Both went down, the elder one somehow angling an arm across his brother. Jerking his rifle directly into the tailypo's chest, he fired three times into hair-covered muscle, bullets exploding through the body in a spray of blood, flesh and bone fragments. A fourth shot cracked across the clearing, striking the immature tailypo directly between the eyes, sending grey brain and pieces of skull splattering across the tree boles and announcing the arrival of the father.
The owl thought the mess looked delicious.
The father launched himself across the clearing and hauled the body of the adult tailypo off his children. He didn't speak, just pulled them violently to him searching for damage – they were both coated in blood, but it seemed the majority had belonged to the tailypo. The father hugged both of them fiercely and the elder boy hugged him back, putting one arm around his brother who just stood there, stiff and unresponsive.

"What in God's name was that?" roared the father, sitting back suddenly, breathing hard. "Who – what – what kind of incompetency…"
"It was a trap," said the older boy woodenly. "The young Tailypo distracted us, and the older one pounced."
"Why wasn't one of you covering the bushes!"
"I was. I was too slow. I'm sorry. Sorry, Sammy." Dean held his father's eyes, who stared back at him.
"Too slow?"
"I was…sloppy. Didn't expect there to be any more."
"Is that what happened, Sam?"
"Um. Yes."
Old Winchester stared at both his sons. Then,
"You're both on double training from tomorrow. Be ready to start at 0500. Dean, your driving privileges are revoked until further notice. Now burn these," he indicated with his gun. "And no more getting distracted."

Ruby wanted to roll the owl's eyes. How perfectly noble. How naïve. They were as weak as each other. She stretched the owl's wings and talons, wondering why He did not choose the form of an animal and give it sentience: a panther, black subtle death, or a majestic lion. She waited until the Winchesters left, and the smoke of the pyre was fading. Then she dove, and gorged till the owl was full on the entrails of the tailypo.

Lilith let her go to Jake several times after that, usually when he was at war. Sometimes she a took a human form – an ally, a commander, an enemy – sometimes a desert dog or a lizard, sometimes a bird of prey. She was there the first time that he killed without feeling it. There when he started to think of people in terms of statistics. There the first time he experienced blood lust. And she advised him – in her many guises – on the necessity of violence, on patience. On pragmatics.

When Azazel's test came, she was sure. Lilith was sure. Azazel wasn't. He appeared to Sam, who had toughened – into arrogance and insecurity, Ruby thought. Jake was clever. His eyes burned with the banked fire already, as though his body already yearned to receive Him. His one objective was to get out, of which Ruby approved, and he let the now twisted and broken Ava deal with the messy part. And then there were two. Ruby watched, breath baited, as Lilith drew back the veil: Sam and Jake fought in the mud and rain of the deserted twon, punches and the clang of metal strange in the hollow air. Sam floored Jake; turned away. Started to stagger towards the older one; adults now. And Ruby knew before Jake did, when stood and hefted the knife. Lilith giggled. Jake stabbed Sam in the centre of his back, twisted the knife once, severing the spinal cord, to all effects killing him instantly. He fell to his knees; his brother caught him. Ruby extracted her gaze from the death. Well, well. There was no point in regret now, for her little wild card that wasn't.

"Now then love," Lilith was gleeful: "We must take him apart."
I must build him up, Ruby thought, watching Jake turn and run, flee Cold Oak and the other hunter, run until he was gasping, alone, bent over with his back to a tree in the deep wet woods. He did not cry. He was ready.

* * *

But of course, Sam was never the wild card.
Dean was, and Ruby supposed she might have guessed from the beginning, or perhaps if she'd gone back and spent more time around them….as Dean kissed the Crossroads Demon, sealing the deal, the fabric of hell shook and groaned, Azazel laughed, and Lilith screamed in rage. And Ruby smiled, deep in her ageless being. She would train him. Grow him up, and welcome Him, and then…freedom. And justice. Sam would learn to appreciate his part. He was demon-blooded, after all, and meant for greater things than sordid hunts in snow and peeling motel rooms. She caressed the prophetic verse in her thoughts:

'With this advantage then
To union, and firm Faith, and firm accord,
More than can be in Heavn, we now return
To claim our just inheritance of old.'

The End.

A/N: the final quotation is from Paradise Lost, II. 35-38.