The Price of Wisdom - 1/1
The Price of Wisdom
Rating: R, Gen, Het (is it Het if it’s a demon?)
Characters: Ruby/Sam (mostly), Christy, Dean, John, assorted Goddesses and Gods
Word Count: 5,973
Disclaimer: The characters are sadly not mine. I’m just sticking pins into Winchesters for fun and angst. Sorry about the holes!
A/N: Ruby drives me crazy. Both Rubys. So I thought I’d try and get inside her head. There was more in there than I expected.
Call this a prequel and coda to 4.01 and all that follows. That should cover everything. *G*
Mythfic - another exploration of the Persephone legend from an entirely different angle than Dean encountered in Hell in Blood and Cupcakes
Warning: Blatant (mis)use of Greek and Roman mythology for the Hell of it.
Note to self - Never attempt a mostly 1st person p.o.v. again, even with a safety net.
Setting: Mount Olympus and environs (way back when) - Pontiac, Ill. (Sept. 2008)
Summary: You live long, and die often enough; you might get to watch the world curve back in on itself. If you’re motivated you can even give it a nudge every now and then. So, who cares who you sacrifice along with way? After all, blood has always been the oldest currency.
I like to watch.
The time’s coming. I can see it. They’ve both been dancing around their secrets for long enough.
All Dean’s done is admit what Sam already knew, what Sam had to be told. Fucking angels.
Sam though? Sam doesn’t like hiding from his brother. But there are no limits to what he’ll do to protect Dean, and that family trait cuts both ways. I’m the poster child for this particular problem. Sam’s going to snap soon. All that pressure building up that he can’t keep releasing through us? It’s got to go somewhere.
Sam’s going to tell. Question is how much? I can only control him so far, and I have to pick my battles. Sam’s going to tell. As much as he thinks Dean can bear. As much as his honest brother will be comfortable with. He’ll hold back. Dean knows his brother well enough to know that.
Sam’ll tell. Part of the story. Not the whole thing. Not even a fraction of his side of it. He’ll tell one part of one side, and think it’s for the best. What does he know?
Even Sam doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t trust me; he’s using me, like I’m using him. But he believes me when I say I’ll follow him anywhere. He just doesn’t know why. He wants to believe me when I say I’m backing off to give the brothers their space. He doesn’t know what I really feel about his brother. Dean does. In some ways he’s the more innocent side of the coin. But Dean knows exactly how much I hate him, and he’s pretty good at reciprocating that feeling. He’d have killed me already if it weren’t for Sam. And he will. Soon. Again. And again. I’m almost looking forward to it.
So, Samuel’s our bright and shining boy king. But like all boys he sometimes ignores the obvious. I’m a demon. I’ve been to Hell and back, and so has Dean.
Dean remembers.
As do I.
I can wait.
In the meantime, why don’t I tell you a story? I might like to watch, but Dean got it right when he called me a mouthy bitch.
In a galaxy far, far away… Just kidding. Humans and their endless reshaping of myths. It’s predictable the way they struggle to label what they can’t understand. Campbell almost nailed it when he said there’s only so many tales, and everything’s a variation on a theme.
Truth is? There’s only the one story, one hero or heroine. We just change the names every now and then, and move a few pieces around the board because we can. When you’ve got forever you find your own ways to amuse yourself. Some of us are more creative than others. It’s easier when you don’t care who gets hurt or killed along the way.
Eternity’s a long road, and only a few of us get to see one end swallow the other.
John Winchester, now there’s a memory. I don’t like to blaspheme but I consider myself blessed to have had the pleasure. Not that I think he’d agree with me. I only got him twice, he never was my prime target after all, and I kept putting off the first time. But sometimes it’s worthwhile doing all the research.
He was a fighter, hadn’t been anyone down here that lasted as long as him in eons, not till his son. That kind of thing generates a feeding frenzy. Turns out even I wasn’t immune to it. The things you find out about yourself when you’re treating yourself to a harmless little bloodbath.
Mary… He called out her name before the end. Bitch. Didn’t let it bother me though; she’d already got what she deserved. And I had him then as an appetiser, with the thought of her boys to follow. No point dragging her soul down for a catfight when I’d already taken everything from her. I like to win, but I’m not petty about it.
The last time I limited myself to sex, and those orgasms were a close second to those I got during my first supervised visit.
It did give me pause though, you add genetics and the whole freaking Winchester aura to the mix, with what his offspring were already bringing to the table? I’m just glad I don’t play well with others, there’s no way I’m sharing any of that with my brethren. Those two boys, and that soul? Are mine.
Where was I?
A story.
The Romans had a Goddess once-Proserpina, pretty little daughter of Ceres (Goddess of the Earth, or cereals - trust me it sounded better then) and Jupiter (you’ve heard of him, right? Good. Moving right along.) Her story became myth, and she came to represent Springtime.
You see where I’m going? Spring? Life. Death. Rebirth. It’s a road, it’s a wheel. Don’t let Dean’s dumb act fool you; he gets that more than most. What goes around comes around. Deep, huh? Or that’s what the philosophers would have you think. In reality there’s nothing more basic. Bang! Bang! You’re dead, then you blink and someone’s signed you up for another tour while you weren’t paying attention. Or they pulled a few strings, or did a deal. End result’s the same. You’re back on the merry-go-round. Every now and then someone gets time off for good behaviour, others get a little something else.
Let’s change the metaphor. Think of it like a chessboard, most of you are pawns and you don’t even know there’s a game going on. Sometimes you’re white; sometimes you’re black. Blame it on the dice, or fate, or us, or even them. Not much to choose between us really, either side will burn you if you get too close. Just like most people never get to pick which side they’re on, you deal with what you’ve got. Some of you know. Some of you suspect you’re being moved, some of you are even deluded enough to think you’ve got free will. And some of you we bring back time and again when the stakes are high. Some of you see us, and some of you don’t need to, to know what’s going on.
Oh, but be careful boys. Don’t bite the hand that moves you, the fall is greater than you might think. Though you do shatter so beautifully.
So, a long time ago another game began. Now Venus, nosey, interfering bitch-What? Trust me, I know what I’m talking about okay? Venus always had it in for… anyway she decided to play matchmaker between Prosperina and Pluto (don’t ask why, you don’t want to know what went on in her head) via her annoying son Amor, better known as Cupid. Yup, the kid with the arrows. All true so far, but he never wore a diaper and was more than old enough to shoot his own kind of arrows. He got off on it, freak that he was. But his mother had to take some of the blame.
So, Cupid→arrow→Proserpina. Tzing! Zap! Call it what you will, I never liked him, but he always was a good shot. Pluto, the big bad erupts from Hades via a volcano with four black horses, or in a great cloud of ash and smoke, whatever, it was showy. Pluto, overcome by love’s flaming arrow (yeah, oldest excuse ever. Men!) Pluto kidnaps Pro… You know what? Let’s just call her P, and be done with it. Different age now, and the name never caught on, you can’t blame the girl for wanting to change it.
