Man, the ego on these two. (It would be insulting if they hadn't been taught time and time again in the past few years that it's always about them, that it's always been about them and always will be; whether they want it to or not. So. Probably justified.)
There's the all too recently familiar lockdown, and Dean can't even separate irritation that he knows what that means from irritation with himself for deserving that, just for a second; and now Sam is stuttering at him and the elder Winchester grinds his teeth, hates Ruby that little bit more, and digs viciously within himself for what shreds of patience he has, what fragile trust they've managed to rebuild over the last couple months.
"Sam. Look at me," he orders, tries to make his voice softer, isn't sure he succeeds. This can't... they can't... It can't be like it was. Dean has to know when he looks at Sam that they're on the same side, or he doesn't know what he'll do. Take a run at Morgoth and try to end it, whatever it is, once and for all maybe; he doesn't even want to think about demonic possessions, demonic deals, and demonic bitches and what they all mean after a year of relative peace and quiet until he's sure of his brother. "Don't do this. I need you. Alright? Whatever this is, whatever's going on, I need you with me."
Seriously. Maybe eventually they will learn otherwise? Typist suspects not. It's not like they've been given a lot of reason to expect that they'll just be left to their own business and so on and so forth. And precedent is what they have to go by.
Sam takes a deep breath through his nose. Pull it together. Pathetic. Come on. Forces his eyes up and looks at Dean. "I am," he says, a slightly rough edge touching briefly on his voice. "Whatever it is - I know. I am with you." What else, something kind of wants to snark, am I supposed to do, not like I have anything to contribute here, just keep my head down and follow along, better, safer.
But that's just stupid. Self-pitying. Don't take that road. His eyes skitter sideways briefly and then snap back. "I'm not - you're right. Most of the people here won't have a clue."
Dean's there to catch him when he looks up, maybe not as gentle in his way as in the past, maybe not as understanding, but every bit as steady; the elder Winchester stares back at Sam like maybe, just maybe, by not taking his eyes off his brother he can make this all work out alright. Finally, he nods. When he speaks again, he's clicked back over into command mode, tried and true and learned from John Winchester and fire-tested in the pit and apocalypse alike.
"We don't even know how many of these people are people. We need some answers - we need to get her in a Devil's Trap and see what she knows. The exorcism didn't work, but it sure did piss her off."
Sam holds Dean's gaze largely through force of will, since all he really wants to do is...not. Retreat and take some time to freak out and self-flagellate and, you know, all the rest. But yeah, that's not productive, and he needs to step up, take responsibility, do what has to be done. Dean always does. Stop slacking, Sam.
He nods in agreement, and then blinks a little at Dean's assertion that the exorcism pissed her off. "--really? It was like mine didn't even get to her," he says, but then again, he was...distracted. And the fact that it didn't work at all was enough to rattle him pretty badly. "Could it be a - binding link? Like..." His expression twitches. "Like what Meg used on me that time. If we could corner her maybe we could break it."
if Sam's expression twitches, Dean's doesn't so much as shiver; Meg is history, old history, and so much has passed in between for him to be horrified over that it takes him a moment to remember what Sam is talking about. It would be different, of course, if he weren't already riled up and focused on Ruby with his signature single-minded intensity; he failed that day, he walked around in Sam's company for hours and didn't even suspect it wasn't Sam at all, but he's failed so much more spectacularly since then.
On the other hand, Dean likes that plan. He really, really does, and if he doesn't look too closely at why, he's even okay with that. He nods, the blankness of his expression breaking briefly towards consideration.
"Yeah - that could work. And we know she's from our world, we know she follows our rules," he adds, because that hasn't always been true, here. "And maybe with a Devil's Trap the exorcism will work. She ran off before I could finish."
Meg may be ancient history, but Sam doesn't think he'll ever forget how it felt, what little he remembers, and that there's still so much he doesn't. But he gets it is pretty far back and pretty low down as far as shit that has happened since. So. But he likes that plan too. It would at least give an answer.
