peaceonearth | Hope is the thing with feathers

Hope is the thing with feathers | weirddreams

She doesn't know how long she was down there and it will be a little while before it occurs to her to ask. Much of the rescue was a blur, a cross between something she'd hallucinated and something she'd hoped for so long ago that she'd almost forgotten it. When Lilith had banished her down here, she'd known it was for eternity. The best that she could expect was her soul would eventually be so twisted that she'd forget who she was. Hope is the thing with feathers; that perches in the soul; and sings the tune without the words; and never stops-at all. She clung to memories of Sam even knowing she ought to let him (and everything else human about herself) go. He'd been the best part of her very long life and impossible to let go. She didn't want to let those memories go because as long as she could replay them in her mind there was something in her world that didn't hurt. Of course, they'd used her memories against her; rooted around in her head and pulled things out to torture her. Even then, she hadn't let those memories go but they'd begun to feel less like something that happened to her and more like something she'd once known about someone else; something she'd already begun to forget.

She thinks she remembers fighting when he'd showed up for her, but she can't be certain if it was real or some fresh, new torture. The residents of Hell hadn't let her go easily and her grasp on reality is still a slippery creature (it will be for a few days at least). She doesn't know how he did it (or why). She's free to roam the bunker, and that still surprises her. That freedom is foreign and scary and everything that she's not accustomed to. The bunker is loud in a different, obnoxious sort of way from Hell. She knows she's supposed to say that it's better and it is; she's not in constant agony, but she's also not entirely sure that this isn't some elaborate illusion designed to wrench fresh agony out of her. Demons do get bored, after all, and they've been trying to break her for longer than she wants to remember. Thus far, most of her time is spent sitting in the corner of the room, her back against the wall.

There's got to be a catch to this. It's far too good to be true.

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It had been ten years give or take a few months. In all honesty, Sam had counted the minutes, hours, and days since he had lost her at one point though somewhere between the second year or third time seemed to bleed into itself. Still he searched for clues and turned over every stone he could to find out if she was still alive and search for her whereabouts as the years went by. It was hard without her at first, in time the empty space where she once was became a hole he was used to. He'd often remember the times it was just them looking for a way to get Dean out of hell and how she pulled him out of his worst moods and do something to give him a good in that. Those were the hardest memories to deal with when they cropped up again. So of course when he had finally gotten information to her whereabouts from a demon that wanted to exchange her for kingship of hell (of course he said told him no and forced the demon to tell him), the memories all came back at once. She would wear his shirt to bed often and smile mischievously. Other times she would advise him against staying up all night and ruin his health and pull him into bed. There was that one time she brought them ice cream and fries in the middle of the night. In either case, those memories fuelled the rescue. Which used the help of Dean and Cas and a few other close friends who were on board because his head wasn't as focused as he needed it.

She did fight when he opened the door and made the first and easily avoidable mistake where he rushed in to gather her up. The other one he had made was being loud, concerned. He recognizes that mistake now with them back in the bunker and a few nail marks on his cheek and hands. He allows Ruby the time to calm down in a room just by herself, never too far away though. He enters some time later with a plate of homemade fries hoping in some small way the smell of them would jog her memory. He says nothing to begin, just places the plate down on the stand opposite to her side of the room corner. He watches her demeanour for a moment.

"You hungry?" he asks after a moment wondering if she will reply. Then talks as if they're having a conversation anyway. "I brought you fries and put the ketchup on the side just like you like it. You remember that, don't you? I can get- get you anything else if you'd like. Ice cream, maybe?" He cracks with a little smiles towards her at the memory even if he can't see any eye contact from her.

She won't even try to calculate how many years that is in Hell. It won't do either of them any good. She's glad that he didn't spend his time dwelling over her, but she's also selfishly glad that he didn't forget her. She can't say that she'd wanted him to move on without her, but she'd certainly expected that he would. She didn't even know it was possible to rescue someone from Hell. The memories she'd used to wrap around her humanity had been smaller, little details from their life together like his smile just after he laughed. It had been too hard to hold onto bigger memories and bigger moments.

It's not as if there's a manual for something like this. Her gaze catches on the scratches on his cheek and something twists inside her a little. She doesn't say anything at all as she looks from his cheek to the plate. She takes a slightly gasping breath (she's still getting used to breathing) and the smell of the fries don't exactly jog her memory, but it does introduce a feeling of doubt and unease. They didn't offer her food in Hell. There was no reason for it. Her heart is hammering in her chest (something else she's still getting used to as well). She watches Sam with an obvious wariness and defensiveness, trying to figure out this new game. Her arms are wrapped around her knees.

