FIC: Dancers at the Lake
FIC: Dancers at the Lake
Characters: Dean, Castiel, Ruby, Sam
Setting: Future, a little more than three years past mid s4
Rating: Adult
Warnings: spiritual kink; demonic appropriation of Christian ritual.
12,000 words.
Thanks to Nicole tnhand1022 for looking this over -- any glitches are my own.
I did put together a nice list of atmospheric songs, if you're curious how all this sounds. You might notice this fic was written by a singer!
Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us; and, because we are sorely hindered by our sins, let your bountiful grace and mercy speedily help and deliver us...--The Collect for the Third Sunday of Advent
***
Dean Winchester was a soldier grown old too soon. The wars had taken many a good hunter, and tonight, Dean drank alone, in a dark and smoky bar late at night in a nameless town. He drank intently, paying after each beer with crumpled bills. The pain receded in his shoulder, his side, his hip, but his heart remained heavy as lead.
Another man came and sat down beside him. The bartender asked for his order but the man shook his head. He was dirty and a bit hollow in the face, but the bartender shrugged and didn't throw him out. Dean kept his eyes on his beer, his scarred hands. His silver ring still glinted brightly in the dim light of the bar, even after all this time.
"The wars are nearly over," the man beside him said. The even tone in the man's voice caught Dean's attention, and in his surprise, he couldn't help but catch the man's unblinking eye.
"I'm through, that's for sure." Dean drank deeply to finish his beer and be on his way.
The other man clasped him strongly on the shoulder. Dean pulled away, hissing in pain, but the other man gripped him tight and refused to let go.
"There is still something more for you to do."
Castiel's unwavering gaze was always the same, no matter the host, but Dean still remembered that first clear blue glare with something like longing. Dean was just about used up by this war. He and Castiel had been through a lot-- pain, accusations, betrayal-- and God knew Dean was weary of it all. But they were still brothers in arms, so Dean just looked back at Castiel and said nothing. He knew the angel would take his silence for acquiescence.
Castiel's brows drew together in concern before he next spoke, and Dean felt an adrenaline chill before Castiel even lowered his eyes to speak.
"It's about Sam," the angel said, as Dean could've sworn he would. Sam. The name no hunter dared to utter in Dean's presence. Castiel had no such compunctions. His brother would've given him that trademark smirk if he'd seen Dean taking the calming breath, trying to slow his pounding heart at the mention of Sam's name. Dean just signalled for another beer. His hands didn't shake, he was too much a hunter for that, but his body felt ready to beat something to death. Dean tried again to breathe it out, and just waited for Castiel to make himself clear.
"Sam's part in the wars has been relatively minor. His... stance with the demons in general has kept him from choosing sides with the bigger players. He's actually taken out a number of lesser demons, although several stand beside him as allies."
Castiel leaned in, glancing up at Dean, gauging his reaction. As Castiel's lieutenant, Dean had taken sides, but Sam had refused. Dean loved his brother with every fiber of his being, but he owed the Angel for the rescue of his soul, and there was a war to win that Sammy wasn't fighting.
"We can get you in to Sam. The problem is, we don't know what he's become. He's been using his demon powers pretty much constantly for going on three years. Now with Lilith defeated and most of the seals restored, it's time to take on Sam. And we wanted... I wanted to give you the chance to see him in person. To make that call."
Dean's heart gave another painful thud. Time was, tears would've been streaming down his face. How many times would someone have to say, watch out for Sammy, and you might have to kill him?
Dean had gone to Hell and back, literally, for his brother. But Sam had left him yet again, and yet again, Dean couldn't follow. Now Castiel was giving him that chance. Dean doubted that he'd ever be able to raise a finger against Sam. But he knew his duty, and so did Castiel.
"Just tell me what I have to do," Dean said grimly, and Castiel, solemn, nodded.
***
The hotels of Las Vegas played games with the skyline. One hotel mimicked Paris, another, New York. Dean found himself waiting for Castiel's contact in a cocktail bar in an enormous black pyramid that beamed a shaft of light up into the heavens from its apex.
He could've laughed out loud when Castiel told him where Sam was. But he didn't laugh much any more.
A dark haired girl sidled up to Dean at the bar. "Come here often, stranger?" she said.
