Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2010-09-23 10:07 am
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2010-09-23 10:07 am
Dean/Ruby - For I See What I Destroy
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: For I See What I Destroy
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: R
Characters: Dean Winchester/Ruby, mentions of Sam Winchester/Ruby
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kissbingo Prompt: Experimental: Blindfold
Content Warning: Dark!Dean, AU, character death.
Summary: You can take the boy out of Hell, but you can’t take the Hell out of the boy.
Author’s Note: Written forraths_kitten for spnrarepairs. She asked for something “dark, gritty and angsty,” and I … may have taken it too far. Set in an AU S4—the beginning is set around 405: Monster Movie, the end is sometime post-416: Head of a Pin. Title taken from “My Medea” by Vienna Teng.
Disclaimer: I don’t own. They belong to Kripke. I’m just borrowing and will put everything back where I found it.
You can take the boy out of Hell, but you can’t take the Hell out of the boy.
Pulling a soul out of hell was a tricky thing, even for an angel. You can never really tell how much humanity is left by the time they get to him. Dean was also good at playing roles—putting up the façade of the good brother, good hunter, good son—in order to keep the suspicion off him. But Ruby knew better. Ruby was always watching, trying to see how much Hell had seeped into that violent mind of his. Dean had always been physical. Out of the two of them, he was the one to throw punches first, ask questions later, and Ruby knew that he had always rested on this thin blade between good and evil—both brothers always had. Ruby was just trying to figure out which side of the scale Dean had tipped to.
Dean wasn’t one to make it obvious, and therein lay the game. When she first laid eyes on him after coming back from the pit, she could see the darkness in him. If he had done what Lilith had wanted him to do, there would either be a large amount of guilt hiding in the back of that mind, or a sneaking, slippery desire for blood, all of it, as much of it as he could get. There was something about being able to cause people pain for a change, as oppose to taking it all on himself. Winchesters carry around guilt like it’s the newest and greatest Olympic sport, but Sam had found an outlet. He let it out into her, used her body, her blood, and then turned to take it out on the rest of the world. She watched him as he pulled demon after demon, and she couldn’t help but think that one day, he was going to be a beautiful gift for the one who had created them.
Lucifer was always beautiful, but in Sam, he would be spectacular.
Ruby needed to keep giving Sam that outlet if she wanted to see her Father walk the earth in him, but in order to do that, she needed to be sure that Dean wasn’t going to get in the way. Sam was ruthless, always has been. He saw the world in shades of gray, and while on the one hand, it meant saving vampires whose worst crime was feeding on the neighbor’s cattle, but it also meant that he would use whatever means necessary to destroy the ones who had caused him pain. It’s guilt that made him save those who try to save themselves—this need to believe that he can be good with the darkness that consumed him. But with every drop he drank, she could feel that guilt bleeding away, replacing the kind heart with the leader he needs to be. The vessel he needs to be. Ruby was just giving him the ammunition—it was Sam who was holding the gun, and in the end, she knew that he would need Dean to back his play. Dean needed to be given ammunition of his own, but she didn’t know what that was yet.
It had taken her a few weeks to tie it down. There was this barmaid in Pennsylvania. Pretty little thing with long blond hair—probably reminded Dean of the mother who had sold them down the river in the first place. She had received a frantic call in the middle of the night with Dean, panicking for her to come help him on the other end, and at first she was inclined to ignore it. She had no idea why she was the one getting the late night phone call, but she came anyway, hoping it would give her something she could use to hold over him. Finding the blond spread out on the bed, her body angled in ways that certainly weren’t natural and her blood all over Dean’s hands was certainly not what she was expecting.
Dean was an absolute wreck. He was sitting in the far corner of the room, his hands stained dark red and he couldn’t stop staring at them. The blood was starting to dry, sticky and thick, but it still retained that deep dark color that she loved so much. The whole room reeked of the metallic twang of blood, and it was like an automatic response. Dean Winchester the do-gooder did absolutely nothing for her, but give her a Dean who wasn’t afraid to let his darker influences show through, and she probably had never been turned on faster. She moved to him like a moth to a flame and when he finally looked up at her, eyes torn between the soul of a man who just wants to help people and the darkness of the demon that Alastair had trained, his voice was nothing more than a broken whisper.
