Detox was a bitch.
After weeks of drinking himself into a stupor, complete sobriety was proving a lot harder than it sounded. Withdrawals left him hurting everywhere that could be hurt, in the body and the head, and what was worse was now he had Ruby riding his ass. At least Dean understood needing a drink every so often. Ruby just didn't give a damn.
"Don't you ever sleep?" he asked from the bathroom, bent double over the toilet and resting his forehead on the seat. His stomach twisted painfully and he felt the bile rising, gagging a bit though nothing came up that time. His whole body felt cold, but he was still sweating.
Ruby leaned against the door frame, her arms folded. "Occasionally. When I'm feeling a bit nostalgic," she said evenly. He didn't look good, but that was to be expected. Still, she wasn't about to let him out of her sight any time soon.
He would've laughed if laughing didn't make him want to vomit even more. He thought vaguely of asking her if she dreamed, but that's when the bile decided it finally wanted to come up; he just barely brought his chin over the rim in time.
Ruby went for the sink even before he'd finished, filling a glass of water and waiting until his shivering subsided before holding it out to him. He looked up with bloodshot eyes, groaning as the blood rushed from his head and made him that much more queasy.
"Thanks," came the muttered response. Sam took a mouthful of the water, swished it a little and gagged as the taste moved in his mouth again before he spit it out. It took two more swishes to get the taste out before he stood on unsteady legs, flushing the toilet.
Giving his back a reassuring rub, Ruby took the glass from him to refill it before following him back out into the hallway and to the living room. He was barely visible in the lantern light, little more than a silhouette as he shakily made his way over to sit on the broken sofa.
"Shouldda just left me there," he said to his knees, his hands moving up through his hair to fold on the back of his neck. He'd found the bar after making sure the little girl at the house Lilith had set up as a trap for him was with the police. Sarah. That had been her name. Her parents had been killed mere hours before his arrival, and Lilith had fled having caught his scent. He'd been stupid to think it was that easy to get her, and now Sarah's parents were dead. Or maybe they would've been dead anyway; at least he'd saved the little girl. The grief had been swift, and the bar had been the easy solution. After three weeks without a beer in his body, he found himself over-indulging within moments before everything became fuzzy and he lost time.
"Maybe. But sleeping on a bathroom floor probably wouldn't have improved your mood," she said, standing right behind the sofa. She knew what he meant, but indulging his depression wasn't the way to go. She tapped his back with the full glass. "Drink."
"I'm fine," Sam replied, still looking at his ankles. "I'll be fine."
"You'll be better if you drink some water."
"I said I'll be fine," he added a bit more roughly, his voice gritty. A flash of pain registered on the edge of his nerve endings and one hand immediately moved to rub at his Adam's apple, but otherwise he didn't move.
She considered leaving it at that, but no. Not after what he did. Setting the glass on the floor, she strode around to stand in front of him, taking his chin in her hand and tilting his face up to meet her eyes, her expression almost angry. "You should be proud," she said firmly.
"Proud?" he asked incredulously, pulling his face back and standing. She was much too close. "Proud. I should be proud. It was a fucking trap. She... that girl..." Sam felt his chest heave and he side-stepped, putting a hand through his hair and fisting it hard before letting go. "Because of me."
"Because of you, she's alive!" Ruby said, grabbing his arm. "And so am I. It might have been stupid of you to go there, Sam, but you came out with as much as a win as you could have hoped for."
"Then we're even," he said, aching despite her words. He breathed slow and hard through his nose, then out again. "You were right."
"I know," she said, letting go of his arm. "But, Sam, you did it. You exorcised him. And next time, you might save someone because of it. That's what you should be proud of."
"That's all you have to say?" he added, finally looking at her. "No rubbing it in my face, no calling me out on my bullshit? Just 'I know'?"
"Repeatedly saying, 'I told you so' gets old, Sam," she said, raising her eyebrow slightly. "Eventually you'll realize I'm never wrong."
That time he did laugh, and even though it hurt, it wasn't awful. "Last time I checked you weren't Sister Cleo."
"You're right, I don't have the third eye on my side," she said, smiling slightly. "All I have are centuries of experience and first-hand knowledge of how the other team plays."
