Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2008-05-04 10:38 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2008-05-04 10:38 pm
One-a-Day: May 4th
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: What Could Have Been
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: FRT
Characters: Demon!Dean Winchester/Ruby
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
15pairings Prompt: 12. love/hate relationship
fic_variations Prompt: Love/Hate (#1)
Content Warning: Character Death -- it's kind of like Shakespeare, everybody dies. Also, general season 4 spoilers.
Summary: Dean runs into Ruby again, a bit further down the road.
Author's Note: This didn't come out quite like the way I started it, but -- I like it. I think. It feels kind of iffy.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Supernatural. They're owned by the CW. However, any and all original characters are mine, so please don't steal them.
Being a demon sucked.
Well, not totally—there was that whole “I can kill you with my mind” thing that was really sort of awesome once you got the hang of it. But it was the not being in his own body that was what sucked. Being in someone else’s body just felt weird. He’d probably get used to it, though. Eventually. Maybe.
“Think there’s a way I could resurrect my own body?” he said, turning back to the blond he had pinned to the wall behind him. She was fighting him. She was fighting him like hell, but she wasn’t going anywhere. Both of them knew it—in fact, she probably knew it from the minute she recognized it was Dean hidden in the swirling vortex of evil, rather than just some other run-of-the-mill demon. That didn’t stop her from glaring at him as he turned to face her, in that typical Ruby way. The usual “Could you be more of a dumbass” look that she used to affix on him and Sam on a regular basis, and he was so tempted to ask her who was the dumbass who got herself pinned to the wall, but then again, he figured he’d let her carry on that little delusion for a while. It was kind of cute.
“Your body was ravaged by hellhounds, remember? There’s not enough of it left for a necrophiliac to practice on, let alone have you possess it.”
“Oh yeah.” He smirked at her as he made his way over. And a smirk on this handsome devil that he happened to be inhabiting was still a smirk to be reckoned with, but it still wasn’t his smirk. It felt weird, and off, and he didn’t like it. He would have rather had his own body, but hey—beggars couldn’t be choosers. Besides, his old body probably would have been mostly bones by now, anyway. “Forgot about that.”
“Go figure,” Ruby rolled her eyes. “Care to let me down now?”
“Let you down? Already?” he said, starting to make his way over to her. “Oh, sweetheart—we’re just getting started.”
He watched her face, looking for any sign of trepidation, worry. But Ruby had been playing this game a long time, and her face was cool as stone, not giving any more away than what she was getting from him, and that only made this more fun for him. Because now they were on the same level playing field. Now they were one and the same—demon and demon. And now, Ruby and Dean were going to get properly acquainted all over again.
“So—Ruby, Ruby, Ruby,” he said, finally reached her, bracing himself with one hand on the wall above her. “Been a long time. Miss me any?”
“Cried myself to sleep every night,” she said dryly. “My excuse of a life was just never the same after you kicked the bucket.”
“Must have been really hard on you, considering our side lost the war,” he said with narrowed eyes, and he something, a flicker of something—doubt, worry, fear, he wasn’t sure—the cool and calm vanishing for a moment before reappearing. A small victory in the scheme of things, but he wasn’t through with her yet. Not by a long shot. “The side that you were supposed to be helping—just like you promised me.”
“Oh, come on, Dean,” Ruby replied, rolling her eyes. “You know that that war was hopeless. Everyone was going to die anyway.”
“Yeah, but see—here’s the thing,” he said, before looking her dead in the eye. “I may not remember exactly what it was like to be one of those meat sacks walking around outside, but I do remember a promise you made me when I was alive—that you would keep Sam alive. You were getting him all amped up for this war, and you told me that you would protect him. That you would watch his back. And now you’re here—but where the fuck is my brother?”
Ruby managed to get enough strength behind her to pull her head away from the wall and get in closer. “You really think he was going to stay alive after Lilith got a hold of him, Dean? Really? Are you that naive to think that I could have done anything to prevent that?”