She narrows her eyes at his question, trying to figure out his motivation and what's coming next. It helps, she's found, if she's prepared for it. This is going to turn dark and it's going to turn bad; she's just not sure when or how. "I don't get hungry," she tells him. Something does tug inside her at the mention of remembering. "You can drop the illusion," she tells him in a hard voice. "I figured this game out after a few years so come up with something new or stop wasting my eternity."

The opposite was true of him; Sam often remembered the bigger moments where as the smaller ones had faded with time or were jogged in situations few and between. He didn't want to forget those bigger moments though. Even if nothing was easy about keeping them at the top of his mind with other bitter sweet memories of her or the times he thought saw her figure flash across his line of sight in places they had been.

If there was a manual for this, he would have found it by now. Unfortunately, there isn't. Sam knows the only way through this is to approach it the old fashioned way by going slow. He notices, for starters, how her eyes catch the side of his face but do not return any of eye contact he has on her. Neither does she really seem like she will jump out and attack. He eases slowly to sit on the edge of the bed with those things taken in account and rolls down the sleeves he had rolled up when he was in the kitchen before; it helps him think. It's his way of saying there is no game or whatever she might be thinking. He's here just to talk with her. Try to get her back. They got her psychically, but not mentally. God knows he won't give up on the small hope.

Okay. In retrospect, he'll admit it was a stupid question to ask her if she was hungry. Things about her are still coming back to him to be honest. Stuff about demons. Troubles is that he sees her as more than that. He looks down with a mixture of emotions somewhere between apologetic and realizing his mistake, following that with a nod accepting her words. "Okay. You don't have to eat," he assures her. "I mean I thought maybe you would like the smell of fries again. I'm not here to force you." Okay. So, obviously that hadn't helped jog her memory and he finds himself deeply disappointed. That's nothing compared to how hard it is to for him to hear that she doesn't believe in where she is. Or that she's safe. "There- There is no game, Ruby. No illusion. It's really me. Promise. I want to prove it to you so, believe me when I say, 'I will.' You're not a prisoner here. Never were... Door is not locked. It never was." His thoughts struggle to even manage saying that much to her because in her shoes he couldn't be sure he'd believe it easily either.

It wasn't that Ruby wanted to lose the big moments. It was just harder to hold onto them than it was the small details. If she could focus hard enough on one little thing, then she could get through whatever pain was planned for her that day.

Later, when she's more convinced that he's real and this is real, she'll ask questions about how he found her and what he did to get her back. She'll remember that yes if there was a manual Sam would be the person to find it. She will also feel so loved once she's convinced that this is real. She watches him intensely, noticing every movement, cataloging every detail. Eye contact is hard right now and there's no reason for the defiance that eye contact implies. She's not going to attack because he is giving her space and not making her feel threatened. She definitely thinks this is a game, but it's not by any fault of his. She'll need some time to figure out that it's not a game. Once she's got a little time to think about it (and once she realizes this is real) she'll be so grateful that he's not giving up on her. Right now, she's too guarded and too wary to feel much of anything else.

He's forgiven simply because it is a show of effort. Besides, things are still coming back to her too (and will be for a long while). It's good that he sees her as more than that. Once she's had a bit of time to analyze this interaction (and she will analyze it) she'll realize that he brought her food because he does think of her as more than a demon, because he's human and he's taking care of her the way he would another human. Even now, he sees her as a person and that's a wonderful thing. The apologetic look makes her brow furrow. She feels bizarrely tumbled and tangled up at the look. It's going to take her a little while to get accustomed to feeling anything again, much less this range of things that Sam makes her feel even now. She tilts her head up a little and inhales, smelling the fries at his suggestion. She hesitates, words resting just behind her teeth before finally speaking quietly. "They smell...good. Salty and-" her pause is almost long enough to be awkward, "hot?" She's not sure that's the right description. It is definitely a concession on her part and a tiny step toward believing this might be real. Oh, Sam. One of these days (soon) she'll hate disappointing him. Her brow furrows again, eyebrows pulling low over her eyes. She listens to his words, turning them over and giving them thought. She's quiet for a long moment before she says anything, eyes finally flickering up to his.

"Be very still," she tells him, her words soft and skeptical. It's not an order or a question, but a plea. She holds that eye contact as she unwraps her arms and slowly gets to her feet, her back touching the wall. She takes a slight, hesitant step toward him. She's not moving to attack him, that much is clear. She takes another step until she's only a couple of feet away from him. She's keenly aware that she's within arms reach. "Stay still."

