Unwanted Attention, for brutti-ma-buoni, part 1 of 2
Title: Unwanted Attention
Recipient: brutti-ma-buoni
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Supernatural or any of the associated works, this was pure entertainment. No copyright infringement was intended.
Timeline: Assume everything is covered, all seasons any possible spoilers and yeah if you haven’t watched every episode this is not the story to read.
Rating: PG-13 (Dean has a mouth and graphic scenes, mostly canon)
Warnings: SPOILERS!!! Everything is spoiled! Do not read this if you have not watched every episode of seasons 1-8!!!! That is your only warning. Also Character Death, mostly Canon deaths.
Summary: Death has known Dean Winchester’s name the moment God started to make his little play toy, what Death didn`t know was how tangled their lives would become.
Authors Note: This was for the summergen challenge, I have listed the prompts below so you can hopefully see them in the story. I hope you enjoy and I will be posting a second version with season nine as a second chapter as the challenger hasn’t watched that season yet but I just couldn’t leave it untouched. I hope you enjoy and please see the notes at the end of any other comments.
Prompt One: Teen!chesters - with John away, Sam and Dean face some issues. Ideally when they are about 16 and 12 - too young to be alone for severall weeks by normal measures, but not too young to cope Issues could be supernatural case fic or real world - school bullying, nosy neightbours, money troubles, cabin fever, Sam hitting adolescence with a bang. Anything from angst to crack.
Prompt Three: Death and Dean Winchester: the saga continuums. I feel like Death is *interested* in Dean's progress, and they have some kind of connection (definitely not sexual, dear lord) I'd like to see some reflection on that, whether Death's view on canon or another moment when they connect. Season 7 or earlier, please, I'm pretty much unspoiled for season 8, if Death turns up then.)
*Later confirmed only season 9*
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Death has always been, there was always Death, something had to die for the new world to be born. That was why when the newly named "GOD" started creating he brought some fun times for sure, monsters, creatures and just fun. Death was busy, always busy. Then the humans appeared and Death needed help. The reapers were born and sent to their work. The entire time a single soul burned bright.
It stood out, not having a place or time of its own. It outshone the other souls around it, always the brightest and always drew attention. It slipped and slid over time, taking on new bodies but the story was always the same. Love his family, love the people, love his country, and it would always die for one of the three. Since humanity began Death is drawn to this soul, reaping it time and time again.
He is always the one to offer a hand to the soul and carry him home. Hoping that one of these times it would stick, but there is something different about this soul and it only keeps coming back, only gets brighter. By the middle ages the soul has grown so bright they start calling it a Saint, it never ends well for Saints and Death reaps the soul years before it is suppose to end.
This goes on over the years, but from that point on the soul no longer has a peaceful life. Not now that it has been proven a warrior and it is found normally leading an army. Always at the time, King, Queen, General, or Political power; the soul has found its place.
Safeguarding those around it, but for itself it could not do the same. Death loses track of time, shifting in and out of Earth while the soul passes along its way.
The date that rings out as different is almost shocking; by Earth standards he believes that it is early March in 1861 when the soul flares bright after a great period of silence, it had been at least seventy-five years and Death was sure that the soul had found peace finally. Something was different this time, the soul felt different. For the first time ever it felt a gender, it was MALE, and strong. Stronger than it had been since the Saint problem, but it was tainted, darkness had snaked its way into the soul.
Death couldn't stop himself from flying to the almost forgotten soul; he remained in the darkness at the edge of the world as he watched on. The soul was still honourable and fought for the town it found itself in, but it shimmered. While the soul had never had a time or place, it was clear that it was out of its depths somewhat, while the pain that most suffered from due to time travel the soul was almost frolicking in the shift.
Also something else moved with the soul, it was the reason the darkness had not taken and destroyed the soul but it was not suppose to be there, Death had to tilt his head before it clicked, that was grace of an Angel. What had happened to this soul since his last trip, it was clear that a lot had happened and he found himself watching. The soul wasn't alone, but his companions soul was nothing like his own and Death frowned slightly, it was a nice soul but just that, only nice. It didn't compare, but no other soul ever had.
Death watched as they split up, finding the Colt and its maker, while the soul head into town and took care of the problems the town had been having before vanishing. Death spread his senses outwards but the soul was not in this time, and while he had nothing but that on his hands he also had better than to do than worry about a question that would be answered in due time. With that in mind he pushed away from the tiny Earth and back to his work.
Time passes but the memory of the soul is burned into Death's mind, he didn’t feel the soul awaken, how was it possible that it had grown into a man. His mind ponders over the years; it is in the year 1944 that the soul blinks back onto the radar so to speak. Without a thought Death reclaims the possible from almost a hundred years before and watches. The soul has changed again, the darkness is closer to the surface; the Angel's grace hidden away. The soul is grieving and a different kind of death surrounds the soul.
Death quickly realizes that this time the soul is a hunter of evil; this becomes clear when he can feel the soul dimming and he leaves his darkness behind as he approaches the hunter to claim the soul again but then both the false god and soul blink out of time. Shrugging Death fades back into darkness; he would find the soul again.
The third time the soul re-appears the year is 1973 and Death can feel the taint of Heaven and Hell dripping off the screaming soul. It is clear that this is a younger version of the soul from the 1800's; the grace is keeping the soul from tearing itself apart but that is all it offers, the calm he saw before has yet to grow and he can taste Hell's claws still twisting red marks over the blue and green the soul normally offered.
Death stays back this time, watches everything play out, he can feel that this is set in stone, fixed you could almost say. It had and always would happen, Death found himself curious as to why but he knew fate when he saw it and these people were covered from head to toe in "fate".
One Angel remained close to the soul, the grace matching that which moved within the soul. Death was not shocked that his charge had an Angel watching him, what he was surprised about however was the way the Angel watched his charge. Protective but caring, something that had been missing for many a millennia among the Angels. He turned his focus back to the soul; it had met up with a number of hunters from that time. All respected and well known, he watched as new information came to life and Death wondered what game the Angels were playing.
The time passed and the soul sent back to its time, and it was five short years later the soul makes a fourth appearance. 1978, was a slow year until the man re-appeared. His soul looking slightly healthier, but it was clear that it still had a lot to go. Death reaps the taller man that came back in time with him but it feels off, like it isn't going to stick and he curses heaven as he makes it back just in time to see the end of the soul's conversation with Michael before he is sent home. At least some of his questions are answered; he could wait for the rest. He felt that things were going to start getting closer to home.
A familiar feeling causes him to call four reapers to him to finish clearing the disaster area of lost souls and leaves. He finds himself in Lawrence, Kanas and the date is January 24th, 1979, the soul has been reborn. Angels cry out above the hospital where one Mary Winchester is, Death was not surprised when the first cries of the child breaks the silence of the room. They are strong and proud to be alive. The soul is old but the body so young it aches. Death is almost comforted that it is the old soul he remembers, before the taint and twists it has been through. The soul that offers all of itself and keeps nothing back, it is refreshing to see it once more and Death leaves the family to their peace.
