Title: Misbegotten

Rating: PG-13

Wordcount: ~500

Spoilers: Up to 4x04, Metamorphosis. (+ Pure speculation).

Characters: Ruby, Sam.

Disclaimer: Supernatural does not belong to me.

Summary: A Ruby drabble, on just what Lilith did to her. Lilith, Lucifer, The Lord, angels, demons and Sam Winchester. It's all colliding and she's running away from the eye of the storm as fast as she can.





Ruby walks away from the boy king and all his untamed power; a power that sends oblivious and uncontrolled ripples through her chest, a power that could easily be ripping out her heart and sending it beating down to hell any moment now.

She runs away because she can’t bear the sickness shuddering its way through her thoughts anymore, can’t bear the fear sliding sluggishly down the spine of her human meat-suit in the form of a cold, grotesque sweat.

It is a pretty spine, she admits, somewhat hysterically, to match a pretty face, and a taut body that still shivers with muscle-memorized pleasure from the night it last belonged to the human girl, the night she walked out of a sleazy, dirty motel room, her inner thighs still trembling weakly from the violent ohgodbestsexofherlife she’d just experienced at the hands of a man who was not quite human anymore.

Ruby has always found that her manner changed from body to body, her mannerisms and mood affected by the limits and balance of the stolen flesh that contained her roiling and rebellious natural form. But her subdued strength, the forced sarcasm, all the soft, humiliating entreaties, those were new, a behaviour that left bitter aftertastes and a growing claustrophobia.

But whatever it was - choking her pretty pale throat so she could hardly throw words like daggers at the looming son of Azazel, the stench twisting down through her power until she had to physically struggle to keep a human veneer over the blank, black windows to her soul – Lilith had done it to her, had punished her for the inexcusable treachery of daring to tread a path of rebellion against her mother.

The mother of monsters and demon-spawn had put the fear into her, had, with the brutal and surgical efficiency of a razor blade, infused her wayward daughter with the sweeping sickness that ravaged her existence and effectiveness on Earth. There were no words, no mighty symbol or sound that could encompass the mockery Lilith had made of her, muzzling her within the nauseous fumes of her own overweening terror.

And Ruby, already so brittle like glass, a vessel overflowing with the tensions of human memory, demonic instinct and hard-bitten ambition, had been clinging with cracked fingernails to her very last guns.

When the fear of God strikes her it is the last chord in a frantic dirge of events that had spiralled far out of her ability to control or even to comprehend. The terror becomes horror and if she has to spend even just one more moment in the presence of the Goddamned Sam Winchester she might just scream, and keep on screaming until the ribs of the fragile fleshpot cracked asunder and tore its skin into bloody quarters, until her black self crept sullenly out through the cracks and dissipated into the void.

Her terror had become horror, because truly, down in her ransacked depths, she knows that what Lilith had done, that all Lilith had done was to show her the face of the Morningstar; a thing so monstrous in its perfection that even the lingering trauma had crippled her.

And now, even more than that, the presence of angels on Earth has assured her of just one more, utterly crucial thing along with the existence of Lucifer.

God, in his tall heaven, is a truth of the universe.

No matter what happens now, she is damned by both for siding with their misbegotten and unwanted child.