I am now officially a babbling idiot--I Might Lose the Sun, part 2
Time for---
Warnings before reading: still Wincest (woot!), still non-explicit (>maaaaan<), lots of beautiful angst, and there' still evil!demon!Dean *waves*. Um, a new addition: Ruby (what?omg), 'cause why have just one demon when canon lets us have TWO?
I Might Lose the Sun, part 2
He feels brittle, like there's electric currents under his skin, splintering his bones. He doesn't want to think, doesn't want to know what others would say about what he's done (what he's let leave). The truth is, though, that when he had woken up Dean had been long gone. The only things that showed he was ever here is a blank piece of hotel paper left on the sidetable, beared down by keys; car keys, to be exact, but one glance and Sam knows they aren't the Impala's. He doesn't have a car alarm, for one, and the Toyota emblem embossed on the metal is a dead giveaway. Shit, he thinks, but he isn't really surprised. The Impala had always been Dean's, and though it had been Sam's home for more years than he can count, his brother had always withheld the right to ownership. So, yeah, he isn't surprised, but the hot weight spreading through him kind of feels like mourning, and he isn't sure what it's for.
He can't bring himself to leave the hotel room. He isn't sure what he expects (theyknowtheyknowtheyknow), but the room feels safe after retaping the wards and smoothing the salt back into place, and that's what he wants. He strips the sheets (bare, scratchy mattress but he'll live), takes a shower, and then he's tired again. It's the simplest thing in the world to crawl into bed again, wrap himself in the one clean blanket, and ignore everything else. So he does.
That night he dreams of Dean, rolling down some old-country back road. The windows are open and Zeppelin pours from the speakers; he doesn't know how fast the Impala's going, but the wind rushing over the car sounds long, drawn-out, never-ending. Like screaming, Sam thinks, and then he's gone.
888
When Ruby slides into the booth, Sam's not even surprised. This is what his life has turned into--he has one demon on the loose he won't kill, why not add another?
"So, Sam." Her eyes are clear, are blue, and Sam thinks public. "What have you been up to lately?"
He breathes over the coffee cup he's holding, feels the steam heat his face before putting it down on the scarred table. "What d'you want?" He won't play her games, not when he just wants this to be over.
"Fine. Be that way." She leans toward him slightly, grin quirking her lips. "Hear Dean's in town," she's trying to bait him, rub salt into his wounds, but if that's her best, then Sam thinks he's safe. "Wants to see you."
"You're his messenger now? Fallen pretty far, there, Ruby."
That hit. He sees it in the sudden tension around her eyes, in the body that's all coiled intent. "Funny, Sammy, but I'm not the one fucking my brother." She shrugs, relaxes. "But," pale, delicate fingers snag his coffee, raise it to her mouth. Sam's sure the girl the body belonged to is long dead, but he still winces at the burns the liquid has to be leaving. "Have you been hunting?"
It's his turn to shrug. "Here and there, but you don't need me to tell you that." His own smile feels stiff, like it doesn't belong to him. "Why?"
"Lilith." Sam opens his mouth, but Ruby stops him, stares him down. "She's not gunning for you at the moment. So neither are any of the big names. Too pathetic." Not quite what he was expecting but it works. "I was thinking. With everyone's back turned we could strike. Take them out."
"Well, seeing as we failed the last time, I can't say I'm interested." He reaches over, takes the cup back, just for something to do with his hands. The bottom grates as he spins it on the rough surface of the tabletop.
"Huh." The noise drags his eyes back to Ruby's. "I told you once that you still have the powers Azazel gave you, Sam." She cocks her head, studying him. "That hasn't changed. Dean doesn't need your help--" she laughs, full and throaty, but her eyes never leave him. "Not at all. You could train, become stronger than anything in this place. Take on Lilith and you won't have any competition."
"So. What? Are you and Dean doing this together? Trying to make me go Darkside or something?" He waves over a waitress, watches as the coffee is poured into his cup. Shakes his head in answer to the woman's anything else?
