Into The Frying Pan
Title: Into The Frying Pan
Summary: I Know What You Did Last Summer-era. Dean finds stuff out.
Warnings/Spoilers: R for language, Spoilers through S4
Author's Note: I tried out an unusual POV this time. Let's watch the fun!
Hell is full of shrieks and the shocky sounds of electricity, full of the poisonous hissing voices of the damned, and for a stretch of time, full of Dean Winchester screaming his brother’s name.
“Can you hear him?” Sam sobs into Ruby’s neck.
She can, and wonders if it was a mistake to mention it to Sam. He’s been intermittently hysterical for days now, begging her to report on what Dean is saying, how much pain he’s in, begging her to relay messages into the pit for him (tell him I’ll get him out, please, please tell him I love him.)
She tells Sam she can’t carry messages.
The truth is, she won’t.
The truth is, she wants them both broken.
***
Sam’s been running a fever for days. He sleeps fitfully, shivering and breathing unevenly, too tired and sad to fight back, and she thinks he is going to be so easy to lead.
She likes Sam. She likes the way he soldiers on when he’s awake, the way he forgets everything in the service of revenge for the things that are being done to his brother. She likes the hardness in his eyes and the way he throws her against the wall when she doesn’t give him answers he likes.
He’s strong, she thinks. He’ll do.
If only he’d stop crying at night.
She holds him and pets his hair and tells him it will be all right, and one night she opens a vein on her neck and pulls him close to suckle, and he’s so maddened by grief that he closes his eyes and curls up and doesn’t even notice the perversion of what they’re doing.
He’ll do very well.
***
She likes Sam, but she doesn’t love him (which is fine, he doesn’t love her, no one’s pretending that’s what this is) except for one night.
One night she wakes up and Sam’s not beside her, and she follows his smell out of the room and finds him on his hands and knees at a crossroads, screaming take me, take me, and for a moment his screams are so raw, agonized, desperate, that they blend disharmoniously with his brother’s, and she hears them like they’re singing together just for her.
Sam is torturing himself, she thinks.
We don’t even have to do it for him.
The crossroads demon laughs and shakes her head and Sam lies screaming in the road, clawing at the dirt with his nails as though determined to dig to hell and pull Dean out himself.
She gets him up and takes him to bed and lets him drink from her wrists and cry while they fuck.
It’s the closest they ever come to lovemaking.
The next day, Dean comes back.
***
He doesn’t recognize her (of course he doesn’t) and this is fucked, months of work and investment in Sam Winchester and his brother waltzes out of hell and steals him away.
She is the bird on Sam Winchester’s shoulder, she will get him to where he needs to be. He’ll thank her in the end.
Dean shudders his way out of nightmares of the hell that spat him out whole, the hell that chewed her up and swallowed her, and Sam holds him and soothes him and apparently fucking forgets who did this for him when Dean was away.
She leaves them alone for a while.
When she comes back, Sam’s delirious with fever, and she hates to see him like this, but it’s worth it for the helpless, worthless look in Dean’s eyes.
***
Sam knows what he needs. She can tell as soon as she walks in. His head perks up like a dog’s, like he’s smelling her (he probably is).
Dean’s curled up on one bed, shaking off a nightmare, and Sam’s splayed feverishly across the other. Their fingertips meet in the middle. Sam’s mumbling and shaking and sweating and Dean’s just staring at him like he can’t get enough.
She kneels beside her man and lifts him up, feeds him sips from a prepared flask, because fuck if she’s bleeding in front of Dean, and by the time Dean gets out “What the fuck?” Sam’s sitting up on his own, taking deep breaths, his eyes clearing. He needs her, okay?
“Dean, it’s fine, it’s Ruby.”
His eyes narrow. “Ruby? What the fuck did she give you? Have you been with a demon all this time, Sam? Sam!”
“Dean, stop it. She’s not what you think.”
“She’s a demon, Sam!” He breathes hard, rakes his hands through his hair. “I spent fucking years among them, I know what they are.”
“Dean!”
“To keep you safe, Sam! I did it to keep you alive and safe and all the time you were…you were..fucking pals with one of them? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Are you under the impression we were having a good time?”