“No—but I am wondering, why you’re still standing and he’s not?”
“You know why.”
“Yeah—I do know why. You took your pretty little knife, and you stabbed him in the back,” he said, his eyes narrowed as he picked up the knife from the bedside table, spinning it in his fingers as he walked closer to her. “Sam, who trusted you. Sam, who put his faith in you. You killed him Ruby.”
She sighed heavily, and he saw it again. Another flicker—possibly sadness, but gone too quickly to really tell. “I did what I had to do.”
“Right. Me too,” he said with a growl, before he started to come at her with the knife. She was quicker than that, though, and managed to get just enough control of herself to send his body flying across the floor, breaking his concentration. She dropped down to the floor rather gracefully, before strutting over to him, and crouching down next to him.
“You know, Dean—we could have had a lot of fun together,” she said softly, tilting her head to the side as she picked up her knife from where it had fallen on the floor.
“I’m sure we could have,” he said, looking back up at her. “If you weren’t a backstabbing skank whore.”
“Well, whadaya know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Some things never change.” She sighed heavily as she raised the knife above her head. “You know, I really do hate to do this. But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
“That’s the problem with you, Ruby—all talk, no action.”
“Fine—the boy wants action, the boy gets action.” Her hand came down faster than the human eye would probably be able to process, but luckily for Dean, he wasn’t exactly human anymore. His hand came up quickly, grabbing her wrist and twisting her around so that her back was up against him, and he was holding the knife in line with her heart.
“You’re probably right, blondie,” he said with a sigh, before plunging the knife forward and feeling the body in his lap go limp against him. “Too bad you’re a backstabbing bitch.”
He pulled the knife out with a heavy sigh, before letting Ruby fall unceremoniously to the floor. He pushed himself up and rolled his neck, taking a deep breath and staring back at the knife in his hand. The Colt would have made this easier, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He did what he had come back to do—he avenged his brother, just like he was supposed to—and now, it was time to take that nice long sleep in the great abyss.
“I’m sorry, Sammy,” he said softly, before raising the knife over his head, and plunging it into his own chest.
Title: What Could Have Been
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: FRT
Characters: Demon!Dean Winchester/Ruby
15pairings Prompt: 12. love/hate relationshipfic_variations Prompt: Love/Hate (#1)Content Warning: Character Death -- it's kind of like Shakespeare, everybody dies. Also, general season 4 spoilers.
Summary: Dean runs into Ruby again, a bit further down the road.
Author's Note: This didn't come out quite like the way I started it, but -- I like it. I think. It feels kind of iffy.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Supernatural. They're owned by the CW. However, any and all original characters are mine, so please don't steal them.
Being a demon sucked.
Well, not totally—there was that whole “I can kill you with my mind” thing that was really sort of awesome once you got the hang of it. But it was the not being in his own body that was what sucked. Being in someone else’s body just felt weird. He’d probably get used to it, though. Eventually. Maybe.
“Think there’s a way I could resurrect my own body?” he said, turning back to the blond he had pinned to the wall behind him. She was fighting him. She was fighting him like hell, but she wasn’t going anywhere. Both of them knew it—in fact, she probably knew it from the minute she recognized it was Dean hidden in the swirling vortex of evil, rather than just some other run-of-the-mill demon. That didn’t stop her from glaring at him as he turned to face her, in that typical Ruby way. The usual “Could you be more of a dumbass” look that she used to affix on him and Sam on a regular basis, and he was so tempted to ask her who was the dumbass who got herself pinned to the wall, but then again, he figured he’d let her carry on that little delusion for a while. It was kind of cute.
“Your body was ravaged by hellhounds, remember? There’s not enough of it left for a necrophiliac to practice on, let alone have you possess it.”
“Oh yeah.” He smirked at her as he made his way over. And a smirk on this handsome devil that he happened to be inhabiting was still a smirk to be reckoned with, but it still wasn’t his smirk. It felt weird, and off, and he didn’t like it. He would have rather had his own body, but hey—beggars couldn’t be choosers. Besides, his old body probably would have been mostly bones by now, anyway. “Forgot about that.”
