tampered | log: ongoing

log: ongoing

When; Post-EitC curse // Demon blood reveal
Rating; R [maybe]
Characters; Ruby

ordered
Summary; That elephant is truly out of the closet now, and it's finally time for a demon vs angel showdown.
Log;
It's been almost ten months now. Ten months worth of conversations, meetings, curses that have forced the angel in to believing that there truly was something different about the demon known as Ruby. He's seen proof of this first hand, with the simple fact that she seems to care about the welfare of the two Winchester brothers. Or seemed to, in her own special way. And while Castiel's very nature puts him at odds against Ruby, there was a part of him that seemed to find a way to look past what they are and through to the creature hidden amidst the darkness.

That foresight is lost now. It's thrown away, smashed into a thousand pieces and stomped into the ground. All with three simple words. "I've been drinking--" The sentence remains incomplete, and it's a somewhat fitting parallel between what has and what will happen. There isn't a conclusion needed to Sam's words, but an end is still going to appear for the demon.

There is a small part of him, a part the angel tries his best to push away, that reminds him that he's failed. He's failed in keeping track of all that's happening with those from his world. And while Ruby may not be one whose welfare he should ever be concerned about, it still feels like salt being rubbed into a wound. He's failed Dean by remaining blind to all that the younger Winchester and the demon have done. And so, he considers this a retribution. Enough has happened under his watch already, and while it's impossible for him to personally repair the damage, there are other things he is capable of.

And it's for that very reason that Castiel finds himself here, stood amongst the shadows of the alleyway. The location is fitting, considering the creature he is there to find. He makes no attempt to keep himself hidden, because he already knows that Ruby should be expecting this. And while his brethren would have already made their moves without waiting for her to see him, Castiel is different. He's been different from the moment he was given the elder Winchester as a charge. And so Dean's words toward him have made an impact, however slight.

He waits, because he isn't there to kill her. Not yet.

Too much has changed in this past year.

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Her communicator is still open in her palm when she appears halfway down the alley, up to her mouth as if she's not finished speaking into it. Ruby knows immediately that she picked the wrong place to suddenly reappear as she is wont to do, neon lights nearby popping and flashing as lights in low-rent apartments go out along the lower levels of the buildings around her. She's frazzled, stretched beyond the limit, and running, though she is loathe to admit it, scared. There is bile burning the back of her throat, and the lungs in the body that she wears, the body she's become fond enough of that she's unfortunately started treating it as her, pull in oxygen so fast that her head spins, almost as if it wants to push out a wide open mouth and find something unfamiliar. It wouldn't matter, in the long run: Castiel can smell her as much as she can smell him, her throat gagging as it closes around that stench in the air, the hair on the back of her neck standing directly on end as she flips the communicator shut and shoves it down into the pocket of her jacket.

Her knife is out before she even thinks to move for it, and though she has no real hope of injuring Castiel or even winning at all if he decides he wants to do more than just stand around and be irritating, Ruby cannot, for the life of her, back down from this. Even when she knew it had been relatively hopeless when she'd fought the demon she'd served before her death, Sam and Dean pinned to the wall like a silent, puppet audience, she had still fought back, and even that instance was different from what she's protecting now. Where before she'd been making sure that Sam and, consequently, Dean hadn't ended up on the cutting room floor, now she fights back to make sure that she doesn't end up in irreparable pieces, that the skin and bone and blood and hair she wears doesn't slip away through her smoky grasp if she can help it.

There's a certain fear scratched across her face, but she hides it behind dark eyes, grinding her teeth together and saying nothing at all. There's no reason to say anything, no point in drawing anything out. She knows where he is as much as he knows exactly where she was going to be, and all that Ruby can do now is wait for him to make a move. She can't run this time, and she certainly can't hide, but there's a certain satisfaction to be gained from knowing that Sam won't have to suffer for this, for hiding her, as much as it disgusts her to realize.

Too much has changed in this past year.

He remains silent, even as her hand moves to her blade. It's something he's already familiar with, and so he knows he has little to be concerned about. "The only things that can kill an angel…is another angel." Uriel's words come back to him, though are quickly bitten off and buried once more. Ruby is only a demon, and so her power is limited. She may be different from most, but he has little to fear. And as he feels that very emotion radiate off of the demon, he knows there is even less of a reason. She is a cornered mouse. And while she may be able to fight back, he knows that it will take little to overpower her. She's a far cry from Alistair.