Sam is wondering if he should mention shooting her. It seemed to hurt, more than usual, but maybe that was just residual from the exorcism actually doing something. Hm. He decides against it, at least for now. "Maybe," Sam agrees. "At the very least we could - see if she'd say anything." They know what to do with her, anyway, more or less. Her vulnerabilities.
It is something, and moreover, it's something Dean knows exactly what to do with. He didn't always, but he was always a fast learner when he needed to be, and he had a strict teacher for that particular lesson. He's not aware of the grim, confident smile that takes the twist in his lips deeper then; even if he was, it would be better than the fear he'd used it to pave over.
"Oh, she'll say anything alright. Some of it might even be true," he promises, his voice even and steady. Then he's glancing away and that crack into the razed portion of his soul is closed, back on lockdown with the rest of him. "We gotta do it fast. I don't want her running around here longer than she has to be - where should we set up?"
Sam's mouth does a funny little twitch, watching Dean's expressions, then his eyes flick away, jumping rapidly around the hallway, point to point to point. He's agitated, stressed, uncertain, and hates all of the above. Hates that Ruby can still throw him this easily. She should be old news now. Past.
She was so much for a long time, though. All that kept him alive, for a while. "How are we going to corner her? She's not stupid," he says, "Unfortunately. A room somewhere if we can work out how to get here there would probably be best. Out of the way."
She would answer me, something murmurs in the back of Sam's head. If I had - but yeah, not even. Going near that. Nope.
Dean is not unaware of Sam's agitation, but he's keyed up himself right now and besides - that's not an anxiety he's ever been able to touch, anyway. For whatever reason every time he tried to come between Ruby and Sam no matter his intention, he just got shredded in the crossfire; he'd do it again. He'll do it again. But he's under no delusions about his ability to steady Sam about this, and in fact the brief intention to try anyway brings up another good point. He ticks his attention back to his brother, shakes his head.
"It's either get her to follow one of us to an empty room, or follow her to hers and set a trap while she's gone," he says, thoughtful and detached in a way the old Dean never seemed to know how to be. "You... she was a witch. How bad of an idea is it to follow her into her room?"
Dean is, of course, every bit as familiar with witches as Sam is in their line of work, perhaps a bit more with his job in New Orleans just before he came to pick Sam up at Stanford; but Sam is infinitely more familiar with this particular witch.
That's fair. Sam doesn't expect it - or at least, determinedly won't expect it. Now is, of course, very much not the time, and he's trying to learn, right, that Dean can't just fix everything, that he can't expect that, it isn't fair. Needs to fix his own mistakes. Of which Ruby fits pretty neatly into one.
"--probably a pretty bad idea," he says, after a moment's hesitation. "If we got there fast enough - but one of the first things she's going to do now that she knows we're here-" Now that you shot her full of bullets- "-is find a place she can hole up and be secure. We could set off any number of things and she - knows her stuff."
Dean is a fixer, and he will do his absolute best to fix whatever problem Sam brings him, he always has; he will again. And this particular problem? He's going to fix the hell out of her until she stays fucking fixed.
The elder hunter is still pretty much considering it anyway, whether they can beat her to a stronghold or just withstand any traps she sends. In a pinch, he decides, but not as a first tactic. He'll get back to that in a moment. Right now he narrows his eyes on Sam, and asks, "You okay?"
It's not rhetorical, and it's not manners. Yes, Dean is worried, but he figures he has right to be, okay.
But! Sam says. Dean has so much to worry about! And it's his fault that this is such a problem! And we will stop him before he can really get going. Sam's eyes pause in their rapid twitching, and flick to Dean. He blinks, once. "--yeah," he says, after a moment, almost seeming startled by the question. "Yeah, I'm fine."
...not so much, but is there really any other answer to that question?
Sam must've changed shirts by now or else Dean would already have honed in on the bloody handprint; blood makes up an unconscionably large percentage of the subjects on the front of his mind these days, even moreso than before, and even moreso with Ruby here. His eyebrows pull ever so slightly further together in annoyance at Sam's response, but he doesn't call him on that, exactly, because he gets it; there isn't any other way to answer that question as far as Dean's concerned and if there is, he certainly doesn't know it. (So many issues.)