Dean was shocked as his gaze slipped past a generous mouth to dark doe eyes: Ruby, still in the same old body. Castiel had told him he'd have an in, but he hadn't said who it would be.
She grinned, deadly, but straightforward. Dean had learned to appreciate her style, and he grew to trust her dedication to Sam, though he blamed her for Sam's alliance with demons-- something the Angels couldn't tolerate. Ruby had never done him wrong, and he owed her for keeping Sam alive. Even though Sam and he had been separated these last three years as though by the gulf between Heaven and Hell.
"Hey, Ruby," Dean said. He tried for a grin, but his old sly expression fell into a grimace. Ruby looked him over with something like commiseration, and nodded.
"Well, come on, and I'll tell you what's what."
Dean hoisted his duffel and followed the demon through the cacophony of the slots parlors. Zombie like, the slots players pulled their levers and shuffled about on the loud carpet in the casino's eternal day.
Ruby led Dean down a maze of corridors and into an elevator, and Dean soon found himself throwing his gear onto a California King in a luxury Vegas suite, no less tacky than the motels that he and Sam had spent a lifetime in.
Ruby opened the fridge and pulled some bottles out of the minibar. Ruby went for tequila and offered Dean the whiskey.
She sipped at the strong liquid, and Dean wondered not for the first time if alcohol was wasted on a demon, or not. But he followed suit, just to be social, he told himself.
The times he could afford to drink himself to numbness had vanished along with his brother.
Now Ruby was here to tell him how he could get to Sam, at least to see him again. Maybe... but Dean couldn't stand around guessing. This was just the sizing up part of the game. One step at a time.
"You're really, really, not going to like it," Ruby said, smiling, and Dean could believe her.
"I'm prepared to not like it," Dean ground out, and Ruby laughed out loud at that.
"Yeah, you are prepared, but not how you think." Ruby twinkled her eyes at him. She was downright cheerful, more so than he remembered. He hoped it was a good sign of Sam's well-being.
"Remember the dreamroot," Ruby asked.
"Sure," said Dean.
"This is like that, but different," Ruby continued. Dean just blinked at her slowly and gestured to get on with it.
She huffed out a breath. "It's kind of like Sam is under a spell."
Dean felt a surge of anger grab at him unexpectedly.
"A spell? Did you bewitch...?"
"No, no, it wasn't me, I swear it. I hate to say it, but it was his own, ah, demon nature that's kind of created a world around Sam. He started out, you know, gathering demon allies, but it's much more than that. He's built his own kingdom, surrounded by his demons. I gotta tell you, Dean, he's different from the Sam you remember. But it's not all bad...."
Weariness, grief and the burn of old anger formed a physical knot in Dean's throat. "How could that possibly not be bad?"
Ruby tentatively reached for Dean's hands. Numbly, he let her.
"Sam is a good king."
Dean rolled his eyes at that, but Ruby tugged on his hands.
"He's a good king, he does what's best for his followers, but if you don't reach him, he'll end up a Prince in Hell. I don't want Hell for myself or for him. So that's why I'm here to help you now. You have a chance to reach him, when nobody else can, but you'll have to do things you'd rather not...."
"Ruby," Dean said, his throat like ground glass, "I'd do anything to keep Sam out of Hell. I've been there, remember? Just spit it out."
"Ok," Ruby said again, psyching herself up.
"It's kind of like dreamroot," she said again, "but it's more like voudoun. Your spirit goes out, but instead of going into a dream, it latches on to another person's spirit and rides it wherever they go. You'll be aware, and you and your host will share control."
"Or," Dean said, angry again, "I'll be balls deep in some demon's ride for the rest of my short life!"
"It's me you'll be riding, Dean," Ruby spelled out for him. "How else do you think you'll get into Sam's inner sanctum without alerting the scores of demons who worship him?"
"uh... Scores? really?" Dean had kept his ears closed when it came to Sam. He had a war to win for the Angels, and couldn't be distracted by fears for his brother, who, they'd agreed, had to choose his own path. Dean wept, but he let Sam go, and now he was back to see what had become of him.
"Do they all live here at the Luxor?" Dean asked.
Ruby laughed again. "No, man. Sam has a place out in the suburbs... the Lake. All these multimillion dollar houses, Sam just waited till some old geezer kicked it and had one of his followers move in before anyone noticed. Instant lifestyle of the rich and infamous."
