AN: Yep. So, this is basically going to be a series of unrelated, usually pretty short crossovers between Ruby and another character from another fandom. And right now I'm open to suggestions. Any dream Ruby pairings?

not with a scream but with a sigh
Fandom(s): supernatural/my bloody valentine
Pairing(s): ruby/tom, implied one-sided dean/ruby.
Genre: horror/angst.
Rating: m for theme.
Timeline: starts pre-my bloody valentine and ends post-my bloody valentine. au for spn.
Spoilers: general spoilers for spn. spoilers for the end of my bloody valentine.
Warnings: dark themes, character death.
Notes: title from the song it's over, it's under by dollshead. also, in this story the whole tom/sarah thing is kind of glossed over.

Disclaimer: i do not own anything.

not with a scream but with a sigh

Do you want to know why she lets Tom Hanniger fuck her up against the wall of the bathroom in a dirty bar?

Because he looks like Dean.

It is sick and wrong but she's going to Hell anyway so what does it matter? If she can't have the real Dean, she'll settle for Tom. Even though he's somewhat of a monster wrapped inside a candied sugar wrapping.

You see, Tom Hanniger is a killer.

She can see it in his eyes the moment she meets him. He is a killer, a murderer. Or at least he soon will be. He is unstable, insanity lurking in those familiar eyes. It is his resemblance to Dean that keeps her from turning, running and attempting to forget all about him.

His resemblance to Dean is also what brings them together. She calls him by the wrong name, he looks her up and down, smiles a smile that is too sweet to be a Dean Winchester smile and that's when she knows.

''I'm sorry, miss,'' he says, ''but I think you've got me confused with someone else.''

A slow smirk creeps across her lips when she realizes she is not looking at Dean. ''Yes, I think I have.''

''He's lucky,'' he says, tipping his glass to his lips. ''This Dean guy,'' he clarifies. ''He's lucky. He's got someone like you.''

She tilts her head to the side and even though she sees the slight hollowness in his eyes, even though she knows he will snap, she can't help but smile at the compliment. It's been a long time since she's been complimented. ''Someone like me?'' She echoes.

''Come on,'' he chuckles and casts a sidelong glance at her. She can feel the lust emanating off his body.

Her breath catches.

Dean never looks at her like that.

''You know you're beautiful,'' he says. ''I can tell.''

And she just can't help herself.

Grinning, she slides onto the barstool next to him and leans a little closer to him. Her blond hair tickles his arm and her eyes sparkle with utter fascination. ''Buy me a drink?''

He turns his head to look at her, the corners of his mouth curving into a barely there smirk. ''Won't Dean mind?''

She purses her lips and scans the room with innocence she does not actually possess. ''Dean's not here,'' she says honestly. And even if he was, he wouldn't give a damn.

''You'll have to tell me your name first,'' he says in a gravelly voice.

There are, in fact, subtle differences between Tom Hanniger and Dean Winchester, she will learn. But she pretends not to notice them. It makes it easier.

''Ruby,'' she drawls, still smiling that perfect smile. ''My name is Ruby.'' Yes, she does know she's beautiful. And she also knows how to get what she wants when she wants it.

(Except Dean.)

''Well, Ruby,'' his eyes twinkle in a way Dean's never do, with mirth and excitement. ''I'm Tom.''


Not Dean.

She leans even closer, so close she can smell the alcohol on his breath and he can feel her warm breath on his neck. ''How about that drink, Tom?''

Two drinks later, she's pulling him into the bathroom with her lips on his because she's lonely and he's a little tipsy....

....and he looks like Dean.

''Hmmm,'' Dean mulls the next time he sees her, lips turned down in a thoughtful frown as he scrutinizes her thoroughly. ''What's different about you?''

She swallows hard and crosses her arms uncomfortably. He can't possibly know she's had sex with his look-a-like, can he?

He circles her slowly. ''Did you do something to your hair?''

She breathes.

She falls into Tom like she would never fall into Dean.

She lets him trail soft kisses down her body and when she kisses him, she kisses him like she means it.

