For Love and Loyalty Summary: What if Ruby wasn't quite as evil or heartless as we thought? One-shot of 4.22 Lucifer Rising. Implied Sam/Ruby
Disclaimer: I have no claim on anything but the words themselves, and even of those I'm not in doubt.
Warning: rated for language, violence, and some vague suggestion of past sexual conduct
A/N: R&R
As she watched him pinning the sanctimonious bitch to a tombstone, the demon writhing in agony as he twisted and shredded her very soul within her, eyes black as the power he wielded, her heart had swelled with pride beneath her breast.
And as she watched Lilith's blood flow steadily along the floor of the chapel—forming the design through which Lucifer, Light-Bringer, her Lord and Father would arise, once again walking along the earth—she stared in incredulity before she felt flooding through her very being an overwhelming joy so great she could hardly conceive the like.
He had done it. He had opened the portal. He had fulfilled his destiny and now, together at last in perfect unity, in full knowledge, they would receive the reward for her loyalty, her love; they would reign side by side, watching as Satan burned the world to the ground.
She met his eyes, ready at last to see the dream which had carried her through the months of endless plotting and planning—the perpetual fear for her life, the running and hiding, the lying. She stood looking into the eyes which had long held her greatest hope for the future that had unconsciously held her only safe harbor and the promise of a greater joy to come than any suffering she had or had yet to endure.
As she stood ready at last to see reflected in those eyes in this moment when he had finally been made aware of all she had hidden from him, she was suddenly catapulted from her fantasy by the look of fear and horrified understanding she found there.
Watching those eyes which she had one day longed to see brimming with love and trust, now full of hate and loathing nearly broke her heart. She fought the pain, forcing a look of nonchalance to her features when he drew himself together for one last thrust of power, trying to drive her soul from her borrowed body, but this resolve was short lived.
It seemed only in the face of his brief anger was she able to hold her own. When, in despair he folded himself to the stair, holding his head in his hands, eyes brimming with unshed tears, she felt powerfully the filling of her own.
She knelt between his knees, a perverse imitation of the last time she had done so, yet not so very different after all. Even then, he sat before her with his head in his hands conscious only of his disgust and loathing only dulled by a white hot lust for oblivion as she knelt on the ground before him offering only love and loyalty.
He did not understand, this was not a betrayal, she would never betray him, she simply had known all along that what he truly needed, what his destiny would have him own, was nothing like what his human family had taught him to think he wanted.
She was only ever acting in his best interest, wanting nothing more than to see him fulfill his destiny and accept the crown, the power, which was his birthright. All she had ever wanted for herself was to stand beside him in his glory.
She felt her heart breaking as she saw its reflection in his eyes. In this alone they were of a mind.
When the knife finally came, Michael's sword driving it viciously into her vessel's heart, giving it a cruel twist that ended the only remaining spark of life her essence held, it was a blessing.