The Wasteland Part III: Where the dead men lost their bones
Title: The Wasteland Part III: Where the Dead men lost their bones
Author: The Mad Tea Girl
Series: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Ruby, Chuck, Dean, Castiel, mentions of Sam/Ruby
Rating/Warning: PG-13
Summary: Ruby's search for Sam continues, while the Apocalypse continues on all around her. Spoilers for all aired episodes.
Author's Notes: Once again, the Ruby in this work is Katie!Ruby, Should be read after Part I and Part II. I must also, once more, send a huge round of love and thank to Suchaprince, my amazing beta, without whom this series would be a grammatical travesty.
Where the dead men lost their bones
**
“I think we are in rats’ alley
Where the dead men lost their bones”
- “The Wasteland: II. A game of Chess” by T.S. Eliot
**
Detroit was silent as she walked into it, with the midday sun beating down around her. Ruby shifted the shot gun she carried. She was finding the limits placed on her meant she tired more easily then she used to, and she had been walking the better part of three miles. Her car had stopped on the outskirts of town. It had not run out of gas, and the battery had been fine, the engine had simply shut down all together. Her cell phone had likewise switched itself off at the same time.
It was glaringly obvious that whatever had occurred in Detroit had been something powerful enough to extend a sort of barrier around the city, and that sort of thing only happened on sites where something nearly cataclysmic had taken place. The street she walked down was lined with abandoned cars, shops with signs proclaiming them open stood vacant. It was clear that the entire city was empty, like everyone in it had simply disappeared.
It was also clear that whatever had happened in Detroit had already taken place, and that she was too late. Ruby groaned loudly and sat down hard in the middle of the street, looking up at the traffic light above her, ineffectually flickering red.
It would be another three mile trek back to her car and she was beginning to feel worn out from chasing ghosts. It took all the strength she had in her to not just scream until her throat was raw and hoarse.
**
It took hours for her to not only make her way through the silent town back to her car, but then to push it, uphill, of course, far enough that it would start again. It made her tired enough that she didn’t even want to drive, the ten plus miles of walking had caused her boots to run the skin of her heels raw, and she didn’t have to remove her shoes to know that they were cut and bleeding.
She still couldn’t figure out why she was different now, why coming back from hell had made things harder for her. Ruby didn’t remember ever feeling so tired before. All the time: a heavy, smothering feeling. It made her feel human, but not in any way that she wanted to.
When she didn’t feel the horrible aching exhaustion overwhelming her, she decided she would have to get a hold of Chuck, and remind him of the sort of pain she would inflict on him for leading her on a wild goose chase.
But even as she lowered herself gingerly into a lying position across the front bench seat of her car, she tried to ignore the feeling of dread that was settling low in the pit of her belly. It was more than just mildly unnerving the way that the whole of Detroit had been completely void of people, and the feeling was intensified by the utter silence along the stretch of highway. She offhandedly batted the thoughts away, deciding that she would attempt to think more in depth once she’d had at least few hours to sleep.
**
She woke up to the almost blinding light of sunrise, and a sharp pain in her neck and shoulders. Ruby sat up, rubbing at the sore muscles in her neck and trying to shake away the tail end of the dream she had just awoken from. She never used to dream, not since she became a demon. For that matter, she didn’t really sleep before either.
It made her wonder, less then idly, how hard it would be to force herself to become an insomniac. Because at least then she could spend all the time that she currently spent twisting in fits of nightmares finding Sam Winchester.
Which was really what she ought to be doing, rather than musing about neck pain and bad dreams. So she leaned forward, digging underneath the bench seat for where her cell had fallen in her sleep. Upon retrieving it she did the most logical thing she could think of, and dialed Chuck’s number.
She listened to the irritable buzzing sound of the phone ringing as she drummed her fingers against the steering wheel of the Falcon. It rang three and a half times before she heard the clunky sound of the call being picked up.
“Umm… hello?” The voice on the other end said in just above a whisper.
“Chuck… sweetie… we have a problem. Being that you sent me on a wild goose chase to Detroit. And wouldn’t you know it? I drove all the way here and Sam’s nowhere to be found. Funny thing, nobody is. I think you have some explaining to do.” She said through clenched teeth, so that she wouldn’t shriek directly into the phone.
“Oh… look… I’m, uh, I’m sorry about that, but this isn’t the best time to talk ab-”
“I think you need to make it be the best time darling, seeing as I’m feeling more than mildly intent on maiming you at the moment. See, I know you’re protected by your feathery friends, so I can’t really threaten to kill you, but I don’t think they would mind too much if I just cut you a little.”
She could swear she actually heard him gulp on his end of the line.