"I'm not dicking around, Sam. If you're not, you need to tell me. If she's gonna... if this is gonna be a problem like... like we had before," he manages, forcing it out past his teeth, because he doesn't want to think this way. He doesn't want to feel like he's asking Sam to tell him that he's not okay but it's futile - that Sam never will, not with this. And he hates having to ask it at all, probably more than he actually hates Ruby.
Oh yes. Yes he did. Probably stuffed the bloodstained one way far down somewhere where he won't find it for a long time. Where neither of them will, he hopes. Because seriously. Trying not to think about that and the implications of that and the parallel and if it was deliberate and this is always what she was good at, but no, can't blame her, he twisted himself into enough nods without any help at all.
"I know," Sam says, and his voice, curiously enough, doesn't actually go sharp or angry. Not here, not on this. His eyes kind of skid away from Dean's. "I know you don't have - you don't have any reason to believe me, but I'm - done. Okay? With her, with-" He cuts off, jerks his head a little to the side.
I just want to make up for everything I already broke. I'm not going to let her stop that, dammit.
If Dean finds it, in all fairness, he will probably just wash it; he's not thinking about parallels or coincidences right now and isn't likely to think of them later, either, unless someone points them out to him. Blood is blood, it's a stain, something to clean away any way it can be done.
Sounds familiar.
Dean frowns when Sam's eyes slide away from his, and he doesn't look away from Sam's face. Instead, he nods. "Alright. You let me know the moment that changes."
They can both work on fixing it later. Right now they have something important to do.
"We need our shit, and then we need a room to set this up in. We should stick together."
Knowing Sam, he is probably going to be ridiculous about it. Because that is just what he does. Overthink things, that is. Like a pro. Sam kind of twitches at the 'moment that changes' half wants to protest that it won't, it won't dammit but - yeah, that would be pointless, and who knows if it's even true. Don't make promises you might break, Sam. Right?
He nods, short, jerky little motion. "Yeah." There's no reason she couldn't - Sam's not going to mention how secretly worried he is that Ruby is going to decide that Dean is expendable and therefore killable. Because. Yes. Don't need to bring that up, just worry at it privately. "Okay. Let's - get moving, yeah?"
There's the all too recently familiar lockdown, and Dean can't even separate irritation that he knows what that means from irritation with himself for deserving that, just for a second; and now Sam is stuttering at him and the elder Winchester grinds his teeth, hates Ruby that little bit more, and digs viciously within himself for what shreds of patience he has, what fragile trust they've managed to rebuild over the last couple months.
"Sam. Look at me," he orders, tries to make his voice softer, isn't sure he succeeds. This can't... they can't... It can't be like it was. Dean has to know when he looks at Sam that they're on the same side, or he doesn't know what he'll do. Take a run at Morgoth and try to end it, whatever it is, once and for all maybe; he doesn't even want to think about demonic possessions, demonic deals, and demonic bitches and what they all mean after a year of relative peace and quiet until he's sure of his brother. "Don't do this. I need you. Alright? Whatever this is, whatever's going on, I need you with me."
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Sam takes a deep breath through his nose. Pull it together. Pathetic. Come on. Forces his eyes up and looks at Dean. "I am," he says, a slightly rough edge touching briefly on his voice. "Whatever it is - I know. I am with you." What else, something kind of wants to snark, am I supposed to do, not like I have anything to contribute here, just keep my head down and follow along, better, safer.
But that's just stupid. Self-pitying. Don't take that road. His eyes skitter sideways briefly and then snap back. "I'm not - you're right. Most of the people here won't have a clue."
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"We don't even know how many of these people are people. We need some answers - we need to get her in a Devil's Trap and see what she knows. The exorcism didn't work, but it sure did piss her off."