"But why?" Dean gestured around at the Pyramid Deluxe room with its slanted walls and vaguely Egyptian decor.
"I just thought it would remind you of old times," Ruby grinned.
Dean finished off his whiskey. It was true, Ruby had somehow put him at ease. As much at ease as he ever got. After all he'd lost, this was his chance to get back the one thing that had ever mattered to him: Sam. He would do whatever it took, even ride blind and helpless into a den of demons.
"Let's get on with it."
"Ok, Dean, but listen. You're going to be right up against me in here. I'm a demon, remember? Don't freak out. I know you remember what it's like from Hell.... that's what I mean that you're, kind of, prepared."
Dean thought of the choking black corruption of the demons' nature. He didn't really associate their stench with Ruby; in a way, they'd gotten to be friends when they'd all run together back before the wars got hot--before she and Sam took off, and Dean didn't follow.
Dean looked Ruby in the eye. "You're not so bad," he quipped.
"Yes, I am. But I'm trying, for Sam's sake," she said solemnly.
"Me too," Dean said, "and there but for the grace of God..."
"Dude, watch your mouth!" Ruby cringed, her eyes black for a second.
Ruby could curse in God's name and never flinch, but Dean knew God's grace first hand, and apparently, his hard-won belief burned her. Dean felt a smirk slide onto his face, unfamiliar but good. Life in an old soldier yet, he thought.
They ordered burgers delivered to the room and went over the situation.
"Sam's power keeps everything underground, that's why the Angels don't know what's up," Ruby explained. As Dean raised his eyebrows, Ruby explained, "Not physically underground, of course, but imagine a cavern and a lake of still water. More water might pour in and you'd never detect it. Sam's made something like a cavern in reality, and demons pour in, but it's quiet, and cool. Not like Hell."
Dean and Ruby didn't need to speak of it. They'd both heard the grinding and shrieking, and felt the way the very fabric of reality there tore at the soul like knives.
"How does he do it?" Dean asked. "How can he bring so many demons together in one place without, uh, raising Hell?"
Ruby knew what Dean meant. Hell was torture and torment, the utter absence of any saving grace, but the demons fed into Hell's nature, amplifying and constantly recreating the pain of Hell around themselves.
"That's where the spell comes in. I don't know if you noticed, but with Sam it wasn't like flipping a switch. He had to work his powers to make himself strong, and it hurt him every time. He finally learned how to channel the power, let it flow, but he had to be really calm and collected to do it. So he makes them dance."
"He what?" Dean watched for Ruby to say "gotcha" but she remained serious.
"Castiel probably told you, Sam annihilates most of the demons who come to him-- always has. That's why the Angels haven't bothered to come after him. The ones who've aligned with him don't attack anyone, and the others get destroyed as soon as they show their pretty faces."
Dean made the hand gesture of "go back to the thing you said." "He makes them dance, Ruby?"
"I guess Sam has a naturally metaphorical mind. A lot of demons, you know, just want out of Hell... Sam figured he needed a way to keep them out of trouble, and he envisioned a Dance. The ones who play well with others are allowed to live. The ones who break the Dance, he destroys. It's like a test and a game all in one, but it's the Dance that keeps the Lake placid and dark. As long as the demons are Dancing, their power flows together as one, creating a sort of cavern in the world, where they're hidden and safe."
Dean pondered all that for a while. It was too hard to picture, too different from the fist fights and black eyes he was familiar with to wrap his mind around. A dance? A lake? A cavern? A McMansion on the outskirts of Vegas?
Dean moved on. "So how many demons are there?"
Ruby frowned. "It's hard to know. LIke I said, with the dance, they all flow together. But it's a lot. Remember the police station in Colorado -- way more than that."
Dean broke out in a sweat. He had killed plenty of demons in his day, but the anticipation was worse than the fight, and the thought of that many demons in one place actually terrified him. He'd healed up from his time in Hell, whether more by Castiel's healing grace or his own Winchester stubbornness, he'd never know, but he still had a visceral reaction of terror around demons that he couldn't deny. He let it wash over and through him. Even as beat up as he was now, he trusted his body to channel his fear into fight when he needed it, and right now, he didn't need it.
He rubbed his palms across his jeans, and rubbed at the back of his neck.
