"Don't talk about that," Sam growled angrily. She didn't have any right to talk about it. Mom, Jess - what Azazel had done to them both, all because of him. Death. Pain. Suffering. Three things that were heavily associated with the people around Sam, ever since he had been nothing more than a mere infant. That had only been another reason for Sam to up and give in. Why bother trying to live when he knew that it was all going to end in bloodshed and agonizing heartache anyway? "I'll be good. I'll stay here, I won't run away. Just don't talk about him anymore. I don't want to talk about him anymore." It was just another nail added on into his already beaten down coffin. Azazel had won. Ruby was right; Sam had let him win by giving in to Lucifer's demands. That didn't mean that Sam liked thinking about it. He didn't enjoy thinking about the name, let alone all the terrible deeds that Azazel was personally responsible for. But did it make Sam any better, being a huge part of all that? Did it make him any better now that he was Lucifer's vessel, all wrapped up in white and ready to operate as the Devil's personal puppet? Not really. He wasn't better. He was worse, maybe even worse than Azazel because he knew what he was doing was wrong. Sam knew how badly the world was hurting because of him. His mistakes. His failures. Sam didn't want to think about that though, so he looked away from Ruby and quietly began to mutter on about how he hated the weather during this time of year. "It's too cold," Sam complained, "and I hate having to dig up my heavy jackets to keep warm. It's really hard to get the blood out of them after a hunt too."
Ruby was talking about the demon blood. His old addiction. Something inside of him squirmed pleasantly at the thought. Her blood was so warm. He was willing to bet that a good taste of it now would make some of the unbearable cold that Lucifer had left behind go away. It was internal, freezing cold running through his entire body from the inside out. Drinking enough blood...Sam's attention fell to a vein in Ruby's neck, clearly the perfect spot to run a blade across and drink from. "Old habits. Can't do that again, even if it'd fight the cold. Can I? Does it matter anymore? I think I'd like to...I do remember..."
She didn't hate him. Ruby had every reason to want to and then some, but she didn't. He may well have been human and capable of understanding emotions far better than Ruby had been at one point, but there was something about that that he didn't get at all. Ruby was suffering. She could have turned her back, found someone else, found some alternate way to be happy. Instead, she was with him. Maybe not in body, but in spirit. Enduring all this pain willingly, doing whatever it took for a small moment or two with the man she had fallen in love with. Sam didn't get it. In fact, if he had it his way, he would make Ruby forget about him altogether. But he couldn't have it his way and Ruby didn't seem interested in going anywhere, so what could he really do but give Ruby a little bit of what she had worked so hard for? Ruby deserved a little while. She wouldn't get the entire day, because Sam had to go save Dean, but a few hours would be okay. Sam could give her that, before she lost him entirely.