Cherries
By Javawolf
Author's Note: Wow. Holy Cow, I was out of commission there for a little bit huh? There's a lot going in my life right now. I'm not going to complain or vent to you, but I will say that I'm having a hard time lately, and chapters may continue to be spaced extremely far apart. I have not, however, given up. This story is so much fun to write and I just love you guys so much, I couldn't quit. I'm just going extremely slowly. Sorry guys. But, on a higher note. The next chapter of Cherries! (About bloody time. (Grumble, grumble. (Don't you love parenthesis?)))
ShinodaBear: Above Cloud 9? Hmm... I really don't know. I think I'd like to see it if there is a Cloud 10! Wouldn't that be cool? Well, thank you, I'm so glad you liked it!
Raga2Dope: Oh m-gosh, I'm SO sorry I took so long. You were so nice in your review, and all you asked was for a quick update, and I failed you. I beg you, forgive me? I dedicate this chapter to all those who are thoroughly pissed off at me.
Ricechex: Luckin' fovely? Wow. (Grin) You like my poem? Thanks! And, oh! More brownies? I'm the most spoiled writer alive, and I have the best readers! Look, cookies too! Chocolate chip! (Hello, Shinoda. I'm there with you on Cloud 10!) You guys are so great!
Spike couldn't sleep. He didn't know whether this was due to the fact he didn't want to sleep, or simply because his new room mate insisted on playing the air guitar while listening to his tapes at 11am. Considering that in the real world this was nothing out of the ordinary, (besides the fact that this guy still listened to cassettes.) Spike felt no need to complain, but he couldn't reasonably leave the safety of the cabin and sleep was necessary.
"Hey, mate, could you give me a little bit to get some shut-eye?"
"Huh?" Blinked the young man. He wasn't incredibly tall, but he was broad shouldered and muscular. He wore a brown leather coat and blue jeans, and his chestnut-brown hair was spiked rather carelessly so that he looked like a well dressed bum, and even from his cot Spike could smell stale beer on him. He turned down the volume on his tape player and looked quizzically at this strange white-haired man.
"I said–" Spike repeated with mild frustration. "Could you maybe give a guy a small bit of time to himself? You know, to get in his share of 'nighty-night?'"
The young man snorted. "It's noon. You're weird."
"Oh." Spike frowned, dumbstruck. It wasn't like he hadn't heard that line hundreds, or hell, thousands of times before. But even after 150 years he still hadn't come up with a curt remark.
His room mate sat lightly on his own cot, looking Spike up and down, studying him.
Spike sighed.
"Oh hell with it." He spat. "Who needs sleep anyway? You got any cards?"
Blink. "Cards?" The man repeated dumbly.
"Yes. Cards." Spike raised an eyebrow. "You're a clever duck aren't you?" The man scowled at him. Spike chuckled. "What's your name, mate?"
"Martha." He answered as he dug through his suitcase for something.
"Well, Martha, name's Spike."
"Dean." The man sighed.
"You got a last name, Dean?"
"Far as I know."
Spike waited, but Dean merely gave him a look that said, 'Neener, neener, neener.' Only in a more angry and sarcastic way...
"I'm going to call you 'Ducky." Spike sneered.
"The hell you are." Dean scoffed, throwing a deck of cards at the vampire. Caught off guard, Spike dodged the make-shift missile with a short grunt. His room mate gave a victorious smirk.
"Got any cash?" He asked, this time with a genuine smile. Spike stared at him incredulously.
"I don't even have any luggage. I had a couple Benjamins, but they've since been transformed into a boat ticket, see."
"Well, marbles ain't any fun unless you're playing for keeps." Dean shrugged. "Do you have anything?" Spike searched his pockets.
"Eighty-three cents in nickels and dimes, and ... " He fished through his coat. "A notebook, which you can't have." He added quickly at Dean's interested glance.
"That's a nice coat." Dean hinted. "Damn."
Spike shook his head, not liking where this was going.
"What say we play a friendly game of Texas hold 'em; your coat against my ..." Now Dean fished through his pockets and coat. "Two hundred bucks."
"Not a bloody snowball's chance in hell!" Spike snatched his coat out of Dean's curious hands. Dean scoffed in reply. Then he began to bob his head with a child-like grin and flap his arms ridiculously.
