fic: Don't Think Twice, It's Alright
Title: Don't Think Twice, It's Alright
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: God/Death
Rating: PG
Length: 914
Warnings: Light angst
Spoilers: 5.21
Summary: Death pays his friend a long awaited visit.
Disclaimer: I own nothing (except for maybe God...)
A/N: Based primarily on this conversation:
Dean: Well I gotta ask: How old are you?
Death: As old as God. Maybe older. Neither of us can remember anymore. Life, death, chicken, egg - regardless, at the end, I’ll reap Him too.
Dean: God? You’ll reap God?
Death: Oh yes. God will die too, Dean.
It turned out quite differently than I had anticipated. It is neither as deep nor as epic as this pairing has the potential to be, but I tried to capture the tension and history between these two beings. Hopefully it worked on some level. Title stolen from Bob Dylan's song of the same title. Also, this God is not Chuck. I think that's pretty evident once you start reading, but I just thought I'd point it out.
ps. feedback is very much appreciated.
----
On a celestial plain, half our own, and twice theirs, God sat by the side of the road on what would be a sunny Tuesday morning, by Earth standards-but by His standards it was an only slightly less sunny, Friday afternoon (with a chance of rain later that evening).
The road He sat on was fashioned after a dusty highway He’d driven down in western Montana back in 1976; though the sky had been a little bluer then, and the company infinitely more enjoyable.
But He couldn’t complain. Sheila had been a little too high-maintenance for him, and…well, he hadn’t been able to make that particular shade of blue since that day anyway…
On this day, though. This…particular day, He shared the company of an old friend-older than Sheila, older than the ‘65 Chevy Nova parked next to Him, older even than the stars, and the dust, and the grass, and everything else in the universe except for maybe God Himself-and there was only one reason why he should be there right now.
“You know, I never actually thought this day would come? Gotta say, I'm a little surprised to see ya here, D."
Death carefully sat down on the ground next to Him. He adjusted his coat around himself and settled, resting his hands gracefully in his lap. “I always keep my appointments,” he said with the same slow deliberateness that he did everything with.
"That you do, friend. That you do.” God smiled. “Hey, I got somethin’ for you.” He reached down at His side and pulled up a long roll of something wrapped in white, grease-stained paper. “One of those meatball subs from that diner in Modesto. Remember?”
With an amused look, Death took the sandwich. “I remember,” he murmured. “...And thank you,” he gestured to the food in his hand.
God simply smiled and leaned back, resting His hands on the dirt behind Him. “So, tell me. How're things down there?"
"Not good," Death said as he carefully unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite.
"No? How so?"
"Surely you haven't forgotten.”
"Forgotten? What...you mean that tantrum my son was throwing?"
"Yes. That."
"He still goin’ on about that? My, that boy always was a fussy one," He laughed.
"Yes, well," Death took another bite.
"Yeah...” God brushed a spot of dirt off His jeans and leaned forward, resting His arms across the tops of His knees tucked against His chest. “So...is Earth still there?" He asked softly, curiously, like maybe it wasn’t His business to know.
"Your children have made a mess of it, but yes. It's still there."
"Good! Good!” He smiled a little. “I’m glad to hear it.”
"You've been absent a long time, I'm surprised to hear you still think so much of it."
"Oh, come now. Earth was my masterpiece!" He made an expansive gesture to the fields surrounding them-to the waves of grass, golden under the afternoon sun, and the clear sky overhead. It was, in fact...beautiful.
Death considered this for a moment, and he nodded. "It certainly lived up to its reputation,” he conceded.
“Damn right!” God smiled proudly, and He watched, amused, as Death finished off his sandwich, neatly folded the wrapper, and placed it gently on the ground next to him. God grinned. “You know, you haven’t changed a bit?”
Death squinted against the sun at the field across from them. “No?” he glanced at God out of the corner of his eye.
“...No,” God finally said, and He looked away.
The two sat in silence then, for a while, watching the tall grass blow in the breeze. They both knew why they were there, why they were finally together after millennia apart, and call it what you will-stubbornness, desperation-but...fuckit.
“Come with me,” God said suddenly.
Death turned to Him. He looked closely, studying His face and what God could feel as the depths of something deeper inside of Him for a long time until finally he said, “...Why?”
God shrugged. “Why not.”
“You know I can’t.”
“Can’t? Or won’t.”
“There are rules-”
“I make the rules, D.”
Death shot Him a look. “Not for long,” he said.
God looked at him for a moment, incredulous and frustrated. “Then let’s run away!” He said. He reached out, mindlessly, and grabbed Death’s hand. “Just you and me.” He laced their fingers together and squeezed.
Death looked down to where their fingers were entwined, and he sighed, defeated. “It’s the end of time,” he said. “Where is there to run?”
God looked at him pleadingly. He felt Himself slipping. When He thought about it-I mean really thought about it-What could He do? What was there to do? There was nothing. Ever. He realized this now, and with vague amusement thought that one life could be so cosmically disproportionate to the very subtle irony that was His existence.
He stared for a moment longer, searching for something in those eyes that had been His one constant companion for so long...and there was nothing there but a sad resignation; no happiness, no anger, just an understanding that this was all there was.
