A/N – I just really ship them. I love Ruby. I think she did love him. I think he never thought he should, or could, love her. I like to play with ideas, though.
Disclamer: I don't own anything, of course. If I did, I'd kill myself for killing the shit out of every awesome character in this show.
They are in a hotel when he begs for more. He's found her and came to her in the middle of the night, with huge bags under his eyes that look like the deepest, darkest hell pits she's ever seen in her time there. She moves so he can get in, but she doesn't smile or grin. He should notice how tired she looks, she thinks right then. He must, because he's Sam Winchester and he's never been anything but good and kind.
But he doesn't, and that's when she realizes it's not just that she's a demon and he doesn't pity her or care like he does for normal human beings, it also the fact that what she's doing to him is changing him. She feels the heart in the body she's wearing leap up for a moment.
The problem is, the girl who's body she wore was an aslept one. The girl wasn't awake. She wasn't aware. She wasn't there. What was with the heart, then?
He sits down on the bed covered with shabby green blanket and doesn't even look up at her. He looks miserable and sick, leaning on his knees with his elbows and frowning sadly at the floor.
He looks at her only when she aproaches slowly, and the look he's giving her means more than just begging for blood. The thing is, Ruby wasn't entirely lying when she told him she remembered how it felt to be human. She really does remember the feeling. And she is using him, she must, but she involuntarily reads the expression he wears and feels strongly negative about it. He feels lost.
She sits down next to him and puts her both hands on his knee. He's looking down again, but this time at her hands, and he looks quizzical. She's warm, and he knows it's not the demon, it's the stranger's body she uses, but there is something so close in the touch.
When he reaches for the cut she's made on her forearm, his touch is gentle and his lips part almost hastily. Her breath catches in her throat and she really despised the fact she doesn't share that heart with anyone. It means it's her own reaction to his lips on her skin when it beats so fast and flustered.
He takes less than they both thought he would, and he rips his shirt to make a bandage for her arm. Then they sit, both of them shocked and confused. They just sit and share the silence in a way that's much more intimate than the way she shares the body of that poor girl. The girl is not there. Sam is, and he comunicates with her in the way he nods or brushes her fingertips with his.
She answers the only way she knows; the way she's always known men to be like, wistful and sexual, so she puts her left hand over his right and leans into him, in between his big arms, forward to his warm lips, still drenched in her blood. She kisses him roughly, pulling her fingers on his hair, but she's shocked the way he kisses back, slowly and gently once again.
It's because he pities her. She doesn't know why, but he moves his hands soothingly over her back, and his touch is light, and her lips slow down and it's painful, and he is the most human he's ever been with her. She's more herself than she's ever been with him – no lies, no false words. Just the touch of their lips in the most intimate, gentle way, the touch she's never had and always yearned for, even if unconsciously.
She's not the one to push him down on the bed like every other time. This time, he slowly puts her down and undresses her, than himself, as she runs her fingers over his scars – something she's never done before, she always scratches him with her nails or grips him tightly until it hurts – and then he covers them with the blanket.
She moans when he kisses her cheek, and the body cries, and Sam doesn't brush away the tears, he fucks her hard until they both sink into the heat too much to feel pain.
He doesn't leave when they're done, and she thinks this time he's given so much into it that he's too exhausted to leave. Maybe without thinking, maybe not, he draps his arms around her and she puts her palms over his heart.
In the morning he's gone, and Ruby sits by the window and looks up at the rosy sky, and for the first time, she truly sees it.
She also sees the reflection in the window, but she tries not to see the tears. It's just what's left of humanity in her, she says to herself, and she reassures her own mind it's just leaving her, not affecting her, in the form of tears.