Is she the only one who thinks it is slightly odd that the almost monster is sweet and gentle and the wounded hero is jaded and rough?

Tom is probably what most women dream of. The kind of guy that hopeless romantics see as some sort of Prince Charming. She knows better. Or at least she should. He is a ticking time bomb and when he explodes, they'll all fall down.

She lies awake at night, watching him sleep beside her and she traces his face while he sleeps soundly. She waits for the beast inside of him to awaken.

Dean would never bring her flowers.

Tom does.

Marigolds, to be precise.

They're beautiful and delicate looking and she smiles when he wraps his arms around her waist from behind and kisses her neck.

But she can't help but remember what marigolds mean. Cruelty and grief and pain.

She can't decide whether to laugh or cry.

''Ruby,'' he mumbles groggily, face buried in his pillow. ''What are you doing?''

''Drawing a picture,'' she replies lazily, scribbling a pattern on his back with her lipstick.

''Of what?''

''Our future.''

Their future looks very dark. That could be the black shade of the lipstick though.

''Yeah?'' He opens his eyes and tosses her a half asleep smile. ''What do you see?''

She sees death. Blood. Carnage.

''I'm not sure yet,'' she lies.

''Tell me,'' Dean smirks and leans back against the cracked vinyl booth in an all night diner, his fingers absently pushing his plate of french fries towards her. ''Who is this guy?''

She narrows her eyes at him but accepts the bottle of ketchup he hands her. ''What guy?''

''Sweetheart, I ain't stupid. I can tell when someone's gettin' laid. So, who is he?''

She licks ketchup off her finger, meets his eyes with a steady gaze and breathes slowly and evenly. ''Why do you care?''

All traces of humor disappear from his eyes, his mouth twists into a scowl and he looks at her for an unbearably long time. ''I don't,'' he finally says.

She thinks his eyes might say something else.

The monster inside of Tom Hanniger is slowly clawing its way to the surface.

She can tell.

She knows she should probably do something about it. Stop him from becoming what he's meant to become. She hovers over him one night, dagger in hand. She could end it all. She could stop this mess right now and save a lot of people.

But she can't.

The knife clatters to the ground and the tears come. They start as silent trails of moisture that make her cheeks glisten in the dim light and grow into whimpers, soft and quiet. And it's the first time since she clawed her way out of The Pit that she has allowed herself to cry.

Kicking the knife under the bed, she crawls into the empty space where she is supposed to be and weeps into his chest. Her tears leak through the fabric of his shirt and he opens his eyes.

''Ruby?'' Blinking sleep from his eyes, he looks down at her, frowns in worry and she holds on tighter. ''Ruby, what's wrong?''

''It was just a dream,'' she whispers and even lying is becoming harder to do.

He holds her close, whispers sweet things that don't mean a thing and strokes her hair.

She draws away, looking at him through glassy eyes. ''It was just a dream,'' she repeats before she kisses him hard.

Her tears fall against his skin.

The end comes closer.

He's gonna break soon and she's not sure what she'll do when he does.

It's an awfully dangerous thing to do.

But she's quite certain she's falling for him.

She wakes one morning to cold light and an empty bed.

There are no traces of him left in the bedroom but she still remembers the way he kissed her the night before, desperate and scared, the voices coming closer. She remembers him trembling and shaking and tossing and turning.

She knows what this means.

The evil within Tom Hanniger has awoken.

And now there is no one left to kiss away her tears.

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

''Have you been getting enough sleep?'' Sam asks carefully.

''Why would you ask me that?''

''No reason.''

Dean leans against his car as they watch Sam walk away. ''So, the guy's gone, huh?'' There is no amusement in his voice, no contempt, no smirk on his lips and his eyes are staring straight ahead of him.

She leans heavily against the car and folds her arms, her knees feeling weak. ''Yes. The guy's gone.'' A gentle breeze pushes strands of hair into her eyes.

''You wanna go forget about him?'' He offers. ''We could get hammered.''

She smiles wryly. ''Not right now.''

He is not hard to find.

She just follows the trail of blood.

She waits in the darkness of the forest, the trees swaying in the wind, her heart hammering against her ribcage even though she looks perfectly at ease.