"Ah. That's what you're thinking. Believe me, Sam. Your brother is working a whole other angle. I don't think Lilith even makes it on his radar." Sam doesn't know if this is a good thing or bad. "And I know what you're going to say. 'Demons lie,'" he chokes back the words. Waits. Then, "But we don't have to. Ever think of that? You humans are nasty enough that we only have to tell the truth; 'cause the things you people come up with? Hell can't even compete."
"I've told you my answer, Ruby. Take it and leave." He can't do it, can't go down that road of visions and pain and fear; Dean hadn't wanted that even to save himself, and now, Sam knows, there is no reason. He had come to Red Lodge to follow up on those vampires he and his brother had saved--if they came back, if they were still leaving humans alone. That's all. He isn't interested in Lilith, who has about a hundred stories to her name. Mother of Cain. Begetter of a whole race of demonic chimeras. The true mother of darkness. Somewhere, Sam is sure, people believe that Lilith spawned bad toupees and squeaky doors. Truth in legend is a matter of view point, not reality. And Sam isn't ready to wade through that again; he's got a set up with Bobby, and he passes along information if he runs across it, if it seems viable. But that's all he can do, now; he's too scattered for anything else.
"Yeah." She slides herself out of the booth. Stands and stretches and Sam hears joints pop; he wonders how long Ruby's had that body. "I figured you wouldn't go for it. Not the Winchester way to go in with the best weapons, the best advantage." What comes out of her mouth is almost a giggle, and sounds obscene. "No, you guys like those last-ditch efforts, don't you?" She bends down over him, close enough that he can smell the coffee on her breath. "Thought I'd try, though; see if you were up to a little redemption." She backs away, but Sam knows she isn't done. She has too much information to work with. "Want some free advice, Sam?" He thinks no, no, not from you, but she goes on, "Be careful with him, Sam. I know what you want to believe, but it's not real. He's a newbie, and he's learning fast. Faster than you." She shakes her head, starts for the door. "So, what I'm saying is: get out, because you won't win, even if you try to fight." But she throws her hands up, like she knows how the end looks, and then she leaves. Sam doesn't try to see where she's heading.
He just sits, drinks down the cooling coffee and waits. He doesn't know what this means. Ruby and Dean, both cornering him within two weeks of each other. He knows they're playing something, covering it up with the demons freed when the Devil's Gate was open. It's the perfect patsy, Sam thinks. There's going to be havoc, if their plans spread out, adds to the mess already overwhelming hunters, and they don't know that Dean and Ruby are in, Sam knows that. Sam's the only one who does, and he hasn't told anyone. Can't imagine that conversation going over well. Hey, Ellen, yeah. Listen. While I was in Red Lodge making sure vampires were okay, I ran into Ruby and let her go. Yeah, and by the way, Dean's out. What can he say? Don't worry, I've got it under control? He doesn't; even he knows how much he's fucked up. Yeah, the option to tell had pretty much run out as soon as he let his brother walk out the door.
When Sam's sure Ruby is long gone, he gets up and walks to the counter, ready to settle his bill and get away. He gives the waitress that served him a ten out of his wallet, says no, keep it when she hands him change. It doesn't matter, in the bigger scheme of things. Won't make one difference, and it's just another thing he's guilty of, that he feels like bleach through his veins.
888
He goes to the old house, where he had first been taken. Where he had met Lenore and Eli; right then, he thinks, he knew that nothing was black and white. Lenore's earnest face flashes through his mind, and he knows she isn't here, had left as soon as she could. But he still goes in, sees the abandoned boxes and remnants of her life. It's covered with time, with dust and grime; everything here is, and yet he can't look away, can't leave until he sees everything.
It's proof, he supposes, of doing the right thing, when everybody thought it was a mistake. Why kill a handful of creatures not doing any harm when there are a thousand others that will never be caught, that will do worse? Dean hadn't been comfortable with it, even after. He had still wanted to go back, track them down, finish them, because evil's evil, Sammy, there's no gray. Dean had always hated Sam's gray spaces; the way Sam could never define something as just good or just bad. Fought tooth and nail over it, and now Sam thinks his brother must be revelling in it.
