It was good Peter left pretty quick. Not that explaining Ruby would've been hard or anything—Peter wasn't the prying type and Ruby was only another patient—but there was a part of Sam that kind of wanted to just keep the...what. More complicated? Something like that. The more complicated aspects of his life out of Peter's way, even the ones Peter wouldn't have recognized as such.

With Dean, Sam tended to get the warning of a turning key. With Ruby, he'd gotten used to her just bursting in—which was exactly what she did while he was laying the weapons out on drawer's surface. It was a sad collection compared to the arsenal in the Impala, but he knew he was lucky. He hadn't heard from Skuld in days and as far as he knew, she was one of the last ones around here who could make weapons.

He turned around, anyway, though, even before she spoke up. If there was one thing he'd learned, it was that assuming the identity of the person at the door usually led to you being proved wrong in the crappiest way possible.

"You can come in, you know," he said, tucking the gun into the back of his jeans. Normally he might've added, I haven't lined it with salt or anything, but for one, technically he had even if it was a broken line, and for another, after yesterday morning he was less certain of where they stood right now.

All right, true, he'd never been all that certain, but there'd been a growing easiness between them over the past month or so that had slipped a bit. Either way, there'd been enough tension between him and Dean. He wasn't gonna go out of his way to do the same with Ruby.

Speaking of...that incident. He reached for her demon killing knife and held it out, handle first. "Thought you might want this back."