What little smile he had faded some. "Touché." There was a long moment of silence between them where neither of them moved, and questions continued to buzz half-formed in his mind. He'd never asked her why she came back, never asked her why she had so much faith in him, never asked why she cared so much about what he thought or felt. It was strange to him, that someone who wasn't his brother or Bobby could care. Half the time his own father hadn't cared, and yet here she was. His little fallen angel, those had been her words.
"I wouldn't go so far as to say you're always right, though," he said at last, letting the unsaid words stay locked up in his thoughts. If she wanted to tell him, she'd tell him. He knew better than to press.
Her jaw tightened but she kept her expression neutral. "No, but I learned my lesson pretty thoroughly since then."
"I didn't mean -" he started almost immediately, frowning when he realized how his words were taken. He turned, his hands coming to rest on her forearms. "Sorry. I... sorry." He sighed, letting his hands linger before dropping them. "I don't know if I can manage it again. It was just adrenaline. And the bleeds... I could be giving myself an aneurysm."
His touch softened her, her skin tingling even after he removed his hands, but she nearly laughed at his words. "Twenty-four hours ago you were going after Lilith with a toothpick, and now you're worried about your health?"
His immediate reaction was to scowl at her a little. "Drinking isn't going to kill me, but you want me sober. What's the difference?"
"Because the way you do it, it will kill you," she snapped, drawing herself to her full height and wishing, not for the first time, that she'd found a bigger body. "You're not yourself and you make stupid mistakes, and I can't always be there to save your ass when you don't even care if you die!"
"You don't think revenge killing is about on the same psychological scale as suicidal thoughts?" he countered, his voice tinted with sarcasm. "It's not going to matter! At least if I off myself on purpose -"
In one swift move, Ruby grabbed his shoulders, twisting and shoving him to sit on the sofa. She kept her grip, glaring just inches from his face. "Stop it, Sam," she said through gritted teeth. "Yes, it hurts like shit. But you're not the only person who's ever lost someone, and you won't be only person who gets past it. But if you won't even try, it's useless."
"What've I got to live for, Ruby?" he asked her, his expression pained. "Saving people? More people die than I can save. I'm only one person. He was always the better hunter. It should've been me."
"Bullshit. But it doesn't matter. This is how it is," she said firmly. "You can't save everyone, but you can save some. You can get better. And whatever little you think you have to live for, you have a lot less to die for. If you die, things won't get better, they will get worse. And you won't be the only one suffering."
She pushed away from him, turning her back as she felt her composure crumble. But only for a moment. "Whatever Dean is going through," she said, turning to face him again. "Whatever suffering, believe me, it will be nothing compared to how he would feel if he saw you down there."
The moment she finished he dropped his head down again, grief and anguish swelling up in him until he felt like he was suffocating from it. She was right, again. If anything, thinking of Dean's reaction only made it hurt worse. The deal had been to keep him alive and safe. Even in death, Dean had to make sure he was alive and safe. A part of him wondered if this was the second lesson meant to follow the one the Trickster had forced on him, what felt like a lifetime ago. He gasped, feeling his lungs constrict and his heart thud double hard in his chest. He'd have to go on. Alone.
Ruby's muscles sagged at his expression. If she knew the words to make it better - or even if screaming or talking softly would do the trick - she would. As it was... She walked quietly over, sitting next to him and taking his hand in hers.
Her presence was a surprising comfort, and even though he could feel the tears pressing into the backs of his eyelids and heaving in his chest, suddenly the thought of being alone was less painful. He wasn't alone. She'd said that, too. She was real, there, and when he clenched her hand in his he could feel the pulse beneath her skin. Alive. But what if something happened to this body when they were out, trying to fight? She'd lost the last one with Lilith, and it had been devastating, though it had paled in comparison to losing Dean.
She gave his hand a squeeze. "It's okay, Sam," she said quietly. "It's okay for it to hurt."
"Don't," he said in a similar tone, though his was a bit more choked. He turned her hand over, pressing their palms together and threading his fingers through hers before turning his face toward hers. He just needed to forget for a little while. And if alcohol wasn't on the menu, then there were other ways. His mouth found hers in an insistent, needy kiss, teeth grazing against her lower lip before pushing his tongue through and twining with hers.
Ruby took a sharp breath as his lips met hers, eagerly moving with him. She knew why he was doing it, that he was seeking an escape, and she didn't mind. It was what he needed, and she was ready to do that for him. To be everything he needed.
