Both mine and John's breaths were coming in short rasps, our eyes forcefully kept on the other as we tried to keep them averted from the dead bodies heaped in the corner of the room. The guilt, the fear, boiling up and up inside me was making my body shake uncontrollably, my heart pounding so hard against my bones that I was surprised I was still standing and conscious. "John…" I mutter, bringing myself to gaze at the bodies, a new wave of guilt crashing into me the longer I do. They were mangled and shot and piled atop each other with such disrespect, even they didn't deserve it. I didn't care that they needed to be stopped or that it might have been self-defense; I couldn't come to terms with myself concerning the events of that night.
"It's okay, Ruby. You did the right thing," John comforted, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "And what you are about to do is only doing the inevitable. I've been expecting this, I am ready. And if I was ever going to die an honorable death it is here and now, by your hands. You do this, Ruby, and everything will go back to normal. You and Sam and Dean—you will all be saved." John wraps my trembling fingers around the handle of his gun and wipes the tears freefalling from my eyes. "It's okay, Ruby," he repeats.
I shook my head violently, shoving the gun back in his direction. "No! No, John. I can't—I can't, I won't…" I could barely get any comprehensible words out I was sobbing so hard. "What you're asking—it's too much! Why—why can't you just disappear for a while, or—or we can go after the rest of them!" I gestured at the bodies hopefully.
John shook his head, a somber look on his face. "I'm sorry, Ruby. This is the only way. If you don't do this, if I don't die tonight? Azazel pulls the trigger on Sam and Dean." A tear broke its way through his mask, dropping down onto his shirt. "I'm not going to let my sons pay for my mistakes."
"But w-what do I do? What do we tell them? They'd hate me, they'd try and kill me—I'd lose the only family I have left!" I screamed, unable to convey my emotions calmly anymore. "John, you're asking me to become a murderer!"
"Do you not see all these bodies in here that you helped kill tonight?" he countered, purposely aiming to get me angry.
"That was self-defense!" I snapped, glaring at him through my veil of tears.
John slapped me, once, twice, until I toppled into a column. He gripped a fistful of my shirt and forced me to my feet again, jamming his gun back into my hands. "This is self-defense, Ruby!" he said, his voice breaking. John's hands were hard and angry against my body, but his eyes told a different story. He was sad and scared…so scared. He didn't want to die. But he was right, he had no choice, if he wanted to save Sam and Dean. That damned Azazel…how could he sleep at night, doing the things he was doing to people? To John and Bobby? John never should have made that deal… "Shoot me!" John pulls my wrists and rams the gun into his chest.
I shook my head, my sobs then uncontrollable. "No…"
John punches me, sending me back into the concrete wall, dislocating my shoulder. "They'll think it was self-defense, like you said. That this whole night was. And Sam and Dean—" he lets out a sob, "Sam and Dean will be safe. Just shoot me, damn it!" John repositioned us so we were standing face-to-face, and I was holding the gun out in his direction, aimed at his chest. "You can do this, Ruby." He walked backward several steps, putting his arms up as if in surrender. His eyes never left mine, trying to enforce the comfort and love that was supposed to be in his words.
I placed my other hand over the one holding the gun, trying to still the incessant tremors. The taste of salt was so strong in my mouth that it felt like I was drowning. "I c-c-can't," I barely choke out.
John only nodded and said, "Yes, you can. Take my love with you."
"I'm sorry," I cried. "I'm so, so sorry." John nodded again, giving me the go-ahead. He smiled sadly at me through his tears, longing in his eyes. I swore to myself I'd never forget those eyes, the eyes in that moment, on that face.
The bullet buried itself in the middle of his forehead, blood spattering the wall behind him. He fell to the ground with a final thump, his eyes still maintaining contact with mine as the light in them went out. I dropped the gun in disgust and screamed, running over to him. "No…no…John," I cried, falling over his body. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…so sorry…" I wailed, repeatedly, the words reverberating throughout the room, throughout my head, my heart. Hands clasped around my arms and tried to pull me away from John, and I fought them, trying to break free. I couldn't leave John, I had to stay with him. I couldn't let the hands take me away from John. I threw punches blindly, fruitlessly trying to connect my fist with my assailants face. The man was speaking soft words to me, trying to calm me down, but I couldn't listen, the world was silent except for my cries.