“I didn’t mean to. It was just supposed to be—” His eyes went back to his hands again, the deep red drawing his eye, but this was more than guilt. This was about the blood. It called to him, soaking in and becoming part of his skin, and Ruby felt like she might have just hit the jackpot. “—It all happened so fast.”
“It’s okay, Dean.” She hushed him pushing closer and forcing her body between his eyes and his hands. At first he shoved her away. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was Sam’s or because of his own disgust for demons, but she could feel the effect the kill had had on him. His body was flushed, his heart racing. He wanted more of something, and she was pretty sure that she could give that to him, if he would let her. “This isn’t your fault.”
“I killed her, Ruby,” he whispered, meeting her eyes again. “How is this not my fault?”
“You’re used to toys that can be put back together.” Her voice was barely more than a purr in his ear, managing to distract him long enough to wedge her way onto his lap. She had seen the look in his eyes. He needed her to lie to him, a lie pretty enough to be believed, and she knew from experience that Winchesters didn’t think too well when their dicks were brought into the picture. She felt the press of the warm body against hers, the shift in his muscles to get the pressure just where he wanted it, just where it would feel good. “That’s what they always did in Hell, wasn’t it? They would just get sown back together and you could start all over again. Things don’t fix so easy here, do they?”
“I don’t want to be this way,” he said, his head falling against her shoulder. “I want to be the way I was or I want to go back. I can’t be the in-between.”
“The in-between could be fun,” she murmured. Her hand slipped up into his hair, letting her fingers slide soothingly through the short peaks. “Admit it, Dean, you liked how it felt. Having that kind of control again. To be able to hurt the rest of the world for what they’ve taken from you. To feel her break under your hands and know she’ll never be the same because of it.” She was trying to draw the demon out, bring him to the surface and get him to work with her, and if there were a time to do it, it was right after the kill.
“I hate it here,” he whispered, his voice dropping and gaining a bit more gravel. “All the rules are different.”
She wanted to tell him that the rules didn’t have to be different. That he could kill as much as he wants and no one would be any wiser, but she knew that wasn’t true. Even if the police didn’t catch on, she knew that sooner or later, the angels would, and a serial killer to carry there general? No, that wouldn’t do at all. She needed to give him an outlet that wouldn’t get them caught, and she had just the way to do it.
“You don’t have to hate it. You don’t need new rules, Dean.” Her voice dropped another octave as she reached for his hand pushing it up under her shirt, against the cooler temperature of his skin. He felt like he was on fire, they all did, and she loved the slow, subtle burn of his skin against hers. She also felt the tacky texture of the blood on his hands against her skin, and that alone made her want to rock her hips against his. “You just need a new toy,” she whispered. “One that won’t break. One that you can put back together, over and over again.”
His breath hitched at the last part of the statement, one hand gripping at the skin of her torso, the other finding her hip and yanking her closer, just so she could feel what that idea was doing to him. She grinned, tipping forward and kissing him eagerly, rough and a little messy at the same time. She almost forgot that there was a body in the room until she tasted the twinge of blood as he bit down on her bottom lip, the coppery taste filling her mouth. She pulled back, giving him a lazy grin before speaking.
“I’ll clean this up. And then I’ll show you how much fun I can be.”
“Sounds good to me.”
***
“Do you trust me, Ruby?”
Her hands were bound above her head so tightly that the rope used to hold them there was starting to stain red from her blood. She had a blindfold tied tightly around her eyes, and while she could sense exactly where he was in the room, she was trying not to cheat. She never minded playing Dean’s trust games, and Dean liked the tension when she didn’t know where the blow was coming from. She arched her back up slowly, giving him a bit of a show, but she knew that it wasn’t her body that turned him on. She swallowed, and forced enough fear into her voice to fake it, just to give him that bit of a thrill.