It could only take a heartbeat for Castiel to reach Ruby, but he chooses instead to walk. There is no rush to be had because he knows that she isn't going to run. She has nowhere to run to. And unless she found a way to convince Dean to offer her protection, there's little she can do to change that. So he takes him time, giving Ruby the opportunity to make a move of her own. Whether to run, to attack, or to say her piece, he doesn't care. He believes there is nothing she can do now that will surprise him.

"You've fed him here." His words are quiet, yet they still manage to cut their way through the night air. The alley is deserted, and has been from mere moments before he arrived there. This confrontation isn't one for witnesses, but neither is it one to remain in the open air for longer than is needed. They have much to talk about, and although Castiel may not be as well versed in gaining information as his brothers, he has seen enough in his years. Enough to know where to begin. It's simply up to Ruby to decide how much persuasion is needed.

He comes to a halt a short distance away; closer than he has been willing to stand in any of their previous meetings. It isn't comfortable being this close to a demon, but so too does he know that it's the same in reverse. Perhaps worse, in some ways. Ruby is still the subject of his ire, and the sole reason he has appeared at all.

She looks up at him from under a heavy brow, her mouth twisted into a sick frown, the lines around her mouth jumping to attention as she fights to keep her lips firmly pressed together. There are a million things that she wants to say, accusations that she wants to throw out and faults that she wants to lay on others, but she keeps her teeth clenched at the back of her jaw and tightens her knuckles around the blade in her hand. Ruby knows how this is going to play out, can already tastes the sulfur and blood and smoke on the tip of her tongue, but she doesn't say anything, doesn't say that it was Sam who brought the topic up first, that it was Sam who needed what he did, and while it can all be credited back to the mistakes that she makes in another time, the path that she needs to walk no matter how it's looked out, for once Ruby keeps her mouth shut and doesn't damn anyone.

She might damn herself, in the end, staying sharp and silent, just another dark figure in a darker alley, but she also thinks that if she opens her mouth his close proximity might make her vomit herself up onto their shoes. It's enough for her to swallow around, a tangible taste in the cool night air, and the breath in her lungs moves heavy and quickly through her nostrils as she snorts, skeptical and seemingly unafraid, though every inch of her is trained to fight and flee, though her heart beats so hard against her breastbone she can feel it in her ears. Automatically, she moves to take a step back as he comes to stand so immediately in front of her, but Ruby thinks better of it and holds her ground, the heel of her boot catching rocks on the hard pavement.

The blade flips over once in her hand, and her mouth falls open in a sharp smirk. If they're doing this, she wants it over and done with so that she can assess the damage and determine if she needs to find a new hole to crawl in. There's no escape right now, and she knows it, so instead Ruby holds her ground, the cell phone buzzing in her back pocket as the network device in her jacket stays cold and dead. After a moment, she shuts her mouth and tilts her chin, an act of defiance if any, but also one of confidence. She's different than what they know, down to the core, and she'll take it with her all the way down if she has to, but she isn't going to give Castiel the satisfaction of her starting it all, of her throwing the first punch. If he intends to finish something, then he needs to start it.

He's itching to make a move, whether it's a thought out one or not. She may not be responsible for all that is happening between the brothers- especially not this version of her –but she has some part to play. And so now that her connection to it all has been aired, he feels willing to pass as much of it to her as he can. To him, right there and then, she is the reason Sam has pulled away from his brother, logic be damned. It isn't right, it isn't fair, but it is the truth for these few minutes.

His shoulders are set back, his back straight. He shows every sign of being ready to make a move, bar the fact he isn't moving an inch just yet. Instead, he watches at her. Closely. He finds it a surprise that she is still standing there in silence. Yet at the same time, he finds it fitting for her. This is the same demon who has show time and time again that she refuses to run from a battle, even when the odds are stack miles high against her. It's that willingness to risk her skin for other causes that again sets her apart from the rest.

There's the slightest of smirks that appears on his lips in response to her stoicism, but it's gone in moments, his face free from emotions as a hand raises up sharply to her shoulder. There's a squeeze that grows stronger by the moment. It's a hold to keep her in place, not to break. A part of him is waiting for a reaction, the rest simply wants this entire evening over with. There's too much happening at once. But his own feelings are ones he knows to keep to himself. So, with an even tone, he finally speaks again, eyes fixed on Ruby's face.

"You've allowed him to drink here too." A pause, and that grip grows tighter, edging beyond just a hold. "How many times, demon?"