And here’s the kicker. Pluto was her Mom’s and her Dad’s brother. The Gods never objected to a bit of incest on occasion. They liked to keep the power, and the secrets in the family. Anyway, King P and Queen P, happy ever after? Or were you asking yourself how long Cupid’s arrows really were good for? Don’t bother asking him, he always did have an inflated sense of his own … abilities.
Anyway, Mom was pissed because her daughter had gone a.w.o.l., searched high, but not low (She was a Goddess; I never said she was omniscient.) but to no avail. So, she did what any self-respecting deity of the time did. She stopped work and started roaming the world leaving deserts in her wake. Right about then Dad (a.k.a. Jupiter) got a little concerned (call me peeved if I feel it had less to do with his daughter’s disappearance than the ramifications from his sister-wife’s strike) and sent Mercury (wings-heels-kinky! And way cuter than Cupid any day) down to the Underworld to order his brother to release his daughter (Jupiter’s not Pluto’s because she was his niece). See what I mean about the incest thing? Confusing. Just as well the historians were taking note because the Gods and Goddesses were too busy fucking each other to keep track of every little detail of exactly who begat whom on which particular mountain top.
Now, see what you might have missed while you got understandably sidetracked with all the sex? Dad knew where to send Mercury. Question is, did he know all along, or did it just come up while they were having a glass of fermented hops during their weekly dinner? And why didn’t he tell his wife-sister? Hmm? Families! Still, maybe he too had seen it all before.
Pluto ended up agreeing to release his hostage-lover-wife-queen (and you think today has a monopoly on hyphenating!) One legend has it that he made her eat some pomegranate seeds to bind her to return to him for part of every year, another says she took matters into her own hands. It was a long time ago and nobody cares except the participants, let’s just say that their courtship was explosive but they came to a mutually beneficial arrangement, and … he was really hot and could do things that Mercury wouldn’t even dream of, okay?
Six seeds or four, the number never was important whatever the myths might have you believe. One was all it took if you meant it. She ended up having to go back to her mother for part of the year, and don’t think that didn’t suck after being Queen in Hades. Power corrupts? Your point was? She had more down there, and she liked it, and did I mention the sex? Hotter than… well, Hell actually.
Anyway she went backwards and forwards (you make up your own mind which way made her happier), and the seasons revolved around her. Blah, blah, blah. End of story.
On the contrary. Just the start of one.
But remember what I said? There’s really only one true story.
Dean thinks his brother turned into a giant slut overnight. The macho posturing side of him would almost be proud of Sammy getting laid if it wasn’t with me. I shouldn’t find that as funny as I do. I should get out of Hell more often.
Dean's sure he knows when he met me. This me that is. I kind of like the wrapper. It’s a lot more blue-collar than blondie was. And now I’ve got her? Well, let’s just say I’ve roughened up a few of her edges even more.
There she was stuck waitressing in a town that her God had definitely forsaken if you wanted to count how many of us were passing through it at any one time. Bit of a scenic black hole really and not much of an improvement on Hell, but first thing you learn is that you don’t always get to pick your nexus.
Christy. And wasn’t that name so deliciously ironic? All big brown eyes and wide-open thighs just hoping the next guy was going to take her away from all this. What does she get? Sam Winchester stalking tall through her diner door acting more like John every day without Dean at his side.
Someone like him, with someone like her? She thought all her dreams had come true when he turned around after having being so politely distant all through his meal, and asked when her shift was over.
Had me in stitches that did, all that wistful hope. Thought she was getting her reward without having to go to Heaven first. Thy Kingdom come indeed. Shame she never got there.
Still. Who cares about her? Right body, right place, right time. For me. For him. For now.
Here’s another story.
To the Greeks, Persephone was Queen of the Underworld as well as the literal embodiment the Earth’s fertility. The Greeks coined the term dichotomy after all. Daughter of Demeter (either as a solo act-Goddesses could do that if they didn’t like the look of the talent wandering around Mount Olympus on a Friday night-or the result of some unsafe sex with Zeus.)
Persephone (Kore - the Maiden)-who hasn’t heard of her? Everyone loves a good tragedy. Innocent girl abducted while tiptoeing through tulips (what else was a nature Goddess going to do when she didn’t have any formal position at court and her damned mother kept most of her suitors at bay?) with the nymphs at Enna. Every mother’s eternal grief set against the joy of return. The cycle of the seasons wrapped up in one exciting allegory with a bit of sex on the side, who wouldn’t want to hear about it?
One thing they keep getting wrong though. She never walked around in robes carrying a sheaf of grain. First off, it was hot; she never had a problem with her body image, and secondly, Gods have never needed the crutch of symbolism no matter what you’ve been lead to think. Oh, and the maiden? Not quite as pure as her mother put about.
The nymphs? Well, I like to kiss and tell as much as the next slut though I was going to gloss over their fate, but there’s a clue there that historians often miss. Mommy dearest is said to have damned them for standing by while their friend was taken. They were supposedly transformed, one and all, into the Sirens. Can even a Goddess change you into something diametrically opposed to your true self? Were they nymphs or Sirens all along? Or like most things, somewhere in between? How close were they to Persephone? Would you stand by while your friend was taken? I would, if it suited me. But then, I’m not the person I used to pretend to be. Okay, I lie. Never had a friend, never will. You can’t trust anyone beside or behind you. You want to know how to survive in Hell? Leave your humanity back at the riverside, start killing now, and don’t bother stopping. You make it through the first hour? Come back to me for the next lesson, I can guarantee you it will hurt.
So, you’ve heard this all before. Only the names change. I told you there’s only ever one story, and you know what happens, Persephone goes into the Underworld, rules at the side of Hades, is fought over, eventually relinquished-but not permanently, and in the end is bound for all eternity to turn between Earth and Hades.
Punishment for her sins, or redeemed by love, and whose?
Do I look like I care?
Love? I leave that to humanity. They seem to feel it’s worth fighting for, and some of them try so hard, bleeding so prettily on another’s behalf. They’ll do anything; give their very souls and bodies over to you if you give them even the glimmer of hope.
So, I do.
I hold it out on the same platter that was used for mother, father, brother, and now him.
Samuel. Not last, not least, and not alone. Not that he knows that yet. And I’m the last person to tell him something that might actually tip the balance their way.
Sam Winchester, Hell’s emo darling.
So young, filled with love, pain, and rage; so needy and ripe for the plucking.
Anticipation sweetens the blood. I bided my time after Lilith.
She sent me away. She had the right, and the power after all. But I made sure I came back. I may be her daughter, but I’ve got my own agenda.
That was then. This is now. I’m Ruby. It’s as appropriate as anything else.
I was telling you a story while I waited, and watched-I can multitask if it gets the job done faster.
Here’s the darker side of it. The terrible Queen of the Dead who’s very name was forbidden to be spoken? The Eleusians’ talisman of immortality? Odysseus’ Iron Queen?
They say she was without soul, and showed no mercy, that she revelled in her domain.
