gavemea_45 | (no subject)

She's lying. She's got to be.

At least it'll be easy enough to check. Sam makes a list of names, drawing on both his own memory and the things John Winchester had recorded in his journal.

He waits until Dean's gone out before he starts making calls.

"Hi, this is Phil Jones. I needed to check some facts with your secretary... It was a fire that occurred on November 24, 2006. Lawrence, Kansas, that's right..."

One at a time, he starts crossing names off the list.

"I'm trying to get in touch with Steve Hardecker... oh. Could you, uh, tell me when he died?"

"This is police chief Phil Jones. Can you check the records for a Robert Campbell? July 19th, 2001?"

"Dead on arrival. Right. What I'm after is the cause of death. ... a heart condition? Wasn't he a cardiac surgeon? Shouldn't he have known about that?"

Slowly, steadily, the numbers of the dead increase.

"I'm looking for information on Mrs. Wallace's death. Two deaths. I see. Who was the other?"

"Ed Campbell. Uh-huh... were there any survivors? No, that's all I needed. Thanks for your time."

He disconnects the last call and drops the phone on the desk, then sits down on the bed and stares blankly into space for some time.

Eventually Sam digs a crumpled napkin out of his jeans-pocket and unfolds it. He looks down at the number written there for almost a full five minutes before reaching for his phone.

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"It could be," he mutters, stubbornly, but doesn't look too inclined to push it further than that.

"What things?"

"Getting yourself some workable weapons, for one."

She shrugs easily, glancing at him in a way that suggests she may or may not be sizing him up.

"Like that gun of yours: the Colt."

"Look, if you know so much about what happened, you've gotta know already that it took the last bullet to kill him," Sam points out, flatly.

Ruby is no longer amused.

In fact, she looks at him a little irritatedly.

"So, what? Now that you've used them all up, that's it? It's back to throwing a bit of salt around and babbling a couple lines of Latin? Come on, Sam. Things are only gonna get darker and more dangerous from here.

"You need that gun, and you can get it to work again. The gun is in tact, right?"

He can practically hear his teeth grind together as his jaw clenches.

"I don't know, maybe I was thinking I could find something like that knife of yours," he snaps back.

There's a taut beat of silence before Sam adds, grudgingly,

"Yeah. It is. More or less."

"Well, it's a start."

She's going to deliberately ignore his remark about her knife.

"Figure out what makes that gun tick, 'cause it'll be damned good to have around."

The added 'when I'm not there to save your ass' is more or less implied.

She condescends because she cares.

(Sort of.)

He's not going to tell her Bobby's got the Colt.

He's not going to tell her anything he doesn't have to.

He's not.

"You're right about that much, anyway." Sam looks pointedly at her. "It's already been useful."

Not yet.

Oh, it's still early days.

"Oh, I'll bet it was." Her smile is deliberately amused and a little daring. "But you're gonna want to save some of that anger and frustration for a better-suited target."

There's no missing her point.

Sam swallows, hard.

"... you can really do it? Help me save him?"

Try though he might, he can't keep the hope from threading through his words. Not entirely.

And that hope in his words? It's endearing, really.

She shrugs.

"If we all play our cards right - then yeah."

Training and instinct war with desperation and need inside him.

It's a short struggle.

I can do this. It's what I promised Dean: I'll do whatever it takes.

Sam lets out his breath in a quiet sigh, and acquiesces.

"I'll find out about the Colt."

"Great. I knew you had it in you, Sam."

Ruby says it like she's a proud mother hen. Then she straightens and makes her way to the door.

She's no fan of small-talk, and they've both got some work to do.

"We'll be in touch, I'm sure."

Sam stays where he is and watches as the door closes behind her.

(whatever it takes)

"I'm sure we will."