They both look at her. Sam says, “Ruby, you should…”
“No, he should know, Sam.” She turns to Dean. “He was barely alive. He was out of his mind. He was throwing himself at every demon who came along, trying to get down into the pit and find you.”
Dean looks like he’s been punched in the throat.
“He’s lucky I’m the only one who paid him any attention,” she says. “He’s lucky I wanted to keep him alive. He’s lucky someone was here to put him back together after you took him apart, you ridiculous, self-righteous, martyr asshole.”
She stops.
They’re staring at each other.
“Sammy,” Dean croaks.
Sam shakes his head hard.
“Sam, how could you do that?”
“How could you?"
“What?”
“How could you go away like that?” And he’s sobbing openly, loudly, like she hasn’t seen since that night at the crossroads.
“You were dead, Sammy…”
“You should have let me! You made me come back and live here while you…fuck…how was I supposed to be okay?”
She wants to hold him.
But this has to happen. They have to fall apart.
“Of course I tried to get you out!” Sam cries. “What would you have done, if it were me! If anyone - anyone - had said yes, I’d be down there right now, and you’d have been back months ago and not having these nightmares, Dean, and I’d be glad! I’d be fuckingcelebrating!”
Dean’s face hardens. “Don’t you ever fucking say that, Sam.”
“Then stop acting like this is something that just happened to you.” Sam’s voice breaks, and he loses all the volume and rage he’s built up. “You were dead. My brother was in hell because of me. I was barely human, I was so -“
Dean catches him in a hug and holds him still. “Shh. Hey. We’re here. We’re fine. It’s over now. It’s all over.”
It’s not over.
But she doesn’t tell them.
Not yet.
***
Sam finds her outside by the vending machine.
He tucks her hair behind her ear and sucks hard at her neck until the vein rises, and then he bites, gentle but sharp, and she lets herself go limp in his arms. He holds her like a doll and drinks until she feels dizzy with blood loss, and he pulls away red-lipped and dark-eyed.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“Of course.”
“We can’t tell Dean, okay?”
She nods, wraps her arms around him, strokes his hair. Like they used to. “Don’t worry. It’s our secret.”
Summary: I Know What You Did Last Summer-era. Dean finds stuff out.
Warnings/Spoilers: R for language, Spoilers through S4
Author's Note: I tried out an unusual POV this time. Let's watch the fun!
Hell is full of shrieks and the shocky sounds of electricity, full of the poisonous hissing voices of the damned, and for a stretch of time, full of Dean Winchester screaming his brother’s name.
“Can you hear him?” Sam sobs into Ruby’s neck.
She can, and wonders if it was a mistake to mention it to Sam. He’s been intermittently hysterical for days now, begging her to report on what Dean is saying, how much pain he’s in, begging her to relay messages into the pit for him (tell him I’ll get him out, please, please tell him I love him.)
She tells Sam she can’t carry messages.
The truth is, she won’t.
The truth is, she wants them both broken.
***
Sam’s been running a fever for days. He sleeps fitfully, shivering and breathing unevenly, too tired and sad to fight back, and she thinks he is going to be so easy to lead.
She likes Sam. She likes the way he soldiers on when he’s awake, the way he forgets everything in the service of revenge for the things that are being done to his brother. She likes the hardness in his eyes and the way he throws her against the wall when she doesn’t give him answers he likes.
He’s strong, she thinks. He’ll do.
If only he’d stop crying at night.
She holds him and pets his hair and tells him it will be all right, and one night she opens a vein on her neck and pulls him close to suckle, and he’s so maddened by grief that he closes his eyes and curls up and doesn’t even notice the perversion of what they’re doing.
He’ll do very well.
***
She likes Sam, but she doesn’t love him (which is fine, he doesn’t love her, no one’s pretending that’s what this is) except for one night.
One night she wakes up and Sam’s not beside her, and she follows his smell out of the room and finds him on his hands and knees at a crossroads, screaming take me, take me, and for a moment his screams are so raw, agonized, desperate, that they blend disharmoniously with his brother’s, and she hears them like they’re singing together just for her.
Sam is torturing himself, she thinks.
We don’t even have to do it for him.
