A/N This chapter takes place after s3e16 No Rest of the Wicked, but before s4e1 Lazarus Rising.

I may not have been as clear as I thought, but I did make a major time jump in the last chapter, from the very start of s3 to nearly the end. This is another couple of jumps. (Still haven't decided exactly when this story ends, but not here.)

For my U.S. readers, consider this an early . For those who celebrate, consider it a late Diwali gift. And for everybody else (because I have no earthly idea when I'll get the chance to get another chapter up, with the way the holidays are shaping up): Have a Happy Merry ChrismaHannaKwanaYule! Whatever you celebrate, even if it's just another day on the Planet, I hope you have a great one!

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2305 California Street

San Francisco, CA

Wednesday

June 4, 2008

5:13 a.m.

"So you're just, what, leaving?" Rick challenged the shadow skulking through his kitchen. "Without saying goodbye."

Sam sighed and squinted when Rick turned on the too-bright lights. "I left a note," he assured his friend, nodding at the folded piece of paper on the small table in the window-wrapped nook overlooking the road.

"A note," Rick nodded. "Uh-uh. No. Not good enough. Why the hell are you even leaving?" he demanded. "If it's because of last night…"

"Of course, it's 'cause of last night."

"Yeah, well," Rick lowered his eyes in shame, "I admit I fucked up," he continued, ignoring the disbelieving snort from the best friend he had in the world. "I never should've come into your room like that, but you…"

"NO!" Sam's angry voice cut across him. "Nonononono. We are not playing 'blame the victim' here, dammit."

"Blame the vi—seriously, Sam?" Rick challenged. "Nothing that happened last night created a victim!"

"Yeah? What do you call somebody who was fucking assaulted?"

"There was no assault! What the fuck, Sam?!"

"Oh, no? Well then what was it, Rick?"

"An accident! A…an unfortunate series of events," Rick decided. "It's not an assault. You need premeditation to be an assault."

"No, you don't," Sam sighed. "Assault happens spontaneously all the time. Premeditation has nothing to do with it."

"I don't think that's right," Rick argued.

"Which one of us was Pre-Law?" Sam reminded. "It was an assault, plain and simple," he added, crossing his arms defensively over his chest, shifting his backpack further onto his right shoulder. "And I can't stay here anymore."

"Sam…" Rick closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, ordering his thoughts before speaking again. "Look. I understand that you're upset about what happened. But I think maybe you're blowing this out of proportion, just a little."

Sam's hands — and backpack — dropped to the table — and he leaned across it towards his friend. "You think so, do you?"

Rick nodded. "Absolutely."

Sam huffed a short breath. "Dammit, Rick. If I weren't too paranoid to sleep with an open window, then instead of a cracked window in your guest room, you'd have a cracked skull, splattering your brains all over your back patio! Is that enough fucking proportion for you?"

"I don't—-" Rick started to yell, and pulled himself visibly back. "Be that as it may," he continued, deliberately using the calm, putting on his 'hospital orderly' voice that had made him so popular with the nurses when dealing with potentially violent patients at the hospital, "the whole incident…"

"Incident," Sam scoffed.

"The whole incident," Rick repeated, "was my fault."

"How the —-"

"I came into your room," Rick continued over Sam's protests. "You were having a nightmare, and I came into your room, uninvited, and tried to wake you up, which was just…stupid, really, because the only person who's ever been able to wake you up from a nightmare without you getting violent about it was —" He almost choked trying to hold back the next word. "- not me."

Sam sighed and all the anger seemed to drain out of him with his breath. "Dean," he said softly. "The only one who can wake me is Dean. You can say his name, Rick. I won't break."

"I know," Rick agreed. But you still won't talk about him in the past tense.

"And I didn't just 'get violent'," Sam continued. "I got deadly."

"Sam…"

"No. No, Rick, come on. I threw you across the room."

Rick just shrugged, carelessly, and walked to the counter to turn on the Keurig. This conversation was obviously going to require an infusion of caffeine, stat.

