The Demon Brady cocked his head as he saw Jessica Moore heading out of class. A wolfish, predatory smile crossed his handsome features and he let his eyes trace the curves of that fantastic ass. God, it was a work of art. Those long legs that went for miles, those curves. Part of him was jealous that Sam Winchester would soon be hitting that if all went according to plan. He'd kept quiet tabs on the two of them. He'd known they were falling hard and fast. Only few weeks since Sam had helped Jess move furniture around and already he'd spotted them together several times.

Brady walked up behind her, let himself appreciate that figure for one more minute and then arranged his face into his customary 'Tyson Brady' expression as he called her name. "Hey, Moore, hold up."

She turned to look at him, a smile lighting up her features. She tucked her book under one arm and gave him a quick hug. "Hey."

"You get situated in the new dorm room?"

"Yeah, no thanks to you." She rolled her eyes.

"Hey, I was sick. Trust me. You didn't want what I had." What he'd had was a bag of blow and two coke-addled strippers. She didn't have to know that. On second thought she probably didn't want that either. So in a way he was telling the truth.

"It's alright." Jess responded in her usual easy-going manner. "Sam came through."

"Sam always comes through." Brady told her, keeping pace.

"He seems like that kinda guy."

"He is." Brady responded. He shouldered into her, flirtatiously. "Hey, let's go hang in the lounge. You got time?"

She appraised him and then nodded. "Yeah."

They headed down the hallway, Jess shouldering her little purse to one side. It bumped her hip as she walked.

"Why the hell do you girls keep purses? What do you put in there?" He asked, eyeing the faux leather.

"Oh the usual. Lipstick. Tampons. Severed heads." Jess opened the door to the lounge and Brady brushed by her with a laugh.

"That's a small purse. Must be shrunken heads." He thought to himself what a beautiful thing shrunken heads were. How full of ingenuity.

"Oh no," Jess replied cooly, letting the door click shut behind her. "Not the whole head. I only keep the ears."

The lounge had several chairs and desks, and a pool table. She set her stuff down. "Wanna shoot a game?" She asked.

Brady nodded to her and walked over to the soda machine in the corner. He pulled out a few dollars and fed them into the slot. He grabbed himself a Dr. Pepper. He liked the burn.

He looked over to Jessica who was racking up the shot, those beautiful tits almost touching the table, her hair trailing against the green velvet as she leaned over. "What do you want to drink?"

"Coke," she replied, moving the plastic triangle. The balls made a rattle as she set them inside one by one.

The machine clicked as it dropped the cold cans in the dispenser.

He glanced up at her casually and popped the tab on his. It made a hiss. "Where is Sam today anyway. I haven't seen him in a week. He's always out."

She looked up at him and he saw her flush a little. Her dimples showed as she pressed her lips together. "I think he's got work."

Brady approached and handed her the soda. Jess took it in her elegant hand and straightened up.

"Well," he looked her up and down. "You look...guilty, Miss Moore."

Her eyes slid away. "I'm pretty sure he likes me."

He raised an eloquent eyebrow. "Who wouldn't."

She shook her head. "You're such a flirt." Jess looked up at him. "He's so quiet. Shy almost."

Brady picked a pool cue from the rack on the wall and eyed it to see if it was straight. "Yep. That's Sam."

He watched her rub the chalk on the end of her pool cue. The blue dust rising from the action dotting the back of her hand, marring it's pristine whiteness.

"He's had it rough so I think it's made him a bit reserved."

Jess looked up. "Oh?"

Bingo. He had her hooked. Now he just had to reel her in slowly, slowly lest she get away. Leave a trail of breadcrumbs for her to follow... Paint the picture of his messed up childhood. His struggles. Catnip for women. God, how they loved broken, fucked up men. Morons.

"Yeah. He doesn't talk much about himself."

"No. He doesn't."

"Sam's a good guy. A really good guy." Brady shook his head and lined up the shot. "He doesn't deserve the life he's had."

She cleared her throat. "He told me his mom died in a fire."

"Yeah. And his Dad went a little crazy and became an alcoholic." Brady's cue clicked against the cue ball and knocked it into a striped six. He sank it into the quarter pocket. "Didn't treat Sam so well."

Jess' eyes went soft. "Poor Sam."

"I think his Dad blamed him for his mother's death."

"What? Why?"

"She was in his nursery when the fire broke out."

"But he was a baby!"

Brady shrugged. "Doesn't matter much, Jess. People need someone to blame when bad things happen."

He waved a finger at her. "Now don't go telling Sam I told you this shit."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not an asshole, Brady. I'm not gonna rat you out. Give me some credit."

Oh, he did. That's why he was feeding her this shit. She'd never breathe a word of it to Sam.

"Sam's a hard worker too. You know, people like me, I got my family to help me out...but Sam. Well, he's on his own. He didn't even have anywhere to go for Christmas."

Jess looked scandalized. "What? Nowhere?"

"His dad...his brother...I mean who doesn't want to see their family for the holidays? Sam doesn't seem to feel like he can go back to them."

Brady shrugged and took another shot. He sent several balls careening around. Sank another stripe and then scratched as the cue ball disappeared into a pocket.

Jess reached down to grab it, set it behind the dot and lined up her shot. "You think... I mean be honest with me, Brady. I know he's your best friend but don't lie for him. Would he be good for me? Would we be good together? Is he gonna break my heart?"

No, baby, Brady thought. You're gonna break his.

"I think you'd be great for him. I think you'll set his world on fire." Brady gave her a wide smile.

Jess took her shot and stood up to watch the balls spin. A solid yellow pinged off the side, headed for the corner pocket and just barely knocked into the red ball. The red ball bumped it off course. "I really, really like him," she said. "I think I could fall hard for him if I'm not careful." The yellow switched trajectory and slammed into the black ball. Jess watched in horror as the eight ball rolled up to the lip of the pocket.

It teetered there a moment and then sank.

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