Fic: Choosing to Forget
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Chosing to Forget
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sam/Ruby-- I'm not rally a fan of New!Ruby, but this got in my head and insisted on being written, no matter how much I resisted
Disclaimer: I do not own. Gosh, it'd be fun if I did. But sadly, I must content myself with imaginings.
The next time Ruby dares to visit Sam, it’s when she knows that he and Dean are separated, pursuing different theories about how to take down a particularly nasty and highly specific type of vengeful spirit. And as soon as she steps into the open doorway of the motel room, casting a shadow over Sam sitting on the tiny couch pouring over his books and papers, causing him to look up, she can tell that something’s Changed. His eyes are hard, flinty- the look he’s giving her reminds her of the looks that the people in her town gave her as the cries of “witch, witch” reached their peak. Only this time, she has no idea why she’s getting that look.
“Ruby.” His voice is cold enough to send shivers down her spine.
“Hi Sam.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m trying to help you. Like always.”
“Yeah?” He’s on his feet now, towering over her, and despite the fact that she’s a demon and has seen just about everything there is to see, she still finds his height mildly intimidating. “How many people have you hurt in the process? How much pain and suffering goes on for innocent people just so that you can help me, huh?”
“Sam, I don’t…”
“You don’t know what I’m talking about.” He’s mocking her now, the sort of angry, frustrated mockery she’s only ever heard him use with Dean before. “Well let me help you. I ran into Meg the other day. She’s the girl that that Demon possessed back in Chicago to get to Me and Dean. She was awake, Ruby. Trapped in her own body for over a year, watching a demon do unspeakable things to other people with her hands, her voice, and being powerless to stop it. And then, when she finally free, she drowned in her own blood because of injuries that a fucking demon incurred on her body.”
Ruby waits, arms crossed as Sam continued the rant.
“So I want to know how many innocent people you’ve harmed along the way to help me and my brother. Because whatever good you may have done, whatever other demons you’ve helped me vanquish, it’s all worthless as long as you have an innocent person trapped in their own head.”
“Sam…you know how demonic possessions work-hell, you’ve had a demon inside of you. Seeing Meg, seeing her spirit…none of that information should have been a shock to you.” She pauses, searching Sam’s fact as realization began to dawn. “She mentioned me specifically, didn’t she?”
“Yes.” Sam finally admits, jaw tense.
“And you started feeling guilty for consorting with a demon, started having to reconcile yourself with the fact that you were beginning to forget what I am, didn’t you?”
“Ruby…”
“You can’t ever forget, Sam. I will always be a demon, even if you start to think of me as a human, or prefer to just ignore what I am. And then we both get hurt. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t forced myself into an unwilling host in Sixty-three years. It makes me different from most of my kind, but I still am what I am.” She looks around, thinking she’s already said too much, stayed too long. “I should go.”
“Wait! Ruby, wait.” He calls her back, and against her better judgment, she turns. “What do you mean you don’t take unwilling hosts? Do you take…willing ones?” Sam obviously has trouble reconciling such a concept. She shakes her head.
“No. Willing vessels aren’t really willing. They just want power. They’re dangerous. Somewhere along the way, I learned another trick. There’s a moment between when the soul departs a dying body and when the body actually dies. If a demon possesses the body in that moment, the soul still goes free, and the body remains as a serviceable vessel until the demon leaves it. Even if you time it too early, the person’s soul is already detached, so they don’t realize there’s someone else in the body and as soon as the demon leaves, or is exorcised or whatever, the soul goes free.”
“Like a keeping a brain-dead person on life support?”
“Almost like that, yes. When I first met you and Dean, I was in the body of a Leukemia patient who had actually died in 1999.”
“And now?”
“A homeless junkie who ODed on Heroine in Atlanta.” She pulls the sleeve of her shirt up to show him the faint track marks that still adorn the vessel’s arms if she doesn’t take care to hide them. He takes her arm, pulls it closer to inspect the tiny scars. “There’s on one in here but me, Sam.”
He uses his grip on her arm to pull her closer, brush her hair behind her ear.
“I’m sorry.” He says, and from the way his eyes have gone soft, apologetic, she knows they’re treading on dangerous ground now.
“Don’t be, Sam. My choice of who to possess doesn’t make a difference, doesn’t make me any less a demon. You can’t forget that.”
“Yes, it does. It means that when have a choice, you take the higher road. And that means even more considering the fact that you are a demon.” His voice is soft. “And I’m not forgetting anything- I’m choosing to see around it. Ruby, you’ve saved my life half a dozen times, you’ve fought beside us, taught me how to control my abilities, stayed beside me and helped me search for a way to bring my brother back from hell. That should be enough proof for me of who you are. And it wasn’t, and I made you prove yourself again. So I’m sorry.”
He skates his thumb across the back of her hand, tangles his fingers with hers.
“If you were any other girl, I would have done this a long time ago. And now, it doesn’t even matter that you’re a demon.”
And then he’s leaning down, that tall body wrapping around her, protecting her like no one’s bothered to in the last several centuries, and his lips are on hers, soft and gentle and setting her mind reeling, growing more demanding until she’s kissing him back and simultaneously thinking about how this may be the closest to heaven she’s ever been, and how totally fucked they both are because of this.
