Chapter 10

Sam felt the cloud of numbness he'd built with the alcohol dissipating as the day wore on. Though he'd been buzzing for less than a couple of weeks, it had been constant, all day every day, so he started feeling anxious about DT's. He might not have been plastered all the time, but he'd been drinking heavily. There'd be a price to pay for that. And he was already craving a drink, fear gnawing at his gut of what life would be like without it.

But he didn't have a choice. It was either stop drinking or Ruby would teach him nothing. It just better be worth it.

He fidgeted on the lumpy couch, a low level headache pounding away at him in a chaotic rhythm. He already knew what to expect. He'd seen his father go into withdrawal often enough over the years and had looked it up online anyway to make sure. He could handle all of it – the shakes, the sweats, the nausea, the vomiting, the other mild or not so mild withdrawal symptoms. DT's weren't the problem. The problem was the reason he was drinking in the first place. The things he wanted to keep at bay. And his sole means of protecting himself from them was slowly and literally being pissed away.

Still, there was one upside. He wasn't alone anymore. Ruby might not exactly be anyone's ideal of a companion, but if he could put up with all of his brother's weird freak ass habits day in and day out, he could handle almost anyone. And it wasn't like he weren't already used to being bossed around. Between his father and Dean he'd had a bellyful of it – whether he'd liked it or not. And he'd take another full lifetime more if it would only bring them back. But that wasn't going to happen, was it? You'd think he'd have gotten that through his head by now.

His hand shook as he swept the hair away from his face.

Sam swallowed heavily his growing thirst burning inside. He rose to his feet and made his way to the kitchen, only throwing a quick glance at the bottles still sitting on the table in the dining room, calling to him. He grabbed one of the water jugs by the defunct pink fridge and guzzled some of it down, pretending it was something else. For a second he actually thought it was whiskey and almost spit the whole thing out, then realized it was just a hallucination, another possible aspect of the DT's. Looked like not only did getting full drunk not suit him, but neither did cutting himself off. Detoxing wasn't going to be pleasant.

He had to get his mind away from all of it. And no way was he going to sleep and open up all the nasty doorways. No way.

"RUBY!"

In the short petite body she now wore, she stuck her head around the corner, her eyebrows raised. "You rang?"

Sam capped the water jug and dumped it in its corner on the floor. "I want to get going on this. Show me what I have to do."

"Hmmm." The rest of her body slipped into view. "You don't look so hot."

"So?" He spread his arms wide, daring her to make something of it. A spike of irritation flared through him, which goaded his blasted headache to pound even harder.

"So…it means you're not going to be all that receptive to learning, is what." She gave him a small shrug. "The stuff I want to show you isn't easy. It's going to require all your concentration and willpower. Can you honestly say you're ready for that right now?"

He felt his eye twitch. "Ask me if I care."

She sighed. "Look, I need to make a run into town. I can make you a concoction of Thiamin vitamins and some other herbs that will help you get through the no alcohol bit. Besides, unless you want me to use your stuff, I need to buy a few necessities of my own." She suddenly looked sheepish. "I don't know if you've realized this yet or not, but the two of us are going to be spending an awful lot of time together."

Sam couldn't help a snort. "Like I've never done that with anyone before." He'd just never thought he'd do it with anyone else ever again – especially not a demon.

"And I think we're going to need to have a talk about hygiene. I noticed you're still shaving, but when was the last time you actually bathed?"

That made his head jerk back a bit. He blinked, realizing he didn't have the faintest idea.

"That's what I thought." Ruby gave him a sideways smile. "Why don't you put the rest of that water to good use while I'm gone? I'll bring back more." Her smile grew wider. "Clean clothes would be a nice change too."

Sam said and did nothing as she turned around and walked away, his cheeks feeling uncomfortably warm. Maybe he hadn't been taking care of things as well as he'd first thought. Some things just had never honestly occurred to him. Still, it gave him something to do.

So grabbing the jugs and his duffel, he set up in the master bathroom. There might not be running water, but drains didn't depend on that. As long as the pipes hadn't broken or been clogged, they should do what he needed them to. He locked the warped door and put the shotgun on the sink, the demon killing knife on the cracked toilet cover. He peeled his clothes off, the movement releasing the stench of alcohol, sweat, and fear, leaving them to coil around him. They'd been with him so long he'd stopped noticing them -- just another facet of life that didn't involve him anymore.

With greater care, he pulled Dean's amulet over his head and set it next to the shotgun at the sink.

He supposed eventually he would have reeked enough one of the stores would have denied him service and brought it up to his attention. Would he have cared enough to do anything about it then or just stopped going out for supplies altogether? Hunt in the wild for his food. Collect water from the rain. Turn into a total hermit till he broke a leg one day and died. But booze didn't make itself, so he couldn't totally cut himself off from civilization, could he?

Just the thought of the alcohol made his throat ache. And it'd only been a little while. How much worse would this get? He really didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think. Damn this better be worthwhile. If Ruby was just yanking his chain, though, he would…

His nails bit into his hand as he left the thought unfinished. He had to believe. He had to. He had nothing else.

Sam stepped into the tub and grabbed the partially empty jug. The cold water poured over his head and made him gasp in shock. Shivering from more than a lack of drink, he soaped up from top to bottom, then rinsed off. Teeth chattering, he palmed off as much of the water off his body as he could then got dressed in jeans and a gray t-shirt, not having anything to dry himself with. He was sure he'd be there soon enough anyway.

His gaze locked on the necklace sitting on the sink. Dean's necklace. His reminder of things left unfinished or promises broken and he was about to add another to the list. Reaching blindly, he grabbed the thing and hid it away in his pocket rather than put it back on. He needed to concentrate on other matters right now, and having the thing reminding him of Dean's disapproval on what he was about to embark on wasn't one of them.

Opening one of the other water jugs, he rinsed out the tub. He then closed the drain and throwing some laundry soap into the mix, hand washed his things. There'd been a few useful skills he picked up by being on the road with his family. This definitely wouldn't be the first time he and Dean had been forced to wash their clothes like this…

But Dean… Dean was dead.

A ripping noise echoed in the room and he jerked his hands off the shirt he'd been scrubbing. His fingers still throbbed from gripping the material so hard.

There had to be a way not to think! He had to function, dammit! A deep booming sound bounced around him as he pounded his fist on the rim of the tub.

It was only laundry. He could do this… He had to do this…

Then it came to him.

Regna Terrae, cantata deo, psallite domino, qui vehitur per calus, caelos antiquos…

Sam went through the entire Latin sequence in his head, then just looped it over and over like a never ending mantra. He would exorcise his thoughts just like he would a demon. The words filled his mind leaving little room for anything else.

He got back to work.