“No.”
She could just picture the grin on his face, looking like the cat who ate the canary as he held up the machete in front of him and made his way closer. “Good,” he whispered, running the flat of his blade along her skin, just letting her get a feel for the metal. “I might have to kill you if you did.”
That statement wasn’t a promise he wouldn’t kill her, especially as of late. Things with Sam were getting more and more complicated, and with Ruby as a wedge in the middle they were only going to get worse. Dean could care less about seals and Lilith while Sam was still running toward them at high speed, just like Ruby had planned. She knew that Sam was getting frustrated with Dean’s unwillingness to focus, but Ruby was doing her best to make it easy for him, sending him after the right demons and giving him just enough blood to keep him juiced. If Dean knew what Ruby was doing with Sam, he wasn’t letting on, and that was the way Ruby liked it. The brothers were allowed to have their own separate games. It was the only way that Ruby’s plan was going to work anyway.
When the machete stopped above her stomach and switched to the thin edge of the blade, she sucked in a breath before she felt the slice into her borrowed skin. The pain was barely anything—she had been through much worse—but she could feel the slippery slide of her blood against her skin, greasing the way of the blade against her skin, making it easier for him to slice into her and open her up. There were still scars from when Alastair had dug into her with her own knife—those wounds weren’t going to heal completely. But Dean’s cuts were always gone in a few days. He used a normal knife with normal properties, and those were wounds she could fix.
Once there was enough blood that his hand was gliding over her skin without much resistance, he moved lower, letting the edge of the blade glide along the inside of her thigh. It wasn’t hard enough to skin her, but enough that she could feel the blade grazing her skin. It was more about the threat than the pain, and she felt that breath she didn’t need catch, anticipation building as he started to play with alternate forms of pressure. “How’s that feel?”
“Good,” she whispered, getting off on the thrill of having something that damaging that close. “You know that.”
He hummed softly in response, continuing to move the knife back and forth. “You know, Alastair told me the funniest thing when I had him hog tied in that warehouse.”
The knife grazed a little higher, closer to the center of her, causing her breath to catch again. “Alastair’s never really been known as being a comedian. Or is it just that you two have so much in common now.”
“More like something he said about you—” There was a deliberate pause. “—and what you have planned for my brother.”
“Plans?” This was starting to look less like fun and more like an interrogation. “The only plans I have are for helping your brother axe Lilith.”
“Right. Personally, I couldn’t care less about the blond bitch. But what you’ve failed to mention is that killing Lilith releases Lucifer. Again, not something I care about until I find out that not only does Sam have to be the one to release him, Sam is Lucifer’s meat suit.” The more he talked, the deadlier his tone became, and there came a point where the knife stopped grazing her thigh and slammed into it hard, enough pressure being applied to hit the bone. She arched up off the bed in pain, already trying to find a way to back pedal and talk her way out of this.
“Dean, wait—”
“No, you wait.” His hand came up to grab at her jaw, holding her in place before she could talk. “People can do whatever they want to me, and I let you play Sam like a puppet because it kept him happy, but no one—no one—turns my brother into a prom dress.”
She tried to throw him, mentally, but he didn’t budge. He must have put a Devil’s trap somewhere without her realizing it, and she knew that she had hedged her bets in the wrong place. Dean could be the most screwed up monster on the planet, but he’d still put the well being of his brother before his wants and needs. Coming between them was her fatal mistake. He leaned in, kissed her roughly, before pulling back and yanking the blindfold off her eyes. She blinked at first, at the light, before her eyes finally focused and she looked up at Dean standing over her, balancing her knife in his hand. He gave her a smirk, one that she loved but she hated herself for that right now.
“Now, any last words?” He paused just long enough to see if she had anything to say. “No? Fair enough.”
She continued to meet his eyes, not even bothering to blink. It wasn’t the first time she’d stared death in the face, but she knew that this time, it would be his last. He spun the blade in his hand and positioned it over her chest, ready to drive it straight down into her heart.