“Okay, listen, I’m in mixed company right now, but this is what I can tell you. He was in Detroit, within the past forty-eight hours. I would have given you more of a heads up about it, but honestly, I told you as soon as I had the vision. Things… bad things went down in Detroit. You should stop trying to find Sam.” As he trailed off she heard a deep voice talking in the background behind him. It was a deep voice that she identified easily as the oldest Winchester brother.
“You’re with the Winchesters right now aren’t you?”
“What? No, no I’m not. I haven’t seen them in forever, really.” Her grip tightened on her phone, hard enough that she had to consciously relax her hand because she heard the faintest sound of the plastic starting to crack.
“I can hear Dean in the background, Special Ed. If you’re going to continue lying to me I think we’re going to have to see if your guardian angel can touch down before I fillet you.”
“Okay, yes, it’s Dean. But seriously, you don’t want to come here. For your own good, give up. I’m not just saying this because I don’t want you to carve me up, I mean, I really don’t want you to carve me up, but I’m being honest.”
“Be honest all you like, it’s not going to stop me. Besides, I’ve gotten a fix on where you are.” She told him before snapping her phone closed. As not at all helpful as Chuck had been, she had managed to trace the destination of him and his phone across the wires as he spoke.
At least the witchcraft hadn’t failed her, even if most other things had.
**
It was a tedious, long drive across three states from Michigan to Missouri. Less and less radio stations were available, so much of the drive was in the quiet hum of a static, but every so often when Ruby reached across to the tuner she could pick out the faintest crackle and a human voice.
If there was ever evidence that the end of days had arrived it was to be found on public radio.
Between hisses of interference a woman’s voice rattled on about the growing panic nationwide surrounding a recent viral outbreak, which the center for disease control couldn’t begin to identify or treat. There was a global panic as the world wide death rate had quickly out grossed the birth rate. There were storms, famine, cataclysm. It was biblical.
And Ruby knew that it was only the tip of the iceberg.
Somewhere on the outskirts of Missouri she found an abandoned gas station, still fully stocked. She left with a full tank of gas and a full box of pre-packaged Hostess Cupcakes.
About an hour past Kansas City her car rolled into a small rural town that was only about a fifteen minute walk from where she had traced Chuck’s signal to. So she parked the car in front of an abandoned electronics store and proceeded through the center of town, armed to the teeth.
Half way down the street she passed an alley where a small group of people tore into a still screaming man. It wasn’t her fight, and she didn’t owe this person anything, but all the same she tightened her grip on her sawed off shotgun, because she remembered the first time the Croatoan virus had come to America centuries ago.
It hadn’t been pretty that time either.
The crowd in the ally turned from their victim at the sound of her readying her gun, and regarded her with only the slightest glimmer of interest, before turning their backs on her and going about their earlier task.
She couldn’t be sure if they barely acknowledged her because they sensed the lack of humanity in her, but it was the same with all the similarly infected she encountered traveling through the town.
And that was how she, essentially, walked right through the metaphorical front door of Camp Chitaqua without incident. Of course, she didn’t realize that had been the easy part.
**
The sky had turned a deep orange, casting a glow reminiscent of hellfire on everything as Ruby squeezed herself through a gap in the camp’s fencing. She had expected to encounter some sort of guard immediately, and was more than a little surprised at how easy this leg of the venture was shaping up to be. She would, in hindsight, think on how this should have triggered some sort of warning bell for her that things were going to get bad, and quickly.
The trouble being her blindside for Sam Winchester had a way of clouding her judgment and often caused her to do unintelligent things, like walk into an encampment full of demon hunters. The utter stupidity of the situation didn’t even cross her mind as she slung her gun up onto her shoulder and crept through the camp.
Ruby spotted Chuck in front of one of the cabins, the man he had been in conversation with had his back to her, but she could have recognized the beat up leather jacket he wore anywhere.
By the time Chuck saw her and had begun to frantically gesture for her to leave, she had already grabbed onto Dean’s jacket and pulled him to face her.
“Where’s Sam? Is he with you?” She whispered to the oldest Winchester brother.
She had barely gotten the words out, and then there was a hand around her throat and her vision went black with electric sparks for a moment when her head came in contact with the outer wall of the cabin behind her.
He had caught her off guard, she had dropped her gun, and the way he had pinned her against the wall made it impossible to reach the knife strapped to her thigh. It had happened much too fast, and then there had been a sort of pain that was practically white hot.
It took her a moment to realize that the hunter had thrust a knife into her stomach and pulled up almost to her heart.
She had been stabbed before, as well as shot, lit on fire, and about half a dozen other things that would kill a human since she had become demon. But the sort of pain that Dean’s knife caused was foreign, excruciating, and no doubt there was some sort of magic involved.
