Supernatural Fic: Black Like Her Eyes and Red Like Their Blood (Ruby/Lillith & Ruby/Sam; R)
Title: Black Like Her Eyes and Red Like Her Blood
Prompt: True Colours
Word Count: 534
Rating: R
Original/Fandom: Fandom; Supernatural
Pairings (if any): Ruby/Lilith & Ruby/Sam
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/RPF etc): Violence, blood, mentions of torture and sex.
Summary: A demon's true colours.
Her true colour was the colour of her eyes; black. She always knew that and she thanked her stars she was a good actress. She also thanked Lilith for the constant reminder of where her loyalty lied.
Lilith never wore her true colours. She hid behind virginal white and children. It was so much worse when her true colours came out, black for her eyes and red for the bright, almost obscene looking, blood on her white dress.
The blood was hers, another one of her true colours, she supposed. Despite the fact Lilith had ordered it, every time she gave Sam her blood, Lilith demanded twice the amount in return. And instead of her giving it willingly, like she did with Sam, it was taken from her, torn from her veins. Lilith would be rough and unforgiving where Sam would be hesitant and constantly apologetic.
It’s alright, honey, she would whisper to him as he worried and to herself between screams. It’ll all be alright in the end, when her teacher was dead and her student a murderer. She’d get to watch as the world fell and she was rewarded. Lilith wouldn’t be able to touch her then.
Every time she did it, she made Ruby say thank you. Thank her for being such a good mentor, for guiding her in the darkness, pulling her out of hell. Ruby was thankful, she wasn’t stupid, and without Lilith she’d have rotted in the pit forever. She’d have been nothing more than a plaything for more powerful demons, her strings pulled by them like the puppet she was. Would that have really been any different, she asks herself.
She watches her blood drip and wonder how much of it she has left, between Sam lapping it up like a starved puppy and Lilith nigh on painting the walls with it. Occasionally, it makes her feel better to think; at least this vessel is empty, that she’s alone in this torture.
She doesn’t tell Lilith that she’s sleeping with Sam. She’d sure she knows but she never asks, so Ruby doesn’t tell. In their game of tit for tat, Ruby shudders to think what Lilith would ask for in return. Maybe that’s why Lilith doesn’t ask, she knows that she’d have to make some show of possessing Ruby carnally, something she has never shown an interest in.
Eventually Ruby’s vessel begins to feel light-headed, the constant wounds repairing themselves don’t account for the blood spilt from them. She couldn’t die, she was holding this vessel together at the seams, but this charade was starting to wear her out. One minute she’d be swearing she had changed and that she was a good little girl for Sam and then the next she’d be promising that she was and always would be Lilith’s bitch, an bad girl for a much worse mistress, second only to Lucifer himself.
Every so often she stopped and asked herself, why couldn’t she just be free?
Every time she did Lilith was there with the constant reminder of what she really was, who she really was, whispering to her a Demon’s true colours were black like their eyes and red like their blood.
Written for Challenge 5; Prompt 12: True Colors at writerverse
Prompt: True Colours
Word Count: 534
Rating: R
Original/Fandom: Fandom; Supernatural
Pairings (if any): Ruby/Lilith & Ruby/Sam
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/RPF etc): Violence, blood, mentions of torture and sex.
Summary: A demon's true colours.
Her true colour was the colour of her eyes; black. She always knew that and she thanked her stars she was a good actress. She also thanked Lilith for the constant reminder of where her loyalty lied.
Lilith never wore her true colours. She hid behind virginal white and children. It was so much worse when her true colours came out, black for her eyes and red for the bright, almost obscene looking, blood on her white dress.
The blood was hers, another one of her true colours, she supposed. Despite the fact Lilith had ordered it, every time she gave Sam her blood, Lilith demanded twice the amount in return. And instead of her giving it willingly, like she did with Sam, it was taken from her, torn from her veins. Lilith would be rough and unforgiving where Sam would be hesitant and constantly apologetic.
It’s alright, honey, she would whisper to him as he worried and to herself between screams. It’ll all be alright in the end, when her teacher was dead and her student a murderer. She’d get to watch as the world fell and she was rewarded. Lilith wouldn’t be able to touch her then.
Every time she did it, she made Ruby say thank you. Thank her for being such a good mentor, for guiding her in the darkness, pulling her out of hell. Ruby was thankful, she wasn’t stupid, and without Lilith she’d have rotted in the pit forever. She’d have been nothing more than a plaything for more powerful demons, her strings pulled by them like the puppet she was. Would that have really been any different, she asks herself.
She watches her blood drip and wonder how much of it she has left, between Sam lapping it up like a starved puppy and Lilith nigh on painting the walls with it. Occasionally, it makes her feel better to think; at least this vessel is empty, that she’s alone in this torture.
She doesn’t tell Lilith that she’s sleeping with Sam. She’d sure she knows but she never asks, so Ruby doesn’t tell. In their game of tit for tat, Ruby shudders to think what Lilith would ask for in return. Maybe that’s why Lilith doesn’t ask, she knows that she’d have to make some show of possessing Ruby carnally, something she has never shown an interest in.
Eventually Ruby’s vessel begins to feel light-headed, the constant wounds repairing themselves don’t account for the blood spilt from them. She couldn’t die, she was holding this vessel together at the seams, but this charade was starting to wear her out. One minute she’d be swearing she had changed and that she was a good little girl for Sam and then the next she’d be promising that she was and always would be Lilith’s bitch, an bad girl for a much worse mistress, second only to Lucifer himself.
Every so often she stopped and asked herself, why couldn’t she just be free?
Every time she did Lilith was there with the constant reminder of what she really was, who she really was, whispering to her a Demon’s true colours were black like their eyes and red like their blood.
Written for Challenge 5; Prompt 12: True Colors at writerverse