Warnings: This story contains major spoilers for season three and season four of Supernatural. Minor spoilers for seasons one and two are also included.
Summary: In the city of lost souls, Spike is the one who ends up found.
Thank you A.J Hofacre for all of your help. I really appreciate it.
Some dialogue from season four of Supernatural used.
Even with the earlier tension still filling the air, Dean introduced the group to Sam and Bobby later that night. Once Giles had discovered how knowledgeable Bobby was about the occult, the two had walked off into the Hyperion's garden, discussing everything they could and sharing the differences and similarities between practically raising two teenaged girls, one of whom was a Slayer, and two bullheaded young men.
Upon being reintroduced to Buffy by Spike, Sam smiled sheepishly and shook her hand, apologizing for any rudeness she'd suffered from his and Bobby's paranoia. Buffy had waved it off and in turn introduced the hunter to her younger sister, Willow, Xander, and Angel. Subsequently, once Sam had exchanged niceties with the two men, Dean had approached Willow and taken her aside, asking her about the possibility of recovering his memories, now that Sam was with him again.
Willow's eyes had practically glowed from even being asked, and she'd excitedly agreed, almost bouncing from the chance to help Dean this way. Which was why, two days later, she appeared in a manic whirlwind of ecstatic hyperness, charging down the stairs of the hotel.
“I’ve done it!” Willow squealed as she ran into the lobby, waving around a piece of paper. Her red hair stuck up in flyaways all around her, not quite lending to her unintentional Mad Scientist impersonation, but nudging it along just enough that Dean just couldn't help but laugh.
“You’ve done what?” Dean asked, a smirk on his face. “Created a monster? Won the lottery?” His eyes lit up. "Figured out a way to make an ever-flowing fountain of beer?"
“No. And I‘m not going to make a beer fountain no matter how nicely you and Spike keep asking,” Willow said, dropping her arm, a mock pout on her face. Her grin broke through almost immediately. “I found a way to get your memories back.”
“You did?” Dean asked, hope and fear filling him. Everyone else stared, while Sam, Bobby, and Spike came to stand next to Dean, all waiting for Willow to continue.
“Yeah,” Willow said, pride in her discovery flowing along her words. “I’ve even got most of the ingredients. I just need to get a few more and we’re all set.”
“Give me that,” Sam demanded as he reached forward and grabbed the paper from her hand. Bobby was quickly by his side, their eyes scanning the list of ingredients and the spell itself.
“I think this might actually work,” Bobby said as he let Sam show Dean.
“Of course it will work,” Willow said, slightly insulted that they might not have believed her.
“Excuse me if I don’t want to put all of my faith in someone I barely know,” Bobby said, before turning back to Sam.
“Willow’s a really powerful witch,” Buffy said, her tone insulted on her best friend's behalf as her arms crossed and a scowl appeared on her face.
“Doesn’t mean she’s always right,” Spike replied softly as he too read over the spell.
“Spike…” Buffy said pleadingly. “You know if anyone can do this, it’s Willow.”
“Didn’t bloody say she couldn’t do it,” Spike answered, looking back at Buffy. “I said she’s not always right. It never hurts to have an extra pair of eyes read things over.”
“He’s right, Buffy,” Willow said, her excitement dimmed slightly. “How many spells did I mess up before I finally started to get them right?”
“You always got them right when it really counted,” Buffy said, standing by her friend.
“Hey, as long as she doesn’t turn my brain to Swiss cheese I’m good,” Dean said handing the spell back to Sam.
“I promise I’ll do my best,” Willow said, eyes focused on Dean.
“I know you will.” Dean nodded. “How long is it going to take to get everything ready?”
“Um…tomorrow around noonish?” Willow said, her face scrunched up in thought. “I need to get the rest of the ingredients, and prepare everything before we start.”
“Right.” Dean nodded. “Sam, Spike? Want to go out and kill something? I’m feeling a bit edgy right now.”
“Come on, mate,” Spike said as he pulled on his jacket. “I know just the place. We‘ll be back later, all. Don‘t bother waiting up.”
Before any one could respond, Spike and Dean headed out the door, dragging a reluctant Sam behind them.
“Hey, wait up! Spike? Spike! Don‘t you dare go slaying without me!” Buffy called as she grabbed a weapon and rushed out the door behind them.
“That poor boy won’t know what hit him.” Bobby chucked softly to himself.
“Why do you say that?” Angel asked, eyeing the hunter wearily.
“Because it seems Dean has landed in the only place with people as thickheaded and gung-ho as he is, and Sam has just been dragged along for the ride.”