Her situation is definitely to his own. He knows he has to take his time with her and not jump into how things were before. As for the questions she will have in the future, all she has to do is ask them to have him answer them as honestly as possible. It hadn't been easy to come up with a plan to save her with his mindset. It took the help of everyone willing or on his side. He will tell her everything. She is loved. Hopefully that comes across sooner rather than later. Hopefully her guard will come down when she sees he means only to talk to her and have her open up a little. Gaining her trust first and foremost is the idea here.

It's a big relief to see his effort go noticed at least. She's acknowledging him with more body language than a moment ago when she was shut down and sitting in the corner. Even before that, she was a small ball in the Impala. Watching her react to him with a furrowed brow, it's progress. How he feels about the slow going rate she's opening up is something else. She's still Ruby as far as he is concerned but it gnaws away at him that he let this happen by not looking harder for her and figuring it out sooner. It'll be a long while till he feels it's not his fault. His attention stays on her, and while he glances at the fries momentarily, his eyes watch the way her nostrils sniff the smell of baked potato and ketchup, hoping for a sign she remembers that to her fries are like crack. Anything. He settles in his earlier disappointment and is quiet to allow her the space to speak when she would like. He has to resist the urge to smile too much with her awkward description of fries much less her pause. "You remember correctly," he tells her to be positive. Besides her description isn't technically wrong. This is a good start to have her opening up to small talk with him. He has every bit of patience after ten years to wait a few more seconds for her to hear what he's saying and churn her thoughts over into words.

"Wh- Sure" the request shouldn't be a surprise or take as long as it does (a moment, if that) to actually sink in, but when it does he begins to nod though bobs it about half that. A plea is something he can recognize when he hears one. He searches for clues in the eye contact she holds with him to be see what is there. Her hesitation is clear, as is the indication she won't attack him. He should be able to relax. Instead, he can hear his own heart beat faster for every step she takes that brings her closer to him and the promise not to move feels darkly intimate.

She'll let her guard slip little by little. She'll ask her questions as that guard slips. It will come across once she realizes that this is real. He's already making inroads to gaining her trust even if it doesn't seem like it right now. He's giving her space, not reaching out to touch her, not expecting anything from her. He's doing everything right. She just needs time; this didn't happen to her overnight so it's going to take some time to undo it.

For a while, her body language will probably say a lot more than she does. It probably doesn't help that she doesn't blame him. He wasn't supposed to be able to rescue her nor did she expect he would. She is still Ruby, but that part of her is buried deep and some things have been changed forever, but the fact that she held on as long as she did testifies that she's still Ruby. She doesn't remember; not yet, but she'll get there. The smile is good; his smile is one of the things she remembers. His patience and the way that he doesn't make her feel hurries puts her at ease a little bit. It's going to take her a little while to put her thoughts into words.

She expected him to hesitate and take his time over the request. She knows it's a big request. He's allowing himself to be vulnerable by being still and giving her an advantage if she did want to attack him. He's trusting her and she recognizes that. She swallows hard and takes a ragged breath, that last step closer to him revealing all the tension, hesitation and difficulty she feels. She knows that if he's going to hurt her, it's going to be right now when she's so close. She's trusting him as well. She can hear his heart beating so fast in his chest and part of her wants to tell him that it's okay. She holds her hands up, palm out and open at shoulder height so he can see she doesn't have any weapons and she's got no intention of hurting him. Of course, she's still got her fingernails and she managed to scratch his face up pretty good earlier, but she thinks the gesture counts. After a moment, she reaches out hesitantly to touch him, fingertips of both hands going to his beard. She runs her fingertips along his beard, slowly as she relaxes because he's not hurting her and he is staying still. Eventually, she lays her palms against his beard, along his jaw and cheek. "This is new," she says, but it sounds like a question. She doesn't remember him ever having a beard. "You didn't--before. Have one." She cocks her head a little and her eyes go black. "Your heart is beating so fast."