They also say that she once let a soul go free from Hades.
That the music of Orpheus touched her unbeating heart. Whatever the reason, she gave Orpheus the chance to claim back his love. Eurydice was allowed to walk back to the land of the living behind her husband with the following two provisos. She had to stay behind him, and he was not allowed to look at her face until they reached the surface. Human nature, and love, and fear being what it always is, Orpheus failed at the very end; in turning to ensure his wife was behind him he lost her forever.
Was the Queen really touched by his love? Deliberately untwisting the ropes of fate to give the lovers a chance?
Or was it all a game from the beginning?
Or something in between? The sight of someone braving Hades for his other half too much for her to bear? A reminder of what she couldn’t have? Forcing her to offer false hope to another mortal, while she cursed the lovers to an eternity apart?
Can you blame her for being bitter? I can’t. Neither death, nor she could kill their love, but she did make sure that their souls were doomed to repeat past mistakes.
You take what pleasures you can get in Hell. And one day, who knows? She just might break them.
Trust me, I’ll be there when it happens.
I watched from below as he buried a hollow shell. Surprised me for a minute; call me sentimental, but my first bet was that Sam’d take his brother home and lay him to rest next to his mother’s empty grave. I had smaller odds on him wising up and doing what John would have done, what they’d done for him. Pity, I could have sold tickets to a lot of my outted kindred to see Dean Winchester burn in two worlds simultaneously.
Should have known. Samuel always was stubborn. Just like his brother. Neither one willing to admit they were the last one standing.
A shallow grave in the middle of nowhere. Sam wasn’t stupid. That damned Trickster had thumbed his nose at us, granted him the bonus of months to learn, and he hadn’t stopped planning since time got kick-started again. He picked that grove for a reason, and it wasn’t a half bad try.
He washed, and clothed, and anointed his saint with tears, prayers, and promises, and laid him like a pauper with a rough-nailed cross, and one final symbol. He made his point, and damn if those repercussions didn’t eventually flow all the way up to Heaven.
Dean would have undoubtedly preferred to be surrounded by the upright husks of thirteen Chevys than those trees, but he didn’t get much say in it, luckily.
Looking at them used to cause me a double take occasionally, especially when I was physically in their presence. Sam and Dean-and doesn’t that order tell you almost everything about Dean?-the geek and the obviously over-compensating horn dog, if I hadn’t spent a thousand lifetimes watching them, and learning to see past the exteriors, I’d never have picked the two of them out of a line-up (unless I was trolling for sex, because, hullo? Hot!) for who they really were. Every incarnation they seemed to get better camouflaged, have to give the other side credit for that, they do great work. Too many of my fellows tended to ignore the surname and their record as hunters and underestimate them. Always got them bounced right home again. I never minded that, kept the Winchesters occupied with the outer level peons while a few of us in the know made more long-term plans.
I’ve learned how to be patient. In the meantime, there’s a new toy in store.
I love it when I’m right. They just keep making them better. They still have the same fatal weakness though. They’ll do whatever you need to save the other. Guess it’s a design flaw.
Intellectually I can understand it, the whole duality thing. But it’s got to be a bitch to live with even if they did know what was going on. When they don’t? They race around madly in our maze like laboratory mice calling it honour, or family, only when they’re pushed will they admit to love. I could watch them run forever, I almost have. Makes my mouth water, they’re so delectably fragile.
Emotionally-I looked it up, it still makes no sense-I have no idea why they keep doing it.
They just can’t stop sacrificing themselves for each other. You have to admire the way they almost do half the work for you.
I’d give him a gold star for effort but I don’t think he’d appreciate my sense of humour.
I’d call Dean a joy, if I could feel. His mother’s golden-haired green-eyed boy for sure. The perfect unquestioning hunter, until the last few years at least.
He used to be so shiny on the outside-not any more. What people saw was simple. He preferred it that way, deflecting better than anyone else I’ve known apart from his earlier selves of course. But as I said before, they keep introducing improvements to the model. This one? Has a few things all of his own that I don’t think even they had on the drawing board. No wonder he jokes about them being freaks. Puts it right out there for people to immediately ignore. Tricky. Don’t even think his brother suspects, and he’s one of the few with the power to delve that deep. I think it’s because they’re too close most of the time. They’ve learnt to block certain things out as a defence mechanism. Just as well for us, they both learnt to synchronise this the way they do everything else? We’d all be stuck down here with no way out, if we survived the backlash that is.
Let’s hear it for luck being on our side for a change.
I waited while he tried to make his own deals. I clawed my way back to the surface, and I lingered, and I watched as he turned his back on the world for his brother’s sake.
I can smell the taint of hope fading from his blood now. It’s almost time. I love the taste of desperation on the wind.
Poor little Sammy running around trying to make bargains. Should have remembered we invented blacklisting.
Two months and he was ready for me to move in.
It’s all about the timing.
I’ll let you in on a little secret. Possession? Never quite as easy as we make it look. Oh yeah, sometimes we can just slide right on in, sometimes we’re invited, other times we gatecrash. Mostly the preparation’s a bitch even for the strongest amongst us, unless we’ve got a natural talent for it.
Trust me, Hell could win a diversity award. Don’t judge us all against the first demon you come across, that’s if you live to form a working hypothesis. We’re as different as you are. More so, if you want to get picky, because we’re not hampered by all your pesky morals, and ethics, and all that values jazz.
Lilith made it more difficult when she evicted me on D-day. Not impossible, and not quite as hard as I’ve let Sam think it is. Got my own reasons for that. And the sex is only one part of that equation.
He got a shock the first time I came visiting.
Some psychic he was. Should have remembered after cousin Meg’s second vacation, that barring that fucking Colt, and my knife-which is more selective that he knows-that the best they can do is banish us.
I made sure I did it the first time he gave in to the urges (guilt’s always an excellent motivator.) It wasn’t like he didn’t have them, regardless of what his brother said. He was a Winchester after all. What we did to his girlfriend forced him to keep everyone he loved at arm’s length. He was right to leave Palo Alto, we’d have enjoyed working our way through his friends, the way we killed off all of his mother’s. That brief Madison debacle? We couldn’t have planned it better if we’d tried. Pure luck again, nothing to do with us at all. Worked for us though, all that alienation. Made it easier for us to tip the brotherly see-saw up and down whenever we had the chance. Every bit of destabilisation helps the cause.
Sam was off chasing Lilith in Des Moines when he snapped. That’s what a decent bloody false trail will get you. He was in full hunting mode; the Trickster’s bonus-time certainly was upping the body count on our side. It was getting harder and harder to find anything supernatural willing to throw themselves in his way, even for the greater bad.
After taking down five of us, he came into that bar balancing on the knife-edge of adrenaline, exhaustion, and the knowledge that nothing he’d done had brought him any closer to getting his brother back.
He probably didn’t even realise he was channelling Dean more that anything when he picked the girl up. He’d had a lifetime of watching his brother’s every move, so he didn’t even time to think about it before he had her backed up against the wall in the ladies’ toilet.
