When I was a little girl, my mother would serve me sleeping pills a few nights a week so she could have "me time" with my father. I would usually sleep from anywhere between 12 and 16 hours, barely conscious enough to think for myself. After about a year of this, however, my body started to become used to these pills and it was harder and harder to fall asleep. As a child is, I was overly curious, as soon as I understood why with the pills, as to what my parents got up to while I slept. One night, I feigned sleep and snuck down the hallway a good while later, keeping up the pretense. My childish mind could not understand why daddy was restraining mommy with handcuffs, scratching and abusing her naked body. Why mommy was smiling and kissing daddy in turn, or better yet, why she was allowing him to do such things to her.

I ran back to my room and cried for the rest of the night. What was wrong with my parents? What they're doing can't be right. What if they end up getting hurt?

All these years later and oh, how the tables have turned. What is wrong with me? What I'm doing can't be right. What if someone ends up getting hurt?

At least now I know where the idea came from that night with Crowley. Sick, twisted Ruby.

And now my head feels the weight of bricks pressing all around it, not allowing me to lift it. My attempt at movement is halted when the cold metal of handcuffs cut into my wrists, painfully pulling be backwards, my back hitting a wooden post. I groan in protest, though the guttural sound that leaves my throat is unidentifiable. What is happening? Where am I?

"You awake yet, sweetheart?" a distinct southern accent snaps. I moan, the sudden noise shooting a new wave of pain through my head. Movement. Shuffled footsteps. Snapping in my face. I moan again. "Ruby! You with us?"

"Stop…screaming…at me…" I breathe out. The man laughs, annoyingly loud. "Crow…Crowley?" Even my vocal cords feel like they've been dragged to the ends of the Earth.

"Aw, who's someone's little whore?" he asks sarcastically, purposely in my ear. I flinch away from him. "Sorry, sweetheart, your man-toy isn't here right now. Got him locked up in another room. We thought your eye sex might be distracting from the task at hand."

"Wha…?" I force out. I attempt to lift my head once more, flinching and reeling from the pain, but I succeed. The world is crooked and blurry and it takes several moments for it to start to clear up. The face I eventually see startles me, my wrists picking a fight with the handcuffs again. "Bobby? What…the fuck…?"

"There she is!" he murmurs, bring a cup of water to my lips. I drink thirstily, silently complaining when the last drop runs down my throat. "I can get you more in a minute."

"Bobby?" I clear my throat, my voice slowly coming back to me. "What's going on? How did I get here? Why am I in handcuffs?" I frown at him, pleading him with my eyes for answers.

"Well, Crowley did the drugging for me, I just collected." Bobby hurries on when I start to panic, "Oh, you don't have to freak out, we're not working together! If what he is telling me is true, then he drugged you for his own intents and purposes, some of which were to probably hide you from me, seeing this coming. I simply…intercepted you."

"Where's Crowley?" is all I can make out, too stunned for any other words.

He takes a deep breath, then takes both my shoulders in his hands and starts shaking me, my head reeling again. "You stupid ass! What did you do? What did you do?! You made a deal…for Sam, didn't you?" His concerned eyes try and dissect me.

"What are you—I don't know what you're talking about, Bobby." I honestly don't.

"Oh, c'mon, Ruby! Why else would you be hanging around with that devil Crowley?" He stands up suddenly, his knees popping rather loudly, and begins to pace around the room.

"Still don't know what you're talking about. I met Crowley at a bar. And you apparently know the rest. That is the extent of our relationship," I reply, rather annoyed.

Bobby's hands clench and unclench at his sides, then move up to straighten his hat, then back down again, obviously having struggles as to what to do with them. "But you knew that Sam was in trouble, tryin' to get away. Crowley was his boss, Ruby, and you were on the inside to save his sorry ass from that devil, weren't you? Tell me that's what you were doing, Ruby!" He leans down and shakes me again. "Tell me you weren't working for Crowley, that you—you were helping Sam." Tears begin to build up in his old eyes.

I lean back so I can look him in the eye, shocked. "Bobby, what's wrong, what's happened?" I ask, softly.

Bobby only looks into my eyes, saying nothing, for several long minutes. Holding back a sob, he chokes out, "Sam's dead, Ruby."

My eyes seem to pop out of their sockets and drown, everything disappears. I can't even bring myself to ask why, or what happened. I can't even think. What the hell does he mean, 'dead'? Sam's not dead. …Is he? I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

"That's right. D-E-A-D. Dead. And my money's on your boyfriend in there, Crowley." He makes an angry jab at the door behind him.

"W-why? Why would you say that?" Sobs hitch in my throat, refusing to let them pass.

