Supernatural fic: the sound is breaking all my bones
the sound is breaking all my bones [Supernatural, Sam/Ruby, Dean, R, 1,166 words, 4x09 coda. A huge thank you to annabeth_fics for the insightful beta. Title from Patience by Seabird.]
She spends her nights alone.
*
She's never slept with Sam, not once, not even when it was just him and her, before Dean came back and she was on the outside again. They would fuck often enough, Sam grunting out her name when he came like it killed him inside to say it. And she'd stay afterwards, shower. He'd join her sometimes, fucking her again against the white tile, leaving bruises in the flesh on her hips. But she'd leave each night before he kicked her out (he would have, she saw it in his eyes).
She always wanted to stay though. Let the ache of the want burn inside her. Warm.
*
Driving.
She sits and looks out the window, hands in her lap. Dean's left behind for once, but she doesn't feel good about that. Sam's something less without him, not broken any more, not like he was, drunk and red-eyed and desperate, just less. The two of them complete each other. If the angelic hosts don't see that, then they deserve to lose for being so dumb.
She grips her wrist. Rubs her thumb up the thin inner skin. Feels the bump where Lilith's minion broke the bones. She can feel the grating sometimes, an ugly crunching under the surface. She could heal them properly, but she just holds them together tight enough to keep her arm functional. It reminds her. That all sides are her enemy now.
She rubs her wrist, and Sam drives.
*
"I'm only doing this to get to Lilith. I don't trust you," Sam had said, back when she was fresh out of hell. Wary eyes trained on her all the time.
"Fine," she'd shrugged. "I don't need you to trust me. I just need you to concentrate and work harder. You're soft. Lilith could toast you like a marshmallow and make s'mores out of you."
Sam's smart. Never trust demons.
*
She doesn't need to sleep. Not for six hundred and fifty-nine years, though most of those she spent in hell and sleep wasn't a luxury on offer there. But coma girl needs rest-she can feel the body aching around her when she forgets to lie down, she can feel the limbs get heavy, muscles tired.
Ruby would like to think it's a superiority of demons over humans, that she doesn't need sleep. Doesn't need, period. But she gave up on lying to herself centuries ago-she can lie well enough, she doesn't need to practice. Being honest, that's a tricky one.
So she admits (to herself) that she likes to sleep now. It makes her feel more human. Even if all she does is lie down and close her eyes. It's something.
*
That first time, she didn't mean to kneel. She didn't mean to look up at him, to rest her forehead against his, to kiss him like it was the answer, to beg. She doesn't mean to do a lot of things she does now. Since she met Sam.
She didn't mean to gasp his name as if it was the closest thing she could manage to a prayer. She didn't mean to let him see her eyes go soft.
His didn't soften in return. Not that she expected-
*
She thinks that if Sam were just a little bit more demon then he'd accept her more.
She watches him. When he's asleep and isn't going to open his eyes and look up at her in distaste. When he's awake, too, sometimes. Watches his eyes, winds him up, makes him angry, waits to see if his eyes will flash. Waits to see what color.
*
When she was little, her mother sang her to sleep. Lullay, Thou little tiny Child. Ruby hums it to herself. The first line only-she doesn't remember the rest. She doesn't remember her mother's voice, or her mother's face, just the safety of falling asleep while her mother watched over her, warm fingers brushing the hair back off her face.
The bliss of waking up warm and rested, lying in the cocoon of her bed a few minutes before getting up.
She remembers how it felt.
*
She lies alone and restless in her new body. She isn't human, and she's forgotten how to sleep.
*
They still fuck for a while even after Dean returns. They meet to train, of course - nothing is more important.
But afterwards, they fuck. In motels that rent by the hour, in the back of the car if Sam's sneaked out in that, in abandoned buildings and one time against a railroad fence with barbs that tore into her back. It's not the same though. Sam's focus has changed, and that's understandable. Doesn't mean she has to like it.
Sam's intense. In hunting Lilith, in trying to save Dean, in every damn thing he does. He never gives half-heartedly, and that's what stings most, because this is the only exception. He fucks her with his body, his hands grasp her tight and his dick pumps inside her, but his heart's not in it.
And she's the biggest idiot in the world because she wants more. She's a fool, and she's not expecting him to fall in love with her, but still she wants more. She can't help it. She's fallen for him, this huge, conflicted man who would put a knife in her in an instant if it would save Dean.
She'd let him.
*
She overhears. Eavesdropping, because no one hears anything good that way, but she's not there to hear good things. Just useful things.
She hears Dean. "I still say you're crazy, trusting her."
"She saved my life," Sam says, and Ruby can't believe it's her he's talking about. In that tone. Almost soft. "She could have killed me easily, when Lilith let her out, but she didn't. She's picked her side, and I trust her. Is that really so wrong?"
"She's a fucking demon, Sam. You don't know what she's done. What she had to do to get out of hell." Dean goes quiet for a moment, then carries on, pleading. "Do you really have to ask what's so wrong?"
"We've all done things, Dean," Sam says, and he sounds weary, like it's an argument he doesn't care to win, just can't lose.
Ruby waits. For Dean to tell Sam. To make something up, to tell the truth, she doesn't know. Maybe he knows what she did, maybe he doesn't. It doesn't matter. There's nothing good she could have done, nothing that would have gotten her out of hell. She stands motionless outside the flimsy motel door and waits.
Dean doesn't say anything.
He's right, Ruby knows. Sam shouldn't trust her, not for a minute. Not when she can't even trust herself.
But still she rests her head against the door and smiles.
