Malleus Maleficarum | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader
Warnings: angst, smut (MDNI 18+ ONLY), recovering from a sexual assault (heed this warning and take care of yourself, lovie), heeaavvvyyy discussions of Dean's deal/death, canon violence, canon gore, witches and things, an apparent suicide/discussions of it (pls be careful bbies)
Word Count: 5157
A/N: These gifs from @shirtlesssammy are my reason for living
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Now that Christmas was over, Dean wanted to get back to hunting as quickly as possible. He stumbled across a case where a woman’s cause of death had been bleeding from the mouth after all of her teeth had fallen out.
As a result, you and the Winchesters were posing as members of the CDC to interrogate the deceased’s husband.
Nothing of interest came from you talking to him, but Sam discovered a hex bag under the woman’s bathroom sink; the room she was murdered in.
“Aw, gross,” Dean whined while you walked down the street beside him and his brother.
“Yeah, there are bird bones, rabbit's teeth. This cloth is probably cut from something Janet Dutton owned,” Sam explained, picking through the hex bag. He handed it to you for you to examine as well.
“So we're thinking witch?” Dean prompted.
“Well, duh,” you replied. “But this is, like, serious witch stuff. Old World black magic for sure.” You ducked down into the car.
“I hate witches,” Dean grumbled, slamming the door as he sat down in the Impala. “They're always spewing their bodily fluids everywhere.”
“Aren’t you…?” you trailed off, a smirk playing on your lips.
“Oh, ew—” Sam chuckled while his brother glared at you.
“It's creepy, y’know,” the older brother continued, “it's down right unsanitary.”
“Yeah, well, someone definitely had it out for Janet Dutton,” Sam added.
“Yeah, someone who snuck into that house and planted the bag. So what are we thinking, we're uh, looking for some old craggy Blair bitch in the woods,” Dean suggested.
“Could be anyone, man. Witches are literally the girl next door,” you replied.
“Great. How do we find 'em?”
“This wasn't random; someone in Janet Dutton's life had an ugly ax to grind. We find the motive—”
Dean cut Sam off. “We find the murderer.”
Sam nodded, and Dean pulled the car away from the Duttons’ house.
*** All you and the brothers could think to do was continue to stake out the surviving Dutton’s whereabouts to see if another attack happened. Sure enough, as Dean pulled into the diner parking lot you’d followed Paul Dutton to, he collapsed to the floor outside of his car.
Before Dean could stop the Impala, you were hitting the ground running toward the man.
“Check the car!” you heard Dean yell while you tended to Paul.
You hauled his choking body up from the gravel and positioned yourself behind him to perform the Heimlich maneuver. You knew with a witch after him, this was likely futile until Sam could get the hex bag and burn it. “Sammy!” you yelled.
“I know, I know!” he replied.
“Got it!” Dean shouted, and Paul soon stopped choking.
You let go of Mr. Dutton and turned to the burning hex bag on the ground.
“You okay?” Dean asked Mr. Dutton.
“What the hell is happening to me?!” Paul exclaimed.
“Someone murdered your wife and now they're trying to kill you, that's what's happening to you,” the older brother answered sternly. “That's impossible! There's no way—”
“If we hadn't been following you, you'd be a doornail right now. Now, who wants you dead?” Dean pulled no punches, and you loved that about him.
Paul explained to you that he’d had an affair with a young woman named Amanda, and he broke it off with her about a week ago.
Immediately, the three of you set off to the girl’s house; as Mr. Dutton had given you her address thanks to Dean’s insistence.
When you opened the door to the house, though, you found Amanda covered in her own blood on her altar.
“That's a curveball,” Dean commented.
With the barrel of your gun, you nudged where you thought the source of the blood was: her wrists. Sure enough, three vertical gashes on each wrist came into view. “Jesus,” you breathed out, wincing in discomfort and a twinge of compassion.