"Apparently they had a falling out. You saw the first ball drop, but something major happened after that, like a week or two ago. Sam said that he dropped all the projects Crowley had him under and resigned, disregarding any and all contracts they had, intending on disappearing without Crowley, or anyone's, knowledge or help. Well, except for my pretty face." I half-heartedly scoff, tears beginning to drop from my eyes. "All I'm saying, sweetheart, is that this is how I see the facts: Sam is involved with Crowley, Sam leaves Crowley, Crowley kills Sam. It's all like a very bad date."

"Crowley," I swallow and lick my lips, "Sam asked Crowley for help disappearing…Crowley declined his offer. How long—how long has he been dead, exactly?" I don't even care anymore, I can barely speak, my sobs wracking my bruised body.

"About a week," Bobby answers solemnly. All I can do is nod. "But yes, I do know that. What I need to know is what happened after that!" he shouts loudly, frustrated.

"Look, Bobby, I don't know, alright? That was the last time I saw either of them before tonight, when Crowley broke into my place and drugged me." Bobby removes his hat and runs a hand through his thinning hair, then replaces his hat. He turns away towards the wall, refusing to look at me.

"Are you going to let me go, Bobby? Honestly I don't even know why you've fucking got me like this, do you actually think I had something to do with killing Sam?!" I cry, trying to bite him. He pulls his face back in time, but I manage to drive my foot in the middle of his chest, knocking him flat on his back. Bobby clutches at his chest, wheezing, trying to get his breath back. "You let me go, Bobby. And Crowley, too, for that matter."

"Crowley…killed…Sam, Ruby…I can't...let him…go."

"No he didn't! Now let us both go or you're not going to like me when I don't have handcuffs restraining me," I yell, my legs reaching for him again. My face is damp with my tears, causing my hair to stick around and frame my face, the taste of salt fresh on my tongue. "Why do you even need me? What the fuck do I have to do with any of this?!"

Bobby looks at me with a look full of shock and sadness that could encompass any of many upon many different emotions, and I can't tell which. After several long minutes he finally says, "Well considering what happened the last time a Winchester went missing, Ruby, you can't blame me for wanting to keep you in my sights and get to the bottom of things. Specifically from your end. It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if you were Crowley's aid in Sam's murder."

I stare at him, mouth agape. "Last time...? What the hell are you talking about Bobby, you're still not making any sense!"

Bobby, suddenly fuming, points an angry finger in my face. "Don't you dare play dumb when it comes to John, you bitch."

"What about John?" I snap. "Yes, he disappeared. And if you're trying to connect it like it sounds like you are, then whoever was the cause of John's disappearance probably killed Sam, but I still don't see what I—" The wooden post behind me cracks as Bobby punches my head into it, making me scream in pain. Black spots pool in multiple areas around my vision and my head refuses to come back up again. I groan in frustration. The pain now feels more like an inconvenience than actual pain. "The hell was that for…?"

"What do you think, princess? Do you really have the balls to go denying what happened with John?" Bobby yells.

"What happened with John?" I ask, truthfully.

Another punch. Another darkness.

"Will you stop that?" I mumble, completely devoid of animation. When I receive no response, I slowly bring my gaze upwards and search the room, but I am alone. Bobby is nowhere to be seen. And I'm still handcuffed to a pole. Lovely day. "Hello?" I call out as loud as I am able in this state. "Hello? Anyone there?"

Nothing.

I sigh and lean into the pole, defeated. Why did Bobby get so angry when John came into the conversation? Especially towards me. Obviously there is something that I should know concerning John, and the fact that I don't is unbelievable and the cause of Bobby's anger towards me, and more than likely the cause of my imprisonment. But why won't he tell me? Why doesn't he believe me when I tell him I honestly have no insight as to what happened with John? And if he did, he'd be the only one—Sam and Dean didn't even know what happened to him, so why should I?

A door creaks open and footsteps sound down a flight of stairs. My heart races in anticipation. What am I to expect now that information has been exchanged concerning this information? Is he going to resume his anger and hitting, or will he let me go? Unfortunately, though, that thought seems unlikely. "Bobby?"

"Yes, it's me sweetheart," he replies, walking up to me with another cup of water. I down it similar to the last one. Bobby's somber eyes look into mine. "You honestly don't remember, do you?" I hesitantly shake my head, dreading his fist meeting my face again. He sighs. "It was a possibility. The nurse said that aside from the physical trauma, you did have major shock, and the likelihood of your mind blocking out what happened was very high. I didn't think it'd be permanent."

"Nurse? What are you talking about Bobby? What aren't you telling me?"

"Don't you remember when you were in the hospital last year?"