Before I even knew what was happening, however, the man had me pinned against him backwards, and a needle drove itself into my neck. My body jerked hopelessly a few more times before all feeling left me and I slumped in a heap against the man. The last thing I saw was John's dead eyes boring into the recesses of my soul like an anvil, and then all I knew was darkness.
"Ruby! Goddammit, Ruby!" a man's voice sounds in the background of someone screaming—is it me? "Ruby it's okay—it's me! Shhh," he comforts, restraining me in his arms, smoothing back my hair. It is me screaming, I can feel my throat on fire. It takes me a few more moments, but I bring my lips together and silence claims the air around us. I cough and continue to sob silently, allowing myself to relax into the envelopment of his arms, my head reeling trying to catch up to reality. "There you go, darling, it's okay. Just take deep breaths…" he continues to soothe, and I try to obey his words, it feeling like an eternity before my breathing is under control and my eyes are finally dry. We lay there, for God knows how long, the only sounds our slow, peaceful breaths and heartbeats. "Are you with me, love?" Crowley's accent whispers in my ear.
"Yes," I clear my throat, "yeah, I'm—I'm here. Sorry," I mumble.
Crowley shifts us a little, so we can look at each other. "What are you sorry for, love?" he asks, fingers still smoothing my hair.
I want to punch him. I want to punch him for being so fucking calm and accepting. Then I want to hit myself and never wake up. "For totally freaking out like that." I sniffle, running a hand down my face. "What happened, exactly?"
"You just shot up and started screaming. I tried to get through to you but it's like you couldn't hear me, like you weren't all there. But then, obviously, you seemed to calm down and begin to collect yourself." I nod, not knowing exactly how to respond. I wrap my arms around his waist and press myself into him, just wanting to melt into nonexistence. And here and now, this is peaceful, calming. I'd be content. "Do you want to talk about it?" Crowley murmurs in my ear.
"Talk about what?" I breathe in his scent, the smell of his chest, the softness of his hair.
"The dream, what made you scared," he replies, nuzzling his face in my mess of hair, kissing my head.
I sigh and push out of his embrace. "It's nothing. I'm fine, don't worry about it." Crowley puts a comforting hand on my shoulder, silently pressing me to continue speaking. I lean into his touch, sighing again. "It's stupid," I say finally, "It was about John. But it's no big deal."
"Obviously it is, love."
"Obviously I'm fine, really." I turn around and give him the happiest smile I can muster. He cocks an eyebrow, clearly not believing my attempt to be alright. I gently cup his face in my hands and pull him in for a heated kiss. "Please, Crowley. I promise I will be okay." He nods reluctantly and I kiss him again. "By the way," I say, breathless, aiming to get my mind off things, "would you be able to shed some light on my identity?"
"Come again?" he asks, pulling back to look me clearly in the eyes.
"My name, sir. I don't know what my name is," I answer with mock seductiveness.
Crowley struggles to hold back a laugh and tries to cover himself with a smirk. "I guess I proved you wrong then, huh?"
"Maybe…maybe not," I shrug. "I believe it starts with an 'R'. Possibly an 'R-u'. You're gonna have to try harder next time, my king."
"I like the sound of a next time," he murmurs against my lips.
He sighs when I pull away, pushing myself off the bed and making my way to his closet to retrieve some clothes. My clothes are all still safely tucked away in a few duffle bags on a cleared lower shelf. Crowley rolls his eyes whenever he sees me squatting down and pulling out an outfit for the day, but never says anything further. Except for now, apparently, when I turn around and see him casually leaning in the doorway watching me. "You know, you really can unpack your stuff, darling. I don't bite," he draws out in his accent that makes me want to melt. Not now, Ruby.
"I know, I know. It's just that—I don't know. I will. I might," I stutter, shimmying into the clothes I pulled out, suddenly anxious to get on with my day. I squeeze past him in the doorway, hearing his breath hitch in his throat.
"You look better without the clothes, you know," he purrs. I look up and smile at him as I tie my shoes. "Where are you going, anyways?" Crowley asks, walking up to me.