The smell of rotting food and blood in the room was overwhelming, and it was beginning to catch up to you. You buried your nose in the crook of your elbow to try and get some relief.
Sam said, “Looks like she was working some heavyweight evil here.” You turned around and jumped back suddenly, startled by the fact that you nearly walked into a rabbit corpse hanging from the ceiling.
“Oh, god!” Dean exclaimed when he saw what happened. “Fuckin’ witches! Seriously man, come on!”
“Guess we know where she got the rabbit's teeth from,” the younger brother grimaced.
“Poor rabbit,” you whined. You took out your pocket knife and cut the ropes hanging him from the ceiling.
“Well, Paul sure knows how to pick 'em, huh? It's like Fatal Attraction all over again,” Dean commented. He turned to you gently laying the rabbit on the floor and covering him in a blanket nearby. “And why does the rabbit always get screwed in the deal?! The poor little guy.”
“You know what I don't get, Dean?” added Sam. “If she was so bent on revenge, why do this?”
“Well, she got Janet Dutton, thought she finished off Paul, decided to cap herself and make it a spurned lover's hat-trick,” he shrugged.
Something about that didn’t seem right to you. “But where’s the knife she would’ve killed herself with? She didn’t alakazam those cuts on her wrists.”
Sam looked under the table Amanda laid on. “I think she’s onto something, Dean. Look.” He pulled a hex bag out from under the table and tossed it at his brother.
“Another hex bag? Come on!” Dean groaned. He tossed it on the table and took out his phone. “Looks like we got a hit, huh? A little witch-on-witch violence?” He held his phone to his ear. “I'd like to report a dead body, 309 Mayfair Circle… My name? Yeah, sure my name is—'' and then he clicked it off. You had been counting to make sure he stayed under the forty-second limit to avoid the call being traced, and were just about to cue him that he was running close on time.
“Why are witches ganking each other?” Dean continued.
“I don't know, but I think maybe we got a coven on our hands,” Sam said.
***
Later that night, you and Dean laid together in your shared bed; fortunately, in a separate room from Sam.
Dean kissed up your neck back to your lips, and you sighed contently into him. When he began to trail his hand down to your panties, you flinched.
“What, what’s wrong?” he asked, immediately breaking the kiss.
“I don't know,” you replied. “I, uh, I haven’t been having any problems recently, I don’t know why this is happening.” Panic began to grip your chest.
“Sweetheart, it hasn’t even been a year yet. I’m not expecting you to be completely over what happened to you,” Dean said. His understanding was frustrating you, for some reason.
“Dean, you only have a few months left,” you huffed, sitting up to face him. “We don’t have time for…” you gestured to yourself, “this! I cannot fucking believe the timing of this, man. And I’m fed up with it!” You got up from the bed and began to stomp around in your tank top and underwear. “I can’t have sex with the guy I’m in love with who’s gonna die in fucking three months because of some asshole that decided to rape me right around the same time you made that fucking demon deal.”
“Whoa, why does it sound like you’re angry with me?” Dean questioned, getting up to join you across the room.
“I’m not, I’m not! I’m just—” you ran a hand through your hair and sighed, closing your eyes. “I’m pissed off in general. I- I don’t wanna keep… doing… this.”
“What do you mean ‘doing this’? Don’t tell me—”
“No, Dean, no. I’m not breaking up with you,” you assured him. “I don’t wanna keep freaking out on you when we try to have sex. And I don’t understand why I can’t— I mean, we’ve had sex since then! I don’t fucking—”
“(Y/N), (Y/N), baby, slow down,” Dean said, gently grabbing your wrists. “Listen, it’s okay! I’m not upset!”
“I know you’re not, but I am,” you sighed. “And before you ask, I have no idea what you can do to help. I’m just pissed.”
Dean sighed, looking a little puzzled. “I’m sorry this is happening to you.”