"Yeah, of course, Bobby. You were there, I had mono." He stares at me and I laugh, saying, "It was pretty bad, remember? Had all the IVs and everything."

"You didn't have mono," he states, my smile fading. "The three of us—you, me and John—were following up on some leads and we ran into trouble. You took a pretty nasty beating, and then you and John got into an argument, I didn't hear any of it." Bobby's voice cracks, but he continues. "I walked in the room just in time to watch you put a gun to his head and pull the trigger."

"How…?"

"You started screaming, crying 'I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry' over and over again, and eventually you just collapsed. Brought you to the hospital and when you woke up you were fine, not remembering any of it. The nurse said it wouldn't last long, but apparently it has," he laughs sadly.

"I…killed John Winchester." Bobby nods. "But everyone just thought he disappeared! What did you do, Bobby?"

"Got someone to take care of the body, make it look like a disappearance," he says, devoid of emotion.

"I killed John Winchester," I repeat, heartbroken, sobs regaining control over my body. "And now you think I killed Sam the same way I killed him?! What kind of a sick, twisted bastard are you, Bobby?" He opens his mouth to respond, but I cut him off. "Get out! Get out, Bobby! Go!" I scream at him, repeatedly, until the door closes behind him. Then I scream and scream and scream until my voice goes hoarse and they turn into strange whimpers, my tears soaking my shirt. I scream until my vision gets muddy and darkness claims me again, though this time I succumb to it.

When the pounding in my head wakes me up, I find myself lying on the floor next to the pole, but without any restraints. I would smile if I had the heart, but apparently I don't have one and my face won't let me. Slowly, I stagger to my feet, using the pole as a crutch. Once I believe I have my bearings figured out I push away from the pole and cross the distance to the stairs, then follow them up. The door is unlocked. Either Bobby trusted me to stay put or he wants me to leave. But I'm not leaving without Crowley, if Bobby was truthful about his being here. With as much silence as I can pull with me, I close the door behind me and make my way into the main hall, where I take a chance and claim a second set of stairs to the second floor. There's a hallway containing three doors on each side, an alcove under a window at the end. Contrary to my brain that's shouting at me to just get out while I can, I slightly open the first door on my right, peering inside. It's empty. I move onto the next room and the next, each of them empty. Naturally. It's always the last one. I take a deep breath and cross my fingers, opening the last door at the end of the hallway. Sure enough, there is an unconscious Crowley, tied to a chair in the middle of the room.

"Oh my god, Crowley!" I whisper, running and kneeling in front of him. I take his swollen face in my hands and rub it gently, murmuring, "Crowley, it's okay, it's me, Ruby. Wake up, it's okay, I'm here."

He moans softly and his eyes flit open. He jerks away from my hands at first, but relaxes when his eyes process my presence. "Ruby…" he says softly. Good god, he looks terrible. It seems as though he took a more substantial beating from Bobby. His lip is split thick, he's got a black eye, and everywhere just seems angrily swollen.

"Shhh, it's okay. I'm going to untie you and then we are getting out of here." I offer him a smile, but neither of us can really read it. I locate the knot in the back and release it, then help the rope unravel to the floor. I lift up his arm and sling it across my shoulders, taking a deep breath. "Okay, Crowley. I can't carry you by myself, you've got to help some, alright? On three. One…two…three!" My legs strain and I grunt as I adjust to helping him carry his weight. Slowly we make our way down the hallway and miraculously make it down the stairs without toppling over each other. Once outside, my rescue backfires. We have nowhere to go—we're in the middle of freaking nowhere without transportation. At night. Maybe that's why Bobby's seemingly disappeared. "Fuck!" I mutter.

Crowley flinches as he reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out a phone, probably thinking the same thing I am. I give him a quick kiss. "Beautiful!" Without a second thought, I dial Meg's number. She picks up on the third ring.

Meg: Hello this is Meg.

Me: Meg! Good you picked up. It's Ruby.

Meg: Ruby? Who's phone are you calling from?

Me: Doesn't matter. What matters is that me and…I am stranded, basically in the middle of nowhere. Please, don't ask any questions, can you just come and get me?

A pause.

Meg: Of course, Ruby. Where are you?

Me: Hopefully, by the time you get here, I will be about a mile, give or take, um…south. South of Bobby's. Do you remember where he lives?

Meg: Vaguely. But I still got his address around here somewhere…I'll be there as soon as I can.

Me: Thanks Meg, you're a life saver. I love you so, so much.

Meg: Anytime.

"Crowley?" I ask, slipping his phone in my pocket. I struggle to stay standing, supporting him, as he begins to fade into unconsciousness again. "Hey, honey, open your eyes, you got to stay awake for a little while longer. We have to keep moving." He gives me a slight nod, his eyes still half shut.

