[fic] supernatural: that i would be good
that i would be good
summary: sometimes ruby doesn't think about her ulterior motives. pre-season four. BYOS.
that i would be loved even when i numb myself
that i would be good
- alanis morissette
She watched him in his suit for posing as an NSA agent they'd set as a demon trap earlier. He skipped rocks across the river as he stood at the shore's edge, not caring the mix of wet gravel and soil would ruin his shoes. She stood far back enough she wouldn't ruin hers.
It was a weird sight, but then, Sam went to weird places when he missed his brother. She didn't protest, he wasn't drinking himself stupid anymore. In fact, doing random things Dean taught him, or they'd once did together, was perfectly reasonable and productive. It revitalized the goal to slaughter Lilith. To rip her demonic essence to pieces slowly as a three year old with the wings of a moth.
Liar liar, flesh on fire.
She closed her eyes. Sam was in a better mood after thinking about Dean. His broken mind and those few threads of the things they'd do when he rescued him from Hell held him together just little more tightly. Someday, somehow strummed from his eyes as an exorcism, loud and blocking out all other noise, reality. It revitalized Sam until he was almost a semblance of the Winchester she stole fries from in a small town diner.
She tucked her hair behind her ear to stop it from whipping her face, before her hands returned deep in her leather jacket pockets. "Storm's coming, remember?" she called.
Sam's upper body turned towards her, but he didn't move. He gave her a slightly disbelieving look. Almost teasing, instead of distrusting or passive. "It's like a half-hour away still."
And he would know, she was teaching him well.
She widened her eyes pointedly, raising her eyebrows. "Uh, yeah, duh -- I don't want my hair to get frizzy. And you need a shower, definitely. I can feel the gross on you from here. "
He did that laugh. The soundless one where he raised his head to the sky, eyes closed (he used to grin right there), before shaking it and looking back out to the water. She makes herself stop looking at his relaxed shoulders, stop memorizing them like photographs to flip through later as the drug of Dean wore off and all she had was the closed off Sam until the next sudden need to be connected to his brother.
Sam was easier to sway when he was tightly wound, starving for any control, when he didn't let himself feel guilt, or Dean, or anything, but the need to get stronger and kill Lilith. Desperate enough to reach in deep and release the demon blood crashing against the dam, bloated from disuse. Desperate enough to touch her, crave her instead with eyes filled with anger and danger and all kinds of hungry emotions that excited her because she is here.
One step forward, three steps back, but Ruby was patient. She rationalized it was better to be safe than sorry; to handle Sam as carefully she could until he stopped tensing when she came too close.
She couldn't look at him anymore.
She made back for the gravel path up for the car. It was never the Impala. Only the once, when she wore that secretary, blonde and tall like Jess. She was short, big lips, and brunette now like something more intimate he'd have to be brain dead not to pick up on, but still couldn't tell if that was working in her favor even a little. She drove or picked him up in whatever car she felt like having that day, and he never offered.
They never talked about it.
summary: sometimes ruby doesn't think about her ulterior motives. pre-season four. BYOS.
that i would be loved even when i numb myself
that i would be good
- alanis morissette
She watched him in his suit for posing as an NSA agent they'd set as a demon trap earlier. He skipped rocks across the river as he stood at the shore's edge, not caring the mix of wet gravel and soil would ruin his shoes. She stood far back enough she wouldn't ruin hers.
It was a weird sight, but then, Sam went to weird places when he missed his brother. She didn't protest, he wasn't drinking himself stupid anymore. In fact, doing random things Dean taught him, or they'd once did together, was perfectly reasonable and productive. It revitalized the goal to slaughter Lilith. To rip her demonic essence to pieces slowly as a three year old with the wings of a moth.
Liar liar, flesh on fire.
She closed her eyes. Sam was in a better mood after thinking about Dean. His broken mind and those few threads of the things they'd do when he rescued him from Hell held him together just little more tightly. Someday, somehow strummed from his eyes as an exorcism, loud and blocking out all other noise, reality. It revitalized Sam until he was almost a semblance of the Winchester she stole fries from in a small town diner.
She tucked her hair behind her ear to stop it from whipping her face, before her hands returned deep in her leather jacket pockets. "Storm's coming, remember?" she called.
Sam's upper body turned towards her, but he didn't move. He gave her a slightly disbelieving look. Almost teasing, instead of distrusting or passive. "It's like a half-hour away still."
And he would know, she was teaching him well.
She widened her eyes pointedly, raising her eyebrows. "Uh, yeah, duh -- I don't want my hair to get frizzy. And you need a shower, definitely. I can feel the gross on you from here. "
He did that laugh. The soundless one where he raised his head to the sky, eyes closed (he used to grin right there), before shaking it and looking back out to the water. She makes herself stop looking at his relaxed shoulders, stop memorizing them like photographs to flip through later as the drug of Dean wore off and all she had was the closed off Sam until the next sudden need to be connected to his brother.
Sam was easier to sway when he was tightly wound, starving for any control, when he didn't let himself feel guilt, or Dean, or anything, but the need to get stronger and kill Lilith. Desperate enough to reach in deep and release the demon blood crashing against the dam, bloated from disuse. Desperate enough to touch her, crave her instead with eyes filled with anger and danger and all kinds of hungry emotions that excited her because she is here.
One step forward, three steps back, but Ruby was patient. She rationalized it was better to be safe than sorry; to handle Sam as carefully she could until he stopped tensing when she came too close.
She couldn't look at him anymore.
She made back for the gravel path up for the car. It was never the Impala. Only the once, when she wore that secretary, blonde and tall like Jess. She was short, big lips, and brunette now like something more intimate he'd have to be brain dead not to pick up on, but still couldn't tell if that was working in her favor even a little. She drove or picked him up in whatever car she felt like having that day, and he never offered.
They never talked about it.