"Sure, shrug it off," Sam challenged. "However nonchalant you want to be about it, it doesn't change the fact that my learned paranoia is the only reason you're not dead on the ground three stories below that window." His voice caught on a soft sob. "I almost killed you, Rick. What would I have done if…"

"You didn't," Rick pointed out. "So…no harm, no foul," he decided.

"No harm!? I threw you into a window, broke the glass and the frame, and cracked your damn spine, you moron! How is that no harm?!"

"You fixed my spine," Rick shrugged and put a pod in the coffee maker, pressing the button for extra strong. "And I'm replacing that window — all the windows — as soon as the Historical Society signs off on my design choice, anyway. Cracked glass and frame'll be easier to remove come demo day. You probably did me a favor."

"Dammit, Rick." Sam shook his head, defeated, and he slid into a chair at the breakfast table. "How are you not pissed at me, right now? I almost killed you. No matter what you say, how you excuse it, we both know that it's the purest luck that you're not dead, right now. Because of me. How can you even stand to look at me?"

"Because you're my best friend," Rick shrugged, as if it were obvious, and put the mug of coffee in front of his friend, before turning to make himself one.

"Ugh," Sam made a face after the first sip and reached for the sugar. "How can you drink this? And since when do you take coffee black, anyway? You were 12 sugars and half pint of cream in high school."

"Since I started Med School while working at a hospital," Rick shrugged and picked up his mug. He sat at the table next to his friend, pointedly removing the backpack from the table top and placing it on the floor behind the chair opposite from Sam — out of even the long reach of his favorite Sasquatch.

"I'm still going," Sam said quietly as he swirled the mug in his hands, to mix the little bit of sugar he'd added in.

"Why, Sam?" Rick challenged gently. "Why? Why do you have to go?"

"Lillith is getting away," Sam said softly, his voice slipping back into that even monotone that Rick and Bobby had privately labeled Terminator Sam. "The longer I stay here, the more time she has to go to ground."

"And why is that so bad?" Rick wondered, raising his hands in a no offense gesture when Sam glared at him. "I'm just saying," he continued quickly. "This isn't what Dean wanted for you, man. It's not."

Sam nodded and closed his eyes against the tears that always threatened whenever he thought about how badly he was letting his brother down. Again. "I know," he admitted. "Dean wanted me to have a, an apple-pie, PTA, picket fences life. But…" he sighed and met Rick's familiar, comforting gaze. "It's not in the cards for me."

Rick shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. But you can change the cards, Sam. Or you can choose a different game."

Sam shook his head. "Seriously?" he scoffed. "How? Who is going to take me on? An ex-Hunter of all things that go bump in the night. A publicly declared psychopath who isn't currently wanted by the FBI, only because they think I'm dead. Who the fuck is going to want me?"

"I do," Rick said softly, and looked quickly down at his half-empty coffee cup, before forcing himself to look into Sam's shocked, hurt eyes. "You gotta know, Sam," he continued, his voice a bare whisper in the early morning air. "I love you. I'm in love with you, and I know who you are and what you do and what you've done, and I…I still love you."

Sam sighed, long and deep. "I know. I know you do. I'm sorry."

RIck nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "I didn't much think you swung that way."

"I don't not swing that way," Sam shrugged. "There've been…I mean…some guys are attractive," he admitted.

"But not me!" Rick laughed and took another hit of coffee.

"It's just…I don't…you've been like a brother to me, man," Sam admitted. "The best friend I ever had. Except Dean. And I…I just…I don't think of you that way."

Rick nodded, thinking. The silence stretched for nearly a minute before he broke it again. "Could you? I mean, have you tried?" he laughed.

Sam chuckled softly. "I couldn't," he said, and his eyes repeated how sorry he was as clearly as if he'd repeated the words. "And even if I could…" he continued, "Rick, I wouldn't."

"Sam…"

"It's not you," Sam began and Rick rolled his eyes.

