A/N: Because Supernatual gave me a deliciously wrong slash ship to sail, and I needed to write for it because Tumblr refused to stop showing me the gifset of the two dancing together and hugging.
So this one is about Jeffrey the serial killer and his demon. Enjoy.
When I first saw him, I knew I had to have him.
Not many humans pique my interest. A majority of them don't have the right – let's call it, potential – to become Hell-worthy. But he did.
Jeffrey. Seemingly sweet, socially dorky, angelically-faced Jeffrey. Jeff liked to watch women. He particularly fancied the blondes, I noticed. And he practiced over and over again on slabs of meat how he would cut them up, and imagined how he would cover his hands in their blood.
But he didn't have it in him to make the first step, not quite.
He was too afraid after seeing so many documentaries on how even the "best" serial killers got caught.
But then again, they weren't the Best; they were only the most famous. The Best are never caught. The Best have guardians, and not of the angelic sort.
The timid ones are my favorites: they need the guidance, the guardianship. And I am just the demon to supply it.
So when the time was right, and Jeffrey was on the brink of killing but was still so very alone, I went to him. I swooped in and filled his mouth, dove into his warm insides and stretched out, digging a comfy hole in a cavity in his brain and whispering things. I touched his heart and turned it black, and he touches his hand to his chest and smiled.
"Who are you?" he challenged, and he wasn't afraid. He whimpered a little when I entered him, but he didn't protest otherwise. And once I was settled in for the long run, he accepted it immediately.
"I forget my name," I told him. "And you wouldn't be able to remember what the other demons call me."
"Then can I give you a name?" Jeffrey asked eagerly. I love the eager ones, too: they make everything so much more thrilling, and all the more risky. And the riskier, the better, because danger is always more fun.
"Knock yourself out, Jeffrey," I replied, stroking his subconscious desire to kill, willing it to life. His body around me thrummed in excitement, and I long since missed the feel of the twitchy, edgy urge to kill.
"I'm going to call you the One. My One. The One who gave me everything I needed," he whispered, and that was it. I was his demon, he was my serial killer, and we were One, together. His One, my One. I have never before or since liked a human as much as I liked him; Jeffrey was loyal and a fantastic little actor and so very good to me. He let me take over whenever I wanted, unlike most others, who got too ahead of themselves and resisted me.
Jeffrey never resisted me. Even one night when I was feeding him filthy thoughts about sex amidst carnage, he didn't resist. He let it flow freely, and he moaned for more, and I gave it to him. I took over his arm, but kept him consciously aware, and I pleasured him, and he let me. Jeffrey was always hungry for whatever I wanted. And sometimes it's too easy to have my way with humans, but sometimes it's exactly what I want. And with Jeffrey, I appreciated his readiness. He was open to anything and everything. And together, we slaughtered so many pretty girls and weren't caught.
Until the Winchester brothers, that is. We were caught during their mad hunt to track down Lilith.
They ruined everything.
I had plans to keep Jeffrey for as long as possible. I was going to have fun with him, using his body, killing for the sheer pleasure of it, until he either became convicted, too old, or non-living. I was comfortable inside of Jeffrey. His body was my new home. And he loved me. He told me all the time, "You're everything to me, One. I will never give you up, One. You're my One, and I love you."
Because I set him on his path. I made him who he is. And for those damn brothers to expel me from Jeffrey's body, banishing me back to Hell… well. I wasn't too keen on that.
Which is why I am so glad to see Jeffrey again, after all these years. He looks about the same, if not eerily gentler. I don't like the gentle ones. I like them insane and ruthless and loud. He seems quieter than I remember, and at first, I ignore it. I move to embrace him; I've always wanted to do it, but the closest I've gotten is by wrapping Jeffrey's own arms around himself in congratulations on a good kill.
But now I can hold him. He has that awful limp, so he struggles to keep up, but I give him a short waltz, because he has half of my revenge tied up in a chair for me. My Jeffrey, my lovely little human, the other to my One, caught a Winchester. Fooled a Winchester like he had before. I'm so proud of him.
So I hold him and dance with him and keep him close. This body he gave me is young, innocent, weak. I don't like it. The boy in here is whiny and foolish and pathetic. But Jeffrey is in front of me, and if I want to, I can easily hop bodies back to him. Except I won't, not just yet. I want to kill the Winchester first, try sex with Jeff second (just for shits and giggles), and chase after the other Winchester and watch Jeffrey kill him, third. Then I will return. But for now…
"I want to be yours," he reminds me, and I shush him. In good time, my dear Jeffrey, in good time. Revenge first. Always revenge first, because later, you might not get the chance, and you might not be in the mood.
I touch Jeffrey's face, feel his heartbeat a moment, and smile at him, always smiling, because he was so determined that he went through the nasty summoning ritual to get me back. I'm impressed. I'm flattered. And I might be a little lovestruck, if I were capable of those sickeningly sweet feelings any longer.
But then everything goes awry. Jeffrey is too clingy, the other brother and my current host's mother show up, Dean breaks free, and I'm trapped again.
Why can't I just have the things I want? All I want is a nice serial killer to play with, and someone to appreciate me. Is that so wrong? – Well, some might arguing the killing bit is, but I don't think so. There are too many humans on this rotten Earth anyhow; could do to lose a few.
And Jeffrey and I were a great team for that.
But those damn Winchesters have to go and ruin everything. I'll never forget it, either. When they come back to Hell – and they will – I'm going to make sure that I'm there to torture them on the rack, agonizingly slowly. For myself. For Jeffrey. For what he and I could have still had, if not for them.
Oh, Jeffrey. You poor, sweet, sadistic, tainted soul. I'll have you again….
…After all, you're ensured to Hell because of my brilliant help.