"Yeah?" Sam answered impatiently, not caring enough to look at the caller ID.

"Hey, stranger…" replied the voice which was all ready to be sultry, but was shot down before she started.

"Hey, Ruby. What's up?" he prompted quickly and with an urgent expectation.

"Sorry, no new, juicy tidbits. I've been trying to get ahold of you for a few days because you never called me back."

He sighed, touching a hand to his forgetful head.

"I'm sorry, it's just been a madhouse. Lory-"

"Oh… Lory…" Ruby mimicked wryly.

"Yes, Lory. Since when do you have a problem with her?"

"I don't," she scoffed on the defense, "Since when does your world revolve around her? I mean, isn't her whole deal with your brother, not you?"

Rubbing his chin and resting his bottom against the hood of the Impala, Sam paused for an incredulous moment.

"What, am I not allowed to care about her? Are you jealous or something?"

"Should I be, Sam?" Ruby played- even better than any human woman would do.

But her partner served her back.

"I don't see why you should be…" he said in a light, patronly voice, "It's not like you and I are dating or anything, anyway…"

Sam was the only person in existence who knew that Ruby was capable of really hurting, and he would never want to abuse that. He didn't take pleasure in causing others pain. But still, something in him- the man in him- the Dean in him- wanted to burst her bubble. That very same part of him wondered if she was right to be jealous.

"No. We're not, are we? …Listen, I have to go. You'll hear from me about the seals soon. Bye."

Click.

He wondered what Lory was up to inside.

00000000000000000000000

Dean chewed on his pen, flipping through the little, dilapidated spiral memo pad that Bobby used as a contact book. The names with the little stars next to them were hunters. He'd only found about two so far.

"Bobby, do you know any hunters besides us?" Dean called into the kitchen, "It took you two days to find this thing, and there aren't even any in here!"

Bobby emerged, mumbling something through his stuffed mouth, brandishing his sandwich.

"What?" Dean said irritably, not looking up from the book.

"There are more toward the back," he repeated, still chewing, "Mmm, damn good panini."

"Spread the wealth, Bob," Dean smirked, "I've been working hard out here!"

"Eh, well, maybe Lory will make you one."

The young man's eyebrow arched into his hairline. It was a tempting proposition…

"I'm good. I'll probably grab a burger or something later…" as he continued to flip through the notebook, causing a leaf to fly loose.

"Suit yourself…"

Lory smiled ruefully. She must have run her dishrag over that griddle pan about thirty times, her body on auto-pilot as she harkened sadly. She would have gladly made him a sandwich. She would gladly make him sandwiches and bake him pies and wax his car every day for the rest of her life.

"You know, Bobby wants to keep you," Sam teased in a voice that told Lory he was smiling, even though her back was to him.

"Oh, really?"

"Well, yeah. You cook and clean and barely say a word."

They chuckled as he clapped a hand on her shoulder.

"So, I'm a Stepford Wife?"

"No, you're a catch."

She twisted briefly, just long enough to take a lock of his hair between her fingers and give it a gentle tug.

"Okay, Dean, take off the wig. Wait, no, you just gave me a compliment. Nevermind."

Sam gave his weight to the counter, his lower back and palms the only things keeping him from flopping lazily backward. He could feel and she could hear the phone buzzing angrily in his pants but he didn't even flinch. He simply rolled his head toward her and he leaned in, as though preparing to divulge a valuable secret.

"You know, Dean's an ass…"

"Gasp. Really?" she scoffed sarcastically, sitting the griddle pan in the dish rack.

He answered the knock of opportunity, gently taking her wrist and coaxing her toward the back door.

"Come."

And she let him pull her along, flopping lazily behind him until he brought them to halt about five paces from the house. When he finally turned to face her, still holding her wrist, he looked down at her and sighed. The warmth and sincerity in his eyes averted the formidability of his height, which dwarfed hers by nearly a foot.

"I'm serious," he breathed finally.

"About?"

"Dean. He just doesn't get you."

"I've noticed, Sam."

He cleared the rasp from his throat.

"I'm sure he doesn't even think he's done anything wrong."

"Don't worry about it, Sam. I'm not worried about it, so you don't, okay?"

The chill from her left hand raised bumps upon his upper arm even through the thick, blue flannel.

There was something so soft and so vulnerable about her eyes. The way she trusted him. It was something he'd only seen in some distant, far-off part of his life. That part hadn't included Ruby. That little slice of time when life was pure (she, Jessica, was so pure…) And despite how fucked up they both were, Lory took him back there.

"Why?"

"Well, because there are far more important things for us to be worrying about right now."

"No, I mean, why do you still care for him? The way you've been looking at him the past few days… It's gotten even worse."

She sniggered, "You make it sound like some sort of psychosis."

"And it's not?" he challenged with perfect seriousness, "This- He is not good for you."

"Nothing's ever going to happen with us, Sam, so I don't see why we're even having this discu-"

He interrupted, "That's the thing, Lory! I can see it eating away at you- and for what? For nothing! He doesn't give a damn about you, Lory, so don't give a damn about him."

"Honestly, do you think it works that way?"

He wondered if she knew she was pretty. Following, he wondered if she really was, or it was just him. He glanced over her sadly smiling face and reaffirmed.

No, she's definitely pretty.