"Please spare me the it's not you it's me speech, Sam!"

"That's not what this is," Sam promised. "It's just…except for you and Bobby, everybody I've ever loved is dead. And they all went…bad," he reminded. "I mean, really bad. You don — No," he shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I'm not putting you at risk." He stood and walked around the table before Rick could stop him, picking up his backpack. "I've already been here almost a month and that's about three weeks too long."

"It's not,". Rick assured him. "You could never stay too long for me."

Sam smiled, sadly. "I know. But…I got no reason to believe that Lillith doesn't still want me dead. And if she does, she's looking for me. I left Bobby's so she wouldn't find me there, and I should've left you as soon as I drove you here. I just…" He shrugged. "I liked being with you," he admitted. "It was…nice. Peaceful. Normal, playing the hausfrau, having dinner made…."

Rick raised one eyebrow.

"Having takeout ready," Sam corrected with a hint of the grin that Rick missed so much, "when you got home. Watching TV at night. Straightening up the house. Sleeping regular hours, it's been…it's been good," he admitted. "It's been real good, Rick, it has, and I appreciate it, so much more than I can tell you, but…this isn't my life. It can't be."

"It could," Rick insisted. "All you have to do is stay. I'm not gonna jump your bones or anything, Sam. Just…it's been good having you here, and I…I don't want you to go."

"And I don't want to go," Sam confessed, tears welling in his eyes. "But I can't stay, now. My powers are back, Rick. I didn't know it until I threw you, man. I thought they were gone for good, and good riddance. But, they're not and…whatever it is that's been after me, since before senior year, even, those stupid cloud things…we don't know that they're gone, and if they're still out there — and there's really no reason to believe they aren't — my powers…it's always been a beacon to them. And…last night…I may have just put your home on a very dangerous map to be part of."

"May have," Rick countered. "You don't know that it did."

Sam shrugged. "Even if it didn't, it will one day. I won't put you in jeopardy, Rick. I won't. I won't curse you like I've been cursed. I won't bring the Winchester Luck down on you, man. I won't. I won't."

Rick sighed and nodded. He knew as well as anyone just how stubborn Winchester Stubborn could be.

"Okay," Rick conceded. "Okay, I get it. Where will you go?"

"There's some demon sign in Carson City, so I'm going to Nevada, I guess."

Rick nodded. "Okay. Just…try to be safe, okay? I mean, it's nothing like for you and Bobby, I know that, but…losing Dean…it hurt. Hurt bad. And I, I couldn't take losing you. So, uh, you stay in touch, you hear? I don't want to see you dead again on the news without getting a text that you're still alive, got it?"

"Got it," Sam agreed.

"And if you ever need anything…Like…anything. I'm here okay?"

Sam nodded. "You just call me, or text, anytime you need me."

"I need you now!" Rick blurted and Sam grinned a real, full on Sam Winchester full-dimple grin.

"Nice try," he acknowledged.

"Had to take a shot," Rick shrugged. "But…listen. I know you're going. And I won't try to stop you, or guilt you…or persuade you," he promised. "But could you…you got time for breakfast?"

Sam laughed softly.

"I'll make my omelets," Rick told him in a sing-song voice.

"Well, now, that's just cheating," Sam complained.

But he put the backpack on the floor by the door.

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Traveler's Rest Inn

Kent, OH

Monday, September 8, 2008

8:46 pm

"Hey, Baby."

Sam stood up from the armchair where he'd been waiting for her to come back from "picking up dinner" for him.

The demon he called Ruby dropped the bag on the table, and crossed to kiss him, frowning when, instead of pulling her close, he grabbed her by her arms and held her still.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

Sam shook his head and let her go, crossing to lock the door. She tried to follow and stopped short as if she'd hit a wall.

Immediately her eyes flew to the bare ceiling, then back down to the floor, where she found an area rug that hadn't been there when she left.