He tries to keep absolutely still because there's all the time in the world now for them to grow accustomed to each other once again. However, his head tilts ever so slightly back to maintain eye contact as she stands over him and her fingers wiggle like inch worms through his beard. He is trusting her. He is allowing himself to be vulnerable if only to prove to her (or himself) that he deeply loves her even after so many years. It does occur to him in a small way that she could hurt, even attack him again, but his head isn't in any place where he wants to accept that possibility. Neither will he hurt her. The hardest part about her request is resisting the urge to reach out and touch her unwashed yet silky hair, and resist moving away or looking at her gesture in any strange way. Her intention is pretty clear but he does remember what it was like to have her nails rack across his cheekbone. Having them in his beard doesn't make him any less worried for as long as it takes for one heartbeat to skip to the next. His eyes flick down to her hands. It takes him a moment to realize staying still and staying silent are two different things, but when he does, he responds in a hushed voice for her sake. "Yeah, uh. I've been a little busy-" you know recusing her. The beard is just a side effect of nights unslept and mornings slept through with his laptop for a pillow. He can't burden her the facts. He won't. His heart is quite fast and grows faster still either because it says something that she noticed or because her eyes god black unexpectedly. "It's been a long time since I've seen you," he reasons.

She doesn't startle when his head tilts back slightly but she does notice. Her own heart is beating in her chest so fast and so hard that she can hear it. Or maybe, she thinks, it's his heart beating. The concept of love hasn't really occurred to her yet, but she does know that seeing Sam and touching him makes her feel something she doesn't have words for right now. Luckily, it's not a possibility that he has to consider right now. She's got no intention of hurting him. Eventually, she'll ask if she can take a bath (and she'll stay in it until she's pruney. Maybe she'll even remember the pleasure she used to take in baths). She'll apologize at some point for scratching him. The hushed tone seems appropriate and she likes his voice so she doesn't mind that he breaks the silence. She nods a little at his comment about the beard. She can't decide if she likes it or not. It doesn't look bad on him (she's pretty sure that's impossible for him); it's just different. She doesn't truly realize that her eyes have gone black. Her brow furrows and her eyes slip back to hazel. "Because you're scared of me?" She slides one hand out of his beard to rest the palm of her hand against his chest over his heart.

It is plausible that she can hear his heart racing and feel the pulse of his blood pumping with her finger tips, though it is very much more likely her own heart. Part of the rescue operation had been to find a suitable body for her without breaking his own code of morals. They had done that when fate smiled upon them and Cas found out that Ruby's former host a twin sister in a coma who, by all guarantee, was never coming out of it. Her body was alive. He was certain it would take her some getting used to, but if Sam had one thing in mind already, it was to help her transition however he could. Their past still had a hold on him in a way he couldn't let her go without fighting first. Either way, in his mind, there's all the time in the world for her to consider what was and what was not a possibility for them. He would be patient. Though it was entirely another story on how much he wanted too.

He could go even quieter if she needed him to, or whisper in to her ear, but neither of those things, particularly the latter, would be appropriate. He needs her to be able to hear his voice as it is now without frighting her or talking so low it doesn't sound like him at all. He gets the impression that she likes his voice, which makes his lip twitch to one side as a smile. She doesn't have to decide if she likes the beard or not. There's never been any pressure, not now not ever, on anything. Besides he feels it is compliment enough when all she does is nod. Her eyes do unsettle him but he reigns it in, closing his eyes just for a second that maybe all it passes for is a blink. "No. No, not because I'm scared of you," he starts to say with only a faint idea that she can hear his heart beat until her hand moves the spot where its loudest over his heart. "I- It's that I- You are standing pretty close to me and- and it's been years." He wants to tell her how he feels and so so much more than that but it feels safest to only unload so much on her at once.

She hasn't had a heartbeat in so long that she can't say for sure. Ruby hasn't had time to wonder where her body came from or even look at herself in the mirror. Once she does, she'll be grateful that he found a familiar body, the twin to the body that she was in when he fell for her. The patience she appreciates and she'll need. Later, when things aren't quite so overwhelming, she'll also appreciate being told how much he wants.

No, this good. He's right; she needs to be able to hear his regular voice. There's something warm, alive, emotional and Sam about his voice that the demons impersonating him in Hell were never able to get quite right. Of course, she hadn't realized that until this moment. Would it be too much of her to ask him to just keep talking? Especially when she's this close with her hand on his chest she can feel his voice vibrate through his chest and his breath warm the air between them. The beard is a detail that she can focus on, something that is different between Sam and all the different versions they'd used against her in Hell. She's not been around humans enough recently to realize that the way his eyes close is anything but a blink so she doesn't think anything of it. He says that he's not scared of her and she exhales a bit of a breath she didn't realize she was holding and is still for a moment. She's glad he's not scared of her. At the same time, she doesn't understand everything he's not saying. The expression on her face reflects her confusion. She lets both her hands drop to her side and takes a step backward. "I don't think I've ever done very well with personal space and you," she finally says, her words uncertain. In all honesty, she's not sure if that's true or not, but every memory of him that she can scrape up seems to be close and intimate.

