Disclaimer: I don't own the boys of Supernatural.
Summary: She's gotten Winchesters in the past. Now she wants Dean. But alas, one of her poker buddies is protecting him.
It's amazing how many times those boys manage to narrowly escape me, hanging on by their teeth and refusing to let go. Most stubborn bunch of jackasses I've ever seen, let me tell you. Especially the older one. I know it was only rock salt, but how many guys can get shot in the chest and just get up and walk away to tell the tale?
Not many guys I've met, that's for sure. Then again, maybe I'm just biased. Heaven or Hell, I know I'm biased. It's my job to be biased, and with the kind of people I meet, it's impossible not to be biased. Which is, I suppose, why it irks me so that those boys are so damn stubborn.
Now, take the older one for example.
Survived a ton of crap as a kid. Survives a monster's attack in the woods, my man Lucifer's possession of that co-pilot, an attack from a bloody-eye-inducing mirror bitch, a shapeshifter, that dude with the hook, and his brother shooting him with rock salt. And the guy still hasn't kicked it. I wouldn't mind if he did, at any rate. Not that I mind if anyone does, but he's a good-looking guy. We could have some fun in Purgatory.
Maybe it's that damn necklace of his. It sort of protects him, like a cross might protect someone against my man Lucifer. My man Elah must be looking out for the poor son-of-a-bitch. But, it's not like it'll last for eternity. He'll find his way to me eventually. Everyone always does.
So, onto the younger one, the tall-dark-and-handsome type.
The kid's always brooding, like those emo-goth-whatever kids that end up slitting their wrists or eating a gun. Those kids are fun, so tormented and anguished and ready to let go. But when they see me, you should see the looks on their faces. Priceless. They realize too late what they've given up, and they start whining about it and how they want to go back. But once you've found me, there ain't no going back.
But that younger one just won't do it. His brother's stubbornness must have rubbed off on him, or maybe it's part of the gene pool, getting inherited from Winchester to Winchester. But that sorry kid, no matter how much crap he takes, just won't give in. But then, he's had plenty of hit-and-run scrapes with me too, and I guess the glimpses he's gotten didn't show me in my best light.
The one's that have suffered losses always do seem to see me at my worst. Hey, I'm not an ugly chick – well, I don't think so, anyway, and my poker-buddies Lucifer and Elah haven't ever mentioned any hideous deformities. I mean, sure, sometimes I can be brutal and merciless – and rather gory, I might add – but I can also be rather peaceful and friendly. And I'm great at poker. Last time we played I won two angels, a flaming demon, and six premature cancer-victims.
Now, take the older one again. He's damn good at poker too. I guess we have that in common, if nothing else. I can't wait until he's part of the pot on our table.
But we're not so common in other ways – which makes sense. I mean, how much am I going to have in common with a human, anyway? He thinks that when I took his mother, it was horrible and devastating and tragic. But I think hers was a fun one. Stuck to the ceiling? Originality. Flames shooting out and engulfing the house? Action and excitement. I have to say, that was one of my better dealings. As was the younger one's girlfriend. She was fun too.
I can tell I won't get either of them any time soon. They're stubborn jackasses and just refuse to let go. But I'll get them eventually. I get everyone eventually. Besides, their dad's starting to look like a good target anyway.
But for now, I've got other lives to snatch. Some guy fell off a ladder the other day, and I expect I'll be seeing him any time now. Then there's also the old lady who thinks she's just laying down for a nice quick nap. All this work just keeps piling up on me! Of course, I love what I do, but it's not all peaches and pill-overdoses. Sometimes it's not as fun as it seems, especially when people expect me to pop up in a stupid black cape holding a scythe. Seriously, how stereotypical is that?
Well, I've got to run. Poker game starts in a few minutes, and I don't want to be late; I might just win a Winchester. Bet those silly humans never thought that Satan, God, and Death would all sit down together for a friendly game of cards.