Don't expect the apocalypse any time soon… (genfic, 1225 words, pg-13)
Another kind-of coda, this one for 3.04 and inspired by my overriding impression of demonic organisational skills.
Don't expect the apocalypse any time soon…
(genfic, 1225 words, pg-13, spoilers and crack)
Sam's sitting by the window, pouting, when Ruby finds him. Ruby hates it when he pouts. She had enough trouble convincing the demonic Horde to look past the fact that their Anti-Christ does puppy-dog eyes from time to time without him pouting. If Sam's pissed off, she's tried to teach him, the correct response is destruction and wrath. Not pouting. Never pouting. At least she'd had Dean's backup when it came to weaning Sam off the emo angsting in public.
She sits down across from him and is very pleased to see a spark of fury in his eyes when he looks at her. She tries her best wicked smile and feels it wilt when Sam's lips tighten into an even sulkier little pout.
"You said I should try giving my army an order," says Sam. His light, even tone does not disguise just how mad he is, apparently at her. "So I did. I said I wanted a small party and I said I wanted it in the Green Bell Brewery over on West Tuxon Boulevard. You know the one?"
Ruby raises an eyebrow.
"I was thinking you could try using your army for acts of mass slaughter, rather than for catering."
"You want to know how the party preparations worked out?" says Sam. Ruby doesn't think she does. Sam's smile, smooth and leonine confirms her suspicion that she really doesn't want to. "The brewery's been reduced to rubble, the manager is in custody after being 'nudged' into going on a shooting spree and apparently a whole run of kegs has to be recalled due to them being contaminated by something highly toxic to humans."
This doesn't sound like bad news to Ruby. In fact, this is pretty much what she'd expect from her fellow demons. Though she's impressed that they didn't overlook the potential for long-distance poisoning. But Sam's still smiling and it's the smile worthy of an Anti-Christ and Ruby gets edgy about it being pointed at her.
"No party though," says Sam. He laughs and it's half-hysterical. "My army was, quite literally, incapable of organising a piss-up in a brewery. And now I owe Dean fifty bucks because I was stupid enough to take a bet thinking that no one could be so freaking incompetent!"
"Don't worry about the money," says Ruby, as soothing as she can. "We'll get you some."
Sam's voice goes nicely deep and booming. It's the voice she wishes he'd use more often because there's all too often a slightly grating whining edge to his voice. She knows it's because he really doesn't like his new job but Anti-Christs shouldn't whine. It's kind of implied in the no-pouting rule.
"I'm not worried about the money! I'm worried that I'm the General of an army that might as well be made up of badly behaved three-year olds on a homicidal sugar high! I'm worried that you demons are so big on in-fighting, bickering and destroying things for the fucking sake of it that you couldn't even beat the hunters in a game of tic-tac-toe!"
In the time it takes for Ruby to blink, Sam seems to regret shouting at her. He pats her hand feebly and then cradles his head in his hands, muttering to himself under his breath. She wishes he wouldn't do that either, neither the being considerate to her thing nor the crazy-man mumbling. Not for the first time, she wishes Azazel had chosen an Anti-Christ who didn't appear quite so sweet and harmless.
"Look," she says, "it's gonna take them time, that's all. Party-planning isn't our specialty. And that's okay. It's not like you're gonna be taking over the world with parties, is it?" Sam looks up at her and the hopeful glint in his eye suggests she should speed on pretty quickly before Sam decides he wants to try it like that. "At least they tried following your order. That's something, yeah?"
Sam gives a little sigh and nods.
"Yeah. They tried. I guess it's the thought that counts." Ruby cringes at that but doesn't interrupt. "It's just… I don't see how I'm meant to do this. Y'know, leaving aside the fact that they were actually unable to work together long enough to organise a piss-up in a brewery, like Dean said, I don't know if I'm cut out for-"
At the introspective, melancholy turn Ruby can foresee Sam's contemplation taking, she cuts in as quick as she can, and with a subject she knows is likely to provoke more boomy voice from Sam.
"Y'know, talking of your brother, you could try asking him to stop being such a dick."