Though the end result would have been the same-one very satisfied girl-if he’d been doing it his way, he’d have been politer, a bed might have been involved, and he’d definitely have taken longer to warm her up with his tongue.
But this time he was Dean, who was nothing if not effective and efficient at getting both a girl and himself off before her inadvertent screams of ecstasy brought her boyfriend in to investigate.
Five minutes after he’d put down his drink he was holding her up against the wall with one hand, rolling the condom down his cock with the other. Seven minutes more and the two of them momentarily became three as we all came together, and then there were two again. So long, Sophie. If you behave, I might even let you back home when I’m finished.
After hitting the ground running so to speak, I was more than a little miffed when my understandable question ‘Sammy, what would Dean say if he could see you now?’ got me my own knife at Sophie’s throat. Just as well I hadn’t planned to get attached to her, she nicked easily. Note to self: Pick one with tougher skin, and a better dye job next time.
I was also a little pissed that he didn’t take me up on my offer of a second round on the house.
In the end we came to an agreement.
He accepted my help. The magic word unsurprisingly turned out to be ‘Dean.’ I offered to teach Sam how to use Azazel’s gifts, he’d practise his way through the demon ranks up to Lilith for some old-fashioned payback, and I’d settle a few scores of my own with her in so doing. He didn’t bother telling me he was still planning on saving Dean, I didn’t tell him the truth either. I wouldn’t call it deception exactly, more the judicious withholding of a few minor details on both sides.
He flat out refused to let me travel with him though. Guess he wasn’t ever going to be ready for two people in the front seat of the Impala unless the other one was his older brother.
He wouldn’t budge on that issue, even when I told him Sophie wasn’t a keeper, and that I’d have to bodysurf my way around the country with him until I found a good match. So, I lied. A lot. What’s the big deal? Me telling him the quickest way in was for me to use him as a conduit? It wasn’t a total lie. It did work, and I got something out of it too, as did he, even if he wasn’t ever going to admit it.
I did promise to take my time following him in as it were, so he could pretend to preserve some dignity about the new family business of fucking demons into girls for his brother’s sake.
Turns out Sam’s moral compass was directly connected to his brother. He’d have done anything I asked by then for Dean. I just upped the ante by dangling the thought that I could always start looking for ever-younger hosts and that I didn’t have any gender bias. It only took him thirty seconds to agree that he’d choose a suitably willing girl first thing he got into a new town. It let Sam’s fading conscience have at least the veneer of informed sexual consent.
We both knew that in the end he’d do whatever it took to get his brother back. Everything has a price, but the cost is always greater than you think.
There’s nothing quite like watching a Winchester come apart around, and inside you. I should know. I’ve tried all of them. You might say they’ve spoiled me for anything else.
The Astoria? Not the best hotel in home, but not the worst either. Hearts on the door, and a tiger theme. Tacky didn’t begin to describe it. Dean would have felt right at home. No wonder she wanted to get out.
After a month doing this, Sam’s sex life was about to put even Dean’s self-declared reputation as the Winchester with the mostest to rest, and we’d followed the breadcrumb trail through Tennessee, and back into Illinois.
Pontiac was enough to set us both on edge. This close to Dean’s body, Sam was about to splinter apart. I was going to have to keep a firm hand on him, because it looked like something was interfering with my careful schedule.
I give Sam snaps though. Despite the pressure, his body choices got better every time. Christy was perfect for my needs. I never needed a vestal virgin, or the modern equivalent, an innocent girl with two exes, and stars in her eyes. Either would have pushed Sam over the edge quicker than I wanted. It wasn’t the speed with which I could bring him down that was the point; rather the more ways I could ruin him along the way, the better for all concerned. I have my own position to think of as well, you know.
Maybe I should have pushed. How was I to know that God was about to go interactive after two millennia of official silence?
Sam, damn his lying heart, got the girl out of there before I could manifest. Probably the right choice but it didn’t stop me trying to put Christy’s fist through the wall of the stairwell five minutes later.
Dean Goddamn Winchester, alive, and looking better than ever.
Resurrection was starting to become a dangerous family habit.
What was worse; was that this time, we didn’t stand to gain from it.
Somewhere soon, someone was going to pay for this. Preferably in fire, and clumps of blood-soaked feathers, to the sound of two Winchesters screaming at my command.
I was a witch once.
Joined a coven, took the easy road to power; small steps on a darker road. Didn’t have any idea what I was really doing. Ended up selling my soul, and for what? Hell always collects its markers.
My debt came due, and I went to Hell, and I suffered a million torments for my sins.
That’s what I told Dean during one of our little one-on-one, demon to hunter, bonding chats. That he’d suffer as I had. Then I told him that every demon was human once. That he was going to become what he hunted.
I watched what that did to him.
Right then I offered him a shred of hope. Told him I’d managed to keep my humanity, fought to be free, chose which side to fight on, said I’d follow Sam. Told him that his brother would need me to help him win the war when he was gone. That I could help save him, when Dean couldn’t.
I watched that cut deep, watched him cover it. For Sam. Always for Sam.
I was a witch once. At least that’s what I told them.
Dean never really believed me-deep down, part of them always remembers.
He should have killed me back when he had the chance. I was prepared for that. I’ve had eternity to come up with a million contingency plans. But Sam was the voice of reason as always, and Dean backed down then. For Sam.
This time around, he caught us, gives him an even greater reason, even if you discount those secrets he’s keeping from his little brother. Luckily for me I trained Sam well.
The Queen is dead! Long live the King! Someone brought Dean back; the game’s still in progress, even if I’ve now got an active opponent.
Dean watches me more closely now than he ever did before. I like that. I love it when they try to fight.
He watches Sam too.
Here’s one last lesser-known tale.
Some say that Persephone went willingly into the pit. Not for herself, or the love of its ruler. That she sacrificed herself to rape by her consort, as had her mother before her. Gave up her freedom for the sake of the souls already in the Underworld who waited and suffered in confusion without her, as well as those on Earth.
That she was, and always will be an Earth Goddess who needs to reside under the Earth from whence all power comes. That spring’s rebirth has to come from below, from what she suffers and does there.
Others insist she’s both mother and maiden. Two halves of a whole always grieving for her younger self who is lost, reborn, and lost again.
I say this.
That she could be Persephone and Hades, Orpheus and Eurydice, each in turn, and all at once. There’s only one true story after all.
The time’s coming. We’re almost there.
And I’ve made sure I’ve earned my ringside seat. So no matter what you think you see, I’m going to be around. Keeping an eye on him-her-them-the both of him, the one of them. Confused? Don’t be. It’s quite simple when you know the truth. But I’m getting ahead of myself. What I know has already happened and will happen again and again, and what they are only now starting to realize they’re a part of, well, let’s just say we have a convergence of will and destiny. I’d say may the best side/men/woman win, but I’m biased. Whatever happens, it promises to be interesting.