"So I ride you in, and we dance? You've got to be kidding me."
"Nope. That's the picture." Ruby finished off her burger and licked the greasy ketchup off her fingers.
"Then what." Dean remembered the joylessness in Castiel's tone, and the threat to Sam it implied.
"You asking me for advice?" Ruby's face softened. She looked at Dean almost the way he remembered her looking at Sam. Like there was some hope.
"Yes," Dean said softly. "Absolutely. You've been in there, you know what's what. You tell me what I should do."
Ruby's face at that moment became almost painfully beautiful to Dean, her earnestness to convey her dedication to Sam clear in every feature. It was how he had been, before the wars tore him away.
"Just ride me in. Keep quiet. Dance. You'll see. You'll feel it." Her eyes were practically glowing with adoration.
"Ok, Ruby. I want to get started. What do we do?"
"Well, it's best to arrive at midnight -- the Dance is strongest then. So you'll have to drink this noxious asswater--"
"--as usual---" Dean muttered.
"Then we'll get used to each other a little and we'll head on over to the Lake."
"I can't believe I trust you for this," Dean said, not in a mean way.
"You don't. But you'll do it for Sam," Ruby said. She smirked again and added, "As much as you might want to hate this, it's ... well, I'll just let you see for yourself."
Dean frowned at Ruby and her secretive little smile.
"Right. Just give me the god damned asswater and let's get this show on the road."
Ruby set Dean up and he arranged himself on the California King. He remembered the suddenness of passing out with the dreamroot before and how every limb had been asleep when he woke up.
He sniffed at the liquid in the glass Ruby handed him. "Asswater" was a kind phrase, but at least it wasn't as bad as the remedy she'd given him that time with the witches. He downed it in one gulp, choking a little at the thickness of it.
Ruby took back the glass and gently, touched his cheek. Then Dean was looking down at his own tiny hand touching the unconscious body on the bed.
"Oh, fuck. Fuck! Holy fucking shit!" Dean's cry of shock came out a hell of a lot higher and lispier than he was used to.
Then he felt the brush of Ruby in the back of his mind.
I sank down to let you get in good. Nice in here isn't it, Ruby thought to him.
Dean felt woozy. He sat down, grabbed his head, squinched his eyes shut. Everything was so much tinier, softer.
Ruby swam up behind him, a little nearer. Dean felt a strange sensation of being embraced, and he felt his arms gently wrap around himself. Ruby's tiny hands soothed up and down his upper arms, and Dean rocked back and forth a bit, trying to get a grip.
Even in hell, he'd imagined his own body--the body he'd trained so hard every day of his life. Fighting, fucking, eating -- his body was where he lived, god damn it! This was insane, this tiny thing.
I'm not that little, Jesus! Ruby griped at him good-naturedly.
"Ok, ok," Dean spoke, and tried to get a grip. Even breathing was different. His ribcage was small. And there were breasts! oh shit.
"Listen, let's have some tequila, ok?" Ruby whispered, and Dean let her walk the body gently over to the fridge, pulling out another little bottle.
Dean enjoyed the familiar burn, and it calmed him down a bit.
Ruby stood up, led the body through some stretches. Dean sank back, saw how he could sink in deeper somehow. He let Ruby drive and she simply walked around the suite a little, till he got used to it.
Then, as Dean began to relax, he brushed up against Ruby's essence with his own.
The feeling was electric. It was like stroking a Persian cat, with its fur all staticky and standing out straight. The feeling was soft, and dark, and sparkling. Dean's vision swam over, and a feeling like sex shot through his mind.
He tried to draw back, but she clung to him. Their essences were attracted, they seemed to want to mingle. Their body lay itself down on the King, Dean's vacant form breathing regularly beside them.
"I, I'm sorry," Dean said, beginning to panic, and at that he felt Ruby draw back again, hovering near him. He closed his eyes again, unable to deal with the feeling of duality inside his mind and the single consciousness, himself, through which he was sensing the world.
"I know, Dean, we've just got to do this now, or we'll never get through the Dance without someone noticing you. I swear, you'll be all right, this'll be good. Just trust me a little and hang on, ok?"
"Ok," Dean managed. He didn't know if he'd nodded, or spoken out loud, or what, but suddenly Ruby was pressing all around him.