He figured she didn't know. Girls like her never know.

"Just… know that you're not the problem, okay?"

She nodded like a little girl confirming that she did indeed want a cookie. She slipped an arm around his waist.

"Thank you, Dr. Phil."

As usual when around her, he couldn't help but smile.

"You're very-"

Sam threw his arms around their heads, shielding them from the bursting glass of the windows.

"The fuck?!" Sam erupted, his eyes squinting briefly at the gaping space where Bobby's back window used to be.

Several crashes and bangs followed.

"Dean…" was all Lory could muster, her eyes darting from side to side.

"Stay here. Or better yet, go hide."

"What? No!" she started to charge toward the house, but he pulled her back from around the waist.

"Ple-"

But at that time the back door had already flung open of its own volition- perhaps with a little push from Lory.

"DEAN!" she called desperately from the threshold.

It was happening.

So soon? Why so soon? God, please, I love these boys…

"Lory, no!" he sputtered through the blood that dripped from his mouth.

His eyes darted between the tall, dark man that held him aloft by his collar and the girl whose tiny fists trembled. She removed her eyes only once, to acknowledge Bobby's writhing body that lay next to another man- one whose chest housed Dean's special dagger.

"Lory…" the dark man hissed in utter delight, "Rolls off the tongue…"

Sam omitted a little noise akin to "umph!" in response to a blow to the back of the head. Lory whipped around. He, too, was on his knees.

Where the hell do they keep coming from?

But she realized it was the same person- demon.

Crafty little fuckers, aren't they?

"Leave…" she said flatly, her eyes drilling into bottomless black of his.

"I don't think you're in the position to give orders, my little hushpuppy…" he smiled, raising his hand toward her like a gun- and by the look of dissatisfaction, a malfunctioning one.

"Shooting blanks, Alistair?" she quipped, her own hand outstretched.

With a dismissive flick of her wrist, he went flying into the wall.

"Impressive," he laughed, noisily resetting the bones in his neck. "But no more Mr. Nice Demon."

The look of pleasure in his eyes faded as wisps of black smoke began to snake from every hole in his head. And suddenly retracted.

"Oh, Sam… Tsk tsk tsk. Naughty naughty."

Tossing Dean aside like a rag, Alistair began to cross the room.

"Hey!" Lory halted him, "I don't think you want to touch him."

The devil-may-care danger in her tone could rival Dean on his best day. It wasn't a bluff.

"Oh, I think I do, my dear. In fact, I think I'd rather like to do more than that- perhaps sever his spinal cord so he can spend the last minutes of his life watching me ravish your fat little bonbon. But all in due time."

Her arm out-stretched, and he trembled a while, his knees buckled and he hit the refrigerator, close to knocking it over.

"Okay, now you're starting to piss me off," he snarled.

"Are we having fun yet? No?"

His elbow inverted completely, causing a slight yelping noise to erupt from him.

"Now?" she teased.

That same animalism returned to her eyes, but much stronger. Without the internal struggle.

"You're enjoying this, you fat, black cunt," he snarled, but almost as though he was as well.

"Nah…" she shrugged

He still lay against the fridge, spread-eagle. His knees popped much in the same way his elbow did, only with a much uglier sound- paired with the roar from his mouth.

"Okay, now I'm having fun. Little tip Alistair…Don't-"

The toe of his shoe connected hard with his nose.

"Fuck-"

Again.

"With my-"

Drawing blood.

"Boys."

And he collapsed in a writhing, shaking heap on top of himself.

The time for fun and games had quickly come to a close. Dean lay in the corner, but he began to pull himself up against the wall, nursing his side and breathing raggedly. She raced to him.

"Dean… Honey… Are you all right?"

He looked down into her eyes and squinted. Something was there. He couldn't even begin to label it.

"Thanks to you," he nodded, "Sam…"

"I'm here," he groaned, still on his stomach, lifting his violently throbbing head a bit and quickly regretting it.

"Thanks, Lor-"

"I will always love you, Dean Winchester," she whispered in one breath.

Even if he could think up a response, her lips would have smothered it. All he could do in his dazed, confused and injured state was allow the oral assault to commence and take her thrashing tongue... and for a fraction of a second, awkwardly enjoy it

"Bye, you guys," she gulped, turning around just in time to watch Bobby's knife- the knife- still caked with a bit of cheese, enter her body. She felt the windlessness first, and then the pain.

"Lory..? LORY!"

In the few seconds it had taken for it to register in Dean's mind, Lory had already collapsed in his arms.

Sam simply looked up in horror. It wasn't the blood that sparked the rage, but the way the knife handle protruded from her- almost like a terrible phallus.

Hurt. Fear. Rage coursed through him. His face and eyes burned, flamed- tears like acid padding on the linoleum. And Dean just gaped -numb yet aching- and held her as she faded… Black and cold.

As if it hadn't burned enough, Alistair lay chuckling madly until his broken body shook.

"Did you think you were special? I've been doing that since before your great, great, great grandfather swam around with a tail! Ah, silly little bi-"

The growl that erupted from Sam's throat- chest- soul was unlike anything any of them had ever heard. The cry Alistair omitted was like a whimper in comparison. The black smoke flooded the room, soaking into the floor, and by the time it had faded, so had she.

.