Sliding a hand up through his hair, she shifted to straddle him, just managing not to break the kiss. The moment she was in his lap his whole world shifted, everything fading away until it was just her, just them in this desolate place, and became smaller still at the sensory perceptions. He was ever-aware of the smallness of her frame but how she seemed to make it larger than it truly was; how she seemed so frail and yet how she could easily bend or stretch to fit whatever he wanted. There was a subtle shift from gentle to rough, his hands moving first up her back to her shoulders to grip there before moving down to her hips, easily covering them and holding her firmly there to rut up into her.
The friction was dizzying, and Ruby's hips twitched in his grip, wanting more, wanting to move. But she held herself back, instead pressing his shoulders deep into the sofa, focusing on his mouth, nipping and twining and desperate. Whether or not she was aware of it, he could hear little noises rising up from her, hidden in the little gasps she gave. Partly out of his own need and partly out of the urge to please her, he moved his hands upward to pull her shirt up her back, breaking the kiss long enough to tug it off and over her head. Her hair tumbled down her back and over his hands, which tossed the shirt aside before pushing up in through her hair and into her scalp. She gasped into his mouth, breathing in the heated scent of him as her heart raced. Her hands ran down his shirt, briefly cupping between his legs before working at the fly on his jeans. Even the fleeting touch was enough to pull a groan out of him, and rather than work in the tricky angle they'd found themselves in he lifted her and switched their places, moving her ankles up to his shoulders and yanking her underwear and jeans upward after tugging off her shoes.
Sprawled across the sofa, Ruby's chest heaved as she watched him, impatient no matter how fast he stripped her. As soon as her pants were tossed aside, she grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him to her to take his mouth again, her legs gripping him around the waist. Sam bent over her, shifting her legs higher so that he could pop the button on his jeans and shove them partway down his hips enough to free his straining erection. Lips still latched firmly to hers, he thrust easily into her, his hips snapping sharply against her thighs. Ruby arched, whimpering against his mouth, her hands scratching up his neck to twist into his hair. Her heels dug into his back as she thrust up against him, no rhythm or attempt at matching him, just desperate need.
It was becoming hard to keep kissing her and thrusting so Sam pulled back, lips and teeth grazing her throat before dipping lower, nipping her clavicle before dipping lower still and sucking a pert nipple between his lips. Her sharp gasp got swallowed in a moan, her head digging into the sofa as she tried to arch both her back and hips into him. Her hands ran down his shoulders, along his back, then scratched their way back up. The sensation was like fire burning up his back, engulfing him, but he groaned in pleasure. Then, suddenly, he stopped all movement. Ruby bucked against him twice before realizing he'd stopped. She looked up at him, her hands running through his hair when she saw that look.
"Sam," she whined, squirming underneath him. Even as the shocks of bliss snaked upward from the base of his spine from her squirming he remained motionless, his face hovering above hers.
"Say it."
A shiver ran down her body. "Please," she said, low and needy, leaning her head up to take a quick kiss. "Fuck me, Sam. Please."
As suddenly as he'd stopped he was thrusting again, hard and fast to the point where the sofa creaked ominously. His hands came up under her back, holding her shoulders and moving so that her hips tilted upward on each shallow stab. Letting out a moaning cry, Ruby twisted her hands in his hair, the pleasure rolling over her in waves until it erupted, hot and white and all-encompassing. She clamped around him so tight he thought he might die from it, his forehead falling into the curve of her neck as he kept on, his blood all but boiling.
Even as her body tried to ease down, she could feel the pulsing building and tensing again, unrelenting. She panted with every thrust, her hands running down Sam's back, twisting in his shirt as she felt the second surge reach the edge. "Oh Sam!" she screamed through her teeth, thrashing under him. That time he did lose himself, his face contorting in abandon. And all through it he continued to move, each thrust making the wave crash harder into him. Finally spent he collapsed forward, panting hard against her neck, his tongue darting out at the sweat in the dip of her throat.
