When he got to the house, Sam hoisted up his purchases and jogged up the front steps to the door. He made way inside, starting for the bedroom, but only stopping when he noticed a dark silhouette in the kitchen. Sam turned that way, stepping over Schmoopie – who had run across the kitchen tile and skidded across the wooden floor in the hall to eagerly greet him with a sloppy tongue and wagging tail – and found his newly human wife sitting along the kitchen counter, her eyes quietly trained on the hands in her lap. Sam's brows knit together in concern, bags finding a place on the table off to the right, and he walked over to investigate. Wordlessly, Sam found his way around the counter and turned to look at her. Ruby's face was partially hidden from him ; she was focused on something else, something...
Blood. His stomach lurched. No. He had to leave, he had to get out of the room, he had to do something, or else he'd pin her down and –
The smell wasn't there. That twinge of sulfur in the air, that familiar scent and feel that Sam had grown to both love and hate. It was gone. Because she's human, Sam remembered, a tiny breath of relief escaping him at the realization. Sam stepped in close and silently took Ruby by the injured hand. It was bleeding, but Sam could tell that the gash in her finger wasn't severe. She wouldn't need stitches, anyway.
Stitches. The mere idea of Ruby needing stitches was so foreign to him. But that was a possibility now, wasn't it? She wasn't gonna heal the way she used to. This cut wasn't just going to vanish. Everything was different now. Everything.
Sam forced himself to look away from the cut, worried eyes attempting to meet her own. “You okay?”