Ruby has a low tolerance for bullshit, and an even lower tolerance for being spoken to like she's something slightly less appetizing than the scum on the bottom of Dean Winchester's shoes after he's been walking through shit fields for days on end. Her eyes go black at the touch, and she feels the bone in her shoulder squeeze uncomfortably in its skin, though it's more due to her sudden tension than it is to the pressure that he's putting on her. She doesn't miss that smirk, and if anything it just enrages her further, and where Ruby should run, should disappear, should try to get away, she doesn't. For a moment, she simply stands her ground, feet shoulder width apart, her eyes nearly invisible in the darkness of the alley, blending in with the night and only glinting oddly when the light around them breaks and pops from too much energy in one place.

The air stinks of ozone and electricity, and Ruby reaches one hand up to curl around Castiel's forearm where it's stretched across to hold her in place. Her fingers scramble for purchase, twisting tightly in his coat as her patience breaks and she draws him quickly toward her while driving her knee up toward his stomach. It might be the only hit that she gets, the only blow that she lands, but later when she's smiling around bloody teeth and a fat tongue, she'll remember it and laugh, if she's still alive enough to do so, though the knowledge that Castiel can't kill her if he wants her to return home doesn't escape her either.

It's as much of an answer as Castiel is going to get - her knee in his gut, fingers so tight around the material of his jacket that she can feel her pulse in her hand, and her knife moving to slash wildly, defensively, as she moves to get back away from him, trying to put as much distance between them as she possibly can before the surge hits her square in the chest. Ruby is already beaten, but she still gets satisfaction that she'll have hopefully provoked him without giving him an answer of any kind.

Everything according to her rules.

Everything in her control.

She's dominant, even if she's fucked beyond belief.

She still hasn't said anything, and for once, the fact he isn't getting answers to his questions doesn't bother him. Instead, he finds himself amused that she is so insistent not to tell him anything he wants to know. Even more so that she resorts to violence so quickly. His gaze doesn't move an inch, even as her hand reaches to his arm.

He expects her attack to come from her blade, and so when she makes her move, it catches him off-guard. But it's little more than a push to his stomach, even as he folds himself a little around her knee. While a human may not be able to harm him, a demon is something else. Her blows can be felt. It's this moments distraction that allows the blade to finally come in to play. It's too late, the tip of that knife embedded deeply in his vessel's stomach, but it doesn't move any further. Instead, the fingers of his free hand are wrapped tightly around the blade, ignoring the sharpened edges as the dig into his fingers. That very knife is responsible for killing more demons than he is aware of, but he has been stabbed by it before. It means nothing to an angel.

The hand on her shoulder makes a move of its own, sliding to her neck, fingers held just a little too tight around flesh that could break so easily. He can feel her hosts windpipe, almost hear the blood still rushing through her body. And still he refuses to acknowledge her as anything more than a demon. Her body is stolen, but it is also a lost cause while the demon inside exists. He ignores the feel of her flesh between both hands, and focuses on the task at hand. Answers will be found.

"You cannot win, Ruby." Her name is spat out like a curse. Right then, that is all it is. It's been a mistake to expect more from her, and this is just further proof of it. "You're only prolonging the inevitable."

Even if she wanted to say anything in return, she'd be unable to, throat closed as his hands press tight against her neck. The toes of her boots scuff against the ground as the black bleeds out of her eyes, green-blue rolling down in a more threatening manner than even the black could possibly supply. Ruby swallows, tries to breathe, and resolutely doesn't summon up the energy required to throw Castiel bodily away from her with little more than a thought and some forward motion, the way she blasted Angelus back when she was cornered and threatened then, too. This threat is very different, because this threat is very real. The splash of blood is warm and tangy on the air, and the taste of rusted copper fills her nostrils and the back of her throat as she digs her nails into his hands, pushing until she feels the skin break.

For all the fights that she's been involved in in the past, this is the first time that Ruby's lost her knife so easily, and she feels it under her boot heel as she tries to gain a better footing. "I'm not the one who's prolonging, Castiel," she half-growls, half-rasps, and the knowledge that she could easily manage to work one hand between them to slip into the shallow - her standards - cut she's left across Jimmy's abdomen doesn't escape her, but more primary things are at the center of her focus.

It takes a minute, and maybe she's crazy for it, but Ruby laughs, sounding like she's gasping for air rather than expressing amusement. Her eyes are black again by the time that she looks up at him, and she says, "What's the matter? Can't do it?" She makes a clicking noise of disappointment with her tongue and just wants to get this over with. He won't kill her, can't if he wants her to go back, and he can't send her to Hell just yet and -

Can he?