Silently, Sam walked over and kicked an edge of the round rug up, so she could see the edge of the painted circle on the other side.

"A Devil's Trap, Sam?" she sighed and crossed her arms, irritated but not worried.

"Well, that's how you treat a Demon, right?"

"Baby…"

"Don't call me that." Sam crossed to the bottom of the queen sized bed further from the door, and opened the duffle bag he'd left there.

"Sam…" She stopped when he turned back, holding a vial of red liquid in his hand. "Sammy…"

"Shut up," he said, his voice entirely too quiet and calm for the storms in his too-blue eyes.

Ruby gasped, and raised a hand to her suddenly constricted throat.

"Why, Ruby?" Sam wondered, not even trying to hide the telltale glisten in his eyes. "Why? I thought we were friends, if nothing else," he admitted and shrugged when she glanced quickly at the bed. "Friends with benefits."

She gave a little gasp and Sam tipped his head to the side, and the tightness eased. "Sam," she said and reached out to him, but her hand stopped at the edge of the rug. "Baby, you know I love you."

Sam scoffed and shook his head, lifting the vial again. "This isn't love. This," he continued, giving the vial a little shake, "is lies. This is betrayal. THIS is control. And this," he added using the vial to gesture between the two of them, "is over."

"Sam, I can explain."

"I'm sure you can," Sam admitted. "Oh, baby, it's just some herbs and roots I mixed together to put in your smoothies," he continued in a falsetto. "It's not as good as the Demon Blood would be for you, but I know you don't want to do that, baby, and I'd never do anything you didn't want. Yeah, right," he concluded in a voice that was his, but so much colder than Ruby had ever heard directed towards her since Dean had died.

The heart in her meatsuit started to pound, and her breath came faster.

"And that's all it is," she desperately tried to assure him.

"No," he said quietly, and walked towards her, stopping just the other side of the Devil's Trap. "Do you know where we are, Ruby?"

"Another shitty motel?"

Sam smiled and nodded. "Kent, Ohio," he explained. "Home of Kent State University. And the Chemistry Department, therein."

Ruby swallowed nervously, as he turned away and walked over to seat himself in the armchair again, idly swinging the little vial back and forth from his long fingers.

She loved those fingers and the things they could do to her when Sam was all soft in her arms. She wondered if she'd get to feel them again.

"Turns out," he continued conversationally, "that I apparently haven't lost the College Boy look, even after all this time. Had no problem at all walking onto campus, and stealing the swipe card from some frat boy coming out of the Chem building. Even less trouble to grab myself a spot in a lab. You know, it's just amazing what you can learn with a centrifuge and a microscope."

"Sammy…"

"Wanna know what I found? Just what you said," he admitted. "Herbs. Roots. And, of course, one other thing. Know what that was?"

"No," Ruby shook her head. "I got it from a witch, Sam, if she added something, I didn't know anything about it."

Sam shook his head. "Lyyyying," he half-sang at her. "You're lying. I saw you, Ruby. I dreamt it. And my dreams, those kind of dreams, are never wrong." He laughed at the shock on her face. "What? You didn't know? Didn't know I can see the future when I dream? Yeah. See? You don't know everything about me." He left the vial on the table and crossed back to her, stepping into the Devil's Trap and stopping just in front of her.

Ruby tipped her head back, and looked up into that face she'd come to know so well, her breath quickening at his closeness, her body leaning towards him as he ran one hand up her arm to her neck and gently caressed her throat, like so many times before. "Sam," she moaned softly and closed her eyes for his kiss. Some part of her told her to be cautious, even afraid, but she'd created Sam, with Demon Blood and lies and great sex.

Despite his suspicions, she was still in control.

His hand tightened painfully on her throat, so tight she could feel the bones in her neck creak.

He leaned down, his mouth slightly open, and moved his lips, just hovering a fraction of an inch from her skin, from her chin to her ear. "You've been dosing me with Demon Blood," he whispered and bit her earlobe, hard enough to excite, but not hurt.