Go On to Part Two -- Read More Now!
Characters: Dean, Castiel, Ruby, Sam
Setting: Future, a little more than three years past mid s4
Rating: Adult
Warnings: spiritual kink; demonic appropriation of Christian ritual.
12,000 words.
Thanks to Nicole tnhand1022 for looking this over -- any glitches are my own.
I did put together a nice list of atmospheric songs, if you're curious how all this sounds. You might notice this fic was written by a singer!
Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us; and, because we are sorely hindered by our sins, let your bountiful grace and mercy speedily help and deliver us...--The Collect for the Third Sunday of Advent
***
Dean Winchester was a soldier grown old too soon. The wars had taken many a good hunter, and tonight, Dean drank alone, in a dark and smoky bar late at night in a nameless town. He drank intently, paying after each beer with crumpled bills. The pain receded in his shoulder, his side, his hip, but his heart remained heavy as lead.
Another man came and sat down beside him. The bartender asked for his order but the man shook his head. He was dirty and a bit hollow in the face, but the bartender shrugged and didn't throw him out. Dean kept his eyes on his beer, his scarred hands. His silver ring still glinted brightly in the dim light of the bar, even after all this time.
"The wars are nearly over," the man beside him said. The even tone in the man's voice caught Dean's attention, and in his surprise, he couldn't help but catch the man's unblinking eye.
"I'm through, that's for sure." Dean drank deeply to finish his beer and be on his way.
The other man clasped him strongly on the shoulder. Dean pulled away, hissing in pain, but the other man gripped him tight and refused to let go.
"There is still something more for you to do."
Castiel's unwavering gaze was always the same, no matter the host, but Dean still remembered that first clear blue glare with something like longing. Dean was just about used up by this war. He and Castiel had been through a lot-- pain, accusations, betrayal-- and God knew Dean was weary of it all. But they were still brothers in arms, so Dean just looked back at Castiel and said nothing. He knew the angel would take his silence for acquiescence.
Castiel's brows drew together in concern before he next spoke, and Dean felt an adrenaline chill before Castiel even lowered his eyes to speak.
"It's about Sam," the angel said, as Dean could've sworn he would. Sam. The name no hunter dared to utter in Dean's presence. Castiel had no such compunctions. His brother would've given him that trademark smirk if he'd seen Dean taking the calming breath, trying to slow his pounding heart at the mention of Sam's name. Dean just signalled for another beer. His hands didn't shake, he was too much a hunter for that, but his body felt ready to beat something to death. Dean tried again to breathe it out, and just waited for Castiel to make himself clear.
"Sam's part in the wars has been relatively minor. His... stance with the demons in general has kept him from choosing sides with the bigger players. He's actually taken out a number of lesser demons, although several stand beside him as allies."
Castiel leaned in, glancing up at Dean, gauging his reaction. As Castiel's lieutenant, Dean had taken sides, but Sam had refused. Dean loved his brother with every fiber of his being, but he owed the Angel for the rescue of his soul, and there was a war to win that Sammy wasn't fighting.
"We can get you in to Sam. The problem is, we don't know what he's become. He's been using his demon powers pretty much constantly for going on three years. Now with Lilith defeated and most of the seals restored, it's time to take on Sam. And we wanted... I wanted to give you the chance to see him in person. To make that call."
Dean's heart gave another painful thud. Time was, tears would've been streaming down his face. How many times would someone have to say, watch out for Sammy, and you might have to kill him?
Dean had gone to Hell and back, literally, for his brother. But Sam had left him yet again, and yet again, Dean couldn't follow. Now Castiel was giving him that chance. Dean doubted that he'd ever be able to raise a finger against Sam. But he knew his duty, and so did Castiel.
"Just tell me what I have to do," Dean said grimly, and Castiel, solemn, nodded.
***
The hotels of Las Vegas played games with the skyline. One hotel mimicked Paris, another, New York. Dean found himself waiting for Castiel's contact in a cocktail bar in an enormous black pyramid that beamed a shaft of light up into the heavens from its apex.
He could've laughed out loud when Castiel told him where Sam was. But he didn't laugh much any more.
A dark haired girl sidled up to Dean at the bar. "Come here often, stranger?" she said.