"Bawk, bawk, baaaaawk!" He taunted.
Roughly ten minutes later, the two men sat staring each other blankly in the face, holding their cards up to their mouths; a black leather coat sitting neatly folded between them with $200 stuffed into the chest pocket.
"So ... Spike." Dean said as he turned over 2nd street. He said Spike's name slowly, as though trying wrap his ears around it and analyze it. "You, uh, got family?"
Spike shook his head. "Nah. Probably never will."
Dead nodded. "Yeah, I hear ya."
Spike looked up from his hand.
"You don't either, eh?"
Dean shrugged. "That depends on your definition of family. Not really."
Spike, getting the sense that this wasn't territory he should be crossing into, changed the subject.
"Where are you from?"
"Kansas, originally." Dean dealt 3rd street.
"Any particular reason you're crossing the drink?" Spike asked curiously. Dean blinked several times before answering.
"My aunt's sick in London, and I have to haul my ass over there to claim any money the stingy witch decided to donate to me. Probably nothing but what the hell, I gotta try. I could use the cash."
Spike frowned. "And yet you're betting everything you've got for a coat?" He said pointedly.
Dean merely shrugged, and Spike let it go.
4th street was dealt, and only seconds later, Dean was thrown to the ground. He grunted as Spike pushed him and held him down, pinning his arms down on either side of his head.
"I saw that!" Spike growled.
"Saw what!" Dean gasped, struggling to free himself under the vampire's weight. As if in reply, Spike dug into Dean's coat sleeve and pulled out an ace. He held it in Dean's face, shaking his head slowly.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk."
"Oh, look..." Dean chuckled shakily. "How'd that get there?"
Spike got off of his room mate and give him a moment catch his breath. He waited, staring intently at the man. After a minute Dean took the hint.
"Okay..." Dean sighed. "I'm a cheat. So sue me." He rolled his shoulders and neck until the silence was broken by a very loud crack. "You know," Dean persisted with arrogance. "You could've just given me a stern warning. You didn't have to tackle me, did you?"
"I've been wanting to hit you since I met you 30 minutes ago." Spike said cheerfully, much to Dean's irritation.
"Whatever, bitch. Let's play again. Fair and square."
"I win by default, Ducky." Spike sneered. Dean looked like he wanted to argue, but decided against it.
"Fine. At least buy me a beer." He insisted. Spike's expression softened.
"I can't."
Dean scoffed. "You just won $200 dollars! You can buy me a beer, dude."
"I – don't want to go outside. Sensitive skin." He added at Dean's puzzled an annoyed expression. "Sorry, mate."
Dean narrowed his eyes slightly.
Spike sighed. He pulled a crisp hundred dollar bill out of his coat pocket and handed it to Dean.
"There. By yourself a drink, alright?" And with that Spike threw himself onto his cot. Dean eyed him for a moment, and then moved to retrieve something from his suitcase.
A moment later Spike was hissing in pain and fury. He felt the shift force itself onto him from the burn. Dean tossed the empty bottle of Holy Water and threw himself at Spike, a stake in his hand.
"I can't believe you fooled me this long." He laughed manically. "I'm onto you now."
Another Note: Okay, I have to explain. (Ahem) Those of you who are familiar with the new television show, Supernatural may have already figured out that this Dean is that Dean. This story just became a crossover. (Shrugs. Sorry. False advertising.) I have several reasons for this, and they are as such.
1.) I'm lazy. I didn't feel like writing a new character, so I used one I already knew.
2.) I knew I wanted a demon hunter on the boat, for conflict, but I tried writing one and failed. I decided I needed someone new, not a Whedon-verse character; but also that I didn't want to take the time to write a new one. So again, laziness is my excuse.
3.) The man is damn sexy! I'm the kind of person who obsesses over everything, and right now I have Jensen Ackles on the brain. I couldn't help but write him in.
Now, also those who know the character and follow the show are shaking their heads at me, because my writing him in is so far off canon it's insulting. For this I have no excuse. But as I've already mentioned, this story is AU. It's my world, and if I say Dean Winchester is going to Europe, he's going to Europe! So there. (Grin)
Now review and rejoice at the arrival of another chapter! Cyber-brownies all around!