“I’m sorry this is happening to you,” you responded. “I mean, it’s your last fucking year on earth. I’m sure you wanna fuck, like, all the time— I know you, dude, don’t look at me like that— and my fucking vagina and body are out of commission because I can’t get out of my own head. And, god, I wanna fuck you so bad, but I just… I don’t understand what’s wrong with my body.” By the end of your rushed admission, you were crying.
“I’m not gonna let you talk about yourself like that,” Dean replied gruffly. “No fucking way. There’s nothing wrong with you, dammit. I’m not upset with you! So let yourself off the hook, please! Practice getting out of your own head with this, okay? It’s fine. We can just… go to bed. It’s okay.”
“You sound upset, though,” you said meekly.
He turned back around to you. “I’m upset that you’re going through this; not with you. It takes everything in me every day not to hunt that fucker down for what he did to you.”
This pulled a small smile from you, and you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in your chest. “I love you,” you told him.
“I love you, too,” he replied easily.
You pulled away from him. “You do?”
“What?” he smirked down at you. “I’ve said it before.”
“I know, but you always seemed, like, pained when you’ve said it before. You didn’t that time,” you grinned lopsidedly.
“Yeah, well. It’s never pained me, you’re just the first person I’ve ever said it to,” he admitted.
“Aw, Dee.” You pulled him against you, hugging him tightly to thank him for his understanding.
“Shut up,” he growled, pulling you closer with his arms wrapped around your waist.
***
The next day, the boys decided you would be the best person to subtly interrogate the women you’d determined were friends of Amanda’s. In fact, the four women had a book club they’d formed over the last year or so.
With a casserole in hand you’d bought from the supermarket, you walked over to a woman named Elizabeth who was gardening.
“You’ve got quite a green thumb,” you said.
“Excuse me?” she questioned, turning around to you.
“These herbs, I mean. Growin’ ‘em out of season like this; it’s impressive,” you noted. “Sorry, where are my manners? I’m Christine Nicks. I just moved in a few houses down.” You held the casserole out to her.
“Oh! Thank you,” she replied, brushing off her hands. “So, uh… how are you liking it so far?”
“It’s nice!” you paused, feigning thoughtfulness.
“What is it?” she questioned.
“Nothing, it’s just… I heard about this girl who… committed suicide? Just recently?” You watched her reactions to your words carefully, and her expression subtly changed when you mentioned the death.
“Yeah, yeah,” she sighed. “Amanda was her name. She was, uh, a friend of mine.” “Really? I’m sorry to hear that,” you told her.
She nodded.
“Elizabeth? You all right?” you heard a voice ask from behind you.
Y0u turned toward two other women who’d walked up.
“I'm fine, uh, Renee, this is Christine. She just moved into the neighborhood,” Elizabeth introduced.
“Pleasure,” the woman named Renee said. “Renee Van Allen.” She drew her name out as if it was supposed to be of any importance to you.
You eyed her curiously. “Oh, uh, nice to meet you. Were you… friends with Amanda, too?”
Renee seemed surprised by the fact that you knew about the deceased. “Yeah, we all were. It’s been really hard for all of us.” “Yeah,” the other woman spoke up. “I mean, you think you know a person.”
You nodded. “Well, it was nice meeting you ladies. Have a nice one!” You shuffled away, keeping up your girl-next-door character even as you faded from their view.
***
Later that night, you and the brothers drove down a darkened road.
“You should’ve seen it, guys. Belladonna, wolfsbane, mandrake— and she flinched when I mentioned Amanda’s death,” you explained. “I’m sold on Elizabeth at least.
“Well, she's definitely had a good run lately,” Sam added, reading through something he’d tabbed in a notebook, “gone up a few tax brackets; won almost too many raffles. Kinda thing a little black magic always helps with.” He continued, “I don't think she's alone either. Looks like 'Renee Van Allen' has won almost every craft contest she has entered in the past three months.”
“Yeah, a regular Martha Stewart, huh?” Dean chuckled. “Except for the devil worship, I'm thinking that was the coven you met back there, minus one member.”