It does the trick nicely. Sam's eyes narrow and there's a hint of a snarl tugging at his lips as he looks at her.
"What do you mean?"
"He's not exactly helping things along, is he? I mean, for one, you could ask him to lay off the Crossroads Demon."
Sam's brow furrows in confusion and Ruby can't believe he's managed to miss the whole debacle. Still, considering she's had to physically restrain the Crossroads Demon from tearing Dean apart - starting at his smirk - more than once, she's kind of relieved it's passed Sam by; they don't need their General inflicting any more casualties on his army than he and his brother have already done.
She sighs and tries to make the thing sound a little less kindergarten than it is in reality. Fuck knows Sam doesn't have a high opinion of his troops so far.
"Apparently, he's forcing her to help him organise his diary for next year." Sam's lips twitch ever so slightly and Ruby soldiers on in her attempt to salvage the Crossroads Demon's image. "Losing that contract is still a sore point for her and it's pretty fucking unhelpful of Dean to keep rubbing it in her face!"
Her attempts are lost on Sam and he collapses in helpless laughter. He slumps against the diner window and laughs until his voice cracks into strange, bellowing shrieks. Ruby reminds herself that killing him would a) invalidate all her hard work over the last year and get them right back to where they started and b) never work out as Sam is the Anti-Christ and no one's managed to kill him - permanently - yet.
"It's not funny," she says. "She's meant to be helping in the war and Dean's got her arranging his life insurance."
It's the wrong thing to say. Sam's abruptly in danger of choking to death on his own laughter. Ruby glares at him until he notices her expression and does his best to compose himself. His breath comes in small, hiccupping gasps and he has to wipe away tears with the back of his hand. He bites down hard on his lip to keep from smiling as he meets her gaze.
"How about: I'll tell Dean to stop mocking the demons and I'll get on with the End of Days once you lot are capable of cutting out the petty vandalism and jockeying for position long enough to organise dinner?" There's too much sharp perspective in the way Sam looks at her. Ruby shifts uncomfortably. "Seriously, do I need to think about mobilising the troops this side of my eightieth birthday?"
Somehow, somewhere down the line, Ruby thinks the demons got the short end of this deal.
~end
Don't expect the apocalypse any time soon…
(genfic, 1225 words, pg-13, spoilers and crack)
Sam's sitting by the window, pouting, when Ruby finds him. Ruby hates it when he pouts. She had enough trouble convincing the demonic Horde to look past the fact that their Anti-Christ does puppy-dog eyes from time to time without him pouting. If Sam's pissed off, she's tried to teach him, the correct response is destruction and wrath. Not pouting. Never pouting. At least she'd had Dean's backup when it came to weaning Sam off the emo angsting in public.
She sits down across from him and is very pleased to see a spark of fury in his eyes when he looks at her. She tries her best wicked smile and feels it wilt when Sam's lips tighten into an even sulkier little pout.
"You said I should try giving my army an order," says Sam. His light, even tone does not disguise just how mad he is, apparently at her. "So I did. I said I wanted a small party and I said I wanted it in the Green Bell Brewery over on West Tuxon Boulevard. You know the one?"
Ruby raises an eyebrow.
"I was thinking you could try using your army for acts of mass slaughter, rather than for catering."
"You want to know how the party preparations worked out?" says Sam. Ruby doesn't think she does. Sam's smile, smooth and leonine confirms her suspicion that she really doesn't want to. "The brewery's been reduced to rubble, the manager is in custody after being 'nudged' into going on a shooting spree and apparently a whole run of kegs has to be recalled due to them being contaminated by something highly toxic to humans."
This doesn't sound like bad news to Ruby. In fact, this is pretty much what she'd expect from her fellow demons. Though she's impressed that they didn't overlook the potential for long-distance poisoning. But Sam's still smiling and it's the smile worthy of an Anti-Christ and Ruby gets edgy about it being pointed at her.
"No party though," says Sam. He laughs and it's half-hysterical. "My army was, quite literally, incapable of organising a piss-up in a brewery. And now I owe Dean fifty bucks because I was stupid enough to take a bet thinking that no one could be so freaking incompetent!"