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He nods in agreement, and then blinks a little at Dean's assertion that the exorcism pissed her off. "--really? It was like mine didn't even get to her," he says, but then again, he was...distracted. And the fact that it didn't work at all was enough to rattle him pretty badly. "Could it be a - binding link? Like..." His expression twitches. "Like what Meg used on me that time. If we could corner her maybe we could break it."
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On the other hand, Dean likes that plan. He really, really does, and if he doesn't look too closely at why, he's even okay with that. He nods, the blankness of his expression breaking briefly towards consideration.
"Yeah - that could work. And we know she's from our world, we know she follows our rules," he adds, because that hasn't always been true, here. "And maybe with a Devil's Trap the exorcism will work. She ran off before I could finish."
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Sam is wondering if he should mention shooting her. It seemed to hurt, more than usual, but maybe that was just residual from the exorcism actually doing something. Hm. He decides against it, at least for now. "Maybe," Sam agrees. "At the very least we could - see if she'd say anything." They know what to do with her, anyway, more or less. Her vulnerabilities.
That's something. Right? Right?
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"Oh, she'll say anything alright. Some of it might even be true," he promises, his voice even and steady. Then he's glancing away and that crack into the razed portion of his soul is closed, back on lockdown with the rest of him. "We gotta do it fast. I don't want her running around here longer than she has to be - where should we set up?"
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She was so much for a long time, though. All that kept him alive, for a while. "How are we going to corner her? She's not stupid," he says, "Unfortunately. A room somewhere if we can work out how to get here there would probably be best. Out of the way."
She would answer me, something murmurs in the back of Sam's head. If I had - but yeah, not even. Going near that. Nope.
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"It's either get her to follow one of us to an empty room, or follow her to hers and set a trap while she's gone," he says, thoughtful and detached in a way the old Dean never seemed to know how to be. "You... she was a witch. How bad of an idea is it to follow her into her room?"
Dean is, of course, every bit as familiar with witches as Sam is in their line of work, perhaps a bit more with his job in New Orleans just before he came to pick Sam up at Stanford; but Sam is infinitely more familiar with this particular witch.
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"--probably a pretty bad idea," he says, after a moment's hesitation. "If we got there fast enough - but one of the first things she's going to do now that she knows we're here-" Now that you shot her full of bullets- "-is find a place she can hole up and be secure. We could set off any number of things and she - knows her stuff."
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The elder hunter is still pretty much considering it anyway, whether they can beat her to a stronghold or just withstand any traps she sends. In a pinch, he decides, but not as a first tactic. He'll get back to that in a moment. Right now he narrows his eyes on Sam, and asks, "You okay?"
It's not rhetorical, and it's not manners. Yes, Dean is worried, but he figures he has right to be, okay.
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...not so much, but is there really any other answer to that question?
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"I'm not dicking around, Sam. If you're not, you need to tell me. If she's gonna... if this is gonna be a problem like... like we had before," he manages, forcing it out past his teeth, because he doesn't want to think this way. He doesn't want to feel like he's asking Sam to tell him that he's not okay but it's futile - that Sam never will, not with this. And he hates having to ask it at all, probably more than he actually hates Ruby.
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"I know," Sam says, and his voice, curiously enough, doesn't actually go sharp or angry. Not here, not on this. His eyes kind of skid away from Dean's. "I know you don't have - you don't have any reason to believe me, but I'm - done. Okay? With her, with-" He cuts off, jerks his head a little to the side.
I just want to make up for everything I already broke. I'm not going to let her stop that, dammit.
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Sounds familiar.
Dean frowns when Sam's eyes slide away from his, and he doesn't look away from Sam's face. Instead, he nods. "Alright. You let me know the moment that changes."
They can both work on fixing it later. Right now they have something important to do.
"We need our shit, and then we need a room to set this up in. We should stick together."
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He nods, short, jerky little motion. "Yeah." There's no reason she couldn't - Sam's not going to mention how secretly worried he is that Ruby is going to decide that Dean is expendable and therefore killable. Because. Yes. Don't need to bring that up, just worry at it privately. "Okay. Let's - get moving, yeah?"
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