A/N: A huge thanks to Kez for
introducing me to Supernatural, Vicky for proof-reading, Lora for
nit-picking and everyone for being so patient with my obsessing!
Winchester.
I have spent months looking for these bastards. But now I have found them. And a simple line of salt isn't going to stop me that easily. I am able to go right up to the window and look through the glass. Suddenly I see the boys.
They are both asleep. Both totally at bliss. Both totally ignorant of the fact I am here. And of my plans.
But who to choose?
The one closes to me has thick, long dark hair down to his shoulders. He's larger than the other and I decide this one is Sam. He's spread-eagled awkwardly over the small, hard bed. One foot is sticking out to the side and the other leg is bent under the first. One arm is flopped over his stomach, the other close down his side. He's on his back and snoring softly. He's vulnerable – oh so vulnerable. It would be easy for me to just slip in and take him.
If that's Sam, then the other is Dean. The Infamous Dean Winchester. So strong and tough. But really, he's just as vulnerable and weak as Sam. Though he's slightly harder to do anything with. He's built a mental barrier to stop me getting in, but there are chinks in his armour - especially since old Johnny-Boy died.
It would be just as easy to get inside Dean. These weaknesses are obvious. He worries about his brother. I could have fun with that. What more would fuck up Sam's mind than his caring brother not giving a damn? Then again, what more would upset Dean than the brother he cares so much about trying to kill him?
Still pondering, I find an easy way into the room. The windows are locked – they must have learned from their shtriga experience. There is a small hole between the window frame and the wall. Not big enough to notice, but just big enough for me. I can push myself through and find myself in the room.
The room is practically bare. No clothes strewn over the floor – only a leather jacket hanging on the back of a chair - the boys haven't stopped to get changed. Neither have moved – Sam's still in his splayed-out position, but Dean is more sophisticated. He is lying on his back with his hands folded across his chest and his legs crossed at his ankles. There is a lot of paper and a laptop, strewn over a table. But what interests me most is the brown Filofax. I'd love to read it, but I haven't got time. The boys could sense me and wake up any time, and I haven't chosen one yet.
Again, I survey the Winchesters. Sam or Dean? Younger or older? Pretty or handsome? Sam is weak – he's susceptible to almost anything. But still – to play with him or use him to play with Dean? Which do I want to suffer? My first thought is 'both', but I can only choose one. Though I know that both will be suffering. Who do I want to see suffering?
The answer comes to me, almost instantly.
Dean.
My decision made, I look for a suitable way in.
This is going to be fun.