith sighed impatiently. With the fun bits over, she was reminded that this whole thing was pissing her off. Plans for their old friend. Stress the ‘old’. She reached out and plucked the phone from Sam’s hand.
“Hey babe,” she said into the receiver.
There was a long silence. “…Faith?”
“Awww, you remembered me. Remember this.” She flipped the phone until it was facing the pastor.
Sam put one hand on Jim’s jaw and one on the back of his head and twisted until a loud crack could be heard.
Faith returned the phone to her. “Three guesses what that was.” She hung up.
They sat there after that, a dead pastor between them and Saturday night churchgoers spread in so many parts around them.
“Bit anticlimactic,” Spike said.
Sam took the phone back from Faith. “Think he got the message?”
“We painted the place red Sammy. If he doesn’t, he’s blind and stupid.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed but she wasn’t taking that shit back. Dean ditched them. Simple as that. Sticking up a big, bloody ‘welcome home’ sign was Sam’s deal. Not hers. She got off the preacher only to be stopped by Spike’s hand on her wrist and, fuck, he was a pushover. “Leave something,” he said. He smiled up at her. “You know you want to, pet,” he added, like that was the real reason all along, like Sammy didn’t have him wrapped around his little finger.
Faith looked at Sam’s thinky face. “Fuck.” She grabbed her bag, took out her spray can, and moved over to the wall. “Hey, brat! Give me a hand.”
Sam rolled his eyes but complied. He lifted her up onto his shoulder until she could start spraying right over the head of Jesus.
She sprayed carefully, a small smile slowly appearing on her face.
After she was done, she patted Sam’s head. “What do you think?”
On the wall above the cross was a simple message:
Did you miss us?
XXX
Ah, shit, she’d made Sammy all sulky. Did you miss us? No, he fucking didn’t. She slammed her head back on the seat. Sammy didn’t blink from his sulking in the backseat. Spike put the radio louder. He pounded on the steering wheel, banged his head to whatever shit was blasting out of their crappy speakers.
She looked in the mirror. Sam sat against one window and had his long legs spread out across to the other side of the seat. He looked straight ahead with his down-turned lips and resentful, narrowed eyes.
The world’s biggest spoiled fucking brat.
She banged her head against the seat again because this was bullshit. Sammy was in a shitty mood. Spike wasn’t even singing the words to the damn song like he was supposed to.
And it was Dean fucking Winchester’s fault.
“Hey,” she called back to Sam. “Think we can find whoever sings this shit and rip out their vocal cords.”
“Why don’t you try it, pet?” Spike said “Fraid you’re gonna have to go all the way to hell for that.”
Faith shot an exasperated look at Sam.
There was a small smirk on Sam’s face. Small but, fuck it, it was there and you couldn’t expect much more since Dean left, couldn’t expect those wide smiles and hungry eyes.
And did she mention it was all Dean fucking Winchester’s fault?
“This is bullshit, you know?”
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “What’s bullshit?”
She got up and slid through the driver and passenger seats. She slid up Sam’s hard body until they were nose to nose. “You know what I’m talking about.” She dug her fingers into his hips.
Sam circled both of her wrists with his hands, squeezed hard enough to bruise if she was human. “Not in the mood,” he said.
“I am,” she shot at him. “And since it’s all your fault we’re here begging for his attention like desperate little bitches - .”
Sam shoved her back by the shoulders.
She caught his shirt, pulled at it so that it rode low, and shot forward to nip at his exposed collar bone. She hooked her fingers into the belt of his denim jeans and boxers (and why the fuck did he bother with those) and pulled at them until they got stuck. With his baggy pants and narrow hips, they went halfway down without her even needing to unbuckle them.
He was already hard. “Not in the mood, my ass.”
She scooted down a suddenly unwillingly willing Sam and - .
HONK!
The car swerved and Faith rolled off of Sam to slam into the back of the passenger seat and fall into the narrow space between the passenger seat and the backseat.
“Well, bloody hell!”
“What the fuck, Spike?!”
Sam laughed loudly. He pulled himself up onto his knees and looked around Spike’s head. Faith followed his gaze and saw Spike’s erection clearly visible in his pants.
“You feeling left out Spike?”
Sammy was smiling.
Faith crawled out of her cramped space, pushed Sam back into position and leaned over Spike herself. “Sorry, Spike-y,” she said. “Only got a bit ‘till daylight and you’re the designated driver remember?”
“Bitch!” he growled.
She laughed. “Find somewhere fast.” At that, she pulled back. She fit her body back over Sam’s, looked down at him with a mischievous smile. He exchanged it, glancing over to the mirror where Spike’s blue eyes were on them more than the road.
He was going to get them into a crash.
Fuck yeah.
Sam pushed her shirt over her head, wrapped an arm around her waist and yanked her body up against his. Faith’s head grazed the roof. His teeth dragged along the blood that had dried between her breasts.
“Fucking teases,” Spike muttered from the backseat, pushing down on the pedal and sending them flying down the road.
Sam pushed down her pants and underwear while Faith kicked off her shoes, putting a crack in their back window when she kicked off the left one. The pants were tossed onto the passenger seat. They heard Spike groan and move uncomfortably in his seat.
Sam held tight to Faith with one arm and hooked the other arm over the back of the seat. He used it to make an awkward rise and roll, rolling them until Faith was on bottom. He pushed her legs apart with one knee, raised her arms until her hands rested above her, her fingers touching the roof.
He shoved two fingers inside her while shoving his tongue into her mouth.
Faith gripped impatiently at his pants until the top bottom broke off and they came down the needed distance. He just kept up with those long fucking fingers curling up inside her and his tongue sliding along in her mouth. Faith wasn’t known for patience. She reached down and caught a hold of his dick and pumped him until the dumbass finally took his fingers out.
Then, finally, he was moving in.
Faith’s fingers dug into Sam’s hips as Spike took a sharp turn. They bounced down a dirt road and then made another sharp turn into darkness, a bridge probably, a car width and a few feet extra worth of safety from the sun’s rays. It was hardly anything and they’d have to practically be in each other’s laps the whole day so they wouldn’t burn.
But Spike wasn’t about to wait any longer.
He was working on his belt as he switched off the car’s ignition.
He reached over the passenger seat to put it up and cursed when the piece of crap seat flipped forward and smacked him in the head.
And, fuck, it was uncomfortable. The backseat was too small. She had one leg raised up against the back window and the other hanging off of the seat to give Sammy room between her legs. Spike shoved his knee into her thigh as he squeezed into the back. He pushed Sammy forward and Sammy pushed her forward so that she was bent against the door and, with each rock of Sam’s hips, the door handle made its indentation in her back.
Spike was bent oddly over Sam’s bare back as he positioned himself and there was no bothering with finesse or making him ready. He just slammed forward and Sammy slammed forward, let out a groan of mixed pain and pleasure. Sam, blood-sucker to the end, took one of Faith’s finger into her mouth and bit at the pads.
Spike moved inside Sam. Sam moved inside her.
So fucking good and so fucking uncomfortable with Spike cursing every now and then as he tried to get a better grip and knocked his head on the roof or probably got the door lock up his ass.
Sam lifted his head. She could feel her blood sliding down her hand. She could see it on Sam’s lips and teeth as he smiled down at her, pupils blown wide, hungry.
Sammy was happy. When Sammy was happy, Spike was happy. When they were both happy, they weren’t boring the fuck out of her and that made her happy.
Fuck it. They’d be good like this, just the three of them.
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