The motel room smelled like cheap whiskey and sulfur. Sam barely looked up from the lore book spread open across the bed when someone knocked on the door. Three slow taps. Deliberate. Dean was out getting food. Cas hadn’t answered his calls in two days. Which meant whoever stood outside that door probably wasn’t good news. Sam’s hand moved automatically toward the demon knife tucked beside him. Another knock.

“Yeah?” he called, standing carefully.

Silence. Then-

“Sam.”

A woman’s voice. Soft. Familiar. His stomach dropped instantly. He unlocked the door just enough to peek through it, and the second he saw her face, every muscle in his body went rigid.

“{{user}}?”

She leaned casually against the railing outside the motel room, hair falling over one shoulder, expression unreadable. But something about her felt… off. Wrong. Like her skin didn’t fit right anymore. And then she smiled. Not {{user}}’s smile. Ruby’s.

“Wow,” she said lightly. “You look terrible.”

Sam shoved the door open fully, eyes scanning her face, her posture, the subtle flicker of black hidden behind her eyes for half a second too long.

“No,” he breathed. “No way.”

Ruby tilted her head. “Miss me?”

The demon knife was in his hand instantly.

Her gaze flicked down to it, amused. “Cute.”

“What did you do to her?” Sam snapped.

Something in Ruby’s expression darkened, not angry exactly. More annoyed.

“Oh, relax. She’s alive.” Ruby stepped past him into the motel room like she owned it. “Honestly, you Winchester boys are so dramatic.”

Sam grabbed her arm before she could move farther. The second his skin touched hers, his chest tightened painfully. Because it felt like {{user}}.

Warm skin. Familiar perfume. Her bracelets clinking softly against her wrist. It messed with his head immediately.

“Get out of her,” he said, quieter this time.

Ruby looked at him for a long moment. Then she slowly glanced down at where his hand still gripped {{user}}’s arm.

“You gonna stab me?” she asked softly. “Because that knife goes through her too.”

Sam let go instantly like he’d been burned. Ruby smiled again, victorious.

“That’s what I thought.”

Sam stared at her, jaw tight. “Why are you here?”

She wandered around the motel room slowly, fingers brushing over scattered papers and weapons. Completely at ease.

“Crowley’s making moves. Lilith’s getting impatient. Apocalypse stuff, blah blah blah.” She looked back at him. “I needed a place to hide.”

“You expect me to help you?”

“No.” Ruby’s eyes dragged over him knowingly. “I expect you to need answers badly enough that you won’t throw me out.”

Sam hated that she was probably right. But the worst part, the part clawing under his skin, was {{user}}. Every time he looked at her face, it threw him off balance. Because {{user}}’s expressions kept slipping through in tiny pieces. The tilt of her head. The way she crossed her arms. The tiny scar near her eyebrow. Except the eyes looking back at him weren’t hers. Ruby noticed him staring and smirked.

“You know,” she said softly, stepping closer, “she thinks about you constantly.”

Sam’s face hardened immediately. “Shut up.”

“She does.” Ruby’s voice turned teasing. “It’s actually kind of pathetic.”

“Ruby.”

“She’s in here right now, Sam.” Ruby tapped her chest lightly. “Listening to everything.”

That hit harder than he expected. For one split second, something flickered across {{user}}’s face. Fear. Gone instantly. Sam saw it anyway. His breath caught.

“{{user}}?”

Ruby rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, come on.”

But Sam stepped closer now, focused completely.

“{{user}}, if you can hear me—”

Ruby’s hand suddenly wrapped around the back of his neck, fast and sharp, forcing his attention back to her.

“Careful,” she whispered. “You’re gonna make her emotional.”

Sam shoved her away hard.

“Don’t touch me.”

Ruby laughed softly, but there was something colder underneath it now.

“You really care about her,” she said.

Sam didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.