“Go figure,” Ruby rolled her eyes. “Care to let me down now?”
“Let you down? Already?” he said, starting to make his way over to her. “Oh, sweetheart—we’re just getting started.”
He watched her face, looking for any sign of trepidation, worry. But Ruby had been playing this game a long time, and her face was cool as stone, not giving any more away than what she was getting from him, and that only made this more fun for him. Because now they were on the same level playing field. Now they were one and the same—demon and demon. And now, Ruby and Dean were going to get properly acquainted all over again.
“So—Ruby, Ruby, Ruby,” he said, finally reached her, bracing himself with one hand on the wall above her. “Been a long time. Miss me any?”
“Cried myself to sleep every night,” she said dryly. “My excuse of a life was just never the same after you kicked the bucket.”
“Must have been really hard on you, considering our side lost the war,” he said with narrowed eyes, and he something, a flicker of something—doubt, worry, fear, he wasn’t sure—the cool and calm vanishing for a moment before reappearing. A small victory in the scheme of things, but he wasn’t through with her yet. Not by a long shot. “The side that you were supposed to be helping—just like you promised me.”
“Oh, come on, Dean,” Ruby replied, rolling her eyes. “You know that that war was hopeless. Everyone was going to die anyway.”
“Yeah, but see—here’s the thing,” he said, before looking her dead in the eye. “I may not remember exactly what it was like to be one of those meat sacks walking around outside, but I do remember a promise you made me when I was alive—that you would keep Sam alive. You were getting him all amped up for this war, and you told me that you would protect him. That you would watch his back. And now you’re here—but where the fuck is my brother?”
Ruby managed to get enough strength behind her to pull her head away from the wall and get in closer. “You really think he was going to stay alive after Lilith got a hold of him, Dean? Really? Are you that naive to think that I could have done anything to prevent that?”
“No—but I am wondering, why you’re still standing and he’s not?”
“You know why.”
“Yeah—I do know why. You took your pretty little knife, and you stabbed him in the back,” he said, his eyes narrowed as he picked up the knife from the bedside table, spinning it in his fingers as he walked closer to her. “Sam, who trusted you. Sam, who put his faith in you. You killed him Ruby.”
She sighed heavily, and he saw it again. Another flicker—possibly sadness, but gone too quickly to really tell. “I did what I had to do.”
“Right. Me too,” he said with a growl, before he started to come at her with the knife. She was quicker than that, though, and managed to get just enough control of herself to send his body flying across the floor, breaking his concentration. She dropped down to the floor rather gracefully, before strutting over to him, and crouching down next to him.
“You know, Dean—we could have had a lot of fun together,” she said softly, tilting her head to the side as she picked up her knife from where it had fallen on the floor.
“I’m sure we could have,” he said, looking back up at her. “If you weren’t a backstabbing skank whore.”
“Well, whadaya know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Some things never change.” She sighed heavily as she raised the knife above her head. “You know, I really do hate to do this. But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
“That’s the problem with you, Ruby—all talk, no action.”
“Fine—the boy wants action, the boy gets action.” Her hand came down faster than the human eye would probably be able to process, but luckily for Dean, he wasn’t exactly human anymore. His hand came up quickly, grabbing her wrist and twisting her around so that her back was up against him, and he was holding the knife in line with her heart.
“You’re probably right, blondie,” he said with a sigh, before plunging the knife forward and feeling the body in his lap go limp against him. “Too bad you’re a backstabbing bitch.”
He pulled the knife out with a heavy sigh, before letting Ruby fall unceremoniously to the floor. He pushed himself up and rolled his neck, taking a deep breath and staring back at the knife in his hand. The Colt would have made this easier, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He did what he had come back to do—he avenged his brother, just like he was supposed to—and now, it was time to take that nice long sleep in the great abyss.
“I’m sorry, Sammy,” he said softly, before raising the knife over his head, and plunging it into his own chest.