Then next day saw a slightly battered Spike, Dean and Sam sitting around the lobby, quietly watching Willow set up the spell. Dawn and Xander were out getting lunch, and taking their time, while an equally battered Buffy watched from the sidelines with Angel and Bobby. Giles had gone back to his hotel room, citing the need for peace and quiet.
As she placed the last candle in its spot, Willow nodded to herself before checking over her list. “That should be everything. Dean, I need you to stand in the circle, please.”
Nodding, Dean carefully stepped forward, making sure not to mess up the delicate chalk patterns on the floor.
“All right,” Dean said. “Let’s get this thing over with.”
With a slight nod, Willow motioned for silence. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and offered a prayer and request for blessing from the Goddess before she started a low, steady chant. Her words, slowly gained in volume, rolling and churning in a musical rhythm. Bobby followed along, carefully weighing each word, making sure nothing was
left out. Sam tried to follow, but his worry kept him focused on Dean, and the words barely penetrated.
When Willow raised her hands, the chant ending on a shout, the flames of the candles flared up brightly before abruptly extinguishing. Dean stood perfectly still, eyes closed. No one spoke for several minutes.
Taking a few cautious steps forward, Sam raised his hand, intent on seeing if Dean was okay.
“Dean…” Sam said softly.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” Dean yelled as he backed out of the circle. His face was scrunched up, one hand resting on his forehead. He was breathing hard and Spike could hear his heart beating entirely too fast inside his chest.
Looking up, Dean’s eyes were wide, grief and agony filling them. “I…I need to think.”
Dean turned and fled upstairs. A minute later the sound of a door slamming echoed throughout the lobby.
"Guess the spell worked," Buffy said softly with a shrug, her eyebrows raised as she gazed in the direction that Dean had taken off in. She didn't think she had ever seen anyone look so spooked -- particularly Dean who was so similar to Spike in every way it was impossible to think of him ever being scared of anything.
"How can you be so cavalier about this?" Sam asked, the anger in his eyes glinting as his gaze shot from where his brother had gone, to the blonde girl sitting on the counter across from Spike.
"Don't let it bother you, Sam," Spike said, heaving a put-upon sigh and shaking his head at Buffy, his eyes staring almost through her in his disappointment. "Slayer is just being her typical obtuse self.”
"What? Spike, no!" Buffy cried, eyes widening. Oh, god, why couldn't she ever say anything right when she was around him anymore? "I was just... I didn't mean to... I was only trying to-“
"Know what you were saying, Buffy," Spike interrupted, his voice gentle but not without reproach. "It's the tone I suspect Sam is taking offence to." The displeasure in those beautiful blue eyes of his was almost more than Buffy could bear, and unable to keep his gaze, she ducked her head down miserably.
“Slayer,” Spike started, his tone gentling. “Buffy…”
Willow, sensing the tension between the two blondes, immediately turned her head and began gathering up her things to afford them some privacy, and the remaining group followed suit, not wanting to witness what was sure to be a personal moment.
“I’m going to go check on Dean,” Sam murmured softly, eyes darting between Buffy and Spike before he turned and quickly ran up the stairs.
Without everyone's eyes on them, Buffy slumped down, huddling in on herself. “Why can’t we talk to each other anymore?” Buffy asked quietly. “We used to be able to. And now all we do is say the wrong things, and fight.”
“Think you‘re not remembering things properly,” Spike said with a slight grin as he crossed the room and took a seat beside her. “We were well known for putting our foots in it.”
“Spike,” Buffy said, raising her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
A thousand and more meanings were carried along her words.
“I know, luv,” Spike said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze. “I know.”
The memories had come rushing back. The night his mother died, holding his baby brother in his arms and vowing to protect him just like his Dad wanted, taking care of Sam while their father was off hunting a demon or ghost, not sure if this would be the night he wouldn’t come home. Later, the fighting, Sammy wanting a normal life and their father wanting to keep their small family close. Then came the hunt for their Dad, Jessica dying, Sam’s visions, both of Dean’s near deaths, their Dad’s sacrifice, and later Sam’s own death and the deal Dean had made to bring him back. Then he’d died at the claws of Lilith’s hellhounds.
Dean clearly remembered his heart struggling to beat, the tears in his flesh caused by the hellhounds, the taste of his own blood. His own screams, and the screams of millions of damned souls raging along with him, and the demons who gleefully cut into him, day after day, year after year, so many demons that Dean had lost count. A part of him felt like he could still smell the sulfur in the air, could still feel the blades as they cut into him, how they had cut into others…
A knock on the door drew him from his slumped position against the wall. Wiping his face, Dean stalked forward.
“I told you I needed time to think!” Dean snarled as he swung open the door. Sam was standing on the other side.
“And what makes you think I was going to leave you alone to suffer?” Sam asked, voice raised. “Hell, even when you were dead I was looking for a way to bring you back!”