He knew that it would be years until the soul got his final rest; he was not slotted to be taken for many years. Which caused the moment of doubt in his form before he forced himself to the town he knew. It was 1983 and the soul was at risk of Death, he felt two reapers hovering over the Winchester house. This shouldn't be happening; the soul was not at risk, he knew this in his very fiber but someone would die this evening. He almost felt something when he took Mary Winchesters hand and she pulled back.
"I'm not going anywhere! Where are my children?" her eyes were wild with fire and he knew she would do anything to protect her children. She reminded him of the soul she had birthed and he shouldn't be surprised. It seemed that those linked to his-he paused in his thoughts when had the soul become his?
"They are safe, you must move on Mary Winchester." Death stated letting himself talk to the soul in front of him rather than think about his wondering thoughts.
"No I must not, my babies. They need to be protected, Az-" Death waved a hand at her cutting her off before she could evoke the name. That was the last thing either of them needed on this evening. Names were heavy things, things that shouldn't be spoken in haste.
"Will not be a threat, the children are hidden with their father," he knew that was only for the moment but the future was neither of their concern at the moment.
"He will track them down," she said without pause, he could see the warrior in this woman's soul and he wished he could offer more to her but he had nothing to give her but words so that is what he offered.
"They will be safe."
A moment's pause as the woman watched him, her eyes narrowing. "All the same, I think I'm staying."
"You know what will happen to you."
"Will I get to see them again?"
"I do not know." he answered truthfully, unwilling to lie to one so close to his favorite soul.
"I'll take the gamble, thanks for the offer but I'm staying at this station."
"Very well, good luck Mary Winchester." Death said as he faded into the darkness and disappeared back into the stars. He had to think.
It was a short two weeks later when Death was pulled to Earth once more by the cries of the soul he now knew he held close to his heart and mind. Letting himself be distracted but not worried, never worried.
When he arrived he almost feared he would be reaping souls of children that night, a demon and its pet hellhound was tearing into the only adult present but it wasn't their father. Death turned to look at the demon as he arranged the room as he wished, blood splashing abnormally onto the wall.
"Tiny!" the demon called and a friendly growl was the animal's reply as it came to a stop then vanished back to its hole. The demon paused and sniffed the air, "one of those boys has a watch dog." It whistled and Death was tempted to bring himself onto the correct plane of existence but held himself back. It would not help matters, it wasn't long before the demon was gone and John Winchester and a new friend were back. Death left as quickly as possible knowing there would be no death tonight.
Years go by and Death has to assume that the soul has settled in and is out of threats way, there had been a few times over the years, illness that had been pushed to the limits and threats that got to close but as Death knew he had not passed on. The year was 1989 when things started to change, the soul screams in pain and Death can't stop himself from flying to see what has caused such pain. What he finds makes his blood run cold; the soul's father had raised his hand to the boy.
Spankings had been one thing, most of them Death had agreed with, dumb risks that had put the soul at risk but to slap a child. A soul so bright and wonderful, there was no reason, and really no physical harm but the soul was what Death was concerned for. A second, third and fourth blow rained down on the soul and curses coming from a drunken mouth. The soul flickered slightly dimming then started to shine even brighter, Angels would have to shade their eyes to look at the outline of this soul and Death if he had to breath knew his breath would have caught at the sight.
He felt something swell and he knew it was pride; the soul was pushing its own boundaries and shattering them apart. Something new shinning and joining the bright green and blue. New colours of orange and purple swirled in the mix. It was like a cup of cosmos in a human shape, Death knew the soul would be safe and faded into the background.
The soul had only been only Earth for twelve years when real pain screamed over the Earth. Angels were sneaking peaks downwards when he approached, staying hidden like always before. He knew he was needed else were but he wanted to know how the soul handed it all. It would be a new challenge, one that would cause ripples.
The soul stumbled into the room and latched the large door behind him; he was covered in scratches and what appeared to be human bite marks. A shudder from the soul and he was moving over to the bedroom and checking on the youngest soul, already tainted by demons. It was a shame really; the soul had such promise like its sibling. A breath of relief came from the soul’s physical body and then it was moving again.
Death watched interested at where this was going as the brilliant soul grabbed a shotgun and moved as far away from the bedroom as it could mentally permit picked up a saw and set to work. Death knew shotguns were deadly; a perfect shotgun would have range and effective stopping power. The fact that the soul was sawing it down could mean a number of things. The first that came to mind was taking it away from the house; a young child could not walk around with a full sized shotgun. But Death also knew when you took the right length off you turned a precise weapon into a battering ram. One that needed to be used at close range if you wanted to have the full effect to your victim.
The soul finishes its work and then sets to cleaning up before once more checking on his younger brother and finally writing a note to him. Death watched as it takes a moment to gather itself and then collects the newly crafted weapon and loads it, slipping extra ammo into its pocket it sets out into the evening. There would be work here tonight, just not the soul Death was so draw to. At least not to take, the man instead would be offering him a soul to take and Death couldn't help but follow closer to the already changing soul.
He knew what had happened with the teenager and Death wondered just why others would do such things to one another. When the soul moved into the abandoned hotel Death senses more than humans present. A demon was at play here and this changed the game slightly but not by much. The game didn't play out for long, Dean shot the man's left leg out from under him and had the barrel of the gun buried under his chin. His finger off the trigger so Death knew the threat wasn't real, at least not yet but it was still a threat and it worked.
Eyes flashed in the older teen and the demon pushed to the foreground, using the surprise to shake Dean off and across the room. A crunch sounded and Death knew the soul was hurt physically but not enough to die; he would have work if that was the fact. He was almost getting bored, but he still wanted to see what the soul did, he watched as the taunts began and the two tossed words back and forth as Dean moved around the room, shooting at the demon now and then. The bullets having no effect now that the game was over, it wasn't until after the soul had reloaded and fired again the change was noticed.
"Rock salt bitch, how does that taste?" came a new voice from the soul and Death felt a small tug on his lips as another colour joined the souls blend. Fiery red dances in and then fades into the background of the others, the lights pulsing together to form a new dance. What a clever little soul, another piece of the bigger puzzle finding its place. The fight ends shortly after three shots of rock salt which wouldn't hurt the human further but it was already too late for that. The soul stays with the dying teenager as he passes and Death picks up where the soul left off.
"What's going on?" comes an unsure voice looking down at himself dead on the ground by his feet. "Where did Dean go?"
"Dean?"
"The guy, he-I think-he saved me," Death finally had a name and he tested it in his head before accepting it.
"He had to go; it was not his time and has much more work to do." Death informed him, "I am here to help you home. Would you like this?"
"Yeah-I think so-can you tell him thanks." Death just smiles and offers his hand to the young soul.
"Take care," he offers, while not offering a promise. No one would ever know that Dean had dealt the killing blow.