“Say goodnight, Gracie.”
Title: For I See What I Destroy
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: R
Characters: Dean Winchester/Ruby, mentions of Sam Winchester/Ruby
kissbingo Prompt: Experimental: BlindfoldContent Warning: Dark!Dean, AU, character death.
Summary: You can take the boy out of Hell, but you can’t take the Hell out of the boy.
Author’s Note: Written for
raths_kitten for spnrarepairs. She asked for something “dark, gritty and angsty,” and I … may have taken it too far. Set in an AU S4—the beginning is set around 405: Monster Movie, the end is sometime post-416: Head of a Pin. Title taken from “My Medea” by Vienna Teng.Disclaimer: I don’t own. They belong to Kripke. I’m just borrowing and will put everything back where I found it.
You can take the boy out of Hell, but you can’t take the Hell out of the boy.
Pulling a soul out of hell was a tricky thing, even for an angel. You can never really tell how much humanity is left by the time they get to him. Dean was also good at playing roles—putting up the façade of the good brother, good hunter, good son—in order to keep the suspicion off him. But Ruby knew better. Ruby was always watching, trying to see how much Hell had seeped into that violent mind of his. Dean had always been physical. Out of the two of them, he was the one to throw punches first, ask questions later, and Ruby knew that he had always rested on this thin blade between good and evil—both brothers always had. Ruby was just trying to figure out which side of the scale Dean had tipped to.
Dean wasn’t one to make it obvious, and therein lay the game. When she first laid eyes on him after coming back from the pit, she could see the darkness in him. If he had done what Lilith had wanted him to do, there would either be a large amount of guilt hiding in the back of that mind, or a sneaking, slippery desire for blood, all of it, as much of it as he could get. There was something about being able to cause people pain for a change, as oppose to taking it all on himself. Winchesters carry around guilt like it’s the newest and greatest Olympic sport, but Sam had found an outlet. He let it out into her, used her body, her blood, and then turned to take it out on the rest of the world. She watched him as he pulled demon after demon, and she couldn’t help but think that one day, he was going to be a beautiful gift for the one who had created them.
Lucifer was always beautiful, but in Sam, he would be spectacular.
Ruby needed to keep giving Sam that outlet if she wanted to see her Father walk the earth in him, but in order to do that, she needed to be sure that Dean wasn’t going to get in the way. Sam was ruthless, always has been. He saw the world in shades of gray, and while on the one hand, it meant saving vampires whose worst crime was feeding on the neighbor’s cattle, but it also meant that he would use whatever means necessary to destroy the ones who had caused him pain. It’s guilt that made him save those who try to save themselves—this need to believe that he can be good with the darkness that consumed him. But with every drop he drank, she could feel that guilt bleeding away, replacing the kind heart with the leader he needs to be. The vessel he needs to be. Ruby was just giving him the ammunition—it was Sam who was holding the gun, and in the end, she knew that he would need Dean to back his play. Dean needed to be given ammunition of his own, but she didn’t know what that was yet.
It had taken her a few weeks to tie it down. There was this barmaid in Pennsylvania. Pretty little thing with long blond hair—probably reminded Dean of the mother who had sold them down the river in the first place. She had received a frantic call in the middle of the night with Dean, panicking for her to come help him on the other end, and at first she was inclined to ignore it. She had no idea why she was the one getting the late night phone call, but she came anyway, hoping it would give her something she could use to hold over him. Finding the blond spread out on the bed, her body angled in ways that certainly weren’t natural and her blood all over Dean’s hands was certainly not what she was expecting.
Dean was an absolute wreck. He was sitting in the far corner of the room, his hands stained dark red and he couldn’t stop staring at them. The blood was starting to dry, sticky and thick, but it still retained that deep dark color that she loved so much. The whole room reeked of the metallic twang of blood, and it was like an automatic response. Dean Winchester the do-gooder did absolutely nothing for her, but give her a Dean who wasn’t afraid to let his darker influences show through, and she probably had never been turned on faster. She moved to him like a moth to a flame and when he finally looked up at her, eyes torn between the soul of a man who just wants to help people and the darkness of the demon that Alastair had trained, his voice was nothing more than a broken whisper.