I told you before. I like to watch.
Rating: R, Gen, Het (is it Het if it’s a demon?)
Characters: Ruby/Sam (mostly), Christy, Dean, John, assorted Goddesses and Gods
Word Count: 5,973
Disclaimer: The characters are sadly not mine. I’m just sticking pins into Winchesters for fun and angst. Sorry about the holes!
A/N: Ruby drives me crazy. Both Rubys. So I thought I’d try and get inside her head. There was more in there than I expected.
Call this a prequel and coda to 4.01 and all that follows. That should cover everything. *G*
Mythfic - another exploration of the Persephone legend from an entirely different angle than Dean encountered in Hell in Blood and Cupcakes
Warning: Blatant (mis)use of Greek and Roman mythology for the Hell of it.
Note to self - Never attempt a mostly 1st person p.o.v. again, even with a safety net.
Setting: Mount Olympus and environs (way back when) - Pontiac, Ill. (Sept. 2008)
Summary: You live long, and die often enough; you might get to watch the world curve back in on itself. If you’re motivated you can even give it a nudge every now and then. So, who cares who you sacrifice along with way? After all, blood has always been the oldest currency.
I like to watch.
The time’s coming. I can see it. They’ve both been dancing around their secrets for long enough.
All Dean’s done is admit what Sam already knew, what Sam had to be told. Fucking angels.
Sam though? Sam doesn’t like hiding from his brother. But there are no limits to what he’ll do to protect Dean, and that family trait cuts both ways. I’m the poster child for this particular problem. Sam’s going to snap soon. All that pressure building up that he can’t keep releasing through us? It’s got to go somewhere.
Sam’s going to tell. Question is how much? I can only control him so far, and I have to pick my battles. Sam’s going to tell. As much as he thinks Dean can bear. As much as his honest brother will be comfortable with. He’ll hold back. Dean knows his brother well enough to know that.
Sam’ll tell. Part of the story. Not the whole thing. Not even a fraction of his side of it. He’ll tell one part of one side, and think it’s for the best. What does he know?
Even Sam doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t trust me; he’s using me, like I’m using him. But he believes me when I say I’ll follow him anywhere. He just doesn’t know why. He wants to believe me when I say I’m backing off to give the brothers their space. He doesn’t know what I really feel about his brother. Dean does. In some ways he’s the more innocent side of the coin. But Dean knows exactly how much I hate him, and he’s pretty good at reciprocating that feeling. He’d have killed me already if it weren’t for Sam. And he will. Soon. Again. And again. I’m almost looking forward to it.
So, Samuel’s our bright and shining boy king. But like all boys he sometimes ignores the obvious. I’m a demon. I’ve been to Hell and back, and so has Dean.
Dean remembers.
As do I.
I can wait.
In the meantime, why don’t I tell you a story? I might like to watch, but Dean got it right when he called me a mouthy bitch.
In a galaxy far, far away… Just kidding. Humans and their endless reshaping of myths. It’s predictable the way they struggle to label what they can’t understand. Campbell almost nailed it when he said there’s only so many tales, and everything’s a variation on a theme.
Truth is? There’s only the one story, one hero or heroine. We just change the names every now and then, and move a few pieces around the board because we can. When you’ve got forever you find your own ways to amuse yourself. Some of us are more creative than others. It’s easier when you don’t care who gets hurt or killed along the way.
Eternity’s a long road, and only a few of us get to see one end swallow the other.
John Winchester, now there’s a memory. I don’t like to blaspheme but I consider myself blessed to have had the pleasure. Not that I think he’d agree with me. I only got him twice, he never was my prime target after all, and I kept putting off the first time. But sometimes it’s worthwhile doing all the research.
He was a fighter, hadn’t been anyone down here that lasted as long as him in eons, not till his son. That kind of thing generates a feeding frenzy. Turns out even I wasn’t immune to it. The things you find out about yourself when you’re treating yourself to a harmless little bloodbath.
Mary… He called out her name before the end. Bitch. Didn’t let it bother me though; she’d already got what she deserved. And I had him then as an appetiser, with the thought of her boys to follow. No point dragging her soul down for a catfight when I’d already taken everything from her. I like to win, but I’m not petty about it.
The last time I limited myself to sex, and those orgasms were a close second to those I got during my first supervised visit.
It did give me pause though, you add genetics and the whole freaking Winchester aura to the mix, with what his offspring were already bringing to the table? I’m just glad I don’t play well with others, there’s no way I’m sharing any of that with my brethren. Those two boys, and that soul? Are mine.
Where was I?
A story.
The Romans had a Goddess once-Proserpina, pretty little daughter of Ceres (Goddess of the Earth, or cereals - trust me it sounded better then) and Jupiter (you’ve heard of him, right? Good. Moving right along.) Her story became myth, and she came to represent Springtime.
You see where I’m going? Spring? Life. Death. Rebirth. It’s a road, it’s a wheel. Don’t let Dean’s dumb act fool you; he gets that more than most. What goes around comes around. Deep, huh? Or that’s what the philosophers would have you think. In reality there’s nothing more basic. Bang! Bang! You’re dead, then you blink and someone’s signed you up for another tour while you weren’t paying attention. Or they pulled a few strings, or did a deal. End result’s the same. You’re back on the merry-go-round. Every now and then someone gets time off for good behaviour, others get a little something else.
Let’s change the metaphor. Think of it like a chessboard, most of you are pawns and you don’t even know there’s a game going on. Sometimes you’re white; sometimes you’re black. Blame it on the dice, or fate, or us, or even them. Not much to choose between us really, either side will burn you if you get too close. Just like most people never get to pick which side they’re on, you deal with what you’ve got. Some of you know. Some of you suspect you’re being moved, some of you are even deluded enough to think you’ve got free will. And some of you we bring back time and again when the stakes are high. Some of you see us, and some of you don’t need to, to know what’s going on.
Oh, but be careful boys. Don’t bite the hand that moves you, the fall is greater than you might think. Though you do shatter so beautifully.
So, a long time ago another game began. Now Venus, nosey, interfering bitch-What? Trust me, I know what I’m talking about okay? Venus always had it in for… anyway she decided to play matchmaker between Prosperina and Pluto (don’t ask why, you don’t want to know what went on in her head) via her annoying son Amor, better known as Cupid. Yup, the kid with the arrows. All true so far, but he never wore a diaper and was more than old enough to shoot his own kind of arrows. He got off on it, freak that he was. But his mother had to take some of the blame.
So, Cupid→arrow→Proserpina. Tzing! Zap! Call it what you will, I never liked him, but he always was a good shot. Pluto, the big bad erupts from Hades via a volcano with four black horses, or in a great cloud of ash and smoke, whatever, it was showy. Pluto, overcome by love’s flaming arrow (yeah, oldest excuse ever. Men!) Pluto kidnaps Pro… You know what? Let’s just call her P, and be done with it. Different age now, and the name never caught on, you can’t blame the girl for wanting to change it.
