I do not own any of these lovely characters; they are solely the brainchildren of Eric Kripke and the folks at Warner Bros.

Old prompt/one-shot from before Season 4 (the things you find when cleaning house!).

Cheers!
Anna

Sam finished his beer and turned to the girl who had taken the barstool next to him. She idly chewed a fry. He paused for a moment, long enough to catch the flick of black eyes.

"Ruby."

She raised an eyebrow. "Sam."

"Lilith said you were back in hell for good."

The demon shrugged. "Little bitch likes to brag."

"Yeah well I see you didn't waste any time picking up a new piece of meat."

"I was sick of blondes."

There was an empty silence and Sam dug for change in his pocket. He should be surprised or something, he thought. Maybe try to kill her, at least that's what Dean would want. Instead he just wanted to pay for the beer and leave; get back to hunting. There were still five hours til sunrise. She was watching him carefully.

"Oh come on, Sam. I thought this would be more fun. At least a fight or some desperate plea for info on your brother- who, last I heard, is downstairs himself."

"Don't," he hissed, wrenching on his jacket.

She contemplated pushing further and settled for following him outside. The Detroit night was brisk and clear. "If I could help him, I would," she continued. "But it's useless; there isn't a Get Out of Hell Free card."

Sam felt the now-familiar well of raging frustration and whirled on the demon. "Then what the hell are you doing here? Huh? You couldn't save Dean and you sure as fuck can't help me!" He realized he had pinned her up against the Impala so hard there was a dent in the door. God damn it. He let her go and pulled out Dean's keys, his hands shaking.

"Because you still have a fight in front of you. Because Lilith is still out there, and I know you've been looking for her." Ruby crossed her arms, watching as he got into the Impala and roared it to life.

He gripped the wheel, idling, staring down the road back to the dark motel. He glanced out the window and saw her still waiting by the passenger side. Sam swore quietly and reached over to unlock the door, barely waiting to peal out of the parking lot. Her perfume was like some kind of contamination inside the car.

"So what," he ground out through clenched teeth. "You've got some almighty plan again that's gonna lead me to Lilith? Cause I know how that turned out last time."

"Not exactly. But you have potential Sam; you can use your talent, hone it. And I can show you how."

He half-shook his head. "I promised Dean I wouldn't go back to that."

Ruby scoffed and shot him a look of disgust. "It's your best weapon, your only weapon. Dean was too dense to realize it and it could've helped him in the end."

Sam chose not to answer and after a little while they pulled into the motel parking lot. The dumpy place was quiet save for the buzzing of a neon advertisement. He was almost glad for Ruby's company, anything aside from the oppressive loneliness.

"Wow, little bit of a neat freak there, Sam," Ruby commented, surveying the immaculately clean room with two doubles. Who was supposed to sleep in the other bed, she wondered. Right, there wasn't any psychosis here. Sam slammed the bathroom door and soon she heard the groaning of pipes for a shower.

He pressed a hand against his eyes, soaking in the leftover shower steam. The mirror was streaky and he stared into it for a minute. He was getting used to no one pounding at the door, asking if he was done jerking off or wasting the hot water or gelling his nancy haircut. Sometimes he caught himself hoping for a ghost. He wiped away all the thoughts with a rough towel.

When he emerged Ruby was standing over his research. Shit. She held up one of the books angrily. "Sam, you can't be serious. This?"

"It's possible," he muttered, grabbing the book back.

"And completely insane! Voluntary possession is dangerous territory, especially for you."

Sam choked back a harsh laugh. "It's been a year, Ruby. I'm not stupid. One month is like ten years down there. This is the last thing I can try."

"Forget it," she sneered. "Whatever he is now, it's not Dean."

Before he knew he was going to do it, he was taking her down with a punch. They wrestled on the floor for a second before she blew him back against the wall, snarling. The invisible force was only there briefly, pinning him to the plaster, before it relented and let him slide to his knees. "Bitch," he wheezed, letting his head rest against the nightstand.

"Sam, I'm here to help you. And I'm telling you, that way lies bad things."

"If I let you train me, or whatever it is, then you let me keep trying. That's it," he said flatly.

Her eyes flashed and she quietly paced the small room. "Fine. Fine," she agreed reluctantly, sitting stiffly back on the bed.

Eventually he pulled himself to his feet and checked the alarm clock: three in the morning. His head ached and he decided that he would sleep tonight after all. It was a risky call. The nightmares were always there, waiting. Sometimes he thought they might be real.

He woke while it was still dark, an hour's sleep at most, and was clenching the sheets again. Dean's screaming echoed in the remnants of his dream, always calling his name. He could never find him. Sam wiped the sweat off his face (it used to be tears) and forced himself to breathe. Ruby's face was suddenly there and she felt his forehead carefully, as if checking for a fever. Her eyes were large and dark and he didn't know if it was the demon or just the night's reflection. "Bad dreams, huh," she whispered, sounding concerned.

She could feel the tension in his body and had a flash of worry. It was entirely possible that he really was seeing Hell in his nightmares; the demon blood in him could pass that barrier easy in sleep. Maybe he was worse off than she had initially thought. If she were human she would have felt … what was that word? Sympathy? She almost missed his murmur as he grabbed her arm: "Stay."

She took it in silence, understanding. And it wasn't without pleasure.