“Well I’m back, now you can go,” Dean growled as he started to slam the door.
“Dean,” Sam sighed, his voice heavy. “Don’t shut me out.”
“I’m not." As he was being drawn into the conversation anyway, Dean shook his head and backed away from the door. “I just… Sammy, I’m part demon now.”
“Yeah, I know,” Sam replied.
“You were okay with it before you got your memories back,” Sam pointed out as he stepped into the room and closed the door.
“You weren’t.” Dean watched as Sam ducked his head, taking deep breaths in a way Dean knew meant he was struggling with his emotions.
“Dean.” Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Before I got here, I wasn’t even sure if it was really you.”
“Yeah well, now we both know the truth.”
“And what’s that?” Dean could hear the anger in his brother’s voice.
“I came back wrong, Sam,” Dean said, frustration, anger and fear causing his voice to crack.
“No,” Sam said. “Dean…”
“I’ve got a demon in me!” Dean yelled. “An honest to God demon. And lets not forget these damn visions that pound my skull night after night. Sam, don’t you realize how far off the reservation I’ve gone? How far from normal? How far from human?”
“Dean,” Sam said coming to stand before his brother. “Angel said that demon is there to help you survive those visions.”
“Dude, that‘s not the point,” Dean said with a sigh.
“How? Cause this is about you?”
“Goddamn it, Sam, fuck off!” Dean yelled, pushing Sam towards the door.
“Why? Do you feel like this makes you less you?” Sam yelled back, grabbing hold of Dean’s arms. “Cause from where I’m standing you’re still the same overprotective jackass that I grew up with.”
“This isn’t a joke, damn it!” Dean yelled, though he couldn't quite stop himself from snorting with laughter at Sam's comment.
“I know,” Sam stated matter-of-factly, a grin appearing on his own face as he gave his brother a brief shake. “But you are being an ass.”
“Damn it, Sam,” Dean grumbled sitting on the edge of his bed. “We’re not going to have a chick flick moment, are we?”
“God no!” Sam laughed, sitting down beside his brother. “I’d have to hit you if we did.”
“Well that’s a relief. 'Course, if you tried to hit me, I’d kick your ass.”
“Yep,” the older Winchester said, a smug look on his face. “Being half demon makes me stronger than regular people. Gives me heightened senses too, though that can be a pain in the ass if I have to help Spike track some evil bastard in the sewers.”
“Ah, I see.” Sam nodded, failing to keep the laughter out of his voice. “You need the extra help. I understand.”
Dean's eyes narrowed. "You son of a -- Damn it, Sammy, you're going down!"
Sam barely had time to get his arms up as Dean tackled him off the bed.
The loud thumping sounds coming from above startled everyone. Eyes on the ceiling, the group heard the sound of furniture getting knocked over and when a particularly loud crash was heard, Spike turned, quickly running towards the stairs, fearing the worst. A surprisingly strong hand halted his progress.
“Don’t,” Bobby said. “Those two idgits are just screwing around.”
“And how the bloody hell would you know that?”
Bobby just stared at Spike for a moment. His expression clearly implying that there were now three idgits instead of the aforementioned two. “I’ve know those two boys their whole lives. If they were really fighting you would have heard it long before now.”
“Then what are they doing up there?” Buffy asked, flinching as another crash sounded from above.
“Probably beating the tar out of each other,” Bobby said with a casual shrug.
“It‘s a Winchester thing,” Bobby interrupted, voice firm. “Their Daddy was the same way.”
“You telling stories again, Bobby?” Dean’s voice floated down to the group in the lobby. Both Sam and Dean were slowly coming down the stairs, a few bruises starting to show already. Spike breathed a sigh of relief, and then leveled the two with a glare.
“So, how much of the room did you two wankers destroy?” Spike asked, eyebrow raised. Dean shot Spike a patently fake look of innocence.
“Not a damn thing is wrong with the room, mate,” Dean said, all false cheer and casual disregard. “All four walls remain standing.”
“It’s nothing that can’t be fixed in a few hours,” Dean replied with a roll of his eyes.
“What about the lamp?” Sam asked, smirking at his brother.
“Dude, that was a mercy killing,” Dean answered with an exaggerated shudder.
“You broke the bloody lamp?” Spike asked, eyes wide.
“What?” Dean asked. “It was ugly. Besides, Sam was the one who knocked it over.”
“After you pushed me into the nightstand,” Sam shot back.
Spike sighed, lowering his head. It wasn’t like he really cared about the lamp, Dean was right after all, it had been ugly. But that meant it had to be replaced and Spike hated shopping. But so did Dean.
“You’re buying a new lamp.” So, he’d make Dean do it.