Dean was shocked as his gaze slipped past a generous mouth to dark doe eyes: Ruby, still in the same old body. Castiel had told him he'd have an in, but he hadn't said who it would be.
She grinned, deadly, but straightforward. Dean had learned to appreciate her style, and he grew to trust her dedication to Sam, though he blamed her for Sam's alliance with demons-- something the Angels couldn't tolerate. Ruby had never done him wrong, and he owed her for keeping Sam alive. Even though Sam and he had been separated these last three years as though by the gulf between Heaven and Hell.
"Hey, Ruby," Dean said. He tried for a grin, but his old sly expression fell into a grimace. Ruby looked him over with something like commiseration, and nodded.
"Well, come on, and I'll tell you what's what."
Dean hoisted his duffel and followed the demon through the cacophony of the slots parlors. Zombie like, the slots players pulled their levers and shuffled about on the loud carpet in the casino's eternal day.
Ruby led Dean down a maze of corridors and into an elevator, and Dean soon found himself throwing his gear onto a California King in a luxury Vegas suite, no less tacky than the motels that he and Sam had spent a lifetime in.
Ruby opened the fridge and pulled some bottles out of the minibar. Ruby went for tequila and offered Dean the whiskey.
She sipped at the strong liquid, and Dean wondered not for the first time if alcohol was wasted on a demon, or not. But he followed suit, just to be social, he told himself.
The times he could afford to drink himself to numbness had vanished along with his brother.
Now Ruby was here to tell him how he could get to Sam, at least to see him again. Maybe... but Dean couldn't stand around guessing. This was just the sizing up part of the game. One step at a time.
"You're really, really, not going to like it," Ruby said, smiling, and Dean could believe her.
"I'm prepared to not like it," Dean ground out, and Ruby laughed out loud at that.
"Yeah, you are prepared, but not how you think." Ruby twinkled her eyes at him. She was downright cheerful, more so than he remembered. He hoped it was a good sign of Sam's well-being.
"Remember the dreamroot," Ruby asked.
"Sure," said Dean.
"This is like that, but different," Ruby continued. Dean just blinked at her slowly and gestured to get on with it.
She huffed out a breath. "It's kind of like Sam is under a spell."
Dean felt a surge of anger grab at him unexpectedly.
"A spell? Did you bewitch...?"
"No, no, it wasn't me, I swear it. I hate to say it, but it was his own, ah, demon nature that's kind of created a world around Sam. He started out, you know, gathering demon allies, but it's much more than that. He's built his own kingdom, surrounded by his demons. I gotta tell you, Dean, he's different from the Sam you remember. But it's not all bad...."
Weariness, grief and the burn of old anger formed a physical knot in Dean's throat. "How could that possibly not be bad?"
Ruby tentatively reached for Dean's hands. Numbly, he let her.
"Sam is a good king."
Dean rolled his eyes at that, but Ruby tugged on his hands.
"He's a good king, he does what's best for his followers, but if you don't reach him, he'll end up a Prince in Hell. I don't want Hell for myself or for him. So that's why I'm here to help you now. You have a chance to reach him, when nobody else can, but you'll have to do things you'd rather not...."
"Ruby," Dean said, his throat like ground glass, "I'd do anything to keep Sam out of Hell. I've been there, remember? Just spit it out."
"Ok," Ruby said again, psyching herself up.
"It's kind of like dreamroot," she said again, "but it's more like voudoun. Your spirit goes out, but instead of going into a dream, it latches on to another person's spirit and rides it wherever they go. You'll be aware, and you and your host will share control."
"Or," Dean said, angry again, "I'll be balls deep in some demon's ride for the rest of my short life!"
"It's me you'll be riding, Dean," Ruby spelled out for him. "How else do you think you'll get into Sam's inner sanctum without alerting the scores of demons who worship him?"
"uh... Scores? really?" Dean had kept his ears closed when it came to Sam. He had a war to win for the Angels, and couldn't be distracted by fears for his brother, who, they'd agreed, had to choose his own path. Dean wept, but he let Sam go, and now he was back to see what had become of him.
"Do they all live here at the Luxor?" Dean asked.
Ruby laughed again. "No, man. Sam has a place out in the suburbs... the Lake. All these multimillion dollar houses, Sam just waited till some old geezer kicked it and had one of his followers move in before anyone noticed. Instant lifestyle of the rich and infamous."