She won't have a chance to look in a mirror for some time because it's been removed from her room for everybody's safety, including her own. Later, when he can see things are looking up for her, he will give her back some of the furniture and, of course, share his thoughts with her on what he wants. Best case scenario would be if she overcame shell shock of her time in Hell with his help.

He's just trying to reach out to her in a way that still respects her request, but if it helps her realize something is more right about him than any other version shown to her in the last ten years, it's going better than he could hope for. All she has to do is ask that he keep talking and he would think of something. Maybe the last thing they talked about before or read aloud to each other in bed many years ago, or how he still had it bookmarked on the page they left off on. It was somewhere on the desk in his own room still today. He would talk for hours if she wanted and nearly forget that Dean was pacing outside the room this very instance if she asked. Of course he means it when he tells her that he isn't scared - part of what scared him about her was something they dealt with together long time ago and since then he's seen and even worked with a demon or two whom have given him more to be afraid of. Simply said, it's just not in him to be afraid with what he knows about demons. All he's afraid of is that she won't come back to him. She's confused and he has no idea which part makes her confused the most, which is when his brows lift a little and try to read the situation. She takes a step back and it seems they're taking a step back conversationally. He frowns very slightly, wanting her step back and lost on how to express the thought. He manages a nod to what she is able to remember. "No. When it comes to it, you and personal space, no, uh, you don't work. You remember?" He's really asking what else comes to mind for her.

Edited 2019-03-06 05:37 (UTC)

She doesn't need a mirror for a while anyway. She hasn't noticed that things are missing from the room simply because it's got a lot more in it than her cell in Hell did. She will be okay eventually. She survived Hell once and she didn't have Sam to help her. Of course, her circumstances in Hell were much different, but then they're much different now too, in a good way.

It's a request she'll make of him in soon enough, to keep talking to her. Already she doesn't want him to leave her sight because she's afraid that if this is real, everything will change the moment he walks out of the door. It's a little ironic (and fitting) that they're both afraid of the same thing: the other won't come back. She's confused about what it is about having her close that makes his heart beat so fast; he's not scared (and she believes that right now because he hasn't moved since she asked him not to) but she's not sure why having her close would make his heart beat fast. There's so much good that she's buried deep so that it couldn't be used against her. She doesn't step closer to him, but she doesn't step further away either. She takes a short breath at his question. "Sort of," she admits then exhales. "All of my memories of you are from very close up. Your breath against my skin. The--the way you smell." She hesitates then lifts one hand, giving him time to react and herself time to get away from him if he does react. She finally presses her fingertips against his cheek. "I can't remember what color your eyes are, but you've got a dimple right here when you laugh."

The important thing is that she's seemly comfortable with her space. It helps she hasn't noticed much of what is missing but it could mean she's looking for something she shouldn't be looking for. There's a bed for her though and a newer mattress because she is not a prisoner like he's promised her already.

Soon as she says the words, he'll do his best to keep talking and her engaged. He's not exactly thrilled that he can't stay with her every minute of every day since it's been so long from where he's had her at all. Unfortunately, at some point he will have to walk out that door. The promise he has in his heart though is that he'll check on her every chance he has. She doesn't have to worry if she doesn't understand why his heart beats fast and faster by the second because he'll help her figure that in time. That's another thing he promises in his heart of hearts. If she's buried the good memories of him, that's okay; because he'll help her find those too. The fact that she doesn't take another step away from shows that she's listening to him and he's reaching her. He reaches out more the only he can, with his words. "Good. Good That's a real good start," he tells her with nothing but assurance. Who is he kidding? Her description is flattering and sensual... He tells himself he has to keep his head focus on the progress she's making recognizing him above all else. "What else do you remember? Keep going." Almost without thinking though his breathe comes out in close proximity to her fingers pressed to his cheeks and his eyes focus more intently as if trying to give away their hazel-green color. He's hearing what she tells him and reacting subconsciously in response to most of it. He smiles a little, too, revealing the exact spot she is searching for with her fingers over his cheekbone.

It's fine. Later, she'll re-learn to appreciate more luxurious things like a bed heaped with pillows and blankets or bubble baths. She'll explore that concept that she's not a prisoner later, but right now she's more comfortable sitting in the corner of her room, listening to everything that's going on and trying to figure out what the situation here is.