“Amanda was clearly going off the reservation. What do you think, they killed her to keep up appearances?” Sam questioned.
“Definitely an ‘appearance’ kind of crowd,” you noted.
“If they killed the nut-job, should we, uh, thank them or what?” Dean questioned, quirking a brow.
“They're working black magic, too, Dean. They need to be stopped,” Sam replied simply.
“Like, ‘stopped’ stopped?” you prompted, intrigued to see what Sam’s answer would be.
Sam looked at you as if to say, “Of course.”
“They’re human, Sam,” Dean reminded his brother.
“They’re murderers,” he stated.
“Damn, I’m proud of you, Sammy,” you remarked.
Dean’s eyes flicked to yours in the rearview mirror. You could see the smirk pulling at his lips. “Burn, witch, burn.”
Suddenly, the Impala stuttered and choked, the headlights flickering.
“What the fuck?” Dean questioned.
The vehicle stopped in front of a figure standing in the road.
“Ruby,” Sam breathed out.
You grabbed the Colt from your duffel bag.
Sam had gotten out of the car before you and Dean, and you nodded to Dean in silent communication as you stowed the Colt in your jacket pocket.
“Sam, listen to me,” you heard the demon saying, “there's no time.”
“For what? What are you talking about?” Sam questioned.
“You have to get out of town.”
Within your jacket’s pocket, you aimed the Colt at Ruby.
“Never had the pleasure,” Dean deadpanned.
The blonde ignored Dean’s flippance and cut her eyes at you. “Whatcha got there? Just happy to see me?”
“Sure,” you glared.
“Point that thing somewhere else,” Ruby instructed.
Dean laughed coldly. “Yeah, right.”
“Sam, please. Go. Get in the car and don't look back,” Ruby begged the younger brother.
“Why? I don't understand,” the brunet worried.
“We can take care of a few kitchen witches, thanks,” Dean commented.
“I'm not talking about witches, you jackass. Witches are whores,” she spat.
“Can’t argue with you there,” you muttered.
“I'm talking about who they serve,” the demon finished.
You were confused for a moment, but it soon dawned on you. “Demons.”
Ruby nodded. “Yeah. And there's one here, now.”
“Oh, what, you mean, besides you?” Dean barked.
Ruby continued to ignore Dean, which you could tell was beginning to aggravate him. “Sam, it knows you're in town, and it's gonna come after you, and it’s way more than you can handle.”
Dean turned his attention to his brother. “Oh, come on, what is this, huh? Please tell me you're not listening to this crap!”
“Put a leash on your brother, Sam, if you wanna keep him,” Ruby cooed without looking in his direction.
“Watch your mouth,” you warned, cocking the gun.
“Guys, look, just chill out,” Sam pleaded.
“No! No! She's messing with your head; god knows why, that's who they are!” the older brother answered.
“I'm telling you the truth,” the demon insisted.
“And I'm telling you to shut up, bitch.”
“I'm sorry, why are you even a part of this conversation?!”
“Oh, I don't know, maybe because he's my brother, you black-eyed skank!”
Ruby scoffed. “Oh, right, right. You care about your brother so much. That's why you're checking out in a few months, leaving him all alone?”
“Shut up,” you hissed.
“At least let me try and save him, since you won't be here to do it any more,” she replied, ignoring you.
“I said, shut up!” you screamed. Just before you could fire at her, she disappeared.
You turned back to Dean and Sam, who were both looking at you strangely. Sam looked like a lost puppy, and Dean just seemed angry at this whole interaction. You just stormed back off to the Impala.
***
Back at the motel, you and Dean joined Sam in his motel room to find out what exactly had been going on with him recently.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Dean questioned angrily, stomping into the room behind his brother.
“What?! What the hell was I thinking?” Sam shot a glare at you.
“Don’t look at me like that,” you answered. “She’s a demon. We can’t trust her, man. They want us dead; we want them dead.”