He'll get out alive, she's sure of it. He'll get out alive and then he'll run.

She waits, twirling the knife in her hands.

''Ruby?'' He hisses her name out in shock when she pops out from behind a tree, stumbling backwards.

She grins and tilts her head to the side. ''Hi, honey,'' she greets him casually. ''Whatcha doin'?''

He stands shell shocked for a moment, staring at her like she's just a figment of his imagination. Maybe that's honestly what he thinks she is. His eyes darken and he backs away from her, shaking his head. ''N-No. You....You need to leave.''

She shakes her head sadly and swallows it all down. ''What have you done, Tom?''

''I....I don't....'' His eyes cloud over with something like fear and for one precious moment it's almost like looking at the old Tom again. ''....It wasn't me,'' he whispers hoarsely.

''It was you,'' she argues.

''No. No, it was Warden....Warden....'' He trails off, looking rather ill, and he collapses to the ground. There is only confusion and desperation in his eyes when he looks up at her. ''Ruby, I can't....I can't....''

She feels her breathing begin to speed up, sorrow racing like poison through her veins.

''Help me,'' he begs. ''Will you help me?''

She drops to her knees in the dirt and wraps her arms around him. Don't cry, don't cry. He's a killer, dangerous and insane.

But he was hers.

''The white walls,'' he mumbles against her shoulder. ''The white walls and the straightjackets and people watching me all the time. Their eyes feel like knives.'' He pulls away from her suddenly, grasping her shoulders tightly, his fingers digging into her skin. The lunacy in his eyes scares her more than it should. ''Don't make me go back there!'' He cries, desperately. ''Don't send me back there, Ruby.''

''I won't,'' she promises. ''You won't go back there, baby, you won't.''

''Then tell me where I'll go,'' he pleads and he looks a little bit like a child. A frightened little boy lost.

She tries to breathe.

''Somewhere else,'' she utters. ''You'll go somewhere else.''

He looks at her through eyes that shine and she moves closer. ''What are you doing?'' He rasps.

''Ssshh....'' She brings a hand to his cheek, smiling through her own pain. ''I'm going to help you.'' She closes the space between them and kisses him gently on the lips. When he closes his eyes and kisses her back, she can't help but close hers too.

It's even harder than she thought it would be.

She thinks of dirty bars and marigolds and their future drawn in lipstick. And the cold night air chills her to the bone as she pulls out her silver knife, kisses him a little harder, and plunges the sharp end of her knife into her lover's heart.

Her tears fall against his skin.

Somewhere along the way it stopped being about Dean....

....and started being about Tom.

Now she doesn't have either of them.

She is silent like smoke as she slips into a darkened motel room, her hands red and raw from scrubbing away blood.

There are bodies in the bed, lying still, breathing even.

Her eyes linger on Sam for a moment and then she turns her gaze to Dean. He is sprawled out on the bed, one hand dangling over the edge, the other hidden under his pillow, most likely gripping that knife he keeps there ''just in case.''

She backs against the wall and slides to the ground, silent tears making tracks down her cheeks.

She watches his chest rise and fall with every breath he takes and she thinks it's the most beautiful sight in the world.

She is gone by the time they wake up.

She finds that she is fallen.

At this moment in time, quite literally.

She is on the cold ground in an alleyway when he finds her, wasted and pathetic and she can still see the blood on her hands.

''Ruby,'' he whispers her name like a prayer, crouching down to her eye level. ''Ruby,'' he says again, brushing her hair away. ''Look at me.''

''Dean,'' she slurs weakly. ''Do you know what I did? Do you know what I did to him?''

He sighs. ''Let's get you out of here,'' he says softly before he picks her up off the ground like she is a damsel in distress.

(She just might be.)

''What was his name?'' Dean asks, once she has sobered up.

She bites down on her bottom lip and tries not to feel a thing. It doesn't work. ''His name was Tom,'' she answers.


Not Dean.

''Ruby, what are you doing?''

''Drawing a picture.''

''Of what?''

''Our future.''

''Yeah? What do you see?''

''I'm not sure yet.''