"Don't worry about the money," says Ruby, as soothing as she can. "We'll get you some."
Sam's voice goes nicely deep and booming. It's the voice she wishes he'd use more often because there's all too often a slightly grating whining edge to his voice. She knows it's because he really doesn't like his new job but Anti-Christs shouldn't whine. It's kind of implied in the no-pouting rule.
"I'm not worried about the money! I'm worried that I'm the General of an army that might as well be made up of badly behaved three-year olds on a homicidal sugar high! I'm worried that you demons are so big on in-fighting, bickering and destroying things for the fucking sake of it that you couldn't even beat the hunters in a game of tic-tac-toe!"
In the time it takes for Ruby to blink, Sam seems to regret shouting at her. He pats her hand feebly and then cradles his head in his hands, muttering to himself under his breath. She wishes he wouldn't do that either, neither the being considerate to her thing nor the crazy-man mumbling. Not for the first time, she wishes Azazel had chosen an Anti-Christ who didn't appear quite so sweet and harmless.
"Look," she says, "it's gonna take them time, that's all. Party-planning isn't our specialty. And that's okay. It's not like you're gonna be taking over the world with parties, is it?" Sam looks up at her and the hopeful glint in his eye suggests she should speed on pretty quickly before Sam decides he wants to try it like that. "At least they tried following your order. That's something, yeah?"
Sam gives a little sigh and nods.
"Yeah. They tried. I guess it's the thought that counts." Ruby cringes at that but doesn't interrupt. "It's just… I don't see how I'm meant to do this. Y'know, leaving aside the fact that they were actually unable to work together long enough to organise a piss-up in a brewery, like Dean said, I don't know if I'm cut out for-"
At the introspective, melancholy turn Ruby can foresee Sam's contemplation taking, she cuts in as quick as she can, and with a subject she knows is likely to provoke more boomy voice from Sam.
"Y'know, talking of your brother, you could try asking him to stop being such a dick."
It does the trick nicely. Sam's eyes narrow and there's a hint of a snarl tugging at his lips as he looks at her.
"What do you mean?"
"He's not exactly helping things along, is he? I mean, for one, you could ask him to lay off the Crossroads Demon."
Sam's brow furrows in confusion and Ruby can't believe he's managed to miss the whole debacle. Still, considering she's had to physically restrain the Crossroads Demon from tearing Dean apart - starting at his smirk - more than once, she's kind of relieved it's passed Sam by; they don't need their General inflicting any more casualties on his army than he and his brother have already done.
She sighs and tries to make the thing sound a little less kindergarten than it is in reality. Fuck knows Sam doesn't have a high opinion of his troops so far.
"Apparently, he's forcing her to help him organise his diary for next year." Sam's lips twitch ever so slightly and Ruby soldiers on in her attempt to salvage the Crossroads Demon's image. "Losing that contract is still a sore point for her and it's pretty fucking unhelpful of Dean to keep rubbing it in her face!"
Her attempts are lost on Sam and he collapses in helpless laughter. He slumps against the diner window and laughs until his voice cracks into strange, bellowing shrieks. Ruby reminds herself that killing him would a) invalidate all her hard work over the last year and get them right back to where they started and b) never work out as Sam is the Anti-Christ and no one's managed to kill him - permanently - yet.
"It's not funny," she says. "She's meant to be helping in the war and Dean's got her arranging his life insurance."
It's the wrong thing to say. Sam's abruptly in danger of choking to death on his own laughter. Ruby glares at him until he notices her expression and does his best to compose himself. His breath comes in small, hiccupping gasps and he has to wipe away tears with the back of his hand. He bites down hard on his lip to keep from smiling as he meets her gaze.
"How about: I'll tell Dean to stop mocking the demons and I'll get on with the End of Days once you lot are capable of cutting out the petty vandalism and jockeying for position long enough to organise dinner?" There's too much sharp perspective in the way Sam looks at her. Ruby shifts uncomfortably. "Seriously, do I need to think about mobilising the troops this side of my eightieth birthday?"
Somehow, somewhere down the line, Ruby thinks the demons got the short end of this deal.
~end