Night 51: Hallway M21-M30
Well, that put a damper on any swimming plans. Abe could hardly leave L to his fate, he had enough guilt for what had happened to Scarecrow and nobody deserved such tortures. He packed up quickly, slipping the ring onto his finger (if he made it outside again he'd need to mark the place as Landel had said) and snapping the BPRD-issue belt around
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And if there was one thing he hated more than not knowing at all, it was not knowing what to believe.
This was right around the time that Ruby chose to step into his personal space. Here, Sam did know for sure what she was doing, but God, he couldn't say he minded. Or no, he did. He had at first-how the hell could he not-and he didn't think it was that he'd stopped minding. It was more like he'd started to grow immune to the things that he minded.
He cleared his throat, as if it'd throw off his thoughts, and let out a quiet huff. She hadn't taken her hand off. He didn't move away. "I could ask you the same thing. You're kind of locked in a building with an angel for the unforeseeable future."
Ruby probably didn't need this pointed out to her, but-he had to. It was as much a concern for him as it was for her. The last thing he needed was an angel going after Ruby; worse still would be if Dean was alerted to it, which he no doubt would be. There were far too many ways in which this could all go to crap.
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And yet, funnily enough, it still wasn’t a meeting she particularly wanted to have. There were far too many holes that could be poked in what was feeling like an increasingly thin little story. Dean was what worried her most, even more than the angels. She wouldn’t feel particularly bad about losing what little trust he had for her, but she didn’t want to go back to being the demon bitch that needed ganking either.
“The angel will know what I am, and the last thing I need is for him to tell your brother. He’ll-” She broke off abruptly and groaned. “Look, Sam, I don’t want to talk about this right now. If Dean learns the truth, it’s back to status quo. I’ll be the demon bitch (or slutty little Yoda, which is a personal favorite), just like old times. I can deal.”
Sam’s bubble was already good and invaded and now Ruby moved even closer. She would’ve been hip-to-hip with him save for his unfortunate case of gigantism, but this worked well enough. Their bodies were touching more than her hand on his arm. Which state there, by the way. The other hand started to roam a little, reaching around the small of his back. The bed was about two feet away, she realized approvingly. “I don’t want to talk about angels or Dean or Lilith or the apocalypse or…whatever. Not tonight. Okay?”
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Well. See, the last time he'd had a falling out with Dean, he'd at least managed to avoid sticking around to witness the remains of ground zero that'd been The Night He Left. It was probably a selfish thing to have taken comfort in, but there it was. It'd just made it easier when walking away was an option. When walking away was the entire goddamn point of the whole showdown, in fact.
And really, he knew he shouldn't be comparing this with his leaving for college because, you know-pursuing an education, consorting with a demon; not quite the same thing. Except they were, to him. In a way. It'd never not come back to the same thing.
His thoughts might've gone on further, but Ruby seemed determined to move everything away from the realm of mental processes in general. Of course. He frowned briefly, a part of him unwilling to do this now when they had so much crap on their hands. This? Not really the time. But then, when was it ever a good time?
Three weeks ago, not five minutes after they'd chased demons all night straight to the city where Dean was buried, hadn't been the best time, either.
And it occurred to him, not for the first time, that trying to justify what he did with Ruby defeated the purpose of the entire thing in the first place. Because the point was that it was way the hell past explanation. Which made it...simpler. If he didn't look at it too hard. He rarely did these days.
Whatever speed his brain was running on, it wasn't completely in sync with his body. He'd hitched her up before his last thought stuttered out, snuffed as soon as his lips met hers. She was easy to lift; her weight was familiar, as always, and he'd stopped thinking about what that meant a long time ago. Not worth the spinning headache.
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