A.N.: So I pulled a show and skipped forward in time. Sorry guys, I had to do it. Hopefully you like this chapter anyway. Working on 11 right now, thank you so, SO much for all of the reviews and alerts and favs and just time and effort you have put into this story! I appreciate it so damn much. For Lucydolly22, there will be hurt! Sam soon, I promise! He has to got toe to toe with the demon eventually and right now unless I have him trip over his shoelaces I don't think I can quite scratch that itch for you yet! LOL! But rest easy, it's coming. Sharlot, words can not explain how invaluable you have been to me in the preparation of this story, seriously, you're amazing. :D The rest of you...You guys rock!
Disclaimer: Not mine.
The last seventy two hours have been hell for Sam, only his heavy drooping eyelids have offered him a tiny reprieve in the last three days, closing like clockwork for fifteen minute intervals.
He rubs harshly at his gritty face, shoving his laptop away from him with one hand as it has failed to find him satisfactory answers once again.
Every cell in his body is twitching, demanding him to go out and do something and he aches to answer its call.
The problem is, he's got nothing. No leads, no plans, no idea where to look next.
Rafe had made it a game for the first twenty four hours, causing pain and destruction wherever he went as a blatant calling card for Sam to respond to, but then as Sam raced to the mom and pops diner just off the highway, his heart a constant companion to his throat, his hands gripped so tightly on the steering wheel that he was astonished it hadn't splintered in his grasp, the demon had vanished.
There had been no sulfur, no clues, nothing. Just a handful of innocent folks injured in a highly suspicious explosion, all of them describing Dean to a T as the charming young man who had come in and eaten about four servings of pie. Sam might have laughed at that, the image so clear in his mind he felt like he could reach out and touch it, if one woman hadn't uttered that he was last seen flirting with a waitress by the kitchen before everything went up in a ball of flames. Two of the occupants had been sitting at the counter, leisurely enjoying burgers as they bantered about the football game last week. They didn't make it.
Ruby had warned him that they were in over their head that Rafe was a harbinger of carnage and was regarded in hell with an emotion equivalent to respect, but Sam didn't get it. Not until that moment, as he apologized to the sobbing widow, did he really, fully grasp the extent of the latest shit storm that had befallen the Winchester brothers.
He'd also been warned that Rafe had a zealous obsession with making things fun, even though that word had been twisted and tangled with the definition that Sam had come to know.
Sam had called in every favor from all the hunters he felt like he could he trust, pleading, begging, and demanding that they be on the lookout for the monster wearing his brother's face. But Rafe had gone silent, taunting Sam with his inability to figure out exactly what his plan was.
Sam had poured through dozens of photos of Rafe's victims. When Rafe was a human he was a brutal and efficient loan collector in the 50's, working for the highest paying Mob bosses to make sure the corrupt and rich got what was owed them. He also took special pleasure in breaking fingers and toes, enjoying the look of terrors on his victim's faces and sending a message to the rest that those who resisted would be punished. He was a monster long before hell had gotten its hooks in him.
But Sam still couldn't find the connection; he couldn't work out why Rafe had jumped into Dean. Was it just the regular hatred that all of their kind had for the Winchesters? Was he taking advantage of the opportunity to hijack a hunter? Or was there something more, something that he was missing that would put everything together?
He sucks in a mouthful of cold coffee, struggling to gain a knowledge that seems to be just out of his grasp. Every second the demon and his brother were MIA was like a red hot poker of anxiety in his gut. He would have traded all of his birthday and Christmas wishes over the years for normalcy and stability for just a scent of his brother.
The calendar mockingly displayed the date in front of him, a mere 110 days from when the timer they have both been fighting would run out.
Christ, he can't do this. Not without his brother, not without Dean…
His head finds its way into his palms, breath huffing out of him in a dejected sigh. He wishes he hadn't told Bobby that he needed him manning the other hunters, keeping track on anything that might sound like the demon riding Dean, because he needs someone here, urging him on, making him forget how fucking tired he is, distracting him from the absolute black hole of despair that is pulling at his insides, entreating him to give in to the soft comfort of surrender.
But he can't. Not with his brother's soul on the table. He just needs a break, something to miraculously come out of the woodwork and help him.
"Please," he whispers, not sure if he believes in God, but ready to believe in anything if it will help. "Just give me a sign, something, anything." He pleads.
As if on cue, the door of his motel swings open, Sam's hand automatically goes to his gun, placing the barrel in line with the person who has just stormed in.
"Cute," she smirks, tossing a sack of food at the table. "You wanna put that away before you hurt yourself?"
"Ruby?" he asks, a mixture of confusion and exhaustion tainting his words. "What the hell are you doing here?"
She takes a hearty bite out of her chili fries, eyes fluttering in ecstasy. "These are sinfully good." She moans.
Sam sighs, ignoring the fact that Ruby of all people just reminded him of Dean. God, he misses his brother.
"I said, what are you doing here?" He still hasn't lowered his gun from her as she rolls her eyes at him.
"Really Sam? I bring you food and good news and this is the thanks I get." She retorts.
"I don't give a damn about the food. I didn't tell anyone where I was, so what the fuck are you doing here?"
"You don't cover up your tracks as well as you think you do, stud." She scoffs, pulling a swallow from her soda.
He fingers itch to do damage to something other than a wall. "You shouldn't be here Ruby."
She shrugs. "Why? Because I'm an evil nasty demon that has saved your ass too many times to count or because you don't want me here?"
He groans. "Both. Neither. Just…" he pinches the bridge of his nose, willing away the cobwebs that have taken residence in his mind. "Leave."
Ruby stands, licking bits of food off of her fingers. "You look like shit, Sam."
He raises sleep deprived eyes to her in disbelief. "I said leave," He pauses and takes a step towards her. "Now!"
She holds both hands up, realizing that she has stepped in a hotel room with a hunter who short fuse has been lit. "Easy there Tex, did you not hear me?"
He contests with the violent urge to grab her by her fucking arm and manhandle her out the door as he takes a steadying breath. His heart and brain feel like they have been tied to the back of a truck and forcefully dragged through hot asphalt, but he can feel a tingle of 'pay attention' flashing in his mind.
"What?"
She sashays over to the table, taking a seat at the grossly indented chair that has housed the younger hunter for the better part of the last three days. "Jesus Sam, have you even showered?"
His head whips around as his eyes narrow in contempt.
"Sorry, not the point. I said, I have good news."
Sam looks at her as if she is speaking in tongues, the bounce in her statement completely contradictory to everything he has heard in regards to his brother.
"What?" he stutters. "What do you mean good news?"
"Just what I said Sam, good news."
"Well what? What did you find?" his fingers dig into her shoulder, forming a vice like grip on the female demon.
"No need to get handsy," she pauses, leaning into him. "Unless you want to, you know, get handsy."
Sam releases her with a puff of disgust, grinding his teeth together as he forces out. "Just tell me."
His body is rapidly losing the battle with the self-control he has been wearing thin, his fingers trembling as he clenches them into fists.
"Rafe knew Meg. In the biblical sense." She chuckles at the irony of that statement. "She also made him what he is, and he's here as a favor to the bitch."
Sam stares dumbfounded at her for a handful of seconds, blinking as if the motion might clear away the murky film he has been viewing the world through for the last couple of days, before stating. "A favor? What kind of favor?"
Ruby rolls one of her shoulders in a lazy half shrug. "No idea. But a favor for a demon," she breaks off with a slight shake of her head. "That's never a good thing."