After the first, Death couldn't help but carry over those that Dean offered to him. It was a nice working relationship that the soul didn't even know was happening, but it was fine with Death. The boy-soul-Dean. Dean offered enough work for Death and two of his reapers. The boy didn't mean for it to happen, but when Death follows you, and then literal death followed you. Most had been creatures, monsters, demons, and such that Dean's father had dealt with. Then he had started to really train, and hunt. When he started to hunt the warrior of long before was brought to the foreground and Death was delighted. He had almost forgotten what it was like to have the soul burning bright as it forged into battle. No matter what the size of the battle was he tossed himself into it 100%.
The year was 1995 and pain weaved its way to Death, Dean was hunting and it was clear the boy was up against a threat. Without much to do at the moment he flickered in and watched as Dean gained the upper hand and sent another creation towards Deaths waiting hands. Hunger, real hunger is what draws him out the next time. Only a few days later he watches Dean be handcuffed and tossed into jail. The soul is tossed into something very old to it, a lovely house.
It is clear to Death that the soul deserves this as it grows and new colours jump forward; white, gold, silver, bronze, brown, and teal. Colours blending into the stronger ones and melding a new soul that drifts around the body that holds it onto the ground. When its leaves black melds into the colours, drifting to the edge, holding the colour in place behind a wall of black.
It is the summer of 2001 that Death feels self-loathing pulsing from his favorite soul and fades into the dark room that held the soul, blood was clear on his arms but it wasn't much
not enough to put Death to work but it was enough to worry.
"Dean, you ready?" came a voice on the other side of the door; Death finally took in the rest of the room. It was the bathroom and the mirror is shattered behind Dean, which explained the blood.
"Need ten minutes,” Dean holding his breath as if a bomb was about to explode.
"You have four," was the only reply as footsteps walked away and the breath released. The man set to work cleaning up first the area and then himself and was finished in three minutes. He ran shaking but clean hands over his face, eyes closed as he tilted his head upwards and exhaled deeply.
"He'll be safe." Dean stated to the silent room nodding as he turned and left. Death smiled no new colours this time, no just a new shine. One that would only get brighter with time, he knew that the soul would fight to get back to his brother. He would be sage also, with that Death went back to work.
Death is correct for two years, at which point something changes, the light dims slightly in the soul and Death starts to form a routine that had him checking Dean regularly. His father not around and his brother not within sight he let himself go wild. Threats that before would not approach did so now without a care, they were always proven wrong and Death was busy with Dean's offerings. This goes on for almost two years, Death watched as he wrapped his ribs from the last hunt, a Voodoo Queen going on a killing spree. Death would say that Dean was lucky if he didn't know any better, the man walked away without a few bruises and scrapes. Death knew the Angels were not watching yet, so he wondered if the man remembered his other lives this time and was using them to his advance.
That was off the topic at hand, Death knew the glow from the soul in front of him, he was going to see his brother. The soul sang with joy with being reunited with such a familiar part of itself while another part of it was clear in its worry. Rejection had been and always would be a worry for this beautiful soul, Death could understand. Perhaps it was one of the reasons he clung to the soul, knowing in the end he would not reject him. He always came back, even if Death did not understand as to why.
Once he is back with his brother things start to pick up pace, while Dean and Sam- his younger brothers name- make many offerings to Death and he takes them all. Knowing this draws attention to the two of them but they would do it no matter what, at least this way Death has entertainment and a close seat to names being made for the history books. The threats to Dean Winchester’s life grow; the first is him showing off. Tossing himself off the bridge rather than clinging onto it, then he is stolen by a wendigo from his brother. He tosses himself into a ghost infested waters to save a child, and boards a plane he knows is fated to crash. A spirit he crossed many years before almost bleeds his brain out of his eyes and ears which only lead to a shapeshifter stealing his form.
At this point Death was almost upset with the soul, he had always pushed limits before but he had never been such a pain in the ass. Not that he knew he was but Death felt drawn to watch as Dean Winchester grew like all the rest of the soul’s lives before him. This time however he watched first hand rather than hearing about it after the fact. He was still impressed, he helps defeat a two century old soul and holds off against a curse, on the land that was cursed, his soul offering protection to the family and his brother from the swarm around the house, pushing them back without even knowing what he was doing.
Death cannot help but help Mary after their final meeting and they smile at each other. “Take care of my boys.” She whispers as she wisps into bright lights and shoots up through the ceiling. He watches the blows both physical and mental he takes from his brother, the soul twisting and turning at the words more than the salt or threat of bullets. Being left behind, being beaten and used as food for a false god. Then Death feels the pull, it can not be. It is not time, he knows that it is wrong, he senses when Dean will hold his hand and pass onto his final rest. This time would be final, Death would ensure it, the man had already lived too many lives. He hovers over Dean in the hospital, watching as he struggles to breath and Death winces knowing that something has to change.
Sam Winchester is what changes Death’s pull towards Dean. Death knows its wrong, he should be outraged and kill the woman where she stood the first moment that he felt her but he knew that she could do what he wanted. What he couldn’t do, he would stop the pull and he let her. He knew what he was doing was wrong and the reaper she was attached to screamed for him the entire time. He reached out to the reapers mind and calmed them, soon. He promised, soon this will end and you will take what she has claimed. He promised in his mind, soothing the reapers mind as best he could while getting what he wanted. When it was over his promised filled he left, needing distance. It was for the best.
He didn’t answer the soul during the car race, or when the youngest sees Dean’s death happening before his eyes. He doesn’t go when the man is being tortured, or his life held in a demons hand. One that seemed so familiar from somewhere. He didn’t answer when the soul faces off against a belief itself, or when he faces something Death remembers from the man’s past. Or at least the after effect was seen, but neither was the present so why did it matter.
He didn’t answer the call when vampire fangs tensed at the man’s neck or when Demons start to circle around him. What he finally answers he has no choice, he knew it wasn’t possible.
He knew it wasn’t but he was outside a destroyed car, Dean and his family lay inside. Broken and bleeding they were all in danger but Dean was the closest. Death was within his rights to reach out and take him, take the soul and end it all. It really did make sense, the man had lived and lived only to be something twisted that Death had seen from the future.
It was the youngest Winchester's cries for his brother that stills his hand, stops him from moving towards the car and what is in his right to take. He twists slightly to the side as the demon appears and a bluff is played, but was it really a bluff. Emergency services is too slow and Death knows that it is now only a matter of time before Deans hand slips into his own and he finds that distasteful.
Time slips as they are now being held in a hospital room, Dean’s body is hooked up to machines that maintain his bodily functions and Death dislikes it. But it doesn’t matter, he calls Tessa, his favorite reaper to his side and gives her direction and fades into the background. He hears another reaper call for his help but does not move knowing offering her aid this moment would end Dean.
