Wording. Sam knew that the wording was important. He had watched enough TV and read enough books to realize that when a spell was cast, the words had to be one hundred percent or it would either fail to work or just fail. Fail, as in something awful and unpredicted would happen. Sam didn't like the unpredicted. It was usually never good.
"Yeah." Sam nodded, almost uncertainly. Hell. That's where it all came from, wasn't it? They both knew how big of a not-fan of the place that Sam was, but he wasn't about to turn back now. If Ruby could use magic without it massacring her, Sam could do it as well, couldn't he? Except that was the thing. Ruby had used magic to destroy herself. The only thing that Sam was counting on was that Ruby wasn't that demon bitch who had struck that deal with her. She was Ruby and he trusted her with his life. "I can do it. You just have to teach me how." Hell was already a part of him anyway. Azazel had seen to that.
He frowned at the blood in the bowl. Dead rabbits. Sam could imagine Ruby slaughtering one, oddly. If it was for a spell. Not for the pure brutality of the act. It was normal, every day, animal blood. Nothing special. The book was next. Sam flipped it open, eyes skimming across the Latin scribbled across the pages. Some words were foreign to him, others more identifiable.
"I'm fine, actually," Sam said, wearing a bit more confidence than before. Compared to the idea of a pregnant Ruby, casting black magic was a piece of cake.