"But why?" Dean gestured around at the Pyramid Deluxe room with its slanted walls and vaguely Egyptian decor.
"I just thought it would remind you of old times," Ruby grinned.
Dean finished off his whiskey. It was true, Ruby had somehow put him at ease. As much at ease as he ever got. After all he'd lost, this was his chance to get back the one thing that had ever mattered to him: Sam. He would do whatever it took, even ride blind and helpless into a den of demons.
"Let's get on with it."
"Ok, Dean, but listen. You're going to be right up against me in here. I'm a demon, remember? Don't freak out. I know you remember what it's like from Hell.... that's what I mean that you're, kind of, prepared."
Dean thought of the choking black corruption of the demons' nature. He didn't really associate their stench with Ruby; in a way, they'd gotten to be friends when they'd all run together back before the wars got hot--before she and Sam took off, and Dean didn't follow.
Dean looked Ruby in the eye. "You're not so bad," he quipped.
"Yes, I am. But I'm trying, for Sam's sake," she said solemnly.
"Me too," Dean said, "and there but for the grace of God..."
"Dude, watch your mouth!" Ruby cringed, her eyes black for a second.
Ruby could curse in God's name and never flinch, but Dean knew God's grace first hand, and apparently, his hard-won belief burned her. Dean felt a smirk slide onto his face, unfamiliar but good. Life in an old soldier yet, he thought.
They ordered burgers delivered to the room and went over the situation.
"Sam's power keeps everything underground, that's why the Angels don't know what's up," Ruby explained. As Dean raised his eyebrows, Ruby explained, "Not physically underground, of course, but imagine a cavern and a lake of still water. More water might pour in and you'd never detect it. Sam's made something like a cavern in reality, and demons pour in, but it's quiet, and cool. Not like Hell."
Dean and Ruby didn't need to speak of it. They'd both heard the grinding and shrieking, and felt the way the very fabric of reality there tore at the soul like knives.
"How does he do it?" Dean asked. "How can he bring so many demons together in one place without, uh, raising Hell?"
Ruby knew what Dean meant. Hell was torture and torment, the utter absence of any saving grace, but the demons fed into Hell's nature, amplifying and constantly recreating the pain of Hell around themselves.
"That's where the spell comes in. I don't know if you noticed, but with Sam it wasn't like flipping a switch. He had to work his powers to make himself strong, and it hurt him every time. He finally learned how to channel the power, let it flow, but he had to be really calm and collected to do it. So he makes them dance."
"He what?" Dean watched for Ruby to say "gotcha" but she remained serious.
"Castiel probably told you, Sam annihilates most of the demons who come to him-- always has. That's why the Angels haven't bothered to come after him. The ones who've aligned with him don't attack anyone, and the others get destroyed as soon as they show their pretty faces."
Dean made the hand gesture of "go back to the thing you said." "He makes them dance, Ruby?"
"I guess Sam has a naturally metaphorical mind. A lot of demons, you know, just want out of Hell... Sam figured he needed a way to keep them out of trouble, and he envisioned a Dance. The ones who play well with others are allowed to live. The ones who break the Dance, he destroys. It's like a test and a game all in one, but it's the Dance that keeps the Lake placid and dark. As long as the demons are Dancing, their power flows together as one, creating a sort of cavern in the world, where they're hidden and safe."
Dean pondered all that for a while. It was too hard to picture, too different from the fist fights and black eyes he was familiar with to wrap his mind around. A dance? A lake? A cavern? A McMansion on the outskirts of Vegas?
Dean moved on. "So how many demons are there?"
Ruby frowned. "It's hard to know. LIke I said, with the dance, they all flow together. But it's a lot. Remember the police station in Colorado -- way more than that."
Dean broke out in a sweat. He had killed plenty of demons in his day, but the anticipation was worse than the fight, and the thought of that many demons in one place actually terrified him. He'd healed up from his time in Hell, whether more by Castiel's healing grace or his own Winchester stubbornness, he'd never know, but he still had a visceral reaction of terror around demons that he couldn't deny. He let it wash over and through him. Even as beat up as he was now, he trusted his body to channel his fear into fight when he needed it, and right now, he didn't need it.
He rubbed his palms across his jeans, and rubbed at the back of his neck.