In retrospect he should have saved them both, his favorites used to torment one another. He should have let them save each other, it wasn’t until many years later he realized what a mess he had made of the two blessed. After this it gets worse, Death has to watch - he did this, at least had a hand in it. John offered his soul and Death offered a reaper. Death could see the soul felt sick, touched by a demon. Unwanted and it twisted inside its seal, colours dim and the shine gone almost completely. Anger flying in every direction, unlike ever before, he used himself as bait a number of times.
Another close call with a sniper rifle and mind control, he was on his best behaviour when he had others to care for and Death was thankful for the young shining soul that makes Dean sway slightly. He is framed and almost killed and has a run in with hellhounds again. Death wonders why this soul must be tried time and time again and he knows that next time the man’s number is up he would not shy away. A very old virus resurfaces and Death watches with new interest as events start to pick up. It doesn’t stop the threats, a fellow hunter is a large threat that Death counts the day till he collects and wonders if Dean will be the one to offer that soul to him.
He gets shot by a demon holding his brother a few months later and Death knows more is at play when ‘Loki’ makes an appear. He wants to tell the hidden Angel he burns too bright to be anything but an Archangel; but he remains silent and hidden. He watches as Dean helps a lost soul move on and takes her hand to led her the rest of the way. A new threat is presented when he lands in prison, the ghost and inmates are all interested in the soul, who only puts on a brave face and pushes through it.
Death wonders what Dean dreams when the Djinn spins its web, the fact that the soul recognizes the fact and wakes himself is not a shock or surprise. The pain however would be nice to get rid of, Death wishes he could take the souls pain but knows the time is not yet. Silence, there is nothing. No supernatural talk, no human chatter. It worries everyone that is not on a side and they now something is coming.
The contract shouldn’t come as shock, it really doesn’t. The short period however, one year. Death now had the date, even if it wasn’t he one he had first seen since Dean Winchester came back to human form. Humans could change that, freewill was just that. Now he knew where the darkness came from that he had seen in the soul, he wondered how long it would be before the Angel saved the cursed soul.
Death tried to stay away from the Winchesters during the final year, he knew it would only be harder if he watched the man face his final year. He didn’t foresee being so connected to the soul and feeling his powerful emotions. The soul shaking ones, and there had been so many for a final year the man had been shaken. Presented with a possible son, cursed again, held with a demon, challenged by a living ghost, another curse that only was held off again by his souls desire and love to protect.
His brother is the one that finally offers Gordon to him and he has to admit that Sam Winchester is growing on him and he takes the man’s hand. “Do not enjoy your time.” He states the walls slamming behind the monster as he screamed through his rough landing. False gods once more, these boys did present the best offerings to him, what made it even better was the day they did it on. If Death needed power he would look no further than the two souls before him.
Witches cursed him, and a dreamscape was a soul scarring process for him. The year had been half over when Death smelt Archangel again and watched, unable to touch and fulfill his promise, as Gabriel kills Dean Winchester over and over again. The only saving grace was the soul had been removed before Death each and every time. It was treated with respect and grace that only an Angel could offer and Death let the lesson happen. The boys did have to learn it at some point, Dean’s soul normally was okay with leaving. Death knew it was different this time.
The hunts that followed did more to Dean’s soul than his body and Death knew the soul was growing weary, tired and defeated knowing that it was going to hell and what would happen to it once it arrived. When Dean started to blur the lines Death had to take his leave, at least until it was closer to the time. He didn’t want to risk Dean knowing who he was, not that it was likely, but the soul had surprised him before.
He felt the time near and the demon opened the doors, the dogs began to tear the body apart as I reached for the soul inside but it blinked away from my hand. I glared at the body and the hounds than turned to Lilith who only smirked at me before turning to Sam talking as if I was not in the room. Anger boils and I am tempted to snap her neck if I didn’t want to spend the rest of time fighting off demons and angels alike. He knew just who and what she was and wanted nothing to do with it. Dean gone, Death left, unwilling to poke his nose where it did not belong.
He leaves Earth behind after Dean leaves this life behind for a final time. Death knew what happened to human souls in the pit, what climbed out would not be Dean Winchester, just a poor imitation in about 200 years or so. Which is why he finds himself back on Earth on September 18th 2008, the Angels calling out : Dean Winchester has been saved! He couldn’t help himself he knows where the buried body lays. The soul was unclaimed by reapers and screams against time and space. He moved silent towards the hand that shoots up out of the ground and pulls the body behind it. It is Dean Winchester, soul shining with Grace and darkness beneath the combined shine. It’s clear he doesn’t remember everything yet and moves out of the area.
He follows until Dean has a plan and then he is off, he knows that for the moment he can do work and is just happy that the soul has not turned into the nightmare that normally comes back from the pit. He just wished he knew more of the Angel’s plans, but he sensed that he knew just what he needed thanks to Michael many years before.
When he goes looking for the missing soul he finds the wave of Angels and time movement and knows that this must have been one of the times that the soul travels in time. He knows that he will be save and returns to his work. The return leads to distress from the soul about his brother and his own return but Death can not offer anything and wonders if the Angel assigned will do anything about the growing feelings.
Dean has been back for six months or so when he runs into Tessa while attempting to save a seal. Death watches as the two interact and he is pleased that they can work together and that Dean admits to feeling out of place and missing the reaper. He wonders if Dean could also be missing him, but found it unlikely. Death watches as the Angels ask Dean to use his Hell bound skills to get information from his former Master. The soul twists but does as he is asked because Cass is the one that asks him to do it. Death just shakes his head at this.
When he wakes from his small coma Dean’s soul has never been weaker than it has at this moment, the only thing that offers any shine is the Grace Cass had offered and even it has dimmed to reflect the mood of the host. The demon dark taint is held at bay also but you can tell that Dean wants it to end and Death is tempted to take and fill the request for the man. He should have know the Angels would hide Dean for a while after that.
The Angels make it hard to track Dean or Sam after this and Death knows that the time is upon them and soon the end would be underway. He feels almost sorry for the two souls that only wanted to be brothers and live out their lives together. Death felt Lucifer rise and knew that things would start to get bad from here on out, his old cage pulling him downwards, he wanted to scream - he had left, he was free. Then he was trapped, he would get his freedom back. This he swore.
During the first few weeks of being captured his rage made almost anything impossible, he didn’t focus on one thing or anything specifically. A few times the calls from his reapers would make it to his ears but he could not reply and almost wished for sleep to pass the time. He felt a jerk at his body when Dean’s soul disappeared again and he wondered what the Angels were up to now, it was only a few hours later it returned and was whisked away by Cass this time.
Death went back to pacing, the next time he was pushed out of his rage it was once more Dean Winchester, who was now physically older than what Death had assumed was the age he would be reaped by. It was almost a shock but it was just his physical body and less than twelve hours later it was back to normal. Then the soul blinked out again, this time for much longer and Death was tempted to call for a face to face with someone. Dean reappears a few days later and Death was still silent in his room.