“Oh, that's funny; I remember that demon chick in Ohio, Casey? Dean didn't want her dead,” Sam argued.
Dean took the opportunity to defend himself. “Yeah, well she wasn't stringing me along like a fish on a hook.”
“No one's stringing me along!” Sam declared. “Look, I know it's dangerous, that she is dangerous, but like it or not, she's useful.”
“No! We kill her before she kills us,” Dean said.
“Kill her with what? The gun she fixed for us?” Sam scoffed.
“Whatever works.”
“Dean, if she wants us dead, all she has to do is stop saving our lives.”
Dean headed over to the sink to turn the water on and splash it on his face.
“Look, we have to start looking at the big picture, Dean, start thinking in strategies and– and moves ahead,” Sam finished. “It's not so simple, we're not— we're not just hunting anymore. We're at war.”
“Listen, I agree with you to some degree,” you sighed. “I’m just not sure how much I like the idea of working so closely with a demon.”
“Are you feeling okay?” Dean asked his brother while he dried his face off.
Sam sighed. “Why are you always asking me that?”
“Because you're taking advice from a demon, for starters. And by the way, you seem less and less worried about offing people. Y’know, it used to eat you up inside,” Dean reminded him.
“Yeah, and what has that gotten me?”
“Nothing, but it's just what you're supposed to do, okay? We're supposed to drive in the fucking car and fucking argue about this stuff. You know, you go on about the sanctity of life and all that crap.” Dean rubbed his stomach with a grimace.
You looked at your partner in concern as he moved to sit on the bed.
“Wait, so– so you're mad because I'm starting to agree with you?” Sam laughed.
Dean shook his head. “No, I'm not mad, I'm— I'm— I'm worried, Sam— I'm worried because you're not acting like yourself.”
“Yeah, you're right, I'm not. I don't have a choice,” Sam stated.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Look, Dean, you're leaving – right? And I gotta stay here in this craphole of a world. Alone. So the way I see it, if I'm gonna make it, if I'm gonna fight this war after you're gone, then I gotta change.”
You heart sank, and you couldn’t bear to look at either of the two brothers.
“Change into what?” Dean grimaced.
“Into you. I gotta be more like you.” It almost made you smile bittersweetly at how much Sam admired his brother. However, you liked Sam for the fact that he was Sam. You agreed with Dean that Sam was supposed to be the morally gray one, and Sam changing under these circumstances made you sad.
Suddenly, Dean groaned in pain.
“What’s wrong?” you asked worriedly, rushing to Dean’s hunched over form. “Baby, look at me.”
Dean clutched at his stomach, seeming hardly able to force words out. “I don't know. Oh— (Y/N), something's wrong— bunch of knives inside of me—”
“Dean?!”
His head was almost between his knees by this point.
“Son of a bitch—” Dean cursed, hissing.
“Dee, hey—”
“The coven, man, it's gotta be the coven.”
You immediately rushed to the bathroom and threw open the cupboards below the sink in search of the hex bag. You threw things about frantically; opening boxes and dumping their contents out.
You heard Dean choke once more, and your heart nearly stopped. You ran to him to find him lying on the floor next to a puddle of blood he’d sputtered up.
“Did you find it?!” Sam asked frantically. He’d torn the covers off his bed and sliced the mattress open with his knife.
“No!” you replied.
Dean’s coughs got weaker, and he was quickly fading as you shifted to lay his head in your lap, facing you.
You saw Sam grab the Colt from your bag. “Sam, what are you doing?”
He moved toward the door wordlessly.
“Sam!” you called.
“I’ll be back soon,” he told you, and the door slammed shut behind him.
You kept Dean’s head in your lap, unsure of what to do. Dean continued to grunt and shift painfully, and you just tried to keep him as comfortable as possible. “Stay with me, Dee. Please, baby.”
All you got was a groan in response, but you knew he was trying.
Suddenly, the door to the room was kicked open.
You kept Dean cradled against you. “Stay back, bitch.”