His hand shifted so the palm was still against her throat and his fingers were cupping underneath her chin. He tipped her head back until she thought her neck would break. "How long?" he whispered. "The whole time we've been together?" he challenged. "Ever since we met up in Nevada?"

"Sam," she whimpered. "Please. You're hurting me."

It was okay. It would be okay. This was Sam. Losing Dean had left him soft and mentally weak. She kept trying to make him into the hard, ruthless man she needed, but his gooey center remained. And above all, he was still hers.

"Oh. Sorry," he said with obvious fake sympathy and tightened his hand slightly before letting go and stepping back out of the circle. "Answer me. How long."

"I told you, I didn't know…"

Sam closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again, they shone with an inner light she'd never seen before.

He lifted his hand by his side and made a come closer gesture with his index finger.

Ruby convulsed and choked on the thick smoke bubbling up her throat and between her lips, her very essence pulled from her as if a string was dragging it out.

This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be. Of course she knew he could pull a demon out of a host, but he wouldn't do that to her. Not really. He needed her, he was dependent on her. He'd cut ties with everyone else in his life, she was all he had. She'd made sure of it. He'd never turn on her.

He let his hand relax and the smoke settled back into the meatsuit.

"How. Long."

"Always," she admitted. "But I didn't have any choice!" she continued, her voice soft, but insistent. She could fix this, she could make him understand this was all for his own good. He'd believe her. "Sam, you were going after Lillith, and you weren't strong enough. I didn't…I just didn't want you hurt, that's all, Baby, I was trying to protect you."

"Are you working with Lillith?"

"No! Of course not."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Mendacium daemon non dicetur, sed veritas ex ore tuo," he said as he pointed at her.

Ruby shuddered as the spell hit her. A Truth spell? He'd hit her with a fucking truth spell? That would never work, not against her. She was a powerful witch in her own right, even after she became a demon. tTat was why she'd been chosen for this in the first place. He couldn't control her. SHE controlled HIM.

He held her gaze, his eyes briefly glowed violet, and tilted his hand up slightly.

Ruby rose to her tiptoes, her neck stretched as far as it would go.

"Are. You. Working. With. Or For. Lillith?"

Ruby's throat clicked as she closed her mouth and swallowed the words that tried to come out. She wouldn't answer, she wouldn't. She was in control. She was strong and he was still emotional, weak.

"Respondere!"

Ruby opened her mouth and tried to escape the meatsuit, but Sam fisted the hand that held her in place and forced her back inside.

"Are you working for Lillith? ANSWER ME!"

"Yes!" she couldn't keep the response inside any longer. "Yes. I work for Lillith."

"Why?"

"She's my master!" Ruby choked against the spell, against Sam's power keeping her in place. This couldn't be happening, this can't be happening.

"What does she want."

Ruby pressed her lips together and covered her mouth with her hands.

"Tua sunt mendacium sanguine," Sam cast. "Respondere!"

Her arms fell, helpless at her side. "She…has. What she. Wants." The words were forced from her, no matter how hard she tried to keep them in. "Dean. In Hell. On the Rack. I don't know why, I don't know why, I swear I don't," she babbled, beginning to cry honest tears she could no more keep inside than the words. "I didn't want to, she made me dose you," she added and coughed lightly, bright red spittle coating her lips.

"Lie. WHY? Why did she want me on Demon Blood."

"I don't…" Ruby stopped, coughing harder and blood flowed from her lips and eyes and nose, and by Lucifer it hurt. "To make you strong!"

Sam's eyes narrowed, but the coughing and the blood stopped. "Why would she want me strong when I'm coming after her?"

Ruby shook her head. "She hasn't told me," she insisted, and didn't cough or bleed. "Not yet. She said she will, but not yet."

Sam nodded. "Then you'd still be useful for a while," he mused and let his hand fall.

Ruby collapsed to her knees, her hands clutching her abused throat, sobbing in terror.