“I didn’t mean to. It was just supposed to be—” His eyes went back to his hands again, the deep red drawing his eye, but this was more than guilt. This was about the blood. It called to him, soaking in and becoming part of his skin, and Ruby felt like she might have just hit the jackpot. “—It all happened so fast.”
“It’s okay, Dean.” She hushed him pushing closer and forcing her body between his eyes and his hands. At first he shoved her away. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was Sam’s or because of his own disgust for demons, but she could feel the effect the kill had had on him. His body was flushed, his heart racing. He wanted more of something, and she was pretty sure that she could give that to him, if he would let her. “This isn’t your fault.”
“I killed her, Ruby,” he whispered, meeting her eyes again. “How is this not my fault?”
“You’re used to toys that can be put back together.” Her voice was barely more than a purr in his ear, managing to distract him long enough to wedge her way onto his lap. She had seen the look in his eyes. He needed her to lie to him, a lie pretty enough to be believed, and she knew from experience that Winchesters didn’t think too well when their dicks were brought into the picture. She felt the press of the warm body against hers, the shift in his muscles to get the pressure just where he wanted it, just where it would feel good. “That’s what they always did in Hell, wasn’t it? They would just get sown back together and you could start all over again. Things don’t fix so easy here, do they?”
“I don’t want to be this way,” he said, his head falling against her shoulder. “I want to be the way I was or I want to go back. I can’t be the in-between.”
“The in-between could be fun,” she murmured. Her hand slipped up into his hair, letting her fingers slide soothingly through the short peaks. “Admit it, Dean, you liked how it felt. Having that kind of control again. To be able to hurt the rest of the world for what they’ve taken from you. To feel her break under your hands and know she’ll never be the same because of it.” She was trying to draw the demon out, bring him to the surface and get him to work with her, and if there were a time to do it, it was right after the kill.
“I hate it here,” he whispered, his voice dropping and gaining a bit more gravel. “All the rules are different.”
She wanted to tell him that the rules didn’t have to be different. That he could kill as much as he wants and no one would be any wiser, but she knew that wasn’t true. Even if the police didn’t catch on, she knew that sooner or later, the angels would, and a serial killer to carry there general? No, that wouldn’t do at all. She needed to give him an outlet that wouldn’t get them caught, and she had just the way to do it.
“You don’t have to hate it. You don’t need new rules, Dean.” Her voice dropped another octave as she reached for his hand pushing it up under her shirt, against the cooler temperature of his skin. He felt like he was on fire, they all did, and she loved the slow, subtle burn of his skin against hers. She also felt the tacky texture of the blood on his hands against her skin, and that alone made her want to rock her hips against his. “You just need a new toy,” she whispered. “One that won’t break. One that you can put back together, over and over again.”
His breath hitched at the last part of the statement, one hand gripping at the skin of her torso, the other finding her hip and yanking her closer, just so she could feel what that idea was doing to him. She grinned, tipping forward and kissing him eagerly, rough and a little messy at the same time. She almost forgot that there was a body in the room until she tasted the twinge of blood as he bit down on her bottom lip, the coppery taste filling her mouth. She pulled back, giving him a lazy grin before speaking.
“I’ll clean this up. And then I’ll show you how much fun I can be.”
“Sounds good to me.”
***
“Do you trust me, Ruby?”
Her hands were bound above her head so tightly that the rope used to hold them there was starting to stain red from her blood. She had a blindfold tied tightly around her eyes, and while she could sense exactly where he was in the room, she was trying not to cheat. She never minded playing Dean’s trust games, and Dean liked the tension when she didn’t know where the blow was coming from. She arched her back up slowly, giving him a bit of a show, but she knew that it wasn’t her body that turned him on. She swallowed, and forced enough fear into her voice to fake it, just to give him that bit of a thrill.