Rage changing slightly to worry about the two brothers and the wayward Angel, he knew he didn’t do anything to help them but he didn’t offer hurt either. He figured that was a fair trade off. It was shortly after this return that Death felt the pull upwards out of the cage he found himself trapped in. Lucifer had finally gotten around to the key but had found a chain also. He growled as he rose to the surface, he could feel Dean, Sam and Cass close by and hoped they left before he finished his rise.
“Oh, Death!” the bothersome Angel called and Death focused his glaze onto the fallen Angel.
“Lucifer,” he replies calmly as he feels the three vanish from their spots and Death knows this is going to - using Dean and Sam’s speech pattern - suck.
Death had been correct, working for Lucifer; if you could call this anything other than slavery. Destroy this, kill that, this was not how Death worked. He can no longer move by his own freewill and his ire grows but he stifles it. When the soul leaves this time Death knows it time travel again and the man will be back, not much he could do really. He knows its his own captivity that provents him from even thinking about offering help. It wasn’t long before the soul was back but the strength is surprising, it feels almost recharged and Death wonders who he ran into back in the past.
He can feel one of his brothers near Dean, Dean’s soul flares in response, Famine is too strong for him to offer the protection he wants but he does blanket himself from the evil touch of famine. Death wonders just what Dean’s true desire would be, most likely protection he would have made a great wolf. Listening to the man’s pleas later that evening Death knew it was time to step up and make his presence know, so to speak. His next orders align with his own desires and he went without much complaint to Lucifer, refusing to call him Master. He raises an army of dead, knowing he would need to give them an edge to fight Dean, he also wanted to test the hunter. He watches it unfold and reports back, leaving some parts out because he wasn’t asked and he’s not trying to help the little brat Angel.
He feels when Dean dies and lands in heaven, he would be happy for the man if it was going to stay. A wave spread over the supernatural community when Dean made his first large kill after his return. The Whore of Babylon, whispers started and Death knew the end was drawing near.
When Michael didn’t come to smite his baby brother he knew something had changed, something large and impossible. What had his favorite soul gone and done now.
Death feels when Dean meets Pestilence, there is nothing the soul can do to fight physical illness, the pain must be unbearable but they live to fight on, they were so close Death knew soon they would meet. He wondered if Dean would be able to free him as he believes he could, at least his plan still stood a chance.
Death knew asking Dean anything would get them no where which is why Dean didn’t meet the Death that maybe liked the soul. No Dean meet Death, the Death, the man that will reap god. The man that would reap Dean and his brother when the time finally came and he knew it would come. Death.
Death couldn't care less on the location, but is almost pleased that its Chicago, at least he can get a decent slice. Pulling the car in he parked and pulled his cane out of the passenger seat and started his travels. He had a few hours before the demon completed his side of the deal and brought the soul to his location; it was more than enough time to get everything in order. It was almost a shame when he had to kill the rude man, almost but not at all. If only he had listened to his mother all those years ago when she told him that the lack of manners were going to get him killed.
A connection flared between himself and the soul as it touched his scythe, this connection was different, this was centred around the final act in a souls life. The swinging blade, the sweet final release, death, it sang and moved freely. This soul had fed him well over the years and his weapon was happy to be so close to Deaths favorite soul. This distracted Death as he claimed a seat in a diner, after placing a order for a deep dish meat lovers he settled in and advised the crossroad demon that his turn was up.
Time moved on and the soul, demon still tagging along, were slowly making their way towards the city. Death called forth a storm, at least the beginnings and already the humans started to buzz around in a panic. Unexpected, unexplained. Really, they needed to stop and look around them, such a shame this skill had been lost to all but the young and tormented. The soul is within city blocks now, feeling safe and protected in its car.
Death finally lets his real self push forward and he almost feels sorry for the gathered masses of humans that had been enjoying their meals; but Death was just that, death, and it was not to be played with. The diner only held half the number of people that it did when he walked in, a good chunk of the humans feeling something was off and leaving before it was put to the test.
The soul approached and he held back the chuckle, he could feel it pulsing as it eased into the backroom and slinked into the man room via the connected kitchen. He finds himself curious about the soul morethan before as it makes it way towards him. The brightness was not overly shocking he had seen it before but the colours, to see them with human eyes from his temporay vessel is breathtaking. He wishes that he could have met the soul without the demand of a spell and ritual. He stops and refocuses calling his blade, not trying to kill or harm the man. No he was too close to his goals to let that happen, besides it wasn't the correct time for the man's death. He speaks and the soul listens, at least at first. Joining him at the table by request is interesting and the soul amuses him.
The soul questions if he was going to kill him and Death almost smiles fondly at the soul, if only he knew just how many times he had reaped him already. He found it hard to believe that this soul didn't remember its past lives, but then again this was the first time there had been Angels twisted into the plot. He had tried to offer the soul rest but it seemed that it wasn't to happen and now it seemed to be cursed to repeat its earthly bound quest until its completion. Instead of telling him all of this he gives a grand speech that he knows will make the soul pay attention.
He watches as the time moves on that the soul, or rather Dean. It is much easier now that he really met this version of the soul. Dean starts to relax slightly, after all he was in the presence of Death and unlike the other dead humans around him he wasn't stupid. Death even finds his humor somewhat bearable, and as he hoped the soul carried the conversation with some slight help in the correct direction. He knew that it would ask, it had always asked the right questions and this time was as promising as the others. Now, it needed to focus.
However, this soul wouldn't be the soul he enjoyed so much if it went out silently, he was offering a bargain. There is the soul radiating its entire being at him, asking for all the souls in this city. The buzzing, chaotic, disgusting humans, millions just running around lost in their little selves. His soul stood apart, tossing himself onto a plate. Death asks the impossible, he wants-needs-to know if he will do anything for him and the world he found himself on.
The chains loosens slightly as he removes the ring, the power fades slightly but it never leaves, it could never leave him. Not unless he was to pass the power. The ring is left in the soul's physical hand and he feels a slight connection similar to his scythe but once again different. Lucifer's connection is thankfully pushed to the background and Death enjoys feeling the soul so close, he just wishes this did not put the soul in so much risk but what was done was done.
He relaxed further as the souls desire for calm overtook him, the connection offering a straight bond and he could feel how the soul sought to have the world safe and sound. There would be no reckless death in Chicago this day, Death found he could focus on other things now that the connection with his ring had weakened and been placed in the souls hands. (So to speak.)
The connection to the soul simply meant that he did not need a 'ring' side (no pun intead) seat, but that was just what he got. The ring offered him the means to feel the soul and the events that followed his lesson to the young man. When it was all said and done Death was free once again, Dean kept the ring. For just over a year he kept the ring on his person, it never left his side placed on a string that was laced around his neck. Death wasn't sure why but he took to visiting.
The easiest time was in the middle of the night, while the entire house and neighbourhood were sleeping. Dean still protected the house, as this generation of hunters would, but a few others had slipped in, Death assumed the soul had been doing some research which was good it kept the mind sharp. All the same he slipped into the soul's dream and knew it would fade to nothing upon waking.