She looked up fearfully as Sam knelt beside her.

He brushed her hair gently from her face, cupped her cheek with one large hand. "Shh. It's okay," he whispered and pulled her head to his shoulder. "It's all over now, baby."

"I'm still useful," she gasped. "Sam, I'll be useful to you, I promise, I promise."

She could salvage this, she could. She'd find another way to dose him, and Lillith would be happy and she could still have him. Her creation. Her Sam.

She felt him nod and relaxed just a little against him, as the hand on her cheek shifted to stroke her hair. "Useful, yes," he breathed into her ear. "But not trusted."

She got a quick glimpse of the knife — her knife — in his hand before she felt the point push through her stomach and up into her heart.

As the demon inside the body flickered and pulsed Ruby realized she'd done it after all. She'd made him strong.

Her very last thought was one of pride: That's my boy.

The body stopped flickering and Sam held her rapidly cooling body, and finally let his own tears fall.

Despite it all, the lies and betrayal and the basic fact that she was, as Dean always said, a skank demon who couldn't be trusted…despite all of that, he'd liked Ruby. Maybe, just maybe, a tiny, stupid part of him had even loved her. A little. Just a tiny bit.

He sniffed and pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair and rocking slowly.

He was alone, now. That had been as much of the attraction of having Ruby around as anything else; the overwhelming loneliness.

He couldn't go home to Bobby. Couldn't go back to Rick's; had forbidden himself from visiting the rebuilt Roadhouse to see Ellen and Ash and maybe Jo. To do so would be to risk bringing either those stupid fucking cloud things, or a hoard of demons, or both - or, for all he knew, something worse - to the doorstep of everyone he cared about.

He'd lost enough, killed enough of the people he loved (not with his hand, never with his own hands, but because of him, always because of him, all the way back to Mom), and he wouldn't risk losing anyone else.

It was a long time before he finally felt the ache in his knees and the stretch in his back from the uncomfortable position. He shifted until he could put one arm under her knees, the other around her back and slowly stood to lay her carefully down on his bed, furthest from the door (not on Dean's bed, no. Dean wouldn't like Ruby on his bed. Although he'd probably make a crude remark about her being on Sam's).

He grabbed a beer from the cooler at the foot of Dean's bed, and settled himself against the headboard, next to Ruby. What had been Ruby. The meatsuit formerly known as Ruby, he heard Dean's voice in his head and laughed softly, turning his head to look at the always empty bed just three feet away.

If he concentrated - or maybe stopped concentrating, he'd never been sure which - he could almost see Dean there, sitting up against the headboard, arms behind his head, grinning at him.

You did it, Sammy! Phantom Dean said. Got rid of that demon bitch for good. Finally.

"Yeah," he responded out loud, with a sigh. "Finally." He lifted his beer in the Missing Dean's general direction. "Go ahead," he encouraged, taking a swig of the beer. "Say it. I know you want to."

Say what? Phantom Dean grinned. That she couldn't be trusted? But then, no demon can be. And hey, I get it. She saved your life, and she was a hell of a lay. Pun intended. But, nah, you know me, Sammy. I'm not going to say 'I told you so'. Not my style.

"Since when?" Sam laughed. "You love to say you told me so when I'm proven wrong, you liar."

Phantom Dean shrugged and gave Sam a little 'we'll let it ride' smirk and a shrug. Since I'm dead, he responded as blood started to drip from his eyes and ears and the skin began to peel from his face. Because of you, Sammy. You and your bad judgment.

Sam's eyes opened with a start and he gasped for air, looking quickly at the very empty other bed.

He must have dozed off, just dreamt about Dean. Not that he didn't see his brother when he was awake; but it was only in his dreams that his twisted subconscious decided to show him what was probably happening to Dean in literal Hell, while he, Sam, was topside and useless and fucking up, the same as he always did.

He put the (miraculously unspilled) beer on the nightstand between the beds and ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm his heart and get his breathing under control. "Fuck," he whispered and leaned against he headboard, before slowly turning his head to look at the still empty bed on the other side.