“No.”
She could just picture the grin on his face, looking like the cat who ate the canary as he held up the machete in front of him and made his way closer. “Good,” he whispered, running the flat of his blade along her skin, just letting her get a feel for the metal. “I might have to kill you if you did.”
That statement wasn’t a promise he wouldn’t kill her, especially as of late. Things with Sam were getting more and more complicated, and with Ruby as a wedge in the middle they were only going to get worse. Dean could care less about seals and Lilith while Sam was still running toward them at high speed, just like Ruby had planned. She knew that Sam was getting frustrated with Dean’s unwillingness to focus, but Ruby was doing her best to make it easy for him, sending him after the right demons and giving him just enough blood to keep him juiced. If Dean knew what Ruby was doing with Sam, he wasn’t letting on, and that was the way Ruby liked it. The brothers were allowed to have their own separate games. It was the only way that Ruby’s plan was going to work anyway.
When the machete stopped above her stomach and switched to the thin edge of the blade, she sucked in a breath before she felt the slice into her borrowed skin. The pain was barely anything—she had been through much worse—but she could feel the slippery slide of her blood against her skin, greasing the way of the blade against her skin, making it easier for him to slice into her and open her up. There were still scars from when Alastair had dug into her with her own knife—those wounds weren’t going to heal completely. But Dean’s cuts were always gone in a few days. He used a normal knife with normal properties, and those were wounds she could fix.
Once there was enough blood that his hand was gliding over her skin without much resistance, he moved lower, letting the edge of the blade glide along the inside of her thigh. It wasn’t hard enough to skin her, but enough that she could feel the blade grazing her skin. It was more about the threat than the pain, and she felt that breath she didn’t need catch, anticipation building as he started to play with alternate forms of pressure. “How’s that feel?”
“Good,” she whispered, getting off on the thrill of having something that damaging that close. “You know that.”
He hummed softly in response, continuing to move the knife back and forth. “You know, Alastair told me the funniest thing when I had him hog tied in that warehouse.”
The knife grazed a little higher, closer to the center of her, causing her breath to catch again. “Alastair’s never really been known as being a comedian. Or is it just that you two have so much in common now.”
“More like something he said about you—” There was a deliberate pause. “—and what you have planned for my brother.”
“Plans?” This was starting to look less like fun and more like an interrogation. “The only plans I have are for helping your brother axe Lilith.”
“Right. Personally, I couldn’t care less about the blond bitch. But what you’ve failed to mention is that killing Lilith releases Lucifer. Again, not something I care about until I find out that not only does Sam have to be the one to release him, Sam is Lucifer’s meat suit.” The more he talked, the deadlier his tone became, and there came a point where the knife stopped grazing her thigh and slammed into it hard, enough pressure being applied to hit the bone. She arched up off the bed in pain, already trying to find a way to back pedal and talk her way out of this.
“Dean, wait—”
“No, you wait.” His hand came up to grab at her jaw, holding her in place before she could talk. “People can do whatever they want to me, and I let you play Sam like a puppet because it kept him happy, but no one—no one—turns my brother into a prom dress.”
She tried to throw him, mentally, but he didn’t budge. He must have put a Devil’s trap somewhere without her realizing it, and she knew that she had hedged her bets in the wrong place. Dean could be the most screwed up monster on the planet, but he’d still put the well being of his brother before his wants and needs. Coming between them was her fatal mistake. He leaned in, kissed her roughly, before pulling back and yanking the blindfold off her eyes. She blinked at first, at the light, before her eyes finally focused and she looked up at Dean standing over her, balancing her knife in his hand. He gave her a smirk, one that she loved but she hated herself for that right now.
“Now, any last words?” He paused just long enough to see if she had anything to say. “No? Fair enough.”
She continued to meet his eyes, not even bothering to blink. It wasn’t the first time she’d stared death in the face, but she knew that this time, it would be his last. He spun the blade in his hand and positioned it over her chest, ready to drive it straight down into her heart.
“Say goodnight, Gracie.”