It's illogical but for a moment her eyes open wide and she's suddenly extremely attentive, all rational thought and sense given over to paranoia, fear, and the sudden gut-clenching realization that what she experienced in that prison could immediately become a reality.

It's the moment that Ruby's eyes widen that Castiel finds his reason to continue. Something has finally made it's way through the cracks in her armour, and he is all too willing to exploit it for his own gain. He needs to know what they are left to deal with, and his only other option for answer come from Sam himself. It's something he'd sooner avoid.

"It takes very little to destroy a demon of your calibre." He pauses, the hand around Ruby's neck pressing tighter- warmer -as his own power slowly makes it way toward his palm. It's little more than a threat. He knows it, and he's fairly certain she does too. But that makes it no less real. One moment of weakness as he can erase Ruby from existence itself. But as he's said before, there are worse things than death, and he's seen enough to know that first hand.

"If you wish to see what else I am capable of-" He pushes her backwards, her neck now the only point of contact as he does so. He doesn't care how uncomfortable it is, or difficult moving backwards in this position might be. Instead, all that matters is moving her to the wall. Moving her close enough for Castiel to easily move his fingers high enough to grip her head. To keep it still as he uses his vessels blood to scribe a symbol on her forehead. He pointedly ignores that he, an angel, is using his own blood to all but anoint a demon. This is to keep her trapped. This is to keep her whole as Castiel continues with his own brand of interrogation. A symbol to bind her to her very body and stop any escape. He knows not to expect her to leave but until he has his answers, so too does he know not to trust any opinion he once held about her. "-I'm willing to comply this one time."

He steps back, both hands dropping to his side. There's still a silent drip coming from the few cuts he's already gained, but those are ignored in favour of the creature in front of him. He takes a slow crouch down, lifting the blade free from its resting place, and weighing it lightly in his hand. "You will one day be tortured by Alistair." He doesn't look to her, instead his attention is on the smear of red along the sharpened edge of the blade. "With this very knife." His words are left hanging, purposely, as he lifts an edge of his coat and cleans the remains of blood free from the blade, slowly and carefully.

She gags even though she has no way of actually gagging, her throat is pressed so tightly into his hand. It's like holding down a cesspool the longer he keeps her there, pressure on her forehead and sticky warmth across her skin. It's not until he stands back that Ruby catches herself on one palm and manages to turn her head in time to throw up all over the damp asphalt. She tastes smoke in the back of her throat, the urge and need to vacate this body rising with each heightened second, but she knows better than to think she'd be able to get out of this skin at all, now. "I didn't ask for a demonstration," Ruby says finally, swiping her hand across her mouth, her sleeve soaking up sweat and spit and sick as she struggles to regain her breath.

It's like she has a great weight resting on the crown of her head, pressing her down into the ground every time she tries to get up or move. Vertigo swims and her vision sinks into annoying, but she's aware and pissed off enough to practically lunge forward with her teeth bared the minute he starts in on her knife, like he's threatening her without the gall to actually follow up on it. She knows these things, fears Alistair as much as any demon with sensible capabilities would, but the thing he's neglected to mention is that Alistair doesn't kill her with her own knife either, and that's something that Ruby can piece together without having to be told explicitly.

She turns her head and spits, the raw stench of vomit and sulfur biting at her nose like hellhounds. "You wanted to prove a point? Congratulations. Sam's gotten blood more than once, but it's no fucking business of yours how often or how little. You know what would happen if he started on that path outside of here and came back and didn't keep it. Jesus fucking Christ, you've seen it for yourself. Before today, it was all over the network." Her voice is a serpentine hiss and she uncoils as she sits up more, mindful of where she puts her hands, her face set even if she can't physically move off of the ground. She wants her knife back, she wants to kill him, she wants to disappear.

Edited 2009-09-18 08:55 (UTC)

Castiel watches impassively as Ruby begins to vomit, offering her nothing more than space as she does so. He doesn't care that he was the cause of it. He doesn't care about any of this. Ruby is simply a means to an end at this moment, and so he continues to treat her as one. It also says a great deal about his current state that he doesn't even flinch at her heated blasphemy. It's a state he's been in for some time, and only seems to settle in further as time progresses. Humans are his weakness. He's been all to aware of it since he was first ordered to earth. And with the time that he's spent among them, he's also picked up upon their habits. With one person in particular, these blasphemes mean nothing. And so too, to Castiel himself, they begin to mean nothing.