The press of his body shallowed her breaths but it wasn't uncomfortable. Anything but. Lying under him, slowly going from pleasure to contentment, he encompassed her so completely that literally nothing else in the world existed. She closed her eyes, turning her head to brush her cheek against his jaw as her hand sought the warm exposed skin of his neck. Slowly but surely his breath evened out and he pulled gently from her, tucking himself carefully away before his arms cradled under her again, lifting her. The sofa was too small to rest against comfortably, and while the single bed wasn't long enough to accommodate for his frame, it was wider and made for a better space. It was a short distance from the common area to the room he'd dragged the bed, and after setting her gently against the worn mattress he settled against her, pulling her over him like one might a blanket.
Ruby kept her eyes closed as he moved her, afraid he'd be able to read in them the emotion that was so much deeper than simple need. This was why she'd come back, why she'd never stopped believing in him; someone who could have been through what he had and came out still knowing how to be gentle... that was worth believing in. She rested against him, her arm draped over his chest, holding to his warmth as the cool June air drifted along her back. In the haze of post-coital euphoria, everything seemed less overwhelming, the world narrower. He pressed his nose against her temple, breathing her in deeply and holding the breath, imagining her becoming a part of him that he could always keep.
"When you sleep, do you dream?" he murmured in question, one hand sliding slowly down her back over warm, smooth skin until it came to rest on the small curve of her spine.
She took a deep breath at the press of his hand, opening her eyes slowly. "I don't know if you could call it dreaming."
"Are they memories?" he asked, his thumb tracing small circles while his palm stayed still.
"Not mine." Alright, enough with being cryptic. He'll get there anyway. She took a breath, forcing herself to keep his gaze. "In other bodies, when there's... The spirit doesn't stop fighting. It's easy to ignore awake, but asleep, there are images." She paused before adding. "Most demons just don't sleep. The host ends up dying of exhaustion."
He felt his chest constrict at her words, caught somewhere between wonder and disgust, like he had been the first night. But now the body was empty, save her. Was there residual still? "And now?"
"I haven't slept in it yet," she said simply, a little relieved he hadn't pushed. His other hand slid up to her face, pushing her hair behind her ear before tilting her chin up slightly, his lips pressing tenderly to hers.
"You should."
A thrill of soft pleasure ran down her spine, though it dulled at his words. "I will." When I'm sure you'll still be here when I wake up. Even though she didn't say the words aloud, they spoke loudly in her eyes, and in answer he kissed her again, letting it linger that time.
"I..." he breathed, still tasting her on his lips when he broke it. "I don't want you to be tired." While the words were slightly cryptic, they too spoke loudly and clearly.
She smiled slightly, bringing her hand up to his cheek. "I don't need the sleep," she assured him. "I'm actually not sure how this body will function without me awake to keep it running." She leaned forward, giving him a kiss. "So if you wake up and I'm cold, wake me up. I don't exactly want to know what it feels like to stretch out rigor mortis."
He thought of the paper she'd brought him, the certificate to remove the body from life support. He knew from past experiences that while the spirit might not remain in the body, energy could keep it alive. That had been the case with the coma patient in Maple Springs, New York. Even though he knew he was no expert, he wondered if it was the same case.
"There's only two ways I've ever seen the smoke rise, for lack of a better way to put it," he said slowly. "Voluntarily leaving or exorcism. Unless I'm wrong, and knowing my track record so far the probability is high -" he watched her smile a little, felt the breath of laughter puff against his lips. "- I think you'll be okay. And..." Almost as an afterthought he moved a little, awkwardly tugging his shirt up and over his head. Unable to fling it aside without arching up and dislodging her, he let it rest just behind his neck. Warm skin greeted warm skin, and his own contentment was immediate. "Even if you did lose this one, somehow I doubt I'd be rid of you that easily."
If it was nice before, now it was like she'd slid into a warm bath. Her arms curled along his chest, drinking in his warmth. "True," she said with a smile. "But I like this one. Next try might not be so lucky. Could be old." She shifted, kissing his jaw. "Or ugly." The corner of his mouth. "Or a man." His lips.
He laughed faintly against her mouth, moving one hand up through her hair before pulling back. "In that order, huh?"
"Maybe even all three," she teased, her hand running up his neck, tangling in the necklace there before she glanced down at it. "What does this talisman do exactly?" The moment she mentioned it he looked down, his face going from lighthearted to solemn.
