There was a time when the throne room of hell crawled with fear and misery. When the demons there crawled on their bellies before their king, terrified of his wrath. Demons used to flee hell with all the terror of cockroaches fleeing an exterminator, but that was in the past. Back when Lilith sat on the throne, awaiting Azazel's jailbreak.

Now a corporate douchebag sat in Lilith's chair, listening to equally repulsive demons with no higher aspirations than kissing up to the once-inspiring King of the Crossroads. Since he had become King of Hell, his schemes had become lack-luster, he was consumed with keeping his power, and he had no idea how to deal with the greatest threat to his rule.

The Winchester brothers.

A demon stepped forward, second to last in line. Her eyes flared red as she bowed before the king. Crowley looked straight through her, already sick of whatever she was going to say.

"My lord," she said. Her meatsuit was no more than 20, hair chopped at the shoulders and wearing a red, skin tight dress that accentuated the slight roll of her stomach, like she'd forgotten to put on a pair of spanks. "I've come with the answers to your questions."

"Oh really?" Crowley rolled his eyes and waved his fingers. "Please go on. I'm fascinated."

The girl smiled, revealing particularly white teeth. "I know how to destroy Sam and Dean Winchester."

The crowd snickered. Crowley just sighed and leaned his head against his hand. Another worthless lacky just trying to crawl up the corporate ladder by pretending to know how to go after hell's most wanted. Crowley wasn't interested.

"We're done." He straightened up and nodded to the demon beside him. The lackey stepped forward to grab the girl, but she jerked herself free.

"Defeating the Winchesters isn't hard," she said. "It's easy. You just have to follow a plan, disable them from the inside. One strike. You don't even need to take out both of them, killing them both is essentially impossible anyway. You have to go in, do the job, and get out before they regroup."

Crowley was almost entirely turned away from her at this point. "What are you suggesting?"

She smiled. "It's simple, isn't it? We've all known the answer for years, we were just too scared to do it."

"Don't try my patience."

"Kill Sam Winchester." The words popped out of her in a rush. The demons surrounding the throne room laughed. A cruel smile twisted Crowley's face.

"Oh, kill them? Why didn't we ever think of that?" The demons continued to laugh, and Crowley turned to dismiss the girl a second time when she interrupted.

"No," she said. "Not them. Him. Sam. Only Sam. The Winchesters are a team, a highly trained and oiled machine. I've been watching them. Watching them for years. At first I thought I should just give up, go home after Azazel died and they stopped the apocalypse, but I was given a job and I was going to finish it.

"Everyone thinks Dean is the biggest threat, but don't you see? Dean without Sam falls apart. When Dean is taken from Sam, the result is terrifying. He becomes the monster we all tried to force him to be. He's a machine. Terrifying to behold. You kill Dean Winchester and you might as well kiss your throne goodbye. Sam will come for you, and you'd better be praying he kills you quickly because he'll tear you apart. Sam doesn't despair, he destroys the ones who harmed him.

"Dean, on the other hand, collapses. When Azazel's special child stabbed his brother in the back at Cold Oak, Dean didn't race after him and empty his gun into the boy's head. He didn't systematically imagine how he would rip the other man apart. He didn't even bother trying to track him down. Dean simply ceased to be the troublesome human we've all come to hate. He could do nothing except try to bring his brother back to life. When Sam jumped into hell, Dean found a nice girl and quietly spiraled into misery.

"So Dean will either become entirely unable to function or suicidal, either way. He's no longer a threat."

"That's ridiculous. Everyone knows there's no one more dangerous than Dean Winchester if you hurt the moose."

"That's why you don't stick around. If you kill Sam in front of Dean, you'd better get out like a bat out of hell. If Dean can catch you, he will, and he'll kill you dead.

"But if he can't catch you - well. You won't have to do anything. Just let him take the fall."

Crowley narrowed his eyes at her. "You think Dean would just let his brother die without moving heaven and earth to bring him back?"

"Of course he would," she said, as though explaining herself to a simpleton. "That's why you have to destroy Sam's body. Torch him, if you can, immediately. Or grab him and kill him out of Dean's sight so you have a little extra time. Don't mess around, don't play with Sam or give him any opportunity. You grab him, you knife him. He's a fleshy human, just go for his gut or his throat. Burn the body. Leave the ashes for his brother to find and get the hell out of dodge. Dean will spiral into a despair like you have never known, and you'll never have to deal with those denim-wrapped nightmares again. The world will be ours."

Crowley studied the girl. "What about Cas?"

The girl snorted. "Castiel would be wise to avoid Dean when he gets into that state. Castiel himself used a version of this plan, knocking Sam out of the picture to try to get Dean to behave. He didn't finish the job though. He incapacitated Sam, but didn't kill him. Dean still had hope. You have to leave him with no hope at all."

The demons were muttering in the background, some of them beginning to grin. Crowley laced his fingers together and leaned back in his chair. For the first time in months, something interesting had finally been brought to the table.

"Let's go hunt some Moose."