"Nice try, my king," I reply, giving him a quick kiss, again making him sigh. "But we just spent the last two days in bed together. I need some air. I'll be back soon. Promise." He hesitantly nods and steps away from me, giving me a clear go-ahead to the door. I don't look back as I close it behind me and jog down the stairs. Unsure of whether or not to feel guilty, I breathe an immense sigh of relief once I close the front door and I'm outside, away from everything. Almost frantically I pull out my phone and dial Meg's number. She answers after the first ring.
Meg: Holy shit, Ruby! Where the fuck have you been? It's been over a week of dead silence!
Me: I know. I'm sorry. I've just been…adjusting to things. A hesitation, a deep breath. I'm with Crowley. I've been with Crowley. Meg says nothing. Say something.
Meg: A sigh. I don't even know what to say, Ruby.
Me: I told you I was going to lay low with him.
Meg: Well yeah, but…I'm worried about you. This all just feels wrong.
Me: Okay, Meg, I hear you. But can we put that aside for the time being? I want to see you.
Meg: Seriously?
Me: Yeah. Please?
Meg: Of course, Ruby. I would love to see you. I have something to talk to you about anyways. Want me to pick you up at Crowley's?
Me: No! No…uh, pick me up a couple miles down the road from his place.
Meg: Her sweet, honey-dipped laugh sounds through the phone. Right. Of course. See you in an hour?
Me: Sounds great. I hang up.
"Good God, Ruby…" Meg envelops me in a tight hug after she pulls up to me on the side of the road. "I know it's only been like a week and a half, but it's felt like so much longer."
"I'm sorry," I whisper into her hair, pulling her tighter against me. Meg only nods. I start and jump away from Meg when I hear a car door close and someone step out.
"Hello, Ruby," says a familiar deep, raspy voice. Castiel does a sort of awkward wave in my direction, which I return half-heartedly.
Without any respect to the fact that Castiel was standing less than five feet away, I turn to Meg and snap, "Why the hell would you bring him."
Meg shrugs defensively and replies, "He's my boyfriend and he wanted to see you. Don't get your panties in a bunch; he's not going to tell anyone. He's a good little unicorn." Meg tugs on Castiel's tie and pulls his face to hers, kissing him gently. I scoff and walk around them and hop into the car. It's at least five minutes before Meg and Castiel get back in the car, Meg sending him her infamous seductive smile, mentally fucking him right there. "So…my place?" She asks, pulling back onto the road.
"Sounds good to me," I answer, not caring to cover the edge to my tone. Castiel gives his usual curt nod. "What are we even going to do?" I ask, angrily implying the fact that there are three of us now, not only Meg and me.
"Patience, Ruby. You're the one who called me. Let me figure something out that will satisfy your ridiculous need to lay low." Meg spares me a quick glance before turning her attention back to the road.
"As you may recall, Meg: patience isn't one of my virtues...well, I don't have any virtues. But if I did, I'm sure patience wouldn't be one of them," I retort.
"If it makes you feel better," Cas interjects, turning in his seat to look at me, "I can just go home for the day so you and Meg can have your time together?"
I sigh. His puppy-eyes always fuck with my head. "No, Cas. It's fine. I'd love for you to join us." Though my voice still has a hint of annoyance. He cocks his head and shoots me a skeptical look before turning back in his seat. It remains silent until we get to Meg's apartment.
"So!" Meg chirps as she flings her keys onto the hook by the door. "What will it be? Kiss-and-tell or just drink-and-tell?" She spins around after discarding her jacket and places her hands on her hips, giving me the eye.
"Well you know me; I'm always for a drink," I answer, purposefully avoiding her obvious implication. Meg doesn't move from her pose, silently prodding me to expand my wants. "What? Do you honestly want to know all the juicy details of my life for the past week, because I really doubt you do."
"Oh, but I do!" Meg calls over her shoulder as she strolls to her kitchen, re-emerging a moment later with three beers, oddly enough because Castiel doesn't normally drink. I resist the un-lady-like urge to down my beer like I'm parched and painfully take only a gentle sip before glaring at Meg. She grabs the wrist not holding my beer and drags me into the living room, seating us on a couch. Castiel follows and sits down on a chair across from us.
"Cas, do you ever take off that dirty, old trench coat?" I ask, trying to avoid the inevitable.
"Technically it's an overcoat," comes his raspy reply.
I roll my eyes. "You are fucking impossible, you know that?" I say, jerking my beer in his direction before taking another sip. Castiel squints at me before turning to Meg for guidance.