"Mesopotamian Bull-Man," he said quietly. "Bobby gave it to me to give to Dean, back when we were kids. It helps the wearer ward off adversity. Demons, specifically." He gave a small, sad laugh. "Well, that's what Bobby always said. I think it's had more of a placebo effect than anything concrete. The Bull-Man was seen as a helpful demon."
She played at looking in surprise at the amulet. "And here I thought I was setting a precedent." Her other hand traveled along his chest. She didn't need to look to know when she'd found it, her fingers tracing the ink. "I know what this does, at least."
"That was before you," he said. "Not because of you."
The reassurance was unexpected and sweet. She brought her hand to his face, her still tingling fingertips tracing his lips. "Whatever the reason, I'm glad you have it. Shows forethought. Very unlike your usual."
"Yeah, well," he murmured, a hint of embarrassment crossing his face. "It wasn't exactly in forethought."
She couldn't hide her smile. "That explains it then." Just in case the conversation might be headed in the direction of bad memories, she leaned forward, taking his mouth in a long, slow kiss. The reaction wasn't exactly unwelcome, though it did strike him as odd that she'd react that way. Sam let his thumb graze down the edge of her cheek, indulging a little before pulling away.
"Yellow-eyes had a daughter," he said, voice low as he said it, his tone reflective. "She called herself Meg. It had been her host's name. And I was the puppet. She was bringing me to her daddy, and along the way she messed up. We caught her, exorcised her, and thought that was it. But it wasn't. She climbed out and found me, and took me for a ride."
She slid down, just enough to rest her cheek on his neck, her nose against his jawline. Enough so he couldn't look into her eyes. She may be in an empty body now, but that had only been because of Sam. While she didn't know what it felt like, she did know what they tried to tell her whenever she closed her eyes. "Deumos," she said quietly after a while, her hand gently brushing Sam's cheek. "Spoiled bitch."
Sam's brows furrowed at the first word, but her follow-up immediately flipped the switch in his brain. He gave a breath of a laugh, shaking his head slightly. "No wonder she went by Meg. I'd be pissed too, with a name like that."
Ruby smiled. "Some don't like you to know their names. They think the uncertainty gives them power," she said simply, her hand drawing a line down his neck, then along his clavicle.
"Old myth," he echoed, nodding slightly. "I'm not surprised it carries the same weight in high and low places." He paused, chewing the inside of his cheek. Her real name couldn't have been Ruby, he knew that. But then, she wasn't the same person she had been when she'd first gone down. Perhaps it was her way of reinventing herself; he couldn't hold that against her.
The question hung in the air, but she wasn't about to answer it. She silently traced his shoulder, her fingers sliding down the outside of his arm, then back up the inside. Slow and thoughtful, like she was trying to memorize every inch.
"It's trust, too," he said at last, eyes falling closed at the faint touches. They were mesmerizing. "And respect. Obviously the weight of it is different now." He paused, chewing the inside of his cheek again thoughtfully. "What were you like? You always say you remember, but then you don't say what."
Ruby swallowed, focusing on tracing along his chest to keep herself from tensing. "Naive," she said quietly. "Powerless and afraid. That's what I remember. It was a long time ago, though."
Sam moved to circle his arms around her waist, the chill of being uncovered starting to creep in. He brought his knee up, using the heel of his foot to catch the thin blanket and bring it within arm's reach before tugging it up over her. "You were young," he said, not so much a question as a statement.
The blanket was nice; his arms even better. "It's what I remember," she said, closing her eyes and relaxing against him. "But I'm learning."
"What, exactly?" he asked, brows raised slightly.
"How to feel human," she breathed. The words held unspoken weight, and Sam opened his eyes, looking down at her but remaining silent. Instead he moved one hand up to her shoulder, stroking the skin. There was so much he wanted to ask her, things he knew she was keeping from him, but still he was silent. They had time. More time than he would have liked, but plenty of it.
It wasn't long before Ruby's hand stopped moving, and not long after that before her breathing came in slow, metered breaths, her body warm and limp and perfectly content atop him. The broodiness that had come over him faded as he realized what had happened, and while he was tired himself, he committed to watching her. She looked peaceful and happy, and a very small part of him took pleasure in the fact that he wore her out. And it'd be nice to prove her wrong, for once, he thought with a small, amused smile as he pressed a small kiss to her forehead.