There was something comforting in the black and white screen, the overblown dialogue coming from it, the figure of yet another Dracula throwing his cape over his shoulders to an intimidated, bewildered blonde woman. “Too long have I watched you from the shadows. My passion knows no bounds!”
“Is there such a thing?” Walter asked with the cynical skepticism of an eleven year old who’s learning to question what adults say. “Passion having no bounds?”
“I was willing to give up everything for your father.” This was more than Molly was usually willing to share with their son about his biological dad. It was when Will realized this was a dream. “Every move was dictated by my feelings for him.”
“Don’t do that.” Will shivered, stroked Winston as he usually did when in doubt. “To let him dictate every move, to give him that kind of control is a mistake, even when it feels perfect.”
“Why?” Molly rose from the couch, nearly knocking Walter off it. Walter paid no attention and shoved a mouthful of popcorn into his mouth.
Molly strode over to where Will sat, towering over him even though she wasn’t that tall. That’s because it wasn’t Molly. It was Hannibal wearing the same thick coat he’d worn the last night Will had seen him, when he’d surrendered to Jack.
“Why should my passion for you know any bounds, even if I myself am bound?” Hannibal Lecter gazed down at Will with fathomless dark eyes many found cold. Will Graham knew better. “Thinking about you is all that keeps me occupied while I wait for you in a cage.”
“No,” Will muttered, spasming himself awake.
“Will?” Molly looked over at him in concern. Wally had fallen asleep next to her on the couch. “Are you all right?”
On the screen Dean Winchester came racing to save the blonde woman from the Dracula. The room was filled with warm light, dogs milling around them. Winston let out a low whimper.
“Just a dream,” Will said, offering Molly a sleepy smile. He was exactly where he wanted to be.
For now.