And here’s the kicker. Pluto was her Mom’s and her Dad’s brother. The Gods never objected to a bit of incest on occasion. They liked to keep the power, and the secrets in the family. Anyway, King P and Queen P, happy ever after? Or were you asking yourself how long Cupid’s arrows really were good for? Don’t bother asking him, he always did have an inflated sense of his own … abilities.
Anyway, Mom was pissed because her daughter had gone a.w.o.l., searched high, but not low (She was a Goddess; I never said she was omniscient.) but to no avail. So, she did what any self-respecting deity of the time did. She stopped work and started roaming the world leaving deserts in her wake. Right about then Dad (a.k.a. Jupiter) got a little concerned (call me peeved if I feel it had less to do with his daughter’s disappearance than the ramifications from his sister-wife’s strike) and sent Mercury (wings-heels-kinky! And way cuter than Cupid any day) down to the Underworld to order his brother to release his daughter (Jupiter’s not Pluto’s because she was his niece). See what I mean about the incest thing? Confusing. Just as well the historians were taking note because the Gods and Goddesses were too busy fucking each other to keep track of every little detail of exactly who begat whom on which particular mountain top.
Now, see what you might have missed while you got understandably sidetracked with all the sex? Dad knew where to send Mercury. Question is, did he know all along, or did it just come up while they were having a glass of fermented hops during their weekly dinner? And why didn’t he tell his wife-sister? Hmm? Families! Still, maybe he too had seen it all before.
Pluto ended up agreeing to release his hostage-lover-wife-queen (and you think today has a monopoly on hyphenating!) One legend has it that he made her eat some pomegranate seeds to bind her to return to him for part of every year, another says she took matters into her own hands. It was a long time ago and nobody cares except the participants, let’s just say that their courtship was explosive but they came to a mutually beneficial arrangement, and … he was really hot and could do things that Mercury wouldn’t even dream of, okay?
Six seeds or four, the number never was important whatever the myths might have you believe. One was all it took if you meant it. She ended up having to go back to her mother for part of the year, and don’t think that didn’t suck after being Queen in Hades. Power corrupts? Your point was? She had more down there, and she liked it, and did I mention the sex? Hotter than… well, Hell actually.
Anyway she went backwards and forwards (you make up your own mind which way made her happier), and the seasons revolved around her. Blah, blah, blah. End of story.
On the contrary. Just the start of one.
But remember what I said? There’s really only one true story.
Dean thinks his brother turned into a giant slut overnight. The macho posturing side of him would almost be proud of Sammy getting laid if it wasn’t with me. I shouldn’t find that as funny as I do. I should get out of Hell more often.
Dean's sure he knows when he met me. This me that is. I kind of like the wrapper. It’s a lot more blue-collar than blondie was. And now I’ve got her? Well, let’s just say I’ve roughened up a few of her edges even more.
There she was stuck waitressing in a town that her God had definitely forsaken if you wanted to count how many of us were passing through it at any one time. Bit of a scenic black hole really and not much of an improvement on Hell, but first thing you learn is that you don’t always get to pick your nexus.
Christy. And wasn’t that name so deliciously ironic? All big brown eyes and wide-open thighs just hoping the next guy was going to take her away from all this. What does she get? Sam Winchester stalking tall through her diner door acting more like John every day without Dean at his side.
Someone like him, with someone like her? She thought all her dreams had come true when he turned around after having being so politely distant all through his meal, and asked when her shift was over.
Had me in stitches that did, all that wistful hope. Thought she was getting her reward without having to go to Heaven first. Thy Kingdom come indeed. Shame she never got there.
Still. Who cares about her? Right body, right place, right time. For me. For him. For now.
Here’s another story.
To the Greeks, Persephone was Queen of the Underworld as well as the literal embodiment the Earth’s fertility. The Greeks coined the term dichotomy after all. Daughter of Demeter (either as a solo act-Goddesses could do that if they didn’t like the look of the talent wandering around Mount Olympus on a Friday night-or the result of some unsafe sex with Zeus.)
Persephone (Kore - the Maiden)-who hasn’t heard of her? Everyone loves a good tragedy. Innocent girl abducted while tiptoeing through tulips (what else was a nature Goddess going to do when she didn’t have any formal position at court and her damned mother kept most of her suitors at bay?) with the nymphs at Enna. Every mother’s eternal grief set against the joy of return. The cycle of the seasons wrapped up in one exciting allegory with a bit of sex on the side, who wouldn’t want to hear about it?
One thing they keep getting wrong though. She never walked around in robes carrying a sheaf of grain. First off, it was hot; she never had a problem with her body image, and secondly, Gods have never needed the crutch of symbolism no matter what you’ve been lead to think. Oh, and the maiden? Not quite as pure as her mother put about.
The nymphs? Well, I like to kiss and tell as much as the next slut though I was going to gloss over their fate, but there’s a clue there that historians often miss. Mommy dearest is said to have damned them for standing by while their friend was taken. They were supposedly transformed, one and all, into the Sirens. Can even a Goddess change you into something diametrically opposed to your true self? Were they nymphs or Sirens all along? Or like most things, somewhere in between? How close were they to Persephone? Would you stand by while your friend was taken? I would, if it suited me. But then, I’m not the person I used to pretend to be. Okay, I lie. Never had a friend, never will. You can’t trust anyone beside or behind you. You want to know how to survive in Hell? Leave your humanity back at the riverside, start killing now, and don’t bother stopping. You make it through the first hour? Come back to me for the next lesson, I can guarantee you it will hurt.
So, you’ve heard this all before. Only the names change. I told you there’s only ever one story, and you know what happens, Persephone goes into the Underworld, rules at the side of Hades, is fought over, eventually relinquished-but not permanently, and in the end is bound for all eternity to turn between Earth and Hades.
Punishment for her sins, or redeemed by love, and whose?
Do I look like I care?
Love? I leave that to humanity. They seem to feel it’s worth fighting for, and some of them try so hard, bleeding so prettily on another’s behalf. They’ll do anything; give their very souls and bodies over to you if you give them even the glimmer of hope.
So, I do.
I hold it out on the same platter that was used for mother, father, brother, and now him.
Samuel. Not last, not least, and not alone. Not that he knows that yet. And I’m the last person to tell him something that might actually tip the balance their way.
Sam Winchester, Hell’s emo darling.
So young, filled with love, pain, and rage; so needy and ripe for the plucking.
Anticipation sweetens the blood. I bided my time after Lilith.
She sent me away. She had the right, and the power after all. But I made sure I came back. I may be her daughter, but I’ve got my own agenda.
That was then. This is now. I’m Ruby. It’s as appropriate as anything else.
I was telling you a story while I waited, and watched-I can multitask if it gets the job done faster.
Here’s the darker side of it. The terrible Queen of the Dead who’s very name was forbidden to be spoken? The Eleusians’ talisman of immortality? Odysseus’ Iron Queen?
They say she was without soul, and showed no mercy, that she revelled in her domain.