"So I ride you in, and we dance? You've got to be kidding me."
"Nope. That's the picture." Ruby finished off her burger and licked the greasy ketchup off her fingers.
"Then what." Dean remembered the joylessness in Castiel's tone, and the threat to Sam it implied.
"You asking me for advice?" Ruby's face softened. She looked at Dean almost the way he remembered her looking at Sam. Like there was some hope.
"Yes," Dean said softly. "Absolutely. You've been in there, you know what's what. You tell me what I should do."
Ruby's face at that moment became almost painfully beautiful to Dean, her earnestness to convey her dedication to Sam clear in every feature. It was how he had been, before the wars tore him away.
"Just ride me in. Keep quiet. Dance. You'll see. You'll feel it." Her eyes were practically glowing with adoration.
"Ok, Ruby. I want to get started. What do we do?"
"Well, it's best to arrive at midnight -- the Dance is strongest then. So you'll have to drink this noxious asswater--"
"--as usual---" Dean muttered.
"Then we'll get used to each other a little and we'll head on over to the Lake."
"I can't believe I trust you for this," Dean said, not in a mean way.
"You don't. But you'll do it for Sam," Ruby said. She smirked again and added, "As much as you might want to hate this, it's ... well, I'll just let you see for yourself."
Dean frowned at Ruby and her secretive little smile.
"Right. Just give me the god damned asswater and let's get this show on the road."
Ruby set Dean up and he arranged himself on the California King. He remembered the suddenness of passing out with the dreamroot before and how every limb had been asleep when he woke up.
He sniffed at the liquid in the glass Ruby handed him. "Asswater" was a kind phrase, but at least it wasn't as bad as the remedy she'd given him that time with the witches. He downed it in one gulp, choking a little at the thickness of it.
Ruby took back the glass and gently, touched his cheek. Then Dean was looking down at his own tiny hand touching the unconscious body on the bed.
"Oh, fuck. Fuck! Holy fucking shit!" Dean's cry of shock came out a hell of a lot higher and lispier than he was used to.
Then he felt the brush of Ruby in the back of his mind.
I sank down to let you get in good. Nice in here isn't it, Ruby thought to him.
Dean felt woozy. He sat down, grabbed his head, squinched his eyes shut. Everything was so much tinier, softer.
Ruby swam up behind him, a little nearer. Dean felt a strange sensation of being embraced, and he felt his arms gently wrap around himself. Ruby's tiny hands soothed up and down his upper arms, and Dean rocked back and forth a bit, trying to get a grip.
Even in hell, he'd imagined his own body--the body he'd trained so hard every day of his life. Fighting, fucking, eating -- his body was where he lived, god damn it! This was insane, this tiny thing.
I'm not that little, Jesus! Ruby griped at him good-naturedly.
"Ok, ok," Dean spoke, and tried to get a grip. Even breathing was different. His ribcage was small. And there were breasts! oh shit.
"Listen, let's have some tequila, ok?" Ruby whispered, and Dean let her walk the body gently over to the fridge, pulling out another little bottle.
Dean enjoyed the familiar burn, and it calmed him down a bit.
Ruby stood up, led the body through some stretches. Dean sank back, saw how he could sink in deeper somehow. He let Ruby drive and she simply walked around the suite a little, till he got used to it.
Then, as Dean began to relax, he brushed up against Ruby's essence with his own.
The feeling was electric. It was like stroking a Persian cat, with its fur all staticky and standing out straight. The feeling was soft, and dark, and sparkling. Dean's vision swam over, and a feeling like sex shot through his mind.
He tried to draw back, but she clung to him. Their essences were attracted, they seemed to want to mingle. Their body lay itself down on the King, Dean's vacant form breathing regularly beside them.
"I, I'm sorry," Dean said, beginning to panic, and at that he felt Ruby draw back again, hovering near him. He closed his eyes again, unable to deal with the feeling of duality inside his mind and the single consciousness, himself, through which he was sensing the world.
"I know, Dean, we've just got to do this now, or we'll never get through the Dance without someone noticing you. I swear, you'll be all right, this'll be good. Just trust me a little and hang on, ok?"
"Ok," Dean managed. He didn't know if he'd nodded, or spoken out loud, or what, but suddenly Ruby was pressing all around him.
Go On to Part Two -- Read More Now!