Evil Never Loved You

One

Back on the Road Again

The Daisy Inn motel could hardly even be considered suitable for inhabitance; it was so aged and frayed, that it was feared to collapse on itself at any minute. Plopped down in the corner of a town long since forgotten, somewhere in the depths of Minnesota, the melting snow took its toll on the already weak building. But for the Winchesters, the place was like a palace. The Daisy Inn was the best motel they had stayed at in months, and the slightly scratchy sheets could have very well been silk. Dean often wondered if it was a good or bad thing that a dump like Daily Inn could feel so much like—home. He wanted to believe it just showed their strength of character and adaptability, but he knew that was nowhere near the truth. The Daisy felt like home, because in all honesty, it was. John Winchester had raised his boys into a life where it didn't matter where you were, or how uncomfortable you were; all that mattered was the destination. Sam had habitually described himself and Dean as soldiers in their father's pointless army, but Dean begged to differ; he almost pleaded. If what they were doing was considered "nothing", and their hunting "unnecessary", then Dean would have such a bitterness towards his father, it would ultimately burst him into smithereens of dying and dead hopes.

But all of that traditional turmoil seemed superfluous in their current situation. Sam was about to walk out; for good this time. Dean could see it in his brother's stormy blue eyes: he wasn't kidding about this. Dean was shredding into a million fragile pieces of disjointed emotion, and had no power but to watch them surround him like a fortress of his own self loathing. If only he had kept Sammy safer; if only he had been more of a big brother, and less of a replica of dad; if only…

"Don't you have anything to say to me?" Sam asked harshly, jerking Dean from his thoughts. The elder Winchester looked up to his brother, searching for any of the old Sammy he once knew. It was lost somehow, in the abyss created by the fate Sam was now sure to have. The second power was introduced to Sam Winchester; Dean knew it was all over. Even if he had tried to deny it, he still knew. Sam was weak when it came to the temptation of control, and the damn yellow-eyed demon had placed that right in his hands.

"What's there to say," Dean drawled numbly, "if you're leaving, you're leaving; if you're not, you're not." He supplied Sam with a slight shrug of the shoulders, and returned his eyes to the brown bottle of beer sitting on the table beside him. It called to him in a melancholy hymn, just craving to drown Dean's troubles in its intoxicating consistency.

"God, Dean, your self-pity is really getting old, you know that?" Sam's voice was a bitter heap of every insult he'd never gotten the chance to spew at his father. He had always hated his brother for continuing the ways of John, and wanted nothing more than to crush the idol Dean had created for himself, and in turn, him.

"The door's right there, Sammy," Dean muttered lowly in reply, not bothering to lift his eyes to his brother's seething features. Maybe it was wrong to just let him go; if this had been a year or so ago, Dean would be tying Sam down to keep him from leaving. But what did it matter now? Sam had more of a love for the dark powers he was now "blessed" with, and was willing to leave Dean in the dust when a better opportunity presented itself. Why the hell would Dean want to save that?

It was a lie, though. Dean Winchester would do anything for his brother, even if he became Satan himself. But it was too late to start down that road again. The last time that'd happened, he condemned himself to hell.

"You're impossible," Sam said darkly, and grabbed his bag off of the bed with a certain force Dean had never seen in him before. He knew Sammy, deep down, really didn't want to leave, but the temptation was too damn appealing for him not to. Maybe he wanted to watch Dean suffer; watch him fight to make him stay. But Dean wasn't about to give into those insidious wishes of Sam, and rather tried to stay as aloof as his heart could let him.

Watching as Sam breathed in heavily, Dean turned his back on him, again returning his gaze to the bottle of beer, and closed his eyes. They burned at the sensation of being rehydrated after a night of an hours sleep tops, but Dean refused to open them until he heard Sam slam the door shut.

He was gone.

Where he was off to, Dean hadn't a clue. Reaching into his pocket, he felt the cool metal of his keys, and couldn't help but smile sadly. He knew Sam wouldn't take the car anyways; it was too much of dad, too much of the past. It still tortured Dean though. The Impala was safe and sound, with all of the love and devotion it could possibly want, and Sam, his own flesh and blood, was now chained to the road, lost, and overall, dangerous. What kind of brother would allow his younger sibling to have that kind of life? Apparently Dean.

He was tired of saving Sam, especially when he didn't want to be saved. He was done with trying to make him accept the past, and he was certainly over with telling Sammy that everything would be alright.

They were better off going their separate ways; they had to be.

Moving his limp body slowly to the bed, bottle in hand, he sat down with a certain dead weight. Sam was gone, and he was alone. Dean had never done well being by himself. Of course he could get by, but it was not his true nature. He was a man of loyalty; he was a soldier, willing to give his life to save that of another. But now, who was there to fight for? Sammy had left, John was dead.

Rubbing a clammy hand over his face, it all didn't seem to matter. He'd go through the motions; drive the Impala around the country, saving people from monsters they didn't even know existed, and eat meals alone at a broke down motel in Nowheresville. Oh, what a wonderful life.

