Disclaimer: I lay no claim to any licensed characters or intellectual properties that were used in the making of this work.
who cares about trolls, anyways?
It's a quiet, boring night in the small town she's staying at, all farm-boy haystacks and endless fields.
She'd expected more, after all the hype the Winchester brothers had brought up down in Kansas, but all she sees are itty-bitty mini-monsters and the occasional prank by some of the lesser demons (because, really, crop circles?! It's as if they weren't even trying. She knows she could've done far better).
So, it is with quite a bit of surprise that she manages to find a damn fast-food joint out in the middle of No Man's Land (because, seriously, there's like, no men here, at all).
Thinking up plans to murder all of Mankind makes a girl hungry, dammit, and the body she's using's beginning to eat its own stomach (ouch, like, seriously, that hurts like a bitch). She doesn't quite question her luck, but her lack of supernatural power is beginning to piss her off (and she'd like to get back to the Big Plan, here, thank you very much).
Peppy, cheesy clown music filters through the loudspeakers set up inside the dining area, and she swears, if she sees that damnable red-headed clown here, too, she's gonna show the world why she's called the demon "Ruby."
Fortunately for the little, spindly man behind the counter, there is no Ronald McDonald to be found, and her rage is tempered. For now.
She looks around at the menu, wondering what's the bloodiest food they have here. Just because the body's some human kid doesn't mean she can't indulge herself with temptation.
"H-hey, Lady. Awful late you're coming out here. But, I, uh, I'm Collin. What can I get you?"
Rudely interrupted, she whirls around, prepared to give this insolent brat a piece of her mind, because it's been days since she's had a fuckin' decent meal, and she's tired and a little bit cranky from wandering the world, setting up the destruction of her little sis Lilith, when she spots something that has her mind go numb.
The very, very short man has at least some self-preservation instincts, because he looks ready to bolt at the deadpan stare. Sweat trickles down his brow in rivers, and his eyes are the size of saucers, because finally, finally, he recognizes who, or at least what, he's looking at.
"Warlock."
He flinches, because warlock though he may be, he, in no uncertain circumstances, will ever even try to win this fight. He likes living. A lot.
Ruby shifts, then, eyes burning hungrily as she slithers ever closer, smirk wicked and hands like claws as they grab the poor man before he can escape.
"I expected your kind to be in hiding, boy, but you're all alone out here, aren't you?"
He's too busy grasping at the hands on his shirt collar, choking him, to respond.
Quick as lightning, she slams his head into the counter, words hissing forth. "Change back, little troll-boy," she whispers into his ear, "Before I decide to my violent side's hungrier than this human's belly."
He squeaks, but quickly complies, his body shrinking until he barely reaches the demon's elbow. He's worried that he's going to die, really, he is, but one look at himself and he knows he's alive solely because he looks ridiculous.
Ruby and her black, black eyes laugh at him, while tanned hands grasp his chin and take away his thick, square glasses.
"Those yellow eyes of yours aren't that great, you know," she pouts, because she was expecting actual, supernatural traits, not this unassuming, stinky little wizard-child.
She'll take what she can get, however, braces and plaid woodcutter shirts and little-boy shorts and all.
"All right, listen here, kid; I'm hungry, and tired, and I want to get as hung-over as I can before the Big Man makes his debut." At this, she winks at him, and he can't stop his little snout-nose from twitching as his body shudders.
He wonders if his boss will blame him for the bloody mess his death will leave behind, because demons are notorious for their bloodbaths, aren't they? This is too surreal, and he can't really feel the fear settling in his bones.
He's a bit worried if he'll still be paid, even if he's going to be technically dead.
He kind of misses his girlfriend, now. Shouldn't have broken up with her.
This is all probably just karma trying to get him back.
And her. Definitely her.
"— And so, you're gonna come with me, and we're going ta' have a night on the town!"
Collin tunes back in to Channel Demon, only to come up short at what he hears. "Wait, what."
Yes, what. He's stating his question, because that is just how little he understands.
"Ya' know, kill a couple cows, raise some mayhem, burn down a few homes…"
He's worried, really. He's just having trouble coming up with anything right now.
"It's gonna be great, Cole, ain't it?"
And so, with a mighty heave and an aura of resignation, the warlock proceeds to do what any sane man would say or do in his situation.
"My name is Collin."
Within the hour, Ruby has stolen several bottles of hard liquor from God-knows-where (or was it Satan?), and had proceeded to get her ass drunk as a doorknob.
Collin regrets taking the night shift at two in the morning now, because, really, this proves that he does not, in fact, know better — and isn't the demon girl a little too young to be drinking? Better yet, where are the rest of the people in this lazy town? He can't be the only one with a mop of hair that looks like a squirrel in a freak accident.
(He's absolutely sure this is why the demon has kidnapped him and led him on a wild run across town, because of his hair. Or maybe it's his glasses. Or his buck teeth in braces... He's not so sure what it is anymore.)
The entire way, he can't help but complain to the lady. About herself. Because really, really — no, really — where does stuff like this even happen?
He's interrupted from his internal whining by a scowling Ruby, who has finally stopped her mad dash across the empty streets to glare at him. And it's not just a glare, it's the glare. Complete with hands on hips, ticked off facial expression, and Hispanic hair blowing in the wind. The scarf hanging off her arms and the short red dress she's been trouncing around in for the better part of a month don't help her case.