Dean’s left hand had stayed wrapped around her throat, holding her a few inches above the ground, while his right held onto the hilt of the knife, and he leaned in, close. Close enough that she could feel his breath on her face, and for a delirious moment she had thought that maybe he meant to kiss her.
“Don’t ever say my brother’s name in front of me, you black eyed bitch.” Dean snarled directly into her ear, before he twisted the knife sharply. And she blacked out all together.
**
When Ruby regained consciousness it was a slow and difficult process like fighting against heavy sedation. There was a taste in her mouth, thick and coppery, that notified her, if she’d had any doubts, that her borrowed body had sustained more than just mild injuries. That and the throbbing pain that ran from her naval to her sternum.
She didn’t have to open her eyes to know that the dull burn at her wrists came from iron shackles, or to know that she had been placed inside some sort of devil’s trap.
“Okay, so do you want to explain to me how a demon that I personally iced is sitting over there, and why the first words out of her mouth were about my brother?” She heard Dean say in a hushed voice.
“What she has to do with your brother I can’t help you with. But that is not the same demon that he traveled with last year. I’m willing to concede that she may know something, but you’ll be lucky to get much out of her after that performance you pulled. I doubt she’ll have much strength to talk for awhile.” A quieter male voice answered.
“She’s not deaf boys, and she’s sitting right here.” She said as she managed to gingerly lift her head and, with much effort, open her eyes. “Oh Dean, sweetheart, now you didn’t go and do something rude like poison me, did you?”
Dean smiled, a far cry from his usual, flirtatious smile. This smile reminded her of being back in Hell.
“Poison? Don’t be insulting.” He told her as he crouched next to her on the floor. Dean pulled the knife from where it had been strapped to his thigh, and held it with the blade only a centimeter or so from the tip of her nose. “Baby, this here is a cold iron knife, inlayed with silver. It’s a bona fide holy relic. Now I imagine that it’s probably wrecked havoc with your ability to heal, and well, being so unholy yourself, it probably just fucked you up in general.”
“Now now, keep this sort of thing up and people will think that you’re overcompensating for something Dean-o.” She said, followed by an involuntary, almost hysterical sounding giggle that clearly unnerved him. He rocked back on his heels and regarded her with a raised eyebrow, before turning his inquisitive look to the other man. The quiet one in the trench coat shook his head.
“I warned you that there was a chance of delirium. I’ve never personally observed the effect of such a holy relic on a demon.” He said mildly, with a vague gesture of his open hands.
“Thanks Cas, real helpful.” Dean grunted before returning his attention to Ruby. “Now you listen to me darling, either you start singing about why you came banging into camp looking like a demon I killed one hundred percent dead, asking about Sammy. Or I can really start finding out what my new toy can do to make you scream.”
“My, but that seems to be the only thing you Winchesters want from me these days.”
“What?” Dean said as more of an exclamation then a question.
“Sam never told you? Where he was after you abandoned him? No? Well, you see Dean, just because you were willing to let Sam fend for himself, even though you and I both know how many things were out to get him, didn’t mean that I felt the same way. Didn’t he tell you about the people, hunters, who were tracking him like the things you people kill? How they tried to kill him? I like how you still think that I’m the bad guy here.” She said, fighting the beginnings of another laugh. “Sam was with me those weeks that you basically left him for dead. I took care of him when his own brother wouldn’t. So you’re right, I’m clearly the villain.” Ruby shifted in attempt to find some semblance of comfort in her awkward sitting position. “Look Dean, I know that you never liked me, and I can’t say that I was ever all that crazy about you. But I’ve been trailing you idiots for months now, and I just want to talk to Sam, okay?”
Dean let out a low whistle and got to his feet. He stood uncomfortably rubbing the back of his head, and exchanged a significant look with the other man.
“So you honestly don’t know?” He said finally, and Ruby craned her neck slightly to look at him.
“Know what?”
“About Detroit, what happened there.” Dean said slowly, like he was choosing the words carefully.
“Obviously I don’t.” She snapped. “Your little prophet tells me to go to Detroit, that I’ll find Sam there. So I go, and you know what I find? Nothing. So here I am.”
“Sam was in Detroit, we both were. Something big went down, practically wiped out the whole city. I’ve never seen anything like it before. And Sam …” He stopped and she could already feel the icy sensation of dread pooling low in her stomach.
“Dean…” She said, her voice in a warning sort of whisper.
“Sam didn’t make it.”
It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room, and she couldn’t hear anything but the blood rushing in her ears. She felt sick, and hurt, and angry.
But mostly she felt like the world had broken, and couldn’t be fixed.
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