Whether it was morning or not could not be answered by the dark sky, but the obsessive knocking on the motel door could not be ignored. Dean groaned, rising his aching body off of the bed, and staggered his way to the door. Whipping it open with what little strength he had, he quietly prayed that it was Sam. Alas.

"Ruby," Dean deadpanned in a husky, still partly asleep voice, "what an unpleasant surprise." He blockaded the entrance to the room with his perfectly chiseled body, and stared at Ruby in dark numbness.

"Your humor gets really cliché when you're tired," she stated in return, not bothering to shove Dean out of the way. She rather crossed her arms, feeling her blonde hair flutter in the wind. It almost gave her the illusion that she was human.

"Oh, so you're saying I'm funny, huh?" Dean smirked. What the hell was he doing? This was Ruby he was talking to…

"That is what I just said, wasn't it? God, am I speaking Greek or something?" She raked a hand through her hair. Dean just stared at her, the dumb smile still plastered on his face.

"Or something," Dean muttered. Ruby rolled her eyes in reply, giving an exasperated sigh. "Someone's bitchy tonight," he continued. Tapping his foot obnoxiously loud on the floor, he watched as Ruby eyed the foot, about ready to pounce. "Easy there kitty."

"You're drunk, aren't you," she deadpanned, her face slouching into what almost seemed to be disappointment.

"So now the Grinch has a heart, huh?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"No, the Grinch just doesn't want to talk to a guy who's completely wasted. Where's Sam?" She went onto her tippy toes, trying to spot the younger Winchester amongst the mess of clothes thrown every which direction, and the boulder of Dean in front of her.

"Gone," was his simple reply, and Ruby watched as his body sagged slightly in the doorway. She could see the muscles tense in his forearm, and noticed the undeniable undertone of pain in his emerald eyes.

"Gone?" She felt her natural eyes start to overpower her human's hazel ones, and blinked to return them to normal.

"Is there an echo in here?" Dean taunted. "Yes, Ruby, he's gone." He pushed off of the doorframe, allowing Ruby access to the room. "Don't believe me? Take a gander for yourself."

She did trust him. Despite the fact that he was a demon hating, righteous do-gooder, she trusted him. Looking at the man, she wished that he was the one to be chosen by Azazel, rather than Sam. The pent up darkness in Dean was ten times stronger than that in Sam; Ruby could just feel it. It's always the best soldiers who go dark.

"There're only so many places he could hide in there," she replied. "I trust you." The sentence came out awkwardly, but it still felt oddly good to say. Breathing out, she walked past Dean and into the motel room. She couldn't help but inhale in pinewood scent, the aroma of evergreen trees overtaking her senses. It reminded her torturously well of the place she had grown up. Damn Dean.

"Wow, there's a shocker. So what are you doing here, Ruby?" Dean kicked the door closed with his heel, keeping his arms crossed. Ruby still posed as a threat.

"I want to help," she returned simply.

"Even without your dear old Sammy?" Dean hadn't meant for it to sound so painful and envious, but when it came to Sam and emotions, it was never a good combination for Dean.

"Even then. I'm not like the others, Dean. I want you guys to win; I don't want you to go to hell. I wish I could just be an inhuman demon, but it's not in me. I have a weak spot for humans, and nostalgia I guess."

"It was a 'weak spot' of the Crossroads Demon that got me a one-way ticket to hell."

"No, she just asked you if you wanted to collect two-hundred dollars before passing go; and you said yes." Ruby hated defending other demons, but there it was.

"You just brought Monopoly into this conversation," Dean muttered to himself. "Look, if you really want to help, you're gonna have to play by my rules."

"Fine," Ruby replied with a shrug. Dean looked to her quizzically, not able to fully believe the demon.

"Fine… I get to drive."

"Done."

"I pick the motel."

"Deal."

"I get to play the music."

"No." Ruby smirked.

"No?" Dean asked, squinting his eyes slightly.

"Is there an echo in here?" She mimicked Dean from earlier.

"Damn it Ruby, there's no way in hell you're picking the music." Dean shook his head sternly.

"If I'm coming, I get to pick it." She placed a hand on her hip.

"I never asked you to come."

"You need all the help you can get."

"I'll manage."

"You could use the extra body."

"Yeah, maybe, but I'd prefer a body that doesn't want to be the Music Nazi."

"Well, in the words of the Rolling Stones, you can't always get what you want." Ruby supplied Dean with a taunting grin.

"I don't want any Emo crap, got it?" He raised an eyebrow. Was he really allowing Ruby to pick the music? Let alone come with him at all? Losing Sam truly did mess with his mojo…

"I'm a demon Dean, not gothic."

"No Spice Girls either. British bands are overrated…"

So as always, I have no idea where I'm going with this. Ideas and suggestions would be amazing. I'm also really sorry if some of the characters are OOC. Sam is supposed to be, since he went totally darkside; just FYI.

Be good and review