He doesn't even have to keep her engaged, just the sound of his voice will be enough. Despite wanting to keep him close, she needs some time to process and think about everything. She can't promise that she won't make him convince her all over again that he's him. She can't count the number of times he walked through her cell door in Hell and it was only ever him once, the time he saved her. She does hope he checks on her often; not to put too much pressure on him, but he's her entire reason for any hope right now. She'll uncover those memories and they'll make new ones. She'll start letting him touch her before long as well, but she might need some warning for a while. She is listening and she's desperately hoping this isn't a trick. She wouldn't have stepped away if she hadn't thought she was making him uncomfortable. Her description is flattering and sensual, but for once she doesn't mean for it to be; she's just being honest. She closes her eyes at the feeling of his breath against her fingers. She keeps her eyes closed as she tries to remember. "Your laugh," she finally answers and opens her eyes to look at his. After a moment she speaks. "They're not one color. Your eyes."

How else can he be sure of how she's doing if she does not remain engaged? This experience with finding someone he knows with PTSD after a fight to rescue them isn't his first, but it is the first time he is let in to do anything about it. Of course, he will give her time to process and think, and he will explain it all over to convince her it's really him as many times as needed in between. She can never put too much pressure on him for hoping he checks on her often. His hope is that he doesn't let her down whilst trying to find the best solution and schedule to working with her. The best he will be able to do for her today and tomorrow is check on her once in the morning and again in the evening. It's like her to be honest, even blunt about things without seeing the way he might take it. Perhaps he's been around Dean too long and that contributes to his opinion of her words coming across as flattering or sensual, but he thinks about it a little less as he watches her eyes close and some of her hair comes free from behind her ear. His head tilts slightly and that alone stops him from reaching out to brush the strands back behind her ear. He isn't sure how long he can keep it up though. His eyes also never leave hers per se. "My laugh," he repeats with a nod to help her focus with where she was going with it. Where was she going with it? His smile returns and even grows a little more when he hears that. He'll take that as a compliment about his eyes.

"Hazel." To answer her question. "You have green eyes." He points out only to further the conversation with some self awareness or whatever.

He'll get plenty of experience with her. In any case, he's doing well and she won't be shy about telling him (or showing him) what he isn't doing right. There's no reason he shouldn't take her words as flattering or even sensual. Be flattered and enjoy the moment, Sam. Ruby knows from first-hand experience that the good moments, no matter how small, see you through the dark. She raises one shoulder in a sort of shrug. "I didn't pick what to remember. Some things just stuck." His laugh, his breath, his smell, his smile. It's not much, but it was enough. She takes a few steps back then, her eyes staying on his.

She smiles sort of sadly at him and shakes her head. "No. My eyes are black but I'm glad you found a pretty body," she says as she backs to the corner then sits in the floor, her arms going around her knees. She rests her cheek on the top of her knees. her hair falling around her like a curtain. Sorry, Sam. It's been a difficult day. She needs some quiet and some rest.

When Sam emerges from the room they're keeping Ruby in, Dean is outside the door, pacing. He stops abruptly and looks up to Sam, eyes narrowed as he checks that Ruby hasn't inflicted any more injuries on Sam. "How'd it go in there, Sammy?" Dean asks, his voice softer than his words imply. He's worried about Sam; hell, he was worried about him before, but now he's this thing that he wanted for so long and Dean is worried that it's (Ruby) not going to live up to Sam's expectations.

He'll be relieved when he starts getting the idea he's doing fine by her. Right now it just seems like it's... at most it's under control because it's just the two of them without an audience. However, he is flattered. It's been a while since he's had her company, let alone any of the female variety that made him comfortable. His guard was down with her a little more than it should have been. He assumes his mistake about the color of her eyes is why she distances herself from him and his eyes give her this apologetic look.

He knows now for future reference that he should not call anything but her black eyes hers. It makes sense given that she's a demon, he thinks. It's not all he wishes she would feel she had though. Once he might have thought differently about human bodies belonging to only their human host but that's changed. The rules didn't apply to Cas, for instance. And it was made certain that no one was still one inside the body they gave Ruby. Also she has him. He wanted her to feel that but before he could consider the words convey that, he had watched her return to her corner and decided better to than to push her to anymore.

Eventually he stands up slowly, half turned away from her but half turned towards her for what it offers with making her comfortable and him safe. "Sorry. I- I know you're right about your eyes. Um. You look like you could rest so- We'll talk later, then. I promise."