Walking down the road away from Bobby's proves loads harder than it sounded in my head. I'm just glad that it's night; it is cool and breezy. It feels amazing, though both Crowley and me are coated in sweat and breathing heavily. I don't know how long or how far we've been walking, but it hurts. Everything hurts. Then, after what feels like hours, headlights finally appear a close distance off, growing and growing until Meg's car pulls over to the side of the road and comes to a stop in front of us. She quickly runs out, slamming her door. Her eyes grow too big for her little face and start to tear up. She only nods in understanding, grabbing Crowley's other arm and helps with putting him in the backseat. Once the door is closed, he slumps against it, passing out. I turn to Meg and pull her to me, hugging her hard.

"Thank you," I whisper. Again, she only nods, giving Crowley a wary glance before getting in the driver's side and starting the car. I walk around to the other back door and slide in next to Crowley, hugging myself to him and resting my head on his shoulder. I sigh through the pain, grateful for safety. I let the world fade around me and my eyelids drop, shortly joining Crowley in the relief of sleep.

I start when a hand rubs my shoulder, gently shaking me awake. "We're here, Ruby," drones a honey-dipped voice.

"Where?" My brain is still foggy from sleep.

"At your apartment," Meg responds. "C'mon. Let's get him upstairs." I look over at her and hold her gaze for several moments while my mind processes what she's said. Gently I unwrap myself from Crowley, my arms groaning in stiff protest. Meg is already on the other side of the car. I pull Crowley away from the door and keep a hold on him so he doesn't fall out of his seat. She leans down and again, loops his other arm across her shoulders, pulling him out and onto his feet. I follow behind shortly, taking his other arm.

After much strain and even more sweat, we finally finish the climb to my apartment and trudge inside. Meg aims to drop him onto the couch, but I stop her and whisper, "No, I want to put him in a bed." She says nothing and continues walking past the couch and into my bedroom, where she half-heartedly drops her half of him onto my bed. I glare at her momentarily before I turn my full attention to getting Crowley comfortably adjusted onto the bed. He moans softly before shivering in his sleep, his face contorted in pain. I look at him sadly, tears welling in my eyes, and give him a sweet kiss on his brow before retreating from my room and closing the door gently behind me.

Meg has her arms crossed and his leaning against the kitchen counter when I emerge, her face set in worry. "You want to tell me what the fuck happened, Ruby? You've been gone for days!" she asks, though without a hint of anger. 'Days'? How long is 'days'?

When I answer my voice seems unrecognisable, all rough and guttural. "Bobby happened. He thought that Crowley killed Sam," I state evenly, surprisingly without a pang of sadness ringing in my broken voice. "And he thought that I helped. He took both of us, and obviously he gave us both good beatings…hey, are you alright?" I barely catch Meg before she falls to the floor. Her breath hitches in her throat and she looks at me with pained eyes.

"Are you saying Sam is dead?" she asks, incredulous.

Shit. Well that's one way to break it to someone. "Yes," I reply hesitantly. "About a week ago. But don't ask me what happened, because I have no fucking clue."

She blows out a sigh and stares at a spot on the wall while I hold her. "I just…Wow. I don't—I don't understand. Why would Bobby think you had anything to do with it?"

That's the sentence that stops me in my tracks. What do I tell her? That because I was the one who killed John Winchester, then I was the one who killed Sam? "I don't know," is the only obvious response.

Meg pulls back to look me in the eye and says simply, "Bullshit. You know something…don't you?"

Shakily I exhale. "It-it doesn't matter. I swear to you that I had nothing to do with Sam's death. All I know is that Crowley and I—we have to leave. We are leaving. At least until this all blows over." Instinctively I make a move to retrieve a beer from my fridge, but unfortunately remember that they were all gone. I settle back next to Meg heavily.

"Ruby, no! You can't leave, what are you talking about?"

"Just until this all blows over, ok? Who's to say that Bobby won't want us back again? He's dead adamant of persecuting one of us, and I'd prefer if that didn't happen," my voice only seems to get coarser.

"Ruby…" It's silent for a few minutes. Meg breaks it, reluctantly saying, "…How can I help?"

I look at her, shocked. She's offering to help me? I won't try and understand. I love her to death—she's my best friend—but there is nothing she can help me with. "You can't. The only thing you can do is not tell anyone about this, or where I'm going. Not even Castiel," I add firmly. I stroke her hair, tears now causing it to stick to her face. "It's going to be alright, Meg. I'll call you."

"Right." She nods, her tears raining onto her pant legs. She stands up and I follow her to the door, pulling her into a tight hug. "I told you he was bad," Meg softly repeats, again, in my ear. Then she is gone.