AN: So, there really is no reason for this story. I got the idea, decided to write a quick oneshot and bam! I've banged out nearly a hundred pages, it's a full blown multi chapter and it's nearly finished. Because this story is nearly finished, the updates should come quick. Hopefully, the entire story will be posted within fourteen days because that's when I leave for vacation. Anyways, here we go. Title comes from the song 'A Ghost Of You' by Good Charlotte.

Title: a ghost of you is all that i have left
Summary: Dean, Ruby, Sam and all that you can't leave behind. AU.
Pairings: Dean/Ruby, minor Bobby/Ellen and possible Wincest if you squint.
Characters: Ruby, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Harvelle, OFC (NOT a romantic interest.)
Timeline: Sometime after Malleus Maleficarum.
Genre: Angst/Romance
Rating: T for now might change to M later on.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters you recognize. I also do not own the various quotes scattered here and there or the song that is frequently used throughout the story.

a ghost of you is all that i have left

Written by Becks Rylynn

Chapter One:

Denise Fleming: Fate works in really fucked up ways sometimes.
Preston Meyers: Especially in your case.
-Can't Hardly Wait

And it goes like this....

It starts (and this will sound clich├ęd and eye rolling worthy, but it is the truth) innocently. A little flirting here, a harmless touch of stolen gazes there. It starts (like everything else in their fucked up world) with tolerance. It starts (this might sound like a stupid romance movie, but it is the way it happens and nothing can be done about that) with a kiss.

She tells him she remembers what it's like to be human and he looks away.

He tries to hate her like he should, tries so hard, but his brain is foggy and there's ringing in his ears and he doesn't remember how. And he thinks, for just a moment, that maybe he'd like to be like her someday. The fires of hell will break him down into nothing and he'll be damned if he turns into just another creature. He wants to remember.

He tries not to show the fear but she sees right through and she breathes.

She tries to hate him like she knows she's supposed to, but his eyes haunt her in the darkness, like emerald knives that pierce right through her, begging her to help him and she can't remember how. And she thinks, maybe it would be nice to save him.

That is the night it all changes, that is the night the script is written for them, no matter what they do, they cannot change the course of events that will bring them together and tear them apart. It's fate.

And everyone knows you can't fight fate.

During the day, she does what she's supposed to. She follows Sam, watches Sam, fights for Sam.

But when the sun sets and the darkness comes, she sets her icy blue gaze on a different Winchester. She watches from the shadows of motel rooms as he sleeps, as if she's making sure he won't slip away in his sleep. It's an odd thing to do. Because she is adamant that she does not give a damn about the elder Winchester. But every night like clockwork, she slips into the room, slides to the ground and watches him sleep.

And she thinks he does not notice. Until someone starts leaving the door unlocked for her.

Whenever she is in the room, he becomes strangely silent and maybe Sam asks, but Dean doesn't tell. It's not important.

At night, he tries hard not to fall asleep because he thinks if he can just stay awake and wait for her, the words he's searching for will come. It never works. Touches become instinctive (arms wrap around her waist when she takes a beating one night and stumbles when she stands, her soft fingers graze a cut above his eyebrow) and awkward, eye contact lasts a little too long, the smiles are just a little too sad....and the longing always lingers for days.

Faced with an attraction he doesn't want, he looks away. He always looks away.

Faced with feelings she shouldn't have, she breathes. She always breathes.

They dance in circles.

He wakes one night, to darkness and an empty room that feels too loud. He doesn't know where Sam is, doesn't really want to know, the realization that she is not there, panic surges through him and his movements are clumsy and awkward as he pulls on wrinkled clothes and....

...and he thinks it's strange to be becoming so attached to a demon.

But when he thinks about it, when he really thinks about it, he knows (he knowsknowsknows) that it's not strange at all.

He stumbles when he steps into the darkness and he wonders for a second, if he even works without her. It's a frightening thought, but it sloshes around up there until he sees her silhouetted against the moonlight. Her back is to him and her arms are crossed as she stares up at the big, big, bright, bright moon in the sky. And he's so preoccupied with her; he doesn't even notice that the Impala is missing from the parking lot.

