#bloodchic

@bloodchic sam's  eyes  were  cast  to  the  ground,  their  entire  frame  slumped  on  the  edge  of  a  cheap  queen  sized  bed.  it  often  did  when  the  hunter  wasn't  distracted  by  determination  or  blinded  by  anger.  these  weren't  good  times.  they  felt  a  soft  hand  on  their  cheek.  the  flicker  of  the  opposite  table  lamp  reflected  in  their  eyes  as  they  looked  up  to  their  companion.

"that  man  is  dead  because  of  me,"  a  breath,  "because  i  can't do it right."  what  was  the  point  of  all  they  were  doing,  the  lengths  that  sam  was  going  to,  if  it  didn't  help  at  all?

        a  scoff .  stood  up  and  looking  down  at  her ,  there's  a  lot  of  distance  there .  usually  you  try  to  close  it  ;  sitting  or  couching ,  leaning  on  things ,  anything  to  make  seven  foot  seem  less  intimidating .  never  with  ruby .  what  would  be  the  point ?  she  would  still  hold  all  the  power .  it  has  become  an  inevitability  that  you  will  end  up  on  your  knees  before  her  begging  like  a  dog  for  scraps  /  the  scratch  of  a  knife .  there  is  a  collar  of  want  wrapped  around  your  neck  and  she  has  the  leash .

         the  leash  is  the  length  of  approximately  ten  pints  of  blood  wrapped  up  inside  her  vessel .  sometimes  you  consider  that  you  don't  need  her .  there  are  a  lot  of  demons  out  there  and  you  could  hunt  one  down ,  DRAIN  IT  with  a  couple  days  work .  every  time  you  consider  making  a  plan ,  you  find  the  ugly  truth  waiting  again .  maybe  you  don't  need  ruby  but  you  WANT  HER  just  as  much  as  the  blood .  maybe  she  knows  that  /  maybe  she  doesn't .  she  still  holds  that  power .

        " have  i  ever  liked  your  answers ? "  stupid  question ,  of  course  you  have .  you  presented  the  problem  of  a  vessel  and  she  came  up  with  a  very  good  answer .  not  quite  the  same  thing .  " i  think  you  ENJOY  not  giving  them .  that  you  like  hearing  me  ask  over  and  over  again  just so  you  can  say  NO  as  many  times . "

joan baez crackled and crooned from the cassette player while sam kept a lazy speed down the empty road. side glancing to their companion, the born and bred hunter shifted their posture and buttoned shirt.

...but there but for fortune go you and i...

these days, fairytales seemed to reflect sam’s life more than any biography or piece of nonfiction. there’d always been a truth to that, and a piece of sam had always known.

they watch the wood grain of the detailing on the ceiling. “it’s me, right now.” a sharp, poisoned smile pulls across sam’s face as they look towards ruby.

an angel was powerful like laws of physics, like light speed warping your sense of time. but the human soul is intrinsic to the human body, blinking throughout it in superposition. the most strength doesn't always mean the most effective. sam was playing with home advantage.

@bloodchic || inbox meme reply || oh she went there?!

let me ask you something. how come you're asking me so many jackassy questions?

amber liquid rocks back and forth inside the glass carefully held between his fingers. green eyes squint at the contents as they ebb and roll with the subtle sway of his hand. waiting for an answer--that he wouldn't trust as the truth even if he got it. what he should've expected is exactly what she gave.

more bullshit.

breath leaves him in a low, annoyed exhale. dead pan stare's given directly towards her dark glare. no intimidation meant or felt. just.. annoyance with a sprinkle of just fucking answer what i asked for once. "let me ask you something? why are you not answering them? listen. if we're supposedly--and i mean that as the smallest definition of the word--working together towards the same outcome. then why all the fucking secrets?" head shakes as he turns his mouth towards the glass and finishes what's left before setting it down on a wooden countertop stained with years upon years of spilled booze, water marks and cheap lacquer meant to cover up the mess.

"sounds to me like the only one you're managing to bullshit into thinking they're fighting the good fight as your trusted sidekick is my brother." sardonic smile cast towards her, he barely returns his attention back her way. only from the corner of one eye. before waving the bartender over and asking for another. "so.. forgive me if i'm not willing to chalk it all up to ruby wants what's best for the world." the idea makes him chuckle. a bubbling little noise that plays dully over tired features.

@bloodchic || inbox meme reply || accepting!

i ought to leap over this counter and bash your fucking balls in.

this demon cunt threatening his balls is about as fucking intimidating as an ankle biter dog trying to gnaw its way through his boot. that's how he sees her now. nothing more than a fucking speed bump on the road to getting his brother back. sooner she's gone? the better sam'll be and dean makes no attempt to hide that fact when sam's not around to get that butthurt, sour-faced disapproval pout going on. insults become insults poured on top of more.

should've killed her deader than dead years ago.

regretfully, he didn't and now that he's been to her spawning ground and dug his way back out of the grave he was thrown in upon escaping? something in dean is twisted and wrong and he feels it in his bones while everyone else tells him he's making shit up in his head. that he's being a princess or needs to get over it. he can't and there's reasons why that dig deeper than BOOHOO will ever cure. there's a piece of him that matches her laced underneath the grace buzzing in his skin, his muscles bone and soul. a dark that he fucking desperately wishes he could carve right out of her until she's left---fucking CHRIST. where the hell was he going with that. the coldness that greets her newest lash out is soon veiled by his trademark raised brow and sardonic stare.

mask in place, he leans against the countertop and lifts up the bottle tipping the neck to her in a toast. "would love to see ya try getting over the damn thing first. big leap for you, huh? and when ya land? wouldn't mind having a reason to apologize to sam for ripping that smoke right out the whole i blow into your throat and send your bitch back home."

sam's face twists. it's a bathroom with far too many shades of grime and mildew, a rich biodiversity despite the water not running for who knows how long. with the door closed, the hunter cuts the meat of their palm and begins marking sigils against both above and below. they turn back around, pressing their cut to help it clot close.