But he's seen everything the house has to hold, all of its secrets. It's left him wanting something, anything, and he backs out, remembers the old clearing where the first body had been found (Sam, that's a fang). Remembers reading the police reports and discovering that it wasn't far from where Lenore's group had lived. It had been behind the house and farmland, and he heads there--unsure of why, but willing to take what he can get.
The walk doesn't take long. Even after being abandoned, the track leading to the spot is still pretty much untouched, allowing the moonlight in through the trees so that he doesn't even need to use the flashlight he brought. No, it's not taking long at all, but Sam's pretty sure something's waiting for him there. He feels the knowledge spread like goosebumps over his arms.
But it's the metallic taste at the back of his throat, stifling and alive, that tells him, before he steps out into the vacant area--broken only by one thick tree--who it is. "You took the Impala." And the shape at the base of the tree shifts; Sam still can't see him clearly, but he knows Dean can hear him.
"Told ya, Sam. She's mine." The voice is warm, affectionate. Sam moves closer, stepping over roots, until he can kneel down in front of his brother. "How're you liking the other car?"
"It goes," he says. "I like what you did with the trunk." This close and he can see Dean's face--smirking, bone-pale in the light. He's so at ease Sam's heart clenches. "Saw you took a few things, though."
"Just a few." Dean stretches his legs out, makes a vee to accomodate Sam. "Didn't think you'd miss 'em." He picks up a pine needle, idly shreds it, letting the remains fall beneath him. Sam watches, knows he's caught. He's beginning to get used to the feeling.
"Dean." The hands stop and his brother's eyes are on him now. Still (lifeless). "What have you been doing?" And it could've been a light-hearted question, except Sam's voice is hoarse, can't control the vague horror that spawned the question.
"Always with the half-assed questions, little brother." His stare is still intent, lips pursed for a moment. "Don't ask things you don't really wanna know, Sammy." He flicks the stem away, brushes off his hands. "'Cause I'll answer you, if you want. I can take you with me and we can stop meeting up like this. If you want. But," there's an edge to his voice, and Sam almost wants to lean away, get space between them. Almost. "I don't think you do."
Sam doesn't want to know. Because if it's blood and death, and Dean tells him then Sam can't hide it, can't reason away his actions. But he can't stop himself, either. Too many questions are bubbling up, things their dad taught them to look for, and he can't not. "Who's car am I driving? How'd you get it?"
"I have my ways, Sam. Anyway, still gotta look out for you, right? Couldn't leave you stranded in Georgia, of all places."
Sam remembers to breathe. He's shaking, muscles jumping under his skin, but he plunges on, "Damn it, Dean, just--"
He doesn't see his brother surge up, but he's suddenly splayed on his back and Dean's thighs are pressing in on either side of Sam's hips. "What do you want to see, Sam?" He leans closer and his eyes are all Sam can focus on. "This?" Black overtakes green and Sam tries to sink into the earth beneath him. Not this, not this. Please. Dean's darting down, and Sam has nowhere else to go, so he shuts his eyes as Dean bites at his mouth. Raw. Hunger. Sam feels it, but this isn't his brother, is far from anything Sam's known.
"Stop." He tries to jerk his head away, but there's hands holding him still. "Dean." His bottom lip stings where Dean's sunk teeth in, and Sam feels something warm trickle down to his chin. Blood, he thinks, and then Dean is there, slowing. His brother doesn't move away, just rests against him.
"Fine. Not that kinky, I guess." The laugh huffs out of him and Sam feels it travel down Dean's body and into his own. Then warmth is teasing at him, and he opens, but Dean's tongue darts away, goes slightly lower. "Hmm," is all his brother says; Sam knows Dean's tasting his blood, licking it away; he can't complain, though, because when he sees his brother's face again he's greeted by warm green eyes and it's enough. It's all he needs.