They also say that she once let a soul go free from Hades.
That the music of Orpheus touched her unbeating heart. Whatever the reason, she gave Orpheus the chance to claim back his love. Eurydice was allowed to walk back to the land of the living behind her husband with the following two provisos. She had to stay behind him, and he was not allowed to look at her face until they reached the surface. Human nature, and love, and fear being what it always is, Orpheus failed at the very end; in turning to ensure his wife was behind him he lost her forever.
Was the Queen really touched by his love? Deliberately untwisting the ropes of fate to give the lovers a chance?
Or was it all a game from the beginning?
Or something in between? The sight of someone braving Hades for his other half too much for her to bear? A reminder of what she couldn’t have? Forcing her to offer false hope to another mortal, while she cursed the lovers to an eternity apart?
Can you blame her for being bitter? I can’t. Neither death, nor she could kill their love, but she did make sure that their souls were doomed to repeat past mistakes.
You take what pleasures you can get in Hell. And one day, who knows? She just might break them.
Trust me, I’ll be there when it happens.
I watched from below as he buried a hollow shell. Surprised me for a minute; call me sentimental, but my first bet was that Sam’d take his brother home and lay him to rest next to his mother’s empty grave. I had smaller odds on him wising up and doing what John would have done, what they’d done for him. Pity, I could have sold tickets to a lot of my outted kindred to see Dean Winchester burn in two worlds simultaneously.
Should have known. Samuel always was stubborn. Just like his brother. Neither one willing to admit they were the last one standing.
A shallow grave in the middle of nowhere. Sam wasn’t stupid. That damned Trickster had thumbed his nose at us, granted him the bonus of months to learn, and he hadn’t stopped planning since time got kick-started again. He picked that grove for a reason, and it wasn’t a half bad try.
He washed, and clothed, and anointed his saint with tears, prayers, and promises, and laid him like a pauper with a rough-nailed cross, and one final symbol. He made his point, and damn if those repercussions didn’t eventually flow all the way up to Heaven.
Dean would have undoubtedly preferred to be surrounded by the upright husks of thirteen Chevys than those trees, but he didn’t get much say in it, luckily.
Looking at them used to cause me a double take occasionally, especially when I was physically in their presence. Sam and Dean-and doesn’t that order tell you almost everything about Dean?-the geek and the obviously over-compensating horn dog, if I hadn’t spent a thousand lifetimes watching them, and learning to see past the exteriors, I’d never have picked the two of them out of a line-up (unless I was trolling for sex, because, hullo? Hot!) for who they really were. Every incarnation they seemed to get better camouflaged, have to give the other side credit for that, they do great work. Too many of my fellows tended to ignore the surname and their record as hunters and underestimate them. Always got them bounced right home again. I never minded that, kept the Winchesters occupied with the outer level peons while a few of us in the know made more long-term plans.
I’ve learned how to be patient. In the meantime, there’s a new toy in store.
I love it when I’m right. They just keep making them better. They still have the same fatal weakness though. They’ll do whatever you need to save the other. Guess it’s a design flaw.
Intellectually I can understand it, the whole duality thing. But it’s got to be a bitch to live with even if they did know what was going on. When they don’t? They race around madly in our maze like laboratory mice calling it honour, or family, only when they’re pushed will they admit to love. I could watch them run forever, I almost have. Makes my mouth water, they’re so delectably fragile.
Emotionally-I looked it up, it still makes no sense-I have no idea why they keep doing it.
They just can’t stop sacrificing themselves for each other. You have to admire the way they almost do half the work for you.
I’d give him a gold star for effort but I don’t think he’d appreciate my sense of humour.
I’d call Dean a joy, if I could feel. His mother’s golden-haired green-eyed boy for sure. The perfect unquestioning hunter, until the last few years at least.
He used to be so shiny on the outside-not any more. What people saw was simple. He preferred it that way, deflecting better than anyone else I’ve known apart from his earlier selves of course. But as I said before, they keep introducing improvements to the model. This one? Has a few things all of his own that I don’t think even they had on the drawing board. No wonder he jokes about them being freaks. Puts it right out there for people to immediately ignore. Tricky. Don’t even think his brother suspects, and he’s one of the few with the power to delve that deep. I think it’s because they’re too close most of the time. They’ve learnt to block certain things out as a defence mechanism. Just as well for us, they both learnt to synchronise this the way they do everything else? We’d all be stuck down here with no way out, if we survived the backlash that is.
Let’s hear it for luck being on our side for a change.
I waited while he tried to make his own deals. I clawed my way back to the surface, and I lingered, and I watched as he turned his back on the world for his brother’s sake.
I can smell the taint of hope fading from his blood now. It’s almost time. I love the taste of desperation on the wind.
Poor little Sammy running around trying to make bargains. Should have remembered we invented blacklisting.
Two months and he was ready for me to move in.
It’s all about the timing.
I’ll let you in on a little secret. Possession? Never quite as easy as we make it look. Oh yeah, sometimes we can just slide right on in, sometimes we’re invited, other times we gatecrash. Mostly the preparation’s a bitch even for the strongest amongst us, unless we’ve got a natural talent for it.
Trust me, Hell could win a diversity award. Don’t judge us all against the first demon you come across, that’s if you live to form a working hypothesis. We’re as different as you are. More so, if you want to get picky, because we’re not hampered by all your pesky morals, and ethics, and all that values jazz.
Lilith made it more difficult when she evicted me on D-day. Not impossible, and not quite as hard as I’ve let Sam think it is. Got my own reasons for that. And the sex is only one part of that equation.
He got a shock the first time I came visiting.
Some psychic he was. Should have remembered after cousin Meg’s second vacation, that barring that fucking Colt, and my knife-which is more selective that he knows-that the best they can do is banish us.
I made sure I did it the first time he gave in to the urges (guilt’s always an excellent motivator.) It wasn’t like he didn’t have them, regardless of what his brother said. He was a Winchester after all. What we did to his girlfriend forced him to keep everyone he loved at arm’s length. He was right to leave Palo Alto, we’d have enjoyed working our way through his friends, the way we killed off all of his mother’s. That brief Madison debacle? We couldn’t have planned it better if we’d tried. Pure luck again, nothing to do with us at all. Worked for us though, all that alienation. Made it easier for us to tip the brotherly see-saw up and down whenever we had the chance. Every bit of destabilisation helps the cause.
Sam was off chasing Lilith in Des Moines when he snapped. That’s what a decent bloody false trail will get you. He was in full hunting mode; the Trickster’s bonus-time certainly was upping the body count on our side. It was getting harder and harder to find anything supernatural willing to throw themselves in his way, even for the greater bad.
After taking down five of us, he came into that bar balancing on the knife-edge of adrenaline, exhaustion, and the knowledge that nothing he’d done had brought him any closer to getting his brother back.
He probably didn’t even realise he was channelling Dean more that anything when he picked the girl up. He’d had a lifetime of watching his brother’s every move, so he didn’t even time to think about it before he had her backed up against the wall in the ladies’ toilet.