He steps forward, finally, mindful of the patch of the mess that Ruby had made only moments before. Crouching down alongside her, he watches with an almost curious look on his face. Even now, even though she knows what she's up against, she continues to fight in her own way. And it still manages to surprise him. For all the humanity that she has attempted to show, she is still every part the demon that he knows. The knife is held in a deceptively loose grip, his elbows on his knees as the blade swings in one of his hands.

"Now we have a reason for it. And with a reason comes a cure." His eyes narrow fractionally, looking out toward the entrance of the alleyway. There isn't anyone there. There wont be, for as long as the two of them remain inside. But it's a reprieve from all that is happening right now, right at his feet. "You only serve to complicate matters."

She considers making a grab for her knife, not even to try and attack him with it but because it's hers without question and by right. Ruby had to wait a number of aching weeks for Dean to finally give it back, and she's guarded it like an extra arm ever since, half of her soul wrapped up in something designed to slice and kill things that are already rightfully dead. It's like he's taunting her with it, and Ruby keeps her eyes on the swaying silver in front of her, half-hyponotized by the motion and by the stress the sigil on her forehead is putting on her. She is dazed and feels ill, one too many trips around a ride she never signed up for.

Ruby is close enough to spit in his face, but she doesn't do it, rearranging herself so that she can more adequately get up in Castiel's face. Her fear is likely palpable, a distinct tang under the sweat of sulfur and blood, but she doesn't care. She laughs when she catches him looking out at her only exits then falls back against the wall he forced her against as she sits up on her legs, her blonde hair swinging limply across her shoulders. "What are you gonna do? Pull an Alistair and torture me with my own knife? That's pretty sacrilegious. But I'd give you points for style and flare."

This is worse than a Devil's Trap, more taxing on both her soul as a demon and the human body that she wears. The girl inside it has long gone quiet, whether due to death or disinterest is anyone's guess. Ruby stopped paying attention when she decided that the meat she was wearing was hers, just as she decided when she got it that the knife she's carried since she crawled out of Hell was hers, too. "Give it back," she breathes, eyes black again, narrowed and sharp.

"No." There isn't a single moments hesitation before he replies, though his gaze does begin to slowly turn back toward her. They trail across the wall alongside them first, and then down to his hand which is now free from blood. The cuts are long gone, as is the slice to his stomach. Blood still peppers the edge of his sleeve and buried under the folds of his coat is a wet stripe of red. But none of that matters to him. The knife is lifted, and Castiel turns it slowly in his palm; unconsciously shifting the blade to be held in the same position Ruby herself holds it. But that isn't his reason for it. Instead, it's so the blade can be tucked away against the side of his wrist as he slides his hand back to rest beside his leg now. The knife is almost out of sight, but nowhere near out of mind.

He doesn't move as Ruby shifts closer toward him, instead opting to drop his gaze to her neck, his free hand twitching ever so slightly. It's a controlled movement. One to serve as a warning above all else. He takes an unneeded breath, that very same hand opening up, his palm facing toward the heavens. A few beats pass before he finally speaks again, his eyes on his hand. "It would be simple to be rid of you." It clenches shut. "You could be destroyed right here, and you will have already served your purpose back home. But you find comfort in believing otherwise." He slowly leans forward, ignorant of all forms of personal boundaries. The bodies they wear are just that. He sees past the flesh and down to the creature inside. And while she may not be able to see the same in reverse, this is still a meeting of polar opposites. They are enemies to the core, and for the first time, they are truly acting as such.

It took the revelation of Sam drinking her blood for them to finally reach this point.

"What use would I have to torture you-" His hand raises, two fingers stretched, and taps Ruby's head just once. Nothing happens; but then, nothing is meant to. Not yet. This is posturing, pure and simple, and he is well aware of it. "-if I could gain answers for myself. It would be simple."

Castiel might consider it out of sight, but Ruby sees differently. Ruby sees something held away from her, too high to reach on extending toes and outstretched arms. Instead of looking at him, she keeps her eyes on where she knows the knife is meant to be concealed, and Ruby knows she'd be able to see it even if it was hidden through fabric and flesh and bone. She takes a deep breath, her throat sore and the skin around her neck feeling bruised and burnt. Ruby still feels sick but the rising sensation of being angrier than she's ever been before - at Dean, at Sam, at Angel, Lilith being the only exception - bites the feeling of needing to vomit again back down into her stomach. She presses her lips together, teeth grinding, trying to burn a hole through his skin and clothes so that she can get that knife back into her own hands.