Continued in 'Interlude'
Oh! Does any one know what Ruby's eye-color was? I know she wasn't always black-eyed *key dramatic eye-wooshing in episode somethingsomething*. But I cannot remember what it was. So, I took liberties *hides*
Warnings before reading: still Wincest (woot!), still non-explicit (>maaaaan<), lots of beautiful angst, and there' still evil!demon!Dean *waves*. Um, a new addition: Ruby (what?omg), 'cause why have just one demon when canon lets us have TWO?
I Might Lose the Sun, part 2
He feels brittle, like there's electric currents under his skin, splintering his bones. He doesn't want to think, doesn't want to know what others would say about what he's done (what he's let leave). The truth is, though, that when he had woken up Dean had been long gone. The only things that showed he was ever here is a blank piece of hotel paper left on the sidetable, beared down by keys; car keys, to be exact, but one glance and Sam knows they aren't the Impala's. He doesn't have a car alarm, for one, and the Toyota emblem embossed on the metal is a dead giveaway. Shit, he thinks, but he isn't really surprised. The Impala had always been Dean's, and though it had been Sam's home for more years than he can count, his brother had always withheld the right to ownership. So, yeah, he isn't surprised, but the hot weight spreading through him kind of feels like mourning, and he isn't sure what it's for.
He can't bring himself to leave the hotel room. He isn't sure what he expects (theyknowtheyknowtheyknow), but the room feels safe after retaping the wards and smoothing the salt back into place, and that's what he wants. He strips the sheets (bare, scratchy mattress but he'll live), takes a shower, and then he's tired again. It's the simplest thing in the world to crawl into bed again, wrap himself in the one clean blanket, and ignore everything else. So he does.
That night he dreams of Dean, rolling down some old-country back road. The windows are open and Zeppelin pours from the speakers; he doesn't know how fast the Impala's going, but the wind rushing over the car sounds long, drawn-out, never-ending. Like screaming, Sam thinks, and then he's gone.
888
When Ruby slides into the booth, Sam's not even surprised. This is what his life has turned into--he has one demon on the loose he won't kill, why not add another?
"So, Sam." Her eyes are clear, are blue, and Sam thinks public. "What have you been up to lately?"
He breathes over the coffee cup he's holding, feels the steam heat his face before putting it down on the scarred table. "What d'you want?" He won't play her games, not when he just wants this to be over.
"Fine. Be that way." She leans toward him slightly, grin quirking her lips. "Hear Dean's in town," she's trying to bait him, rub salt into his wounds, but if that's her best, then Sam thinks he's safe. "Wants to see you."
"You're his messenger now? Fallen pretty far, there, Ruby."
That hit. He sees it in the sudden tension around her eyes, in the body that's all coiled intent. "Funny, Sammy, but I'm not the one fucking my brother." She shrugs, relaxes. "But," pale, delicate fingers snag his coffee, raise it to her mouth. Sam's sure the girl the body belonged to is long dead, but he still winces at the burns the liquid has to be leaving. "Have you been hunting?"
It's his turn to shrug. "Here and there, but you don't need me to tell you that." His own smile feels stiff, like it doesn't belong to him. "Why?"
"Lilith." Sam opens his mouth, but Ruby stops him, stares him down. "She's not gunning for you at the moment. So neither are any of the big names. Too pathetic." Not quite what he was expecting but it works. "I was thinking. With everyone's back turned we could strike. Take them out."
"Well, seeing as we failed the last time, I can't say I'm interested." He reaches over, takes the cup back, just for something to do with his hands. The bottom grates as he spins it on the rough surface of the tabletop.
"Huh." The noise drags his eyes back to Ruby's. "I told you once that you still have the powers Azazel gave you, Sam." She cocks her head, studying him. "That hasn't changed. Dean doesn't need your help--" she laughs, full and throaty, but her eyes never leave him. "Not at all. You could train, become stronger than anything in this place. Take on Lilith and you won't have any competition."
"So. What? Are you and Dean doing this together? Trying to make me go Darkside or something?" He waves over a waitress, watches as the coffee is poured into his cup. Shakes his head in answer to the woman's anything else?