Though the end result would have been the same-one very satisfied girl-if he’d been doing it his way, he’d have been politer, a bed might have been involved, and he’d definitely have taken longer to warm her up with his tongue.
But this time he was Dean, who was nothing if not effective and efficient at getting both a girl and himself off before her inadvertent screams of ecstasy brought her boyfriend in to investigate.
Five minutes after he’d put down his drink he was holding her up against the wall with one hand, rolling the condom down his cock with the other. Seven minutes more and the two of them momentarily became three as we all came together, and then there were two again. So long, Sophie. If you behave, I might even let you back home when I’m finished.
After hitting the ground running so to speak, I was more than a little miffed when my understandable question ‘Sammy, what would Dean say if he could see you now?’ got me my own knife at Sophie’s throat. Just as well I hadn’t planned to get attached to her, she nicked easily. Note to self: Pick one with tougher skin, and a better dye job next time.
I was also a little pissed that he didn’t take me up on my offer of a second round on the house.
In the end we came to an agreement.
He accepted my help. The magic word unsurprisingly turned out to be ‘Dean.’ I offered to teach Sam how to use Azazel’s gifts, he’d practise his way through the demon ranks up to Lilith for some old-fashioned payback, and I’d settle a few scores of my own with her in so doing. He didn’t bother telling me he was still planning on saving Dean, I didn’t tell him the truth either. I wouldn’t call it deception exactly, more the judicious withholding of a few minor details on both sides.
He flat out refused to let me travel with him though. Guess he wasn’t ever going to be ready for two people in the front seat of the Impala unless the other one was his older brother.
He wouldn’t budge on that issue, even when I told him Sophie wasn’t a keeper, and that I’d have to bodysurf my way around the country with him until I found a good match. So, I lied. A lot. What’s the big deal? Me telling him the quickest way in was for me to use him as a conduit? It wasn’t a total lie. It did work, and I got something out of it too, as did he, even if he wasn’t ever going to admit it.
I did promise to take my time following him in as it were, so he could pretend to preserve some dignity about the new family business of fucking demons into girls for his brother’s sake.
Turns out Sam’s moral compass was directly connected to his brother. He’d have done anything I asked by then for Dean. I just upped the ante by dangling the thought that I could always start looking for ever-younger hosts and that I didn’t have any gender bias. It only took him thirty seconds to agree that he’d choose a suitably willing girl first thing he got into a new town. It let Sam’s fading conscience have at least the veneer of informed sexual consent.
We both knew that in the end he’d do whatever it took to get his brother back. Everything has a price, but the cost is always greater than you think.
There’s nothing quite like watching a Winchester come apart around, and inside you. I should know. I’ve tried all of them. You might say they’ve spoiled me for anything else.
The Astoria? Not the best hotel in home, but not the worst either. Hearts on the door, and a tiger theme. Tacky didn’t begin to describe it. Dean would have felt right at home. No wonder she wanted to get out.
After a month doing this, Sam’s sex life was about to put even Dean’s self-declared reputation as the Winchester with the mostest to rest, and we’d followed the breadcrumb trail through Tennessee, and back into Illinois.
Pontiac was enough to set us both on edge. This close to Dean’s body, Sam was about to splinter apart. I was going to have to keep a firm hand on him, because it looked like something was interfering with my careful schedule.
I give Sam snaps though. Despite the pressure, his body choices got better every time. Christy was perfect for my needs. I never needed a vestal virgin, or the modern equivalent, an innocent girl with two exes, and stars in her eyes. Either would have pushed Sam over the edge quicker than I wanted. It wasn’t the speed with which I could bring him down that was the point; rather the more ways I could ruin him along the way, the better for all concerned. I have my own position to think of as well, you know.
Maybe I should have pushed. How was I to know that God was about to go interactive after two millennia of official silence?
Sam, damn his lying heart, got the girl out of there before I could manifest. Probably the right choice but it didn’t stop me trying to put Christy’s fist through the wall of the stairwell five minutes later.
Dean Goddamn Winchester, alive, and looking better than ever.
Resurrection was starting to become a dangerous family habit.
What was worse; was that this time, we didn’t stand to gain from it.
Somewhere soon, someone was going to pay for this. Preferably in fire, and clumps of blood-soaked feathers, to the sound of two Winchesters screaming at my command.
I was a witch once.
Joined a coven, took the easy road to power; small steps on a darker road. Didn’t have any idea what I was really doing. Ended up selling my soul, and for what? Hell always collects its markers.
My debt came due, and I went to Hell, and I suffered a million torments for my sins.
That’s what I told Dean during one of our little one-on-one, demon to hunter, bonding chats. That he’d suffer as I had. Then I told him that every demon was human once. That he was going to become what he hunted.
I watched what that did to him.
Right then I offered him a shred of hope. Told him I’d managed to keep my humanity, fought to be free, chose which side to fight on, said I’d follow Sam. Told him that his brother would need me to help him win the war when he was gone. That I could help save him, when Dean couldn’t.
I watched that cut deep, watched him cover it. For Sam. Always for Sam.
I was a witch once. At least that’s what I told them.
Dean never really believed me-deep down, part of them always remembers.
He should have killed me back when he had the chance. I was prepared for that. I’ve had eternity to come up with a million contingency plans. But Sam was the voice of reason as always, and Dean backed down then. For Sam.
This time around, he caught us, gives him an even greater reason, even if you discount those secrets he’s keeping from his little brother. Luckily for me I trained Sam well.
The Queen is dead! Long live the King! Someone brought Dean back; the game’s still in progress, even if I’ve now got an active opponent.
Dean watches me more closely now than he ever did before. I like that. I love it when they try to fight.
He watches Sam too.
Here’s one last lesser-known tale.
Some say that Persephone went willingly into the pit. Not for herself, or the love of its ruler. That she sacrificed herself to rape by her consort, as had her mother before her. Gave up her freedom for the sake of the souls already in the Underworld who waited and suffered in confusion without her, as well as those on Earth.
That she was, and always will be an Earth Goddess who needs to reside under the Earth from whence all power comes. That spring’s rebirth has to come from below, from what she suffers and does there.
Others insist she’s both mother and maiden. Two halves of a whole always grieving for her younger self who is lost, reborn, and lost again.
I say this.
That she could be Persephone and Hades, Orpheus and Eurydice, each in turn, and all at once. There’s only one true story after all.
The time’s coming. We’re almost there.
And I’ve made sure I’ve earned my ringside seat. So no matter what you think you see, I’m going to be around. Keeping an eye on him-her-them-the both of him, the one of them. Confused? Don’t be. It’s quite simple when you know the truth. But I’m getting ahead of myself. What I know has already happened and will happen again and again, and what they are only now starting to realize they’re a part of, well, let’s just say we have a convergence of will and destiny. I’d say may the best side/men/woman win, but I’m biased. Whatever happens, it promises to be interesting.
I told you before. I like to watch.