When he exits, he closes the door quietly as possible for Ruby's sake. At the same time, he feels free to move again and tilts his head from one side to the other, then back slightly, to release the pensive energy that had built his shoulders. He knew Dean was probably pacing outside but seeing it is another thing. He exhales with a certain amount of dismay and shrug to answer Dean first. "Not good. ...But not bad either. It's exactly what any of us could expect of with this kind of thing." Of course, what's expected and what he hoping for are two different things. No, it's not at all what he wanted, and while it may look like he's only feeling that right now, he's also not ready to give up yet. If anything, he's feeling like the last hurdle to gaining her back has just started. "It's just... gonna just take some time."

Later, Ruby will be selfishly glad that Sam hasn't had any female company that made him comfortable. For the moment, she's not thinking much about that. He's not wrong per se, but that's not the only thing that has her distancing herself. The apologetic look he gives her is another thing to puzzle over, as is his apology. It's been a very long time since anyone was apologetic toward her.

Right now, it's the only thing she feels she has; however, she'll get beyond that with some time and some care. She'll be glad that someone changed his mind about host bodies and possession. Of course, she doesn't even know angels are real right now. She hasn't exactly been in the loop. Unfortunately, she hasn't even noticed that she's alone in this body simply because she's not thinking much about having a body. That'll come later.

She looks up at his words, that confused expression on her face. She's clearly waiting for something to hurt. She hesitates then nods in response to his promise. Her eyes never leave his figure until the door shuts then she goes back to resting her cheek on her knees.

Sorry, Sammy. Dean is worried about him, which means he's pacing in front of the door. Dean's brows are pulled together, the concern obvious on his face as he listens to Sam. He hesitates, knowing that playing the devil's advocate (pun intended) won't be welcome. "Yeah?" His eyes go to the closed door then to Sam's cheek. "So...you think it's safe? we could salt the door just in case."

There. That's not too...confrontational, right?

It fills him with a little sense of encouragement to come back sooner rather than later when he catches her response on his way out. The door as promised much earlier is not locked behind him. She can test that out when she's ready. And fortunately for her, she can also find him easily since these days names on boards are listed on the rooms to help hunters coming in and out with finding their assigned rooms.

He gets that. Sam is more worried about Ruby to really know what to do about Dean's concern though. He could assure his brother all is fine or that he knows what he's doing (that's a white lie he tells himself, at least) but he considers his words more carefully than that. Ruby deserves a chance in his mind and he made the promise that she can leave her room, but he does recognize where the bunker with other hunters can be a recipe for disaster. "I think-" he exhales. "I think we need to give her a chance and talk to the others." Then he could decide how safe it was and go from there. On thing for sure is that Dean's opinion matters the most to him and he watches to see how else Dean may react.

Later, in the middle of the night, when it's quiet and most everyone has gone to sleep, it's likely that Ruby will venture out and test Sam's promise about open doors. She'll also take note of the names of the hunters here and maybe when Sam comes out of his room he'll find her sitting in the hallway outside his room, at least as long as no one else is in the hallway.

Sam doesn't need to worry about Dean. He would definitely recognize that bullshit if Sam spouted it. There's no way that everything is fine or that Sam really even knows what he's doing right now. Dean hesitates then nods. "Okay. We'll talk to everyone tonight at supper. We've gotta give them the option to salt their doors though," Dean warns. "They're not going to feel safe otherwise." Because whether Sam likes it or not, having a demon in the bunker is dangerous.

In that case, when the dawn rises, Sam will likely find her crouched in the hallway and ask her if she would like to join him in his morning routine. He still jogs before breakfast, but these days for a shorter period of time to make it back before the morning hustle of twenty-plus hunters in the bunker kitchen looking to start their day. Fortunately, no one else should stumble upon her unless they're headed to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

No, it is not safe having a demon in the bunker. Sam knows that to be true of Ruby even despite his reluctance to put her into that category. At the very least, he can't and won't go back on his word to her whether it's stupid or not. He won't throw away how trust she's earned ten years ago. Sam appreciates Dean for not questioning his opinion and for giving him a valid option to bring to the table rather. "No. Yeah, you're right. We can't leave them without an option or two." He takes Dean's warning seriously and begins to consider other options might be there to give. "All I need is time to consider a few more options...and time to sort this out."

Out of curiosity, Ruby will probably join him, but keep her distance, retreating to her room when they return so that Sam can go eat with the humans that have to eat.

Oh, Dean is questioning Sam's thinking, but Sam isn't in a place where he will hear Dean unless he broaches it carefully. Now is not the time, but he'll continue to talk to Sam and to keep communication about this open between them. If nothing else, Sam will probably need someone to talk to. Dean glances at the closed door and back at Sam. "You know, Sammy, there's no shame in admitting you got in over your head with this. We'll figure out a solution if you get there, okay?"