"Why do you always look so angry and annoyed all the time, boy? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you weren't having as much fun as me."
Collin shivers as her glare pierces through him.
(Demons' eyes, demons' eyes; when they turn your way, run for your lives.)
"And, you know... If you don't look like you're having fun, I don't feel like I'm having fun."
A dark look again. Not doing much of a good job there, lady; get some new tricks.
"And when I don't have fun, I need some blood and gore; got it, kiddo?"
Collin would have been praying to sweet Mother of God if he hadn't sold his soul all those years ago for his magic. Kind of stunted his growth, too, now that he thinks about it. No wonder it feels so awkward, trying to dress normally and move around. Not to mention the look he's been stuck in since he was fifteen.
His answer is simple. "My face is stuck this way. I'm really happy inside my head, deep, deep down. Really."
It's the fiftieth crop field the demon's burned circles in, and probably the fifteenth she's decorated with cow guts. For a demon, she's surprisingly tame.
Of course, Collin is more worried about what his boss is going to do to him for running out on his shift. He'd probably sue him for theft, even if it's a fast-food joint, which no one can really steal anything useful from. (Unless they count the super-secret recipes. Which don't exist. At all. Forget that they were ever mentioned.)
Collin has given up, because there's really only so much he can take. Breathing in a great gulp of air, he straightens his shoulders before preparing to give Ruby a talking-to.
"Listen, Miss Demon Lady, I know you came her to have fun and all, but I have a job I need to get back to, and the fields you burned are probably gonna attract a bunch of cops, and you're really not my type, and —"
He's barely gets started on his tirade before the woman's kicking him into the only tree trunk for miles, and really, what. Is happening. To. His life.
(Collin thinks someone drowned t in acid, and this is all just the drugs talking. Then he remembers that he doesn't take drugs, and man, that kick hurt. A lot. Really.)
Ruby laughs as Collin crumples to the floor, before proceeding to curb-stomp the warlock all over the place. Apparently, this is road rage. For a demon. Who enjoys the adrenaline rush. And is probably going to kill him.
He throws his broken glasses to the side and prepares to conjure up this really big and epic magic attack, only to lose focus just as the demon comes down on him with the face of serial killer. The result is as follows.
Face, meet heel. Heel, Face.
The magic bursts and Collin's body poofs into a small pile of goo, or at least that is what it should be. Ruby doesn't particularly care, too busy gloating and revealing her new schemes to get into the Boy King's good graces (because, of course, Lucifer's vessel is easy to manipulate, especially after that deal with the Crossroads demon goes down).
It won't be until dawn that she'll wake up in the middle of the street, delirious and drenched in cattle innards and Budweiser's, that she'll find some finicky magic and blood and guts on her high-heeled boots.
She'll probably remember who she'd beaten up and murdered later. Eventually.
(Ok, so maybe she totally forgets. But she had fun, so who cares?)
A week later, a figure lands gently into the middle of a field of cow guts (and by gently, it must be understood that this actually means that an angel crashes into the field and picks himself out of a decaying carcass, positively reeking and filled with maggots.)
He dusts off the clumps of blood and dirt and cow testicles from his trench coat and stares. And stares. And stares some more.
A strange scent assaults the nostrils of the body of Jimmy Novak, the angel's current vessel, but he's familiar with it. It's sulfur. A demon was here.
Several weeks later, and the crop circles and incendiary burnings and cow massacres still don't make any sense.
So, Castiel visits the vessels for Michael and Lucifer. (They insist he call them "Dean" and "Sam." He doesn't understand why, but he humors them.)
(Or are they humoring him? He doesn't quite understand these humans. They're too much like that little voice inside the phone thing; they don't make any sense, especially in what they ask him to do.)
The Winchester brothers promise they'll investigate the mess, because, again, demons, and they're supposed to hunt them down and take them out, as quickly as they can, before Dean goes to Hell. Again.
And then escapes because Castiel "will raise him from Perdition" like the good angel he is. Again. While Sam angsts and probably gets into more trouble with demon blood and Ruby. Again.
By the time they do reach Kansas to look for the demons, Ruby is long gone, and the boys feel as if they've been cheated out of a monster-hunt. Again.
It's probably nothing, even if Castiel has the eerie feeling that this has happened before. Again.
(The angel really needs to learn how to kiss from the Pizza Delivery Man. Again. That method worked, and lured in sexy demons to boot. The Winchesters aren't complaining, though. That one time with Meg was still freaky as all of High Heaven, bitch.)
Somewhere, in the dark catacombs of nowhere, where the trickster angel Gabriel has made his abode, glass shatters. Some maid has a heart attack. Papers fly and a freak winter storm has locked all its residents within the city.
Gabriel is angry. Someone killed one of his play-toys, and that's just not funny.
(He had liked Collin.)
Someone was going to pay.
Right after he had his fun with the Winchester brothers because, again, destined Hunters and all that jazz, and he'd love to see Cas' panties in a twist trying to help them all.
Probably.
(Ok, so he'd hated Collin. Stupid kid could never get that frown off his face. Such a whiner, too.)
Eh, who cares. He'd much rather have his mischief.