Ruby shoved you aside harshly without replying to you and hauled Dean up by the collar. She forced his mouth open as Dean used his diminishing strength to try and shove her away.
You tried to pull her off Dean, but it was no use. She dumped some sort of dark liquid down his throat, getting you off her easily.
Dean was still struggling, but she soon got off him.
“Stop calling me ‘bitch’,” Ruby panted.
“Why did you save him?” you asked, slightly in awe and slightly apologetic.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” she replied.
“Okay, jeez,” you scoffed. “But… thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Ruby said. “Next time you point that gun at me, I'm not gonna just disappear, understand?”
You nodded and moved to help Dean clean the blood and Ruby’s liquid cure off his face.
“What was that stuff? God, it was ass. It tasted like ass,” Dean groaned as you wiped around his mouth. He gently brushed you off him and took the towel from you to do it himself.
“It's called witchcraft, short bus,” she deadpanned. Ruby turned and walked out of the room.
“You're the short bus... short bus,” Dean grumbled.
***
As soon as Dean had enough strength to move, you and he were off to find Sam. You knew he’d gone to the Van Allen house where the women held their “book club,” and Dean sped there in a stolen car.
You burst through the front door of the house with a sawed-off shotgun in hand. When you did so, you discovered the demon possessing one of the women you’d met, and Elizabeth standing frozen in fear.
Before you could make a move, you were thrown back against the wall.
“Three for one,” the demon smirked. “Lovely.”
“Wait,” you heard Ruby say. She walked in with her hands raised in surrender. “Please. I just... came to talk.”
“You made it out of the gate,” the other demon smirked. “Impressive. That was a bitch of a fight, wasn't it?”
“Doors out of Hell only open for so long,” Ruby shrugged.
“What do you want, Ruby?”
“I've been lost without you.” Ruby continued to advance on the other demon. “Take me back. That's why I led the Winchesters and their pretty little plaything here.”
Dean looked furious, as were you, and he mouthed, “I told you so” to Sam.
“They're for you,” Ruby continued, “as a gift.”
“Really,” the demon deadpanned.
“Let me serve you again. I've wanted it— I've wanted you— for so long,” she said.
Dean lifted his eyebrows at the flirtation between the two demons. You would have slapped him if you weren’t being held to the wall. In all honesty, though, you were intrigued, too.
“You were one of my best,” the demon smiled.
Ruby glared and tried to take her knife out to stab the other demon, but said demon caught it in mid-air.
“But then again, you always were a lying whore,” said the demon.
The two demons struggled against each other as you and the Winchesters were powerless to help or hinder. Elizabeth was cowering in fear behind the couch, and Renee’s dead body laid limply on the floor.
The demon-possessed witch stood with a hot poker in her hand. “You're really telling me you threw in your chips with the Animaniacs here?”
Ruby tried to stand, but the demon hit her across the face with the poker.
Elizabeth suddenly stood to move to her altar and began to dump pins onto a cloth littered with demonic symbols.
“Come on, get up!” the demon roared.
Ruby panted, unmoving, with blood coming out of her nose.
“I said, get up!” The possessed witch hauled Ruby up by her jacket. “We've been here before, haven't we?” She chuckled to herself and turned to Sam. “She didn't tell you? Pretty mortifying, I guess. She was one of mine. I turned her out a long, long time ago. Ruby here was a witch. Of course, that was when you were human.”
You were surprised by that, honestly, but shouldn’t have been given the work she’d done to help Dean.
The witch threw Ruby back down onto the debris of the bookcase she’d been nearly put through.
“Didn't want your friends to know that all those centuries back, you sold yourself to me? Embarrassing, I guess. But don't worry, love, no secrets where you're heading, remember?” The demon taunted. She began to chant in Latin, and black smoke began to curl out of Ruby’s mouth. Suddenly, she began to cough, and you realized Elizabeth was chanting under her breath at the altar.