*
Next morning, she wakes up. Stretches, still half asleep. For a moment she thinks she feels what it's like to be human.
//
She spends her nights alone.
*
She's never slept with Sam, not once, not even when it was just him and her, before Dean came back and she was on the outside again. They would fuck often enough, Sam grunting out her name when he came like it killed him inside to say it. And she'd stay afterwards, shower. He'd join her sometimes, fucking her again against the white tile, leaving bruises in the flesh on her hips. But she'd leave each night before he kicked her out (he would have, she saw it in his eyes).
She always wanted to stay though. Let the ache of the want burn inside her. Warm.
*
Driving.
She sits and looks out the window, hands in her lap. Dean's left behind for once, but she doesn't feel good about that. Sam's something less without him, not broken any more, not like he was, drunk and red-eyed and desperate, just less. The two of them complete each other. If the angelic hosts don't see that, then they deserve to lose for being so dumb.
She grips her wrist. Rubs her thumb up the thin inner skin. Feels the bump where Lilith's minion broke the bones. She can feel the grating sometimes, an ugly crunching under the surface. She could heal them properly, but she just holds them together tight enough to keep her arm functional. It reminds her. That all sides are her enemy now.
She rubs her wrist, and Sam drives.
*
"I'm only doing this to get to Lilith. I don't trust you," Sam had said, back when she was fresh out of hell. Wary eyes trained on her all the time.
"Fine," she'd shrugged. "I don't need you to trust me. I just need you to concentrate and work harder. You're soft. Lilith could toast you like a marshmallow and make s'mores out of you."
Sam's smart. Never trust demons.
*
She doesn't need to sleep. Not for six hundred and fifty-nine years, though most of those she spent in hell and sleep wasn't a luxury on offer there. But coma girl needs rest-she can feel the body aching around her when she forgets to lie down, she can feel the limbs get heavy, muscles tired.
Ruby would like to think it's a superiority of demons over humans, that she doesn't need sleep. Doesn't need, period. But she gave up on lying to herself centuries ago-she can lie well enough, she doesn't need to practice. Being honest, that's a tricky one.
So she admits (to herself) that she likes to sleep now. It makes her feel more human. Even if all she does is lie down and close her eyes. It's something.
*
That first time, she didn't mean to kneel. She didn't mean to look up at him, to rest her forehead against his, to kiss him like it was the answer, to beg. She doesn't mean to do a lot of things she does now. Since she met Sam.
She didn't mean to gasp his name as if it was the closest thing she could manage to a prayer. She didn't mean to let him see her eyes go soft.
His didn't soften in return. Not that she expected-
*
She thinks that if Sam were just a little bit more demon then he'd accept her more.
She watches him. When he's asleep and isn't going to open his eyes and look up at her in distaste. When he's awake, too, sometimes. Watches his eyes, winds him up, makes him angry, waits to see if his eyes will flash. Waits to see what color.
*
When she was little, her mother sang her to sleep. Lullay, Thou little tiny Child. Ruby hums it to herself. The first line only-she doesn't remember the rest. She doesn't remember her mother's voice, or her mother's face, just the safety of falling asleep while her mother watched over her, warm fingers brushing the hair back off her face.
The bliss of waking up warm and rested, lying in the cocoon of her bed a few minutes before getting up.
She remembers how it felt.
*
She lies alone and restless in her new body. She isn't human, and she's forgotten how to sleep.
*
They still fuck for a while even after Dean returns. They meet to train, of course - nothing is more important.
But afterwards, they fuck. In motels that rent by the hour, in the back of the car if Sam's sneaked out in that, in abandoned buildings and one time against a railroad fence with barbs that tore into her back. It's not the same though. Sam's focus has changed, and that's understandable. Doesn't mean she has to like it.
Sam's intense. In hunting Lilith, in trying to save Dean, in every damn thing he does. He never gives half-heartedly, and that's what stings most, because this is the only exception. He fucks her with his body, his hands grasp her tight and his dick pumps inside her, but his heart's not in it.
And she's the biggest idiot in the world because she wants more. She's a fool, and she's not expecting him to fall in love with her, but still she wants more. She can't help it. She's fallen for him, this huge, conflicted man who would put a knife in her in an instant if it would save Dean.
She'd let him.
*
She overhears. Eavesdropping, because no one hears anything good that way, but she's not there to hear good things. Just useful things.
She hears Dean. "I still say you're crazy, trusting her."
"She saved my life," Sam says, and Ruby can't believe it's her he's talking about. In that tone. Almost soft. "She could have killed me easily, when Lilith let her out, but she didn't. She's picked her side, and I trust her. Is that really so wrong?"
"She's a fucking demon, Sam. You don't know what she's done. What she had to do to get out of hell." Dean goes quiet for a moment, then carries on, pleading. "Do you really have to ask what's so wrong?"
"We've all done things, Dean," Sam says, and he sounds weary, like it's an argument he doesn't care to win, just can't lose.
Ruby waits. For Dean to tell Sam. To make something up, to tell the truth, she doesn't know. Maybe he knows what she did, maybe he doesn't. It doesn't matter. There's nothing good she could have done, nothing that would have gotten her out of hell. She stands motionless outside the flimsy motel door and waits.
Dean doesn't say anything.
He's right, Ruby knows. Sam shouldn't trust her, not for a minute. Not when she can't even trust herself.
But still she rests her head against the door and smiles.
*
Next morning, she wakes up. Stretches, still half asleep. For a moment she thinks she feels what it's like to be human.
//