Meg waves it away. "It's alright Clarence, she means it in a good way," she nudges me in the shoulder, giving me the be-nice-glance. "Anyways, we're not here to talk about Cas. We're here to talk about you, Barbie!" Meg jabs a finger at my chest.
I sigh. "Ugh, you know what, Meg? So are you. You are fucking impossible as well." Fuck it. And I proceed to chug the rest of my beer. "It is not of import. I'm not talking about this."
"Yes you are. You know why? Because I'm your best friend, that's why. I care about what's happening in your life and what is going on in that fucked head of yours." Meg casually drinks some of her beer, her eyes never leaving mine.
"You're not going to let up, are you?"
"Nope!" she smiles sweetly, trying to play innocent.
"Fine. Where do you want me to begin?" I ask, frowning at my empty beer. Castiel offers his beer out to me, shrugging his 'overcoat'-clad shoulders. I take it gratefully and try to give him a reassuring smile.
"Well…since you asked. How many days out of this past week have you and Crowley spent in bed together?"
Faster than I thought possible, my face heats up like ten degrees and my body stiffens. From embarrassment or longing, I don't know. "That's none of your business," I rush out, burying my burning face in my new beer.
Meg bumps our shoulders together. "Oh, come on. Nothing to be ashamed of, dear. Clarence and I had several days as well this past week—"
"God, Meg!" I interrupt, holding back laughter as I catch Cas' face, which is now similar to my own. "Look at the poor thing, your embarrassing him!"
"And I will continue to do so as long as you refuse to talk about your sexual adventures with Crowley," she says nonchalantly.
"You are sick. You want a play-by-play of the couple days Crowley and I stayed in bed having sex that you very much so disagree with?" I counter, finishing Cas' beer, probably too soon.
"So you did spend multiple days is bed together!" Meg says, mock incredulous.
I throw my hands up in frustration. "Yes, Meg! And that is seriously all that has happened since I got there. I spent several days binge drinking and he worked on his work-stuff and then yes, we spent a few days in bed together. But that is it."
She gives me a once-over before shrugging and finishing her own beer. "Well, there it is. Was it good?"
"Now that's none of your business, Meg," I answer instead, my face getting hotter, if that's even possible.
"What exactly are our plans for today?" Castiel cuts in. "I would assume and hope that it doesn't only entail talking about Ruby and Crowley's sex lives." Praise him. Fucking praise Castiel.
Meg sighs in defeat. "Fine, fine. Whatever. How about we just do what we do best?"
"Emptying all the beer in your possession and fighting to kick each other's asses in pointless, immature games?" I clarify. Meg nods happily. Cas only looks at us blankly. "I'm in."
I jerk awake from a sleep I don't remember entering and reacquaint myself with my surroundings. By the look of a clock on the wall, it is in the middle of the night and Meg and Castiel are nowhere to be seen, so I assume that they made their way to their bedroom sometime earlier in the night, leaving me on the couch. "Fuck me…" rolls off my tongue incoherently as consciousness swims in front of my eyes, fighting to claim me. I stand up and barely catch myself on the arm of the couch in time to keep myself from falling. My head is pounding and persistently yelling that I had a few too many beers, but I try and shrug it off as much as I am able and stumble through the darkness to the door, which I close as silently as my drunken brain can manage. I groan when my phone begins grinding against my leg, my brain perceiving it as another loud attempt on my life. Turns out to be a voicemail from Crowley, wondering where the hell am I, as I said I would be home for dinner. "Fuck." I run my hand down my face and sigh. I was not expecting the day to pan out like this. Or night. Or whatever the hell is happening.
I pause at the top of the stairwell. What was I even doing here, where was I planning to go? I can't go back to Crowley's…can I? God, I would be so mortified if that scene played out. But what other option do I have? I pull out my phone and punch Crowley's number in, only to angrily turn it off and bail out. Then pull it out again and push 'call' before I can stop myself. When I'm almost sure it's going to voicemail, Crowley's british lull sounds on the other end.
Crowley: Finally, love. You on your way home?
Me: Uh, yeahjus one little problem...
Crowley: Where are you?
Me: Riverside apartments…
Crowley: On my way. Be there in ten, love.