"Dammit, Dean," he whispered. "Why'd you…the fuck did you have to leave me, man?" The tears that fell would get him ridiculed, called Samantha or princess or something, if he weren't alone. But he was, and he always would be, so he let them fall.

"Selfish son of a bitch," he continued, his voice still soft as if Ruby (or Dean) was just sleeping and he didn't want to wake them. "Leaving me here. I'm no good without you, Dean. Never was." He looked at the other bed again and Phantom Dean was back, this time just smiling sadly at him.

I know, Sammy, Dean's voice in his head replied. I'm sorry. But I wouldn't take it back.

"I know," Sam nodded. "I just…I keep trying, you know? To get you back."

Phantom Dean frowned.

"I know, I know," Sam interrupted before the ghost in his head could respond. "I'm supposed to leave it alone, but…How can I, man? I mean, you're getting tortured, Dean! In Hell, actual Hell, and it's all my fault."

I'm the one who made the deal.

"Right. Because I died."

And I'm not sorry.

"I know, but…if I'd just…If you'd been there, at Cold Oak, instead of me? None of this would've happened. None of it. You'd've killed Jake. You would have. Because you're stronger than me, Dean, you always have been, and Ruby, she was right, man, I'm too fucking weak and I'm soft, just like Dad always said, and…If I'd just had the fucking balls to kill Jake. He wouldn't have killed me, you wouldn't have had to make a deal to get me back, and you'd still be here. AND the Devil's Gate never would have opened, because I sure the fuck wouldn't have done it. I let everybody down, you most of all, and…I deserve to be alone," he decided and nodded, glancing at the bed again and feeling unaccountably relieved to find it empty.

He looked at Ruby's meatsuit and sighed. "Gonna have to get you outta here." He looked at the clock - 9:15 pm. It had only been half an hour since Ruby got back, and everything had changed. Again.

He was alone, again, but he did deserve it. Everyone he loved was better off if he was alone, if he kept away and didn't bring his Winchester Luck (just another word for his fuckups) to them, if he wasn't there to make them targets.

But there was work to do. He had to get Lillith. It was the only thing he had left, and no, he wasn't unaware of the irony of following in John's footsteps for revenge, but what the fuck else did he have left?

He'd tried and tried. No one would deal for Dean (after he killed the first five, no one came anymore, either, and he figured that was fair). he'd found and tried - with Ruby's help, she had been a help to him with the magick - a dozen spells to open a door to Hell; found another ten or fifteen that would, supposedly, summon a soul, but none of them had worked.

He'd worked on another half-dozen spells of his own creation, with no better results, and, in a moment of pure, unadulterated desperation and frankly monumental stupidity, he'd run back to Wyoming and tried to open the Devil's Gate, figuring that if their Dad could crawl out, so could Dean, and if Dean couldn't then Sam would damn well go down and fucking drag him out himself….

But nothing worked. Nothing at all, and the only thing keeping him going now was getting Lillith, and he'd just killed his best lead to finding her.

He turned his attention to the body beside him, grown pale now and colder every moment. He'd wait until two or three in the morning, then take Ruby's body out and find someplace to burn it.

He sighed again, and reached over to set an alarm for one o'clock in the morning, then slowly shifted to lay down on the bed.

After a moment, cursing himself as a weak, soft, (disgusting, twisted, borderline necrophiliac) fool, he pulled the body into his arms, and fell asleep, this one last time, with at least the illusion that he wasn't alone.

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A/N The spell Sam recites to get Ruby to tell the truth is Latin, as always translated via an app. The original English was "Demon lies will not be spoken, only truth from your mouth." The Command was "Answer". The second spell was "Your lies are blood".

The meatsuit formerly known as Ruby is a nod to the musician Prince who famously changed his name to an unpronounceable symbol in 1993, and quickly became referred to as "The artist formerly known as Prince" by the media.