"Ah. That's what you're thinking. Believe me, Sam. Your brother is working a whole other angle. I don't think Lilith even makes it on his radar." Sam doesn't know if this is a good thing or bad. "And I know what you're going to say. 'Demons lie,'" he chokes back the words. Waits. Then, "But we don't have to. Ever think of that? You humans are nasty enough that we only have to tell the truth; 'cause the things you people come up with? Hell can't even compete."
"I've told you my answer, Ruby. Take it and leave." He can't do it, can't go down that road of visions and pain and fear; Dean hadn't wanted that even to save himself, and now, Sam knows, there is no reason. He had come to Red Lodge to follow up on those vampires he and his brother had saved--if they came back, if they were still leaving humans alone. That's all. He isn't interested in Lilith, who has about a hundred stories to her name. Mother of Cain. Begetter of a whole race of demonic chimeras. The true mother of darkness. Somewhere, Sam is sure, people believe that Lilith spawned bad toupees and squeaky doors. Truth in legend is a matter of view point, not reality. And Sam isn't ready to wade through that again; he's got a set up with Bobby, and he passes along information if he runs across it, if it seems viable. But that's all he can do, now; he's too scattered for anything else.
"Yeah." She slides herself out of the booth. Stands and stretches and Sam hears joints pop; he wonders how long Ruby's had that body. "I figured you wouldn't go for it. Not the Winchester way to go in with the best weapons, the best advantage." What comes out of her mouth is almost a giggle, and sounds obscene. "No, you guys like those last-ditch efforts, don't you?" She bends down over him, close enough that he can smell the coffee on her breath. "Thought I'd try, though; see if you were up to a little redemption." She backs away, but Sam knows she isn't done. She has too much information to work with. "Want some free advice, Sam?" He thinks no, no, not from you, but she goes on, "Be careful with him, Sam. I know what you want to believe, but it's not real. He's a newbie, and he's learning fast. Faster than you." She shakes her head, starts for the door. "So, what I'm saying is: get out, because you won't win, even if you try to fight." But she throws her hands up, like she knows how the end looks, and then she leaves. Sam doesn't try to see where she's heading.
He just sits, drinks down the cooling coffee and waits. He doesn't know what this means. Ruby and Dean, both cornering him within two weeks of each other. He knows they're playing something, covering it up with the demons freed when the Devil's Gate was open. It's the perfect patsy, Sam thinks. There's going to be havoc, if their plans spread out, adds to the mess already overwhelming hunters, and they don't know that Dean and Ruby are in, Sam knows that. Sam's the only one who does, and he hasn't told anyone. Can't imagine that conversation going over well. Hey, Ellen, yeah. Listen. While I was in Red Lodge making sure vampires were okay, I ran into Ruby and let her go. Yeah, and by the way, Dean's out. What can he say? Don't worry, I've got it under control? He doesn't; even he knows how much he's fucked up. Yeah, the option to tell had pretty much run out as soon as he let his brother walk out the door.
When Sam's sure Ruby is long gone, he gets up and walks to the counter, ready to settle his bill and get away. He gives the waitress that served him a ten out of his wallet, says no, keep it when she hands him change. It doesn't matter, in the bigger scheme of things. Won't make one difference, and it's just another thing he's guilty of, that he feels like bleach through his veins.
888
He goes to the old house, where he had first been taken. Where he had met Lenore and Eli; right then, he thinks, he knew that nothing was black and white. Lenore's earnest face flashes through his mind, and he knows she isn't here, had left as soon as she could. But he still goes in, sees the abandoned boxes and remnants of her life. It's covered with time, with dust and grime; everything here is, and yet he can't look away, can't leave until he sees everything.
It's proof, he supposes, of doing the right thing, when everybody thought it was a mistake. Why kill a handful of creatures not doing any harm when there are a thousand others that will never be caught, that will do worse? Dean hadn't been comfortable with it, even after. He had still wanted to go back, track them down, finish them, because evil's evil, Sammy, there's no gray. Dean had always hated Sam's gray spaces; the way Sam could never define something as just good or just bad. Fought tooth and nail over it, and now Sam thinks his brother must be revelling in it.