Me: Yeah…
I hang up and stare at the phone, awed and somewhat turned on by what just happened. He actually understood my pathetic slur and didn't ask any questions or get angry with me… "Yeah, not happening…" I mutter as I slide down the wall, unable to balance on my feet any longer. Was there something in my drink or did I really have that many?
I never really figure it out before I pass out, Crowley's arms blurring into blackness.
"God, what the fuck was in my drink…" I protest, rubbing my head, trying and failing to pull myself up and out of Crowley's bed.
"Not quite sure, but my guess is a mild sedative. You've been out nearly sixteen hours." What the hell, Meg? Seriously? Crowley sits on the bed beside me and offers me a mug of coffee. After another attempt I finally am able to sit up, though barely. I shakily take the mug from his outstretched hand and drink gingerly.
"Where's my phone?" I ask in between sips.
Silently, Crowley picks it up off the nightstand and hands it to me. I dial Meg.
Meg: Masters.
Me: Hello, buddy of mine. Care to explain the sedative in my drink yesterday?
Meg: An uneasy laugh. Do you not remember? You're the one who put it in there! We were hoping to have some fun, you know—to relax! All good fun. I slipped something similar into Cas' fucking water to see him somewhat resemble being drunk and it was greattt. Sorry you missed it.
Me: I don't even know what to say to that.
Meg: Don't say. Laugh. I can hardly understand your slurs anyways. And don't deny it felt good.
Me: I am neither confirming nor denying anything.
Meg: And where are you, anyways? Ruby, I am doubly impressed that you were able to work through that haze long enough to get your ass somewhere. That takes skill.
Me: Well you know me; I drink so much all the time I'm surprised I can still get drunk.
Meg: A genuine laugh this time. God I love you Ruby. Call me when you're sober.
Me: Will do. Save me some of that stuff, though, will you? I feel like I may want some in the near future.
Meg: You don't have to ask me twice. Talk to you later, home nugget.
Me: Adios, bitch.
"Well, my life just keeps getting more and more interesting," I say, finishing my coffee.
Crowley eyes me. "So you were drugged? Are you alright, love?"
I nod. "No. Well yeah, I mean, I drugged myself. Technically. But yeah, I'm more than fine. I haven't slept that good in ages. And it's Meg, I can't really stay mad at her for long. But dear god, my head aches like a motherfucker."
Crowley rubs my head and runs his fingers through his hair. I sigh into his touch. "That better, love?" he chuckles. I nod. He leans down to whisper in my ear, "You know I do hear that sex is better on drugs like that."
"I can barely keep my head up and you expect me to fuck you?" I continue to slur. Crowley kisses my neck in silent confirmation. "Besides," I say, "literally all we do is have sex. Like what are we even doing with our lives?"
"Having sex," he jokes. "Are you complaining, darling?"
"My body does, for the most part," I groan, pushing him off me, on the verge of passing out again.
"Well your screams of pleasure seem to override any protests your body apparently seems to make. You're the one who asks for it," he prods seductively and resumes kissing my face and neck.
"Crowley—" His lips meet mine and suddenly I forget anything I was about to say. My head is spinning a thousand miles an hour and I'm unable to tell whether it's because of the aftereffects of the drugs or because of Crowley and how amazing it is to feel his mouth against mine. I lazily move my lips against his, fighting my brain's desire to sleep and forcing my body to move with confident energy. It's a lot harder than it seems and I nearly fall out of my chair (a habit I've seemed to have developed) trying to keep steady and up with him. He envelopes me in his arms and carries me upstairs, still refusing to separate our lips, even as he lays me gently onto the bed. "No. Fuck!" I whimper and hit my head, willing myself to stay awake. "Crowley I can't, like—fuck…"
Crowley smacks me across the face so hard I roll over the bed and an unwilling tear shoots from my eye. "Well shit, Crowley, don't sugarcoat it," I yell, almost breaking out of my haze. My hand instinctively moves up to rub my throbbing cheek. I sit up and raise an eyebrow at Crowley, who's only grinning at me like he's won a prize, he's so proud of himself. I force my weighted body to move back across the bed to him, swinging my legs over the edge and pulling him to me. "God, I'm still so out of it, you might have to try harder than that. You hit like a girl, my king," I murmur.
He laughs, and his hand meets my face again, though my head smacking into the backboard is the last thing I'm able to comprehend.