The soul stood in the graveyard once more, looking at the area beyond his car that had swallowed his brothers whole. He moved to stand beside the soul, it was still bright but the colours had faded in its sorrow. Shadows reflected where sparks had been before, the family his brother had wished for him could not fill the parts carved out.
"They all left, why shouldn't I just follow?" when he truly looked at Dean he noticed that the body was younger than his current age, probably in his early to mid twenties. Death also noted that he was in his human form before Dean, that had been a first always letting the soul set the scene and players.
"You promised," he stated keeping it straight-forward turning to face the younger version.
"Like that matters."
"It might." The silence stretches out between them for a long moment before the soul flickers into his older self for a split second than back again.
"What does that mean?" he finally countered, Death offers him a pointed look in return and is silent for a good minute before speaking.
"Watch the tone." Another long silence before a whispered 'sorry' is heard. Death waves it away and they turn back to look over the stop again.
"Do you wish to hear something I realized of late?" The soul cocked his head to the left and looked towards Death again.
"I guess," he ventured and Death almost chuckled. He was having a lot of 'almosts' around this soul- this Dean.
"I have learned that Winchester really means the impossible can happen." With that said Death takes his leave, knowing this would wake the soul and takes a moment to pause and make sure that the lesson sticks while the rest fades. Death can feel the soul's confusion at the words and what they could mean; it was less than twelve hours later that they all make sense.
Death hasn't left the city when he feels an unwanted pull, he knows that soul and knows it cannot be anything good. Dean's empty brother and distance family save the soul, but it is only the start and Death finds that he can not join the soul-Dean. The wards had been built and improved on and were much more powerful as the soul grew in strength. The ring long since buried when Dean went back to hunting. It was a wise decision, but still Death missed the connection.
Without anything else to do he went to work, back to reaping and guiding the reapers. It was numbing, familiar, welcome even. He found himself living by rumors. Almost killed over a shifter enfant, and the shell of Samuel was started to crack. Time meant little to Death but he could taste the vampire taint on the soul around the time that rumor made it in and he knew it was a breaking point for the soul. It would know now that something was not right.
END OF PART ONE
Recipient: brutti-ma-buoni
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Supernatural or any of the associated works, this was pure entertainment. No copyright infringement was intended.
Timeline: Assume everything is covered, all seasons any possible spoilers and yeah if you haven’t watched every episode this is not the story to read.
Rating: PG-13 (Dean has a mouth and graphic scenes, mostly canon)
Warnings: SPOILERS!!! Everything is spoiled! Do not read this if you have not watched every episode of seasons 1-8!!!! That is your only warning. Also Character Death, mostly Canon deaths.
Summary: Death has known Dean Winchester’s name the moment God started to make his little play toy, what Death didn`t know was how tangled their lives would become.
Authors Note: This was for the summergen challenge, I have listed the prompts below so you can hopefully see them in the story. I hope you enjoy and I will be posting a second version with season nine as a second chapter as the challenger hasn’t watched that season yet but I just couldn’t leave it untouched. I hope you enjoy and please see the notes at the end of any other comments.
Prompt One: Teen!chesters - with John away, Sam and Dean face some issues. Ideally when they are about 16 and 12 - too young to be alone for severall weeks by normal measures, but not too young to cope Issues could be supernatural case fic or real world - school bullying, nosy neightbours, money troubles, cabin fever, Sam hitting adolescence with a bang. Anything from angst to crack.
Prompt Three: Death and Dean Winchester: the saga continuums. I feel like Death is *interested* in Dean's progress, and they have some kind of connection (definitely not sexual, dear lord) I'd like to see some reflection on that, whether Death's view on canon or another moment when they connect. Season 7 or earlier, please, I'm pretty much unspoiled for season 8, if Death turns up then.)
*Later confirmed only season 9*
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Death has always been, there was always Death, something had to die for the new world to be born. That was why when the newly named "GOD" started creating he brought some fun times for sure, monsters, creatures and just fun. Death was busy, always busy. Then the humans appeared and Death needed help. The reapers were born and sent to their work. The entire time a single soul burned bright.
It stood out, not having a place or time of its own. It outshone the other souls around it, always the brightest and always drew attention. It slipped and slid over time, taking on new bodies but the story was always the same. Love his family, love the people, love his country, and it would always die for one of the three. Since humanity began Death is drawn to this soul, reaping it time and time again.
He is always the one to offer a hand to the soul and carry him home. Hoping that one of these times it would stick, but there is something different about this soul and it only keeps coming back, only gets brighter. By the middle ages the soul has grown so bright they start calling it a Saint, it never ends well for Saints and Death reaps the soul years before it is suppose to end.
This goes on over the years, but from that point on the soul no longer has a peaceful life. Not now that it has been proven a warrior and it is found normally leading an army. Always at the time, King, Queen, General, or Political power; the soul has found its place.
Safeguarding those around it, but for itself it could not do the same. Death loses track of time, shifting in and out of Earth while the soul passes along its way.
The date that rings out as different is almost shocking; by Earth standards he believes that it is early March in 1861 when the soul flares bright after a great period of silence, it had been at least seventy-five years and Death was sure that the soul had found peace finally. Something was different this time, the soul felt different. For the first time ever it felt a gender, it was MALE, and strong. Stronger than it had been since the Saint problem, but it was tainted, darkness had snaked its way into the soul.
Death couldn't stop himself from flying to the almost forgotten soul; he remained in the darkness at the edge of the world as he watched on. The soul was still honourable and fought for the town it found itself in, but it shimmered. While the soul had never had a time or place, it was clear that it was out of its depths somewhat, while the pain that most suffered from due to time travel the soul was almost frolicking in the shift.
Also something else moved with the soul, it was the reason the darkness had not taken and destroyed the soul but it was not suppose to be there, Death had to tilt his head before it clicked, that was grace of an Angel. What had happened to this soul since his last trip, it was clear that a lot had happened and he found himself watching. The soul wasn't alone, but his companions soul was nothing like his own and Death frowned slightly, it was a nice soul but just that, only nice. It didn't compare, but no other soul ever had.
Death watched as they split up, finding the Colt and its maker, while the soul head into town and took care of the problems the town had been having before vanishing. Death spread his senses outwards but the soul was not in this time, and while he had nothing but that on his hands he also had better than to do than worry about a question that would be answered in due time. With that in mind he pushed away from the tiny Earth and back to his work.
Time passes but the memory of the soul is burned into Death's mind, he didn’t feel the soul awaken, how was it possible that it had grown into a man. His mind ponders over the years; it is in the year 1944 that the soul blinks back onto the radar so to speak. Without a thought Death reclaims the possible from almost a hundred years before and watches. The soul has changed again, the darkness is closer to the surface; the Angel's grace hidden away. The soul is grieving and a different kind of death surrounds the soul.