“Okay.” God nodded. “Okay.” He looked back to the field across from them, and He squeezed Death’s hand once more before gently letting it go.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: God/Death
Rating: PG
Length: 914
Warnings: Light angst
Spoilers: 5.21
Summary: Death pays his friend a long awaited visit.
Disclaimer: I own nothing (except for maybe God...)
A/N: Based primarily on this conversation:
Dean: Well I gotta ask: How old are you?
Death: As old as God. Maybe older. Neither of us can remember anymore. Life, death, chicken, egg - regardless, at the end, I’ll reap Him too.
Dean: God? You’ll reap God?
Death: Oh yes. God will die too, Dean.
It turned out quite differently than I had anticipated. It is neither as deep nor as epic as this pairing has the potential to be, but I tried to capture the tension and history between these two beings. Hopefully it worked on some level. Title stolen from Bob Dylan's song of the same title. Also, this God is not Chuck. I think that's pretty evident once you start reading, but I just thought I'd point it out.
ps. feedback is very much appreciated.
----
On a celestial plain, half our own, and twice theirs, God sat by the side of the road on what would be a sunny Tuesday morning, by Earth standards-but by His standards it was an only slightly less sunny, Friday afternoon (with a chance of rain later that evening).
The road He sat on was fashioned after a dusty highway He’d driven down in western Montana back in 1976; though the sky had been a little bluer then, and the company infinitely more enjoyable.
But He couldn’t complain. Sheila had been a little too high-maintenance for him, and…well, he hadn’t been able to make that particular shade of blue since that day anyway…
On this day, though. This…particular day, He shared the company of an old friend-older than Sheila, older than the ‘65 Chevy Nova parked next to Him, older even than the stars, and the dust, and the grass, and everything else in the universe except for maybe God Himself-and there was only one reason why he should be there right now.
“You know, I never actually thought this day would come? Gotta say, I'm a little surprised to see ya here, D."
Death carefully sat down on the ground next to Him. He adjusted his coat around himself and settled, resting his hands gracefully in his lap. “I always keep my appointments,” he said with the same slow deliberateness that he did everything with.
"That you do, friend. That you do.” God smiled. “Hey, I got somethin’ for you.” He reached down at His side and pulled up a long roll of something wrapped in white, grease-stained paper. “One of those meatball subs from that diner in Modesto. Remember?”
With an amused look, Death took the sandwich. “I remember,” he murmured. “...And thank you,” he gestured to the food in his hand.
God simply smiled and leaned back, resting His hands on the dirt behind Him. “So, tell me. How're things down there?"
"Not good," Death said as he carefully unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite.
"No? How so?"
"Surely you haven't forgotten.”
"Forgotten? What...you mean that tantrum my son was throwing?"
"Yes. That."
"He still goin’ on about that? My, that boy always was a fussy one," He laughed.
"Yes, well," Death took another bite.
"Yeah...” God brushed a spot of dirt off His jeans and leaned forward, resting His arms across the tops of His knees tucked against His chest. “So...is Earth still there?" He asked softly, curiously, like maybe it wasn’t His business to know.
"Your children have made a mess of it, but yes. It's still there."
"Good! Good!” He smiled a little. “I’m glad to hear it.”
"You've been absent a long time, I'm surprised to hear you still think so much of it."
"Oh, come now. Earth was my masterpiece!" He made an expansive gesture to the fields surrounding them-to the waves of grass, golden under the afternoon sun, and the clear sky overhead. It was, in fact...beautiful.
Death considered this for a moment, and he nodded. "It certainly lived up to its reputation,” he conceded.
“Damn right!” God smiled proudly, and He watched, amused, as Death finished off his sandwich, neatly folded the wrapper, and placed it gently on the ground next to him. God grinned. “You know, you haven’t changed a bit?”
Death squinted against the sun at the field across from them. “No?” he glanced at God out of the corner of his eye.
“...No,” God finally said, and He looked away.
The two sat in silence then, for a while, watching the tall grass blow in the breeze. They both knew why they were there, why they were finally together after millennia apart, and call it what you will-stubbornness, desperation-but...fuckit.
“Come with me,” God said suddenly.
Death turned to Him. He looked closely, studying His face and what God could feel as the depths of something deeper inside of Him for a long time until finally he said, “...Why?”
God shrugged. “Why not.”
“You know I can’t.”
“Can’t? Or won’t.”
“There are rules-”
“I make the rules, D.”
Death shot Him a look. “Not for long,” he said.
God looked at him for a moment, incredulous and frustrated. “Then let’s run away!” He said. He reached out, mindlessly, and grabbed Death’s hand. “Just you and me.” He laced their fingers together and squeezed.
Death looked down to where their fingers were entwined, and he sighed, defeated. “It’s the end of time,” he said. “Where is there to run?”
God looked at him pleadingly. He felt Himself slipping. When He thought about it-I mean really thought about it-What could He do? What was there to do? There was nothing. Ever. He realized this now, and with vague amusement thought that one life could be so cosmically disproportionate to the very subtle irony that was His existence.
He stared for a moment longer, searching for something in those eyes that had been His one constant companion for so long...and there was nothing there but a sad resignation; no happiness, no anger, just an understanding that this was all there was.
“Okay.” God nodded. “Okay.” He looked back to the field across from them, and He squeezed Death’s hand once more before gently letting it go.