Title: Chosing to Forget
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sam/Ruby-- I'm not rally a fan of New!Ruby, but this got in my head and insisted on being written, no matter how much I resisted
Disclaimer: I do not own. Gosh, it'd be fun if I did. But sadly, I must content myself with imaginings.
The next time Ruby dares to visit Sam, it’s when she knows that he and Dean are separated, pursuing different theories about how to take down a particularly nasty and highly specific type of vengeful spirit. And as soon as she steps into the open doorway of the motel room, casting a shadow over Sam sitting on the tiny couch pouring over his books and papers, causing him to look up, she can tell that something’s Changed. His eyes are hard, flinty- the look he’s giving her reminds her of the looks that the people in her town gave her as the cries of “witch, witch” reached their peak. Only this time, she has no idea why she’s getting that look.
“Ruby.” His voice is cold enough to send shivers down her spine.
“Hi Sam.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m trying to help you. Like always.”
“Yeah?” He’s on his feet now, towering over her, and despite the fact that she’s a demon and has seen just about everything there is to see, she still finds his height mildly intimidating. “How many people have you hurt in the process? How much pain and suffering goes on for innocent people just so that you can help me, huh?”
“Sam, I don’t…”
“You don’t know what I’m talking about.” He’s mocking her now, the sort of angry, frustrated mockery she’s only ever heard him use with Dean before. “Well let me help you. I ran into Meg the other day. She’s the girl that that Demon possessed back in Chicago to get to Me and Dean. She was awake, Ruby. Trapped in her own body for over a year, watching a demon do unspeakable things to other people with her hands, her voice, and being powerless to stop it. And then, when she finally free, she drowned in her own blood because of injuries that a fucking demon incurred on her body.”
Ruby waits, arms crossed as Sam continued the rant.
“So I want to know how many innocent people you’ve harmed along the way to help me and my brother. Because whatever good you may have done, whatever other demons you’ve helped me vanquish, it’s all worthless as long as you have an innocent person trapped in their own head.”
“Sam…you know how demonic possessions work-hell, you’ve had a demon inside of you. Seeing Meg, seeing her spirit…none of that information should have been a shock to you.” She pauses, searching Sam’s fact as realization began to dawn. “She mentioned me specifically, didn’t she?”
“Yes.” Sam finally admits, jaw tense.
“And you started feeling guilty for consorting with a demon, started having to reconcile yourself with the fact that you were beginning to forget what I am, didn’t you?”
“Ruby…”
“You can’t ever forget, Sam. I will always be a demon, even if you start to think of me as a human, or prefer to just ignore what I am. And then we both get hurt. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t forced myself into an unwilling host in Sixty-three years. It makes me different from most of my kind, but I still am what I am.” She looks around, thinking she’s already said too much, stayed too long. “I should go.”
“Wait! Ruby, wait.” He calls her back, and against her better judgment, she turns. “What do you mean you don’t take unwilling hosts? Do you take…willing ones?” Sam obviously has trouble reconciling such a concept. She shakes her head.
“No. Willing vessels aren’t really willing. They just want power. They’re dangerous. Somewhere along the way, I learned another trick. There’s a moment between when the soul departs a dying body and when the body actually dies. If a demon possesses the body in that moment, the soul still goes free, and the body remains as a serviceable vessel until the demon leaves it. Even if you time it too early, the person’s soul is already detached, so they don’t realize there’s someone else in the body and as soon as the demon leaves, or is exorcised or whatever, the soul goes free.”
“Like a keeping a brain-dead person on life support?”
“Almost like that, yes. When I first met you and Dean, I was in the body of a Leukemia patient who had actually died in 1999.”
“And now?”
“A homeless junkie who ODed on Heroine in Atlanta.” She pulls the sleeve of her shirt up to show him the faint track marks that still adorn the vessel’s arms if she doesn’t take care to hide them. He takes her arm, pulls it closer to inspect the tiny scars. “There’s on one in here but me, Sam.”
He uses his grip on her arm to pull her closer, brush her hair behind her ear.
“I’m sorry.” He says, and from the way his eyes have gone soft, apologetic, she knows they’re treading on dangerous ground now.
“Don’t be, Sam. My choice of who to possess doesn’t make a difference, doesn’t make me any less a demon. You can’t forget that.”
“Yes, it does. It means that when have a choice, you take the higher road. And that means even more considering the fact that you are a demon.” His voice is soft. “And I’m not forgetting anything- I’m choosing to see around it. Ruby, you’ve saved my life half a dozen times, you’ve fought beside us, taught me how to control my abilities, stayed beside me and helped me search for a way to bring my brother back from hell. That should be enough proof for me of who you are. And it wasn’t, and I made you prove yourself again. So I’m sorry.”
He skates his thumb across the back of her hand, tangles his fingers with hers.
“If you were any other girl, I would have done this a long time ago. And now, it doesn’t even matter that you’re a demon.”
And then he’s leaning down, that tall body wrapping around her, protecting her like no one’s bothered to in the last several centuries, and his lips are on hers, soft and gentle and setting her mind reeling, growing more demanding until she’s kissing him back and simultaneously thinking about how this may be the closest to heaven she’s ever been, and how totally fucked they both are because of this.