She listens to him without listening, and it's only when he crosses into her personal space and then only when he touches her that Ruby's had enough of it. Again, she grabs his arm with tight fingers, twisting across the back of his wrist to twist his arm and bring his face close enough that she can slam her head against his in her own typical fashion. It won't do anything, but it might get this show on the road. She's not going to sit here and listen to him go on and on about how he can kill her if he wants to. Ruby knows that, knows that she has the disadvantage, and she doesn't need the casual reminder. He won't get anything out of her, and he might not know that but now that Ruby has already set her mind to it, it's unlikely to change.

Unless he knows how to make her answer, there's no way she's going to open her mouth and sing. The only thing that Ruby has to say comes through a panted breath, her shoulders rising and falling quickly, "You could always bore me to death." It comes out in that same half-growl, half-rasp, and it burns her throat to force it past her mouth, but she digs her heels in and does it anyway, and it only occurs to her moments later that she still has her hand bunched up in the fabric of his coat, so she tightens it hard enough that were they anyone else, were they anything else, it would be uncomfortable, painful, crippling.

Ruby takes a hard breath and lets it out, waiting.

She's sloppy; her intentions obvious before she even makes the slightest of movements. And so Castiel knows it would be simple to avoid her attempts at attacking him. Yet still, he allows himself to be brought forward, remaining expressionless as Ruby's own head hits in to his. It barely affects him, and once her attack is through, he doesn't move back. She drew him forward, but he hasn't chosen to give her back that space she closed. A bruise is slowly forming on his own head, but Castiel pays it no attention. Again, it's nothing that can't be healed with a thought. But those are the very things he refuses to spare at this moment.

Another blink, and his hand jumps to her shoulder once again, pressing Ruby back toward the wall with a thump. The other- the one that holds her knife –appears in a flash, sinking the blade through flesh like a hot knife through butter. It's a blow that would cripple a human. One that would kill any normal demon due to its source. But the intention isn't there. He wont kill her because that would be too simple. Removing her from the picture would only cause more problems in the future, and he's seen enough of Sam's state these past months to know that simply cutting off his supply isn't going to help. His hand doesn't leave the hilt as he watches the few bright sparks that appear in its wake.

"Your time spent with Sam has come to an end." The blade is slowly drawn back out, a line of blood being traced along her shirt as he slides it across and down, the tip pressing solidly against the flesh covering her ribs. Her heart. There are mere inches that separate her from life and death, and while he may not be making that move right then and there, his point is being made. "Neither you nor Sam will be the ones to decide otherwise."

Her breath catches hard in her chest, squealing against her throat as she comes up short and then breathes heavily again, fingers scrabbling on the dirty ground for some kind of purchase. She tastes blood in the back of her mouth, and Ruby waits for everything to stop, wind down, to fall into the black nothingness that she told Sam about so long ago. Do you know where demons go when they die? Nowhere. They go nowhere. Hell is preferable, for Ruby. She would rather hear screaming and sobbing, be strung up and unforgiven than be incapable of listening at all, than be erased from existence, forgotten and branded a certain way without being able to push back and lay her own cards on the table.

It's fear that turns her stomach and spreads warm, inky red fingers across her shirt. Fear that stops her from saying something. Fear that bottles up the breath in her throat and forces her eyes to subside into black, no more masks or defensive remarks coming to her aid. It hurts. It hurts more than anything she's ever felt before, inside or outside of Hell, and the tiny sparks set off chain reactions of needing to be sick and needing to rip Castiel limb from limb all at once.

Tortured on her own knife. It's almost ironic, poetic, hilarious, disgusting as the copper tang on her tongue, and when Ruby smiles her white, white teeth are outlined in red, lips ghosting along the color as the blood swells through her mouth. She licks her lips and thinks about saying something regarding Sam, but the blade on her chest is all cool silver and sharp reminders, and she keeps her mouth shut despite the cold, deformed smile molded across her face. "I was just starting to think that there was something between us," she taunts, her head banging back against the wall sharply. Ruby surveys him through half-lidded black eyes, though her glare is no less proficient than it usually is. When she breathes, the tip of her blade catches the gray fabric of her shirt, already wet with blood, and Ruby immediately stops, waiting.

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