The possessed witch stumbled and coughed harder, and her weakened powers allowed you freedom from the wall. You slid Ruby’s discarded demon knife over to Dean as the demon killed Elizabeth, and Dean took the demon’s distraction as an opportunity to kill her. He stabbed her in the back quite a few times to ensure the demon was truly dead. Your partner dropped the body to the ground, and he moved to help Sam up.
“Go,” Ruby ordered, looking slightly embarrassed from her position on the floor. She wiped the blood away from her mouth. “I'll clean up this mess.”
You stood between the two brothers, and the three of you helped each other toward the door. You could feel the Winchesters turn to take one last look at Ruby, but you kept your eyes forward. With your urging, they continued walking.
***
Somehow, the three of you made it back to the motel safely. You and Dean were outside of your motel room, just sitting on the hood of the Impala and talking, when the neon lights of the motel’s sign flickered.
Dean jumped off his car, shielding you with his body protectively. You turned to see Ruby standing in the shadows a few feet off.
“So, the devil may care after all; is that what I'm supposed to believe?” Dean asked her. He led you toward the demon.
“I don't believe in the devil,” she replied, arms folded.
“Wacky night,” he commented. “So let me get this straight, you were human once, you died, you went to Hell, you became a…” The blonde nodded, turning to leave.
“How long ago?” Dean asked, stopping her in her tracks.
“Back when the plague was big,” was her simple reply.
“So… all of you guys— you were human once?” you questioned, slightly worried for the answer.
“Every one I’ve ever met,” Ruby shrugged.
“Well, they sure don't act like it,” Dean scoffed.
“Most of them have forgotten what it means, or even that they were. That's what happens when you go to Hell, Dean. That's what Hell is— forgetting what you are,” Ruby explained.
Dean, of course, kept up his plucky attitude. “Philosophy lesson from a demon. I'll pass, thanks.”
Your breath, however, had caught in your throat at Ruby’s description of Hell.
“It's not philosophy. It's not a metaphor. There's a real fire in the pit. Agonies you can't even imagine,” Ruby continued.
“No, I saw ‘Hellraiser’. I get the gist.”
Ruby turned and started to walk away. “Actually, they got that pretty close. Except for all the custom leather.” Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks again. “The answer is 'yes', by the way.”
“I’m sorry?” Dean asked.
“Yes, the same thing will happen to you.”
You could’ve sworn your heart stopped.
Ruby continued her torturous explanation. “It might take centuries, but sooner or later, Hell will burn away your humanity. Every Hell-bound soul— every one— turns into something else. Turns you into us. So yeah. Yeah, you can count on it.”
Dean tried to keep his head held high, but you knew him well enough to know he was beginning to break. “There's no way of saving me from the pit, is there?”
Ruby sighed. “No.”
“Then why'd you tell Sam that you could?” you asked, finding the ability to speak.
“So he would talk to me. You Winchesters can be pretty bigoted. I needed something to help him get past the—”
Dean cut Ruby off. “The demon thing? It's pretty hard to get past.”
The blonde laughed. “Look at you. Tryin' to be all stoic. My god, it's heartbreaking.”
‘She’s not wrong,’ you thought.
“Why are you telling me all this?” Dean questioned.
“I need your help. Yours, too, (Y/N).”
“With what?” you asked.
“With Sam. The way you stuck that demon tonight— it was pretty tough,” Ruby addressed Dean. “And (Y/N), I’ve seen you in action, too. Sam's almost there, but not quite. You need to help me get him ready for life without you. To fight this war on his own.” She walked away again.
You were unsure why she was talking as if you wouldn’t be there to help Sam as well.
“Ruby!” Dean called, making the demon pause. “Why do you want us to win?”
She turned back around. “Isn't it obvious? I'm not like them. I don't know why. I– I wish I was, but I'm not. I remember what it's like.”
“What what's like?”
“Being human.”
Dean looked at the ground, lost in thought, and you stared at Ruby while she disappeared from view.
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