Death quickly realizes that this time the soul is a hunter of evil; this becomes clear when he can feel the soul dimming and he leaves his darkness behind as he approaches the hunter to claim the soul again but then both the false god and soul blink out of time. Shrugging Death fades back into darkness; he would find the soul again.
The third time the soul re-appears the year is 1973 and Death can feel the taint of Heaven and Hell dripping off the screaming soul. It is clear that this is a younger version of the soul from the 1800's; the grace is keeping the soul from tearing itself apart but that is all it offers, the calm he saw before has yet to grow and he can taste Hell's claws still twisting red marks over the blue and green the soul normally offered.
Death stays back this time, watches everything play out, he can feel that this is set in stone, fixed you could almost say. It had and always would happen, Death found himself curious as to why but he knew fate when he saw it and these people were covered from head to toe in "fate".
One Angel remained close to the soul, the grace matching that which moved within the soul. Death was not shocked that his charge had an Angel watching him, what he was surprised about however was the way the Angel watched his charge. Protective but caring, something that had been missing for many a millennia among the Angels. He turned his focus back to the soul; it had met up with a number of hunters from that time. All respected and well known, he watched as new information came to life and Death wondered what game the Angels were playing.
The time passed and the soul sent back to its time, and it was five short years later the soul makes a fourth appearance. 1978, was a slow year until the man re-appeared. His soul looking slightly healthier, but it was clear that it still had a lot to go. Death reaps the taller man that came back in time with him but it feels off, like it isn't going to stick and he curses heaven as he makes it back just in time to see the end of the soul's conversation with Michael before he is sent home. At least some of his questions are answered; he could wait for the rest. He felt that things were going to start getting closer to home.
A familiar feeling causes him to call four reapers to him to finish clearing the disaster area of lost souls and leaves. He finds himself in Lawrence, Kanas and the date is January 24th, 1979, the soul has been reborn. Angels cry out above the hospital where one Mary Winchester is, Death was not surprised when the first cries of the child breaks the silence of the room. They are strong and proud to be alive. The soul is old but the body so young it aches. Death is almost comforted that it is the old soul he remembers, before the taint and twists it has been through. The soul that offers all of itself and keeps nothing back, it is refreshing to see it once more and Death leaves the family to their peace.
He knew that it would be years until the soul got his final rest; he was not slotted to be taken for many years. Which caused the moment of doubt in his form before he forced himself to the town he knew. It was 1983 and the soul was at risk of Death, he felt two reapers hovering over the Winchester house. This shouldn't be happening; the soul was not at risk, he knew this in his very fiber but someone would die this evening. He almost felt something when he took Mary Winchesters hand and she pulled back.
"I'm not going anywhere! Where are my children?" her eyes were wild with fire and he knew she would do anything to protect her children. She reminded him of the soul she had birthed and he shouldn't be surprised. It seemed that those linked to his-he paused in his thoughts when had the soul become his?
"They are safe, you must move on Mary Winchester." Death stated letting himself talk to the soul in front of him rather than think about his wondering thoughts.
"No I must not, my babies. They need to be protected, Az-" Death waved a hand at her cutting her off before she could evoke the name. That was the last thing either of them needed on this evening. Names were heavy things, things that shouldn't be spoken in haste.
"Will not be a threat, the children are hidden with their father," he knew that was only for the moment but the future was neither of their concern at the moment.
"He will track them down," she said without pause, he could see the warrior in this woman's soul and he wished he could offer more to her but he had nothing to give her but words so that is what he offered.
"They will be safe."
A moment's pause as the woman watched him, her eyes narrowing. "All the same, I think I'm staying."
"You know what will happen to you."
"Will I get to see them again?"
"I do not know." he answered truthfully, unwilling to lie to one so close to his favorite soul.
"I'll take the gamble, thanks for the offer but I'm staying at this station."
"Very well, good luck Mary Winchester." Death said as he faded into the darkness and disappeared back into the stars. He had to think.
It was a short two weeks later when Death was pulled to Earth once more by the cries of the soul he now knew he held close to his heart and mind. Letting himself be distracted but not worried, never worried.
When he arrived he almost feared he would be reaping souls of children that night, a demon and its pet hellhound was tearing into the only adult present but it wasn't their father. Death turned to look at the demon as he arranged the room as he wished, blood splashing abnormally onto the wall.
"Tiny!" the demon called and a friendly growl was the animal's reply as it came to a stop then vanished back to its hole. The demon paused and sniffed the air, "one of those boys has a watch dog." It whistled and Death was tempted to bring himself onto the correct plane of existence but held himself back. It would not help matters, it wasn't long before the demon was gone and John Winchester and a new friend were back. Death left as quickly as possible knowing there would be no death tonight.
Years go by and Death has to assume that the soul has settled in and is out of threats way, there had been a few times over the years, illness that had been pushed to the limits and threats that got to close but as Death knew he had not passed on. The year was 1989 when things started to change, the soul screams in pain and Death can't stop himself from flying to see what has caused such pain. What he finds makes his blood run cold; the soul's father had raised his hand to the boy.
Spankings had been one thing, most of them Death had agreed with, dumb risks that had put the soul at risk but to slap a child. A soul so bright and wonderful, there was no reason, and really no physical harm but the soul was what Death was concerned for. A second, third and fourth blow rained down on the soul and curses coming from a drunken mouth. The soul flickered slightly dimming then started to shine even brighter, Angels would have to shade their eyes to look at the outline of this soul and Death if he had to breath knew his breath would have caught at the sight.
He felt something swell and he knew it was pride; the soul was pushing its own boundaries and shattering them apart. Something new shinning and joining the bright green and blue. New colours of orange and purple swirled in the mix. It was like a cup of cosmos in a human shape, Death knew the soul would be safe and faded into the background.
The soul had only been only Earth for twelve years when real pain screamed over the Earth. Angels were sneaking peaks downwards when he approached, staying hidden like always before. He knew he was needed else were but he wanted to know how the soul handed it all. It would be a new challenge, one that would cause ripples.
The soul stumbled into the room and latched the large door behind him; he was covered in scratches and what appeared to be human bite marks. A shudder from the soul and he was moving over to the bedroom and checking on the youngest soul, already tainted by demons. It was a shame really; the soul had such promise like its sibling. A breath of relief came from the soul’s physical body and then it was moving again.
Death watched interested at where this was going as the brilliant soul grabbed a shotgun and moved as far away from the bedroom as it could mentally permit picked up a saw and set to work. Death knew shotguns were deadly; a perfect shotgun would have range and effective stopping power. The fact that the soul was sawing it down could mean a number of things. The first that came to mind was taking it away from the house; a young child could not walk around with a full sized shotgun. But Death also knew when you took the right length off you turned a precise weapon into a battering ram. One that needed to be used at close range if you wanted to have the full effect to your victim.