When he steps up beside her without uttering a word, she doesn't even seem surprised. She knew he would come.

They stand in silence that lasts too long and waves of longing come crashing down upon them when their arms brush. He closes his eyes and sucks in a breath. She shudders and swallows hard.

''It's pretty,'' she says after always has passed between them.

He looks at her closely, ''The moon?''

''The night,'' she whispers, sounding unusually out of breath. ''The shadows.''

He doesn't say anything for a long time, not sure what to say anyways. And it gets too loud, the silence, after minutes go by. So he says something, soft and quiet. ''I don't like what you're doing to me.''

She looks at him, smiles a tired smile and says, ''Join the club.''

He looks away now, and she breathes, and they linger in silence. And then, she looks at him and he sees the craving he feels mirrored in her eyes so he says her name just to say her name. ''Ruby....''

She makes a noise between a sigh and a whimper and he moves closer, bringing a hand to her cheek.

''I don't want to, Dean,'' she says, even as she leans closer.

Those green eyes stare into her as he forces himself to take a breath. ''Yes, you do.''

She doesn't argue. His lips meet hers and the stars explode. It's strange, because it's soft and gentle and that just seems odd and out of character for them. After all, he is a rough and dangerous hunter and she is a cold and hard demon and they're not supposed to be warm and soft. They're supposed to be explosive.

Her fingers curl tight around his jacket and his hands go around her waist, tugging her closer. The kiss is long and rushes of red hot desire jolt through both of them, but they pull away anyways, breathing heavily, foreheads touching just to touch. ''Was that...'' He pauses and clears his throat. ''Was that okay?''

She smiles softly and manages a jerky nod. ''Mmmhmmm.''

It's not like they planned this, it's not like they even wanted it to happen, but....they can't change it now, the wanting is too strong to ignore, the chemistry is there and they feel in the darkness. So really, that's all that should matter.

''Are you afraid of me?'' He asks in a whisper.

She takes a step away and nods, trying hard not to think. ''Yes.''

''Good,'' he murmurs. ''Because I'm afraid of you.''

And he does not look away, he keeps his eyes on her, and she doesn't breathe, she holds her breath. Their eyes meet.

(And they're not ashamed to admit they end up in between the cheap motel sheets that night because that's who they are, and they offer no apologies.)

Noah Calhoun: Would you just stay with me?
Allie Hamilton: Stay with you? What for? Look at us, we're already fightin'.
Noah Calhoun: Well that's what we do, we fight....You tell me when I am being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you are being a pain in the ass. Which you are 99% of the time. I'm not afraid to hurt your feelings. You have like a 2 second rebound rate, then you're back doing the next pain-in-the-ass thing.
-The Notebook

And it goes like this....

They don't hide it, but they don't wave it in people's faces. They know Sam knows but he pretends he doesn't and they pretend they don't notice. And time ticks away loudly as a year passes by quickly. They tell themselves they're not falling but they know that's a lie.

He saves her once when a hunter accidentally sees her black eyes and refuses to believe everything she tells him, trapping her under symbols and splashing her with holy water. He bursts through the door just as the Latin starts and throws himself into the hunter who thinks he's saving the world. He breaks the Devil's Trap and tells her to go, get out; he'll take care of it.

He comes home battered and bruised and limping and Sam asks.

Dean tells him he got into a bar fight. She closes her eyes and sighs.

She saves him once, when he's about to become a human sacrifice. He's tied to a chair and his stupid asinine comments are about to get him slaughtered when she comes in, calmly and kills each and every one of the demigods carefully. In the end, he's fine and she's fine but boy is she ever pissed. She yells, pacing back and forth, cursing him over and over.

To get her to shut up, he roughly slams her against the wall and kisses her senseless.

Sam comes in, sees them, and sighs, shaking his head.

They're not in love. They tell themselves they never will be.

That's a lie.

Laying in bed one night, her index finger drawing patterns on his bare chest, she sings to him.

''Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper, ''I love you''; birds singin' in the sycamore tree; dream a little dream of me....'' His arms tighten around her and she swallows because the embrace feels like grief and she knows soon, this will come to an end. ''Say ''nighty-night'' and kiss me, just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me; while I'm alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me.''

He closes his eyes and smiles because he feels all right with her. And he almost says ''I'm going to miss you'' but he doesn't. So he sings with her instead. ''Stars fading, but I linger on, dear, still craving your kiss; I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear, just saying this....''

The words are tinged with mourning and it's all disappearing in front of them as the clock ticks, but they pretend it's all okay. ''Sweet dreams till sun beams find you, sweet dreams that leave our worries behind you; but in your dreams, whatever they be, dream a little dream of me....''

She wakes up one night and finds she's on a hard floor and she's covered in blood that is not hers.

Her head is fuzzy and her stomach twists inside of her, but she swallows the bile that rises in her throat. And she tries to remember how she got here and why she's covered in blood, but try as she might; she has no idea what has happened. There's crying in her ears, sobs of pain and despair and she groans and rolls over. Her icy blue eyes move up until she sees Sam, blood staining his hands and face, rocking back and forth, crying his eyes out with a body in his arms.

It takes a second for her to realize who the body is (was) because it's so horribly mangled and broken but then she finds she can't hear the tick, tick, tick of time passing anymore, there's a silver ring glinting and green eyes are wide open and unseeing.

She remembers.

The memories come in flashes, Dean, Sam, Lilith.


She did this, she took her away.

That bitch.

She couldn't even let her say goodbye.

She says his name in a choked whisper and when he doesn't respond, she says it again and again and again. Sam's borderline catatonic, so he barely sends her a glance, but he does clutch his brother tighter. She says his name one last time and fully expects the tears to come, but they don't. She desperately wants to cry, but she's not sure she remembers how.

And the door crashes open and Bobby and Ellen fall through the door, shouting for Dean, their faces alight with hope that he will answer back with twinkling green eyes and his careless smirk. Upon seeing the savagely torn body of Dean Winchester, Ellen lets out an anguished cry and Bobby grows pale like a ghost. The moments pass in grieving silence and then Bobby slowly leans down to close vacant eyes.

Ellen's trying her hardest to comfort Sam (''it'll be all right, honey, it's going to be okay.'') and Bobby's trying to get the bloodstained boy to let go of his brother (''you have to let go now, son, you have to.'') and she simply fades to the background, being pushed out of the way and forgotten about.

She smells death in the air as she backs against the wall and slides to the ground, tastes blood and sulfur in her mouth and feels nausea rising. And now it's over. This is the way it ended and the only thing she can think about is how she didn't even get to say goodbye. Not that she loved him or anything, because she didn't.

She doesn't.

Eventually, she snaps out of it and returns to the living (isn't that a poor choice of words?) deciding she's the one that needs to take charge. Mainly because no one else is in shape to do it and the one person who could take control of any situation is currently half past dead on the floor. Taking a breath, she steps forwards and puts her hand on Bobby's shoulder. He turns sharply, eyes narrowing slightly. He opens his mouth to speak, and she's sure he means to say something but she's also sure the look in her eyes is what shuts him up. She meets his eyes, tilts her head to the side, and doesn't say a word. And Bobby steps aside, pulling Ellen with him.

Sam doesn't look up when she crouches in front of him, but he speaks through cries. ''I won't leave him. I can't.''

She swallows and brings a hand to his face. There's a body in between them, it's broken and bleeding and it is the one thing they both would have died for. Now, neither one of them can remember how to move on without him. In the distance, outside, the sun brings a new day. ''Sam,'' she whispers. ''No one is asking you to leave him, but...we need to get him cleaned up so we we can take care of him. You want him to be taken care of, right?'' Sam looks up at her through bloodshot eyes and she cringes, hoping he cannot see right through her and know she's lying. ''Come on, kiddo,'' she whispers. ''You're a mess, he wouldn't want this, you know he wouldn't.''