The crossroads demon laughs and shakes her head and Sam lies screaming in the road, clawing at the dirt with his nails as though determined to dig to hell and pull Dean out himself.
She gets him up and takes him to bed and lets him drink from her wrists and cry while they fuck.
It’s the closest they ever come to lovemaking.
The next day, Dean comes back.
***
He doesn’t recognize her (of course he doesn’t) and this is fucked, months of work and investment in Sam Winchester and his brother waltzes out of hell and steals him away.
She is the bird on Sam Winchester’s shoulder, she will get him to where he needs to be. He’ll thank her in the end.
Dean shudders his way out of nightmares of the hell that spat him out whole, the hell that chewed her up and swallowed her, and Sam holds him and soothes him and apparently fucking forgets who did this for him when Dean was away.
She leaves them alone for a while.
When she comes back, Sam’s delirious with fever, and she hates to see him like this, but it’s worth it for the helpless, worthless look in Dean’s eyes.
***
Sam knows what he needs. She can tell as soon as she walks in. His head perks up like a dog’s, like he’s smelling her (he probably is).
Dean’s curled up on one bed, shaking off a nightmare, and Sam’s splayed feverishly across the other. Their fingertips meet in the middle. Sam’s mumbling and shaking and sweating and Dean’s just staring at him like he can’t get enough.
She kneels beside her man and lifts him up, feeds him sips from a prepared flask, because fuck if she’s bleeding in front of Dean, and by the time Dean gets out “What the fuck?” Sam’s sitting up on his own, taking deep breaths, his eyes clearing. He needs her, okay?
“Dean, it’s fine, it’s Ruby.”
His eyes narrow. “Ruby? What the fuck did she give you? Have you been with a demon all this time, Sam? Sam!”
“Dean, stop it. She’s not what you think.”
“She’s a demon, Sam!” He breathes hard, rakes his hands through his hair. “I spent fucking years among them, I know what they are.”
“Dean!”
“To keep you safe, Sam! I did it to keep you alive and safe and all the time you were…you were..fucking pals with one of them? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Are you under the impression we were having a good time?”
They both look at her. Sam says, “Ruby, you should…”
“No, he should know, Sam.” She turns to Dean. “He was barely alive. He was out of his mind. He was throwing himself at every demon who came along, trying to get down into the pit and find you.”
Dean looks like he’s been punched in the throat.
“He’s lucky I’m the only one who paid him any attention,” she says. “He’s lucky I wanted to keep him alive. He’s lucky someone was here to put him back together after you took him apart, you ridiculous, self-righteous, martyr asshole.”
She stops.
They’re staring at each other.
“Sammy,” Dean croaks.
Sam shakes his head hard.
“Sam, how could you do that?”
“How could you?"
“What?”
“How could you go away like that?” And he’s sobbing openly, loudly, like she hasn’t seen since that night at the crossroads.
“You were dead, Sammy…”
“You should have let me! You made me come back and live here while you…fuck…how was I supposed to be okay?”
She wants to hold him.
But this has to happen. They have to fall apart.
“Of course I tried to get you out!” Sam cries. “What would you have done, if it were me! If anyone - anyone - had said yes, I’d be down there right now, and you’d have been back months ago and not having these nightmares, Dean, and I’d be glad! I’d be fuckingcelebrating!”
Dean’s face hardens. “Don’t you ever fucking say that, Sam.”
“Then stop acting like this is something that just happened to you.” Sam’s voice breaks, and he loses all the volume and rage he’s built up. “You were dead. My brother was in hell because of me. I was barely human, I was so -“
Dean catches him in a hug and holds him still. “Shh. Hey. We’re here. We’re fine. It’s over now. It’s all over.”
It’s not over.
But she doesn’t tell them.
Not yet.
***
Sam finds her outside by the vending machine.
He tucks her hair behind her ear and sucks hard at her neck until the vein rises, and then he bites, gentle but sharp, and she lets herself go limp in his arms. He holds her like a doll and drinks until she feels dizzy with blood loss, and he pulls away red-lipped and dark-eyed.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“Of course.”
“We can’t tell Dean, okay?”
She nods, wraps her arms around him, strokes his hair. Like they used to. “Don’t worry. It’s our secret.”