But he's seen everything the house has to hold, all of its secrets. It's left him wanting something, anything, and he backs out, remembers the old clearing where the first body had been found (Sam, that's a fang). Remembers reading the police reports and discovering that it wasn't far from where Lenore's group had lived. It had been behind the house and farmland, and he heads there--unsure of why, but willing to take what he can get.
The walk doesn't take long. Even after being abandoned, the track leading to the spot is still pretty much untouched, allowing the moonlight in through the trees so that he doesn't even need to use the flashlight he brought. No, it's not taking long at all, but Sam's pretty sure something's waiting for him there. He feels the knowledge spread like goosebumps over his arms.
But it's the metallic taste at the back of his throat, stifling and alive, that tells him, before he steps out into the vacant area--broken only by one thick tree--who it is. "You took the Impala." And the shape at the base of the tree shifts; Sam still can't see him clearly, but he knows Dean can hear him.
"Told ya, Sam. She's mine." The voice is warm, affectionate. Sam moves closer, stepping over roots, until he can kneel down in front of his brother. "How're you liking the other car?"
"It goes," he says. "I like what you did with the trunk." This close and he can see Dean's face--smirking, bone-pale in the light. He's so at ease Sam's heart clenches. "Saw you took a few things, though."
"Just a few." Dean stretches his legs out, makes a vee to accomodate Sam. "Didn't think you'd miss 'em." He picks up a pine needle, idly shreds it, letting the remains fall beneath him. Sam watches, knows he's caught. He's beginning to get used to the feeling.
"Dean." The hands stop and his brother's eyes are on him now. Still (lifeless). "What have you been doing?" And it could've been a light-hearted question, except Sam's voice is hoarse, can't control the vague horror that spawned the question.
"Always with the half-assed questions, little brother." His stare is still intent, lips pursed for a moment. "Don't ask things you don't really wanna know, Sammy." He flicks the stem away, brushes off his hands. "'Cause I'll answer you, if you want. I can take you with me and we can stop meeting up like this. If you want. But," there's an edge to his voice, and Sam almost wants to lean away, get space between them. Almost. "I don't think you do."
Sam doesn't want to know. Because if it's blood and death, and Dean tells him then Sam can't hide it, can't reason away his actions. But he can't stop himself, either. Too many questions are bubbling up, things their dad taught them to look for, and he can't not. "Who's car am I driving? How'd you get it?"
"I have my ways, Sam. Anyway, still gotta look out for you, right? Couldn't leave you stranded in Georgia, of all places."
Sam remembers to breathe. He's shaking, muscles jumping under his skin, but he plunges on, "Damn it, Dean, just--"
He doesn't see his brother surge up, but he's suddenly splayed on his back and Dean's thighs are pressing in on either side of Sam's hips. "What do you want to see, Sam?" He leans closer and his eyes are all Sam can focus on. "This?" Black overtakes green and Sam tries to sink into the earth beneath him. Not this, not this. Please. Dean's darting down, and Sam has nowhere else to go, so he shuts his eyes as Dean bites at his mouth. Raw. Hunger. Sam feels it, but this isn't his brother, is far from anything Sam's known.
"Stop." He tries to jerk his head away, but there's hands holding him still. "Dean." His bottom lip stings where Dean's sunk teeth in, and Sam feels something warm trickle down to his chin. Blood, he thinks, and then Dean is there, slowing. His brother doesn't move away, just rests against him.
"Fine. Not that kinky, I guess." The laugh huffs out of him and Sam feels it travel down Dean's body and into his own. Then warmth is teasing at him, and he opens, but Dean's tongue darts away, goes slightly lower. "Hmm," is all his brother says; Sam knows Dean's tasting his blood, licking it away; he can't complain, though, because when he sees his brother's face again he's greeted by warm green eyes and it's enough. It's all he needs.
Continued in 'Interlude'
Oh! Does any one know what Ruby's eye-color was? I know she wasn't always black-eyed *key dramatic eye-wooshing in episode somethingsomething*. But I cannot remember what it was. So, I took liberties *hides*