The soul finishes its work and then sets to cleaning up before once more checking on his younger brother and finally writing a note to him. Death watched as it takes a moment to gather itself and then collects the newly crafted weapon and loads it, slipping extra ammo into its pocket it sets out into the evening. There would be work here tonight, just not the soul Death was so draw to. At least not to take, the man instead would be offering him a soul to take and Death couldn't help but follow closer to the already changing soul.
He knew what had happened with the teenager and Death wondered just why others would do such things to one another. When the soul moved into the abandoned hotel Death senses more than humans present. A demon was at play here and this changed the game slightly but not by much. The game didn't play out for long, Dean shot the man's left leg out from under him and had the barrel of the gun buried under his chin. His finger off the trigger so Death knew the threat wasn't real, at least not yet but it was still a threat and it worked.
Eyes flashed in the older teen and the demon pushed to the foreground, using the surprise to shake Dean off and across the room. A crunch sounded and Death knew the soul was hurt physically but not enough to die; he would have work if that was the fact. He was almost getting bored, but he still wanted to see what the soul did, he watched as the taunts began and the two tossed words back and forth as Dean moved around the room, shooting at the demon now and then. The bullets having no effect now that the game was over, it wasn't until after the soul had reloaded and fired again the change was noticed.
"Rock salt bitch, how does that taste?" came a new voice from the soul and Death felt a small tug on his lips as another colour joined the souls blend. Fiery red dances in and then fades into the background of the others, the lights pulsing together to form a new dance. What a clever little soul, another piece of the bigger puzzle finding its place. The fight ends shortly after three shots of rock salt which wouldn't hurt the human further but it was already too late for that. The soul stays with the dying teenager as he passes and Death picks up where the soul left off.
"What's going on?" comes an unsure voice looking down at himself dead on the ground by his feet. "Where did Dean go?"
"Dean?"
"The guy, he-I think-he saved me," Death finally had a name and he tested it in his head before accepting it.
"He had to go; it was not his time and has much more work to do." Death informed him, "I am here to help you home. Would you like this?"
"Yeah-I think so-can you tell him thanks." Death just smiles and offers his hand to the young soul.
"Take care," he offers, while not offering a promise. No one would ever know that Dean had dealt the killing blow.
After the first, Death couldn't help but carry over those that Dean offered to him. It was a nice working relationship that the soul didn't even know was happening, but it was fine with Death. The boy-soul-Dean. Dean offered enough work for Death and two of his reapers. The boy didn't mean for it to happen, but when Death follows you, and then literal death followed you. Most had been creatures, monsters, demons, and such that Dean's father had dealt with. Then he had started to really train, and hunt. When he started to hunt the warrior of long before was brought to the foreground and Death was delighted. He had almost forgotten what it was like to have the soul burning bright as it forged into battle. No matter what the size of the battle was he tossed himself into it 100%.
The year was 1995 and pain weaved its way to Death, Dean was hunting and it was clear the boy was up against a threat. Without much to do at the moment he flickered in and watched as Dean gained the upper hand and sent another creation towards Deaths waiting hands. Hunger, real hunger is what draws him out the next time. Only a few days later he watches Dean be handcuffed and tossed into jail. The soul is tossed into something very old to it, a lovely house.
It is clear to Death that the soul deserves this as it grows and new colours jump forward; white, gold, silver, bronze, brown, and teal. Colours blending into the stronger ones and melding a new soul that drifts around the body that holds it onto the ground. When its leaves black melds into the colours, drifting to the edge, holding the colour in place behind a wall of black.
It is the summer of 2001 that Death feels self-loathing pulsing from his favorite soul and fades into the dark room that held the soul, blood was clear on his arms but it wasn't much
not enough to put Death to work but it was enough to worry.
"Dean, you ready?" came a voice on the other side of the door; Death finally took in the rest of the room. It was the bathroom and the mirror is shattered behind Dean, which explained the blood.
"Need ten minutes,” Dean holding his breath as if a bomb was about to explode.
"You have four," was the only reply as footsteps walked away and the breath released. The man set to work cleaning up first the area and then himself and was finished in three minutes. He ran shaking but clean hands over his face, eyes closed as he tilted his head upwards and exhaled deeply.
"He'll be safe." Dean stated to the silent room nodding as he turned and left. Death smiled no new colours this time, no just a new shine. One that would only get brighter with time, he knew that the soul would fight to get back to his brother. He would be sage also, with that Death went back to work.
Death is correct for two years, at which point something changes, the light dims slightly in the soul and Death starts to form a routine that had him checking Dean regularly. His father not around and his brother not within sight he let himself go wild. Threats that before would not approach did so now without a care, they were always proven wrong and Death was busy with Dean's offerings. This goes on for almost two years, Death watched as he wrapped his ribs from the last hunt, a Voodoo Queen going on a killing spree. Death would say that Dean was lucky if he didn't know any better, the man walked away without a few bruises and scrapes. Death knew the Angels were not watching yet, so he wondered if the man remembered his other lives this time and was using them to his advance.
That was off the topic at hand, Death knew the glow from the soul in front of him, he was going to see his brother. The soul sang with joy with being reunited with such a familiar part of itself while another part of it was clear in its worry. Rejection had been and always would be a worry for this beautiful soul, Death could understand. Perhaps it was one of the reasons he clung to the soul, knowing in the end he would not reject him. He always came back, even if Death did not understand as to why.
Once he is back with his brother things start to pick up pace, while Dean and Sam- his younger brothers name- make many offerings to Death and he takes them all. Knowing this draws attention to the two of them but they would do it no matter what, at least this way Death has entertainment and a close seat to names being made for the history books. The threats to Dean Winchester’s life grow; the first is him showing off. Tossing himself off the bridge rather than clinging onto it, then he is stolen by a wendigo from his brother. He tosses himself into a ghost infested waters to save a child, and boards a plane he knows is fated to crash. A spirit he crossed many years before almost bleeds his brain out of his eyes and ears which only lead to a shapeshifter stealing his form.
At this point Death was almost upset with the soul, he had always pushed limits before but he had never been such a pain in the ass. Not that he knew he was but Death felt drawn to watch as Dean Winchester grew like all the rest of the soul’s lives before him. This time however he watched first hand rather than hearing about it after the fact. He was still impressed, he helps defeat a two century old soul and holds off against a curse, on the land that was cursed, his soul offering protection to the family and his brother from the swarm around the house, pushing them back without even knowing what he was doing.
Death cannot help but help Mary after their final meeting and they smile at each other. “Take care of my boys.” She whispers as she wisps into bright lights and shoots up through the ceiling. He watches the blows both physical and mental he takes from his brother, the soul twisting and turning at the words more than the salt or threat of bullets. Being left behind, being beaten and used as food for a false god. Then Death feels the pull, it can not be. It is not time, he knows that it is wrong, he senses when Dean will hold his hand and pass onto his final rest. This time would be final, Death would ensure it, the man had already lived too many lives. He hovers over Dean in the hospital, watching as he struggles to breath and Death winces knowing that something has to change