They call me the Anti-Christ

ooc: next in the storyline after this.

"Two years, Ruby."

"Sam, I didn't promise you an overnight fix."

"Two. Fucken. Years."

Ruby rolled her eyes and ate another fry while she watched Sam flipping through the rough journal he always carried. It was something he had started to write in about the last time they had seen Dean Winchester - a fact that Sam was going back and checking by reading his old entries.

"And think of how far you've come in those two years, Sam. You've moved in leaps and bounds because you haven't had anything to hold you back. We're so close..."

"We've been close for over a year now, Ruby." Sam rolled his eyes up to look at her through his bangs. Time had taken it's toll on the younger Winchester, as well as his powers. His face was harder with deep shadows under his eyes. His hair was long and shaggy, long overdue for a trim. His jaw was set in a permanent frown, the smirk and fun in his personality hidden with the soft reservedness that Sam had shown for most of his life.

( . . . )

ooc: following THIS. Future AU verse. Dean = jstliketherifle. Not binding on any other muse

What's the name of the game that we are playing
Boy whenever I think that we are winning
Then you roll the dice take a slide
Right back to the one from 99
-Snakes and Ladders by Joss Stone


The Following January...

Sam stood in a phone booth, his forehead pressed against the cold glass as he listened to the dial tone. Shakey fingers pressed a series of buttons and he paused before touching the last one. Smears of blood covered the numbers now as Sam slid to the ground, the phone cradled in his arms.

They were outside a motel somewhere. Ruby was working on acquiring them a room, and she told him to stay put. Not to leave the phone booth that was hidden because the streetlamp had burnt out. There was salt around the entire booth, protecting the boy king as he sank to the floor in a bloody, bruised mess.

( The battle wasn't one they had gone looking for )