This is between seasons 3 and 4 – Sam's first taste of demon blood. Disclaimer: as much as I would love to, I don't own Sammy Winchester … and if I owned Ruby, she would've died blonde (and PAINFULLY).

You're scared. Oh god, you're terrified. You feel like throwing up. You feel like tearing your hair out. You feel like kneeling on the floor and screaming until your voice is hoarse. Screaming for something, anything, Dean. But you know that it'll do no good.

You know that you're supposed to be strong. You're supposed to be as strong-brave-smart-ruthless-deadly as you and Dean were together. You're supposed to be two hunters in one body. That's what people have come to expect of you.

So you know that you should be able to do this. You know you have to. You spent all the nights last week agonising over the morality issues. And you know it's not 'right', but it needs to be done.

All you've got to do now is summon up enough courage to carry it through.

But you're scared. Oh god, you're terrified. You feel like throwing up. You feel like tearing your hair out. You feel like kneeling on the floor and screaming until your voice is hoarse. Screaming for something, anything, Dean. But you know that it'll do no good.

So instead, you think of him. His strength, (his beauty) and you convince yourself that you're doing it for him. That this is what he would've wanted for you. Of course he would've wanted you to utilise the weapons you've been given. Of course he'd want you to be stronger, so you could fight harder.

It takes you all night and most of the next day to do it. For that sickly sweet voice in your head to convince the rational side that you were going to do it.

You call her – she's there before you put down the phone. She must've been watching. She sees it – the determination in your eyes – and she smiles.

She's so beautiful. She kisses you, and you relish in the softness of her lips, trying so hard not to compare her soft kisses to the rough, brutal ones of … You try not to compare her soft caresses to the calloused, hungry ones of …

She does it abruptly. So abruptly that it shocks you. Just a tiny cut, so shallow it almost doesn't seem real. Just a line of red.

Of course, you've seen blood before, far too much of it. The blood of monsters, of innocents, of yourself, (of Dean).

But you can't stop yourself from being utterly fascinated by this harmless looking bit of liquid. It's such a beautiful colour, you've never appreciated that before. It's Ruby red. And it's beautiful.

With her encouragements ringing in your ears, you stroke it gently, gazing at the sticky wetness on your finger like a blind man seeing the sun. You touch it to you lips and memorise the feel of it, marvelling in its consistency. Your tongue darts out, capturing the glutinous substance, and you just have time to register the smug smile on her face before you are completely submerged in a feeling of power.

You feel so strong. 'Strong like Dean' is the last thought you have before you pass out.

Eh, I don't know… review? and thanks to Dean's Baby Bird for telling me sort out my formatting - love you!
xx