And all the resolve in Sam Winchester's bones dissolves and when he falls into her arms, she holds on tight because she knows what she has to do now. Pick up where Dean left off.

Take care of Sammy.

The arrangements have been made, the makeshift funeral will be held tomorrow, and the grieving process has officially begun.

None of them can bear the thought of burning his bones (actually, the truth is when Bobby suggested it, whispering that they didn't want him to come back, now did they, she threw him into a wall and snarled, ''Let him come.'') so instead he's been stitched up and his body is now resting comfortably on a soft mattress (and she has to wonder; is that the same mattress Sam's lifeless body lay on a year ago?).

Much like Sam's refusal to leave Dean, she refuses to leave Sam. When he cries, she holds him, when he screams, she listens close, when he loses it completely and starts to throw things, yelling and screaming because ''goddamn it, Dean, how could you be so selfish?!'' she locks Bobby and Ellen out and doesn't fight back when his fists come down on her because she's all he has.

But when she's sure he's sleeping, when she's sure the house is silent, she slips out of the room.

Bobby and Ellen, she notice, are asleep on the couch, his arm curled around her, her head on his shoulder and she arches an eyebrow and smirks, but she won't say anything. Hey, more power to them...or, you know, whatever.

She's silent like smoke as she moves through the house and into the room holding all that is left of Dean Winchester. It's morbid and creepy and depressing but hey, she's a demon, morbid and depressing doesn't really bother her. At first her plan was just to see him, but now she knows she needs a little more than that. Swallowing, she reaches out and takes his hand finding it's already cold. The silence doesn't last long; she feels the words bubbling in her throat. ''You know, Dean....'' And she can't help but smile a little because the memories that are bombarding her now aren't all that sad.

''I never told you this but....I was always so...impressed by you. You were always so calm and you always had this look in your eyes, like you were smiling even when you weren't. And maybe I was a little jealous of that. I mean, you were smiling and laughing even in your darkest hour, how could I not be jealous of that? I'm sure a lot of people were.'' She pauses and bites down on her lip, blinking because she is determined not to cry. Drawing her hand back, she wraps her arms around herself and her gaze grows lost as she stares down at the body. ''I...I care about you, Dean Winchester. I don't think I ever told you that.''

She can't say anymore, so she sighs and quietly climbs into the bed next to him, like she has done so many times before. And to be honest, she's a little surprised. She thought for sure it would be Sam to curl up beside the body growing cold and press his lips to cold ones. If she closes her eyes and plays pretend, she can imagine he's only sleeping. But he's too cold and too still and eventually she gives up the games of pretend and buries her face in the crook of his neck.

And she does not cry.

Not one tear.

She sings.

''While I'm alone and blue as can be...'' And she thinks she might hear him singing with her. ''...Dream a little dream of me.''

But she decides that's just her imagination.

The next day after the funeral, she presents Sam with his brother's amulet. Gently, she places it over his head, touches his face gently and smiles sadly.

He frowns and looks closely. ''So, what? Are you going to play big sister now?''

She rolls her eyes and flips her blond hair over her shoulder like an expert. Moment over. ''I want the jacket.''

''Dean's jacket?''

''No, Sam, I want Leonardo DiCaprio's jacket. Yes, Dean's.''

''How do you know who Leonardo DiCaprio is?''

''Are you going to give me the jacket or not?''


She shrugs, ''Keeps me warm.''

''It's May.''

''Not that kind of warm.''

Sam doesn't ask any more questions and gives her the jacket.

Bonnie: Don't let it end this way.
Brian Flanagan: All things end badly, or else they wouldn't end.

And it goes like this....

It takes her a month to break, shatter and fall apart. It takes a month for the tears to finally escape. Why? Well, that's simple.

A month after that night, she finds the smell of french fries makes her sick, she's having the strangest cravings, and her jeans won't button. And all she can think is I should have known fucking a Winchester would have consequences.

Stupid freaking Dean Winchester and his irresistible smirk and green eyes.

''Stress is when you wake up screaming and realize you haven't fallen asleep yet.''

end chapter one