Ruby will go jogging with Sam, but she retreats back to her room for the rest of the day. It's quiet and dark by the time Sam comes back into her room and asks if she'd like to take a bath. Once in the tub, Ruby discovers (remembers) the comfort she once took in baths. She sits in the bath until the water goes cold and her skin turns pruney then gets dressed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved tee shirt Sam had given her before she'd gone into the bathroom. She comes out of the bathroom, hair still wet and pulled over one shoulder. After the bath, she even feels a little more ready for Sam's suggestion of food being eaten in the kitchen.

Should Ruby join him for a run, it would be the high note of his day. The rest of what she does after is completely up to her and what she is comfortable with, but he would hope she is comfortable to eat with him in the future. Potato pancakes are something he could make for the two of them instead of a bowl of cereal.

Well, Dean isn't vocalizing those questions at least so it counts for something. If anything though, Dean is one of the few he can talk to and trust so he will keep communication open with this. Honestly, it's the other hunters whom have a right to be in the bunker as much as any of them that worry him. Noticing Dean's glance to the door behind him, he tries not to but does turn his head with a slight glance over shoulder.

Sam hears Dean but shakes his head. "I- No. I know there isn't. Believe me. I'm not at the point where I want to quit. It's, uh, it's barely been a week."

Sam provides her with all the necessities she will need and more when she agrees. Along with the shirt and jeans borrowed from Mary, there's a toothbrush with (discount) toothpaste, a comb, and more thoughtful on his part his own shampoo. He waits outside the door for the most part, occasionally guiding people by or stepping away for a moment to see the straggles in. By the time she comes out, he is waiting with another towel because as memory serves he can anticipate her hair not being dry. He pro-offers it to her with a smile, seeing her cleaned up. "Take this to dry your hair," he advises. He'll settle on making those potato pancakes given they're the breakfast alternative to fries.

In that case, he'll get a high note. She'll come around to eating with him. It'll just take some time, like everything else on this journey.

Dean notices the glance (right now Dean notices everything about Sam). See, Dean doesn't see it that way; this is their home. The hunters are guests in their home and if they don't like what's going on, they can stay somewhere else. That's another conversation for another time.

Dean nods at Sam's assurance. "Okay. You need something, ask. I may not have been crazy about this whole idea, but you're my brother." He hopes that goes without saying that if Sam needs something, he can ask.

The shampoo is an added luxury on top of the hot bath. It smells like Sam and even though she's still uncertain (all of the time) that he's real, the smell is comforting. She notices that he provides all of the necessities as well that little luxury and it means more than she has words for right now. Ruby isn't used to being treated like a person (anymore). The extra towel for her hair surprises her and she hesitates a moment before she takes it from him, wrapping it around the ends of her hair and squeezing it, holding it there. She's not used to saying thank you and please either, but she manages to whisper "thanks,". She watches him, eyes wide. She's still a little wary of him, but slowly that wariness is being replaced by pleasant surprise. She will love potato pancakes.

Ethically, it doesn't feel right to Sam for him to think like Dean; this place was home, sure, but his opinion was that the needs of the few (in this case Ruby and himself) couldn't justifiably outweigh the needs of the many. He wouldn't convince himself that this conversation wouldn't come up at the meeting.

Sam nods, musing to himself how sometimes Dean knows exactly what to say to improve his outlook on things. Of course, he'll do his best to ask if he should something. "Don't worry. You... or Cas will be the first I ask, and Dean- Thank you. You are my brother, but you didn't have to be on board. The fact that you are means a lot to me." Yes, feelings are being expressed. Sam will let it go there and finish thanking Dean with a pat to the shoulder, then turn to go. If there's to be a meeting after dinner, he needs to look at something first.

He gave her his shampoo not just for the reason that her hair could use it, but for the reason that he still sees her as a person, an entity with a soul even, and thinks she deserves to feel that way. He expects the visible surprise on her face now that he's getting to know her case a little more and gently smiles at her reaction in a calm manner, doing nothing else for a moment. Yeah. He would love it if he could reach out and ruffle her hair a little in towel, dry it like he used to, but he refrains. Her thanks says enough. Without taking his eyes off her, his body turns and body language asks in a casual way if she would like to follow him. He begins to head for the kitchen, hoping she will follow. Potato pancakes for two is the idea. To begin with, he will peel the potatoes and grate them into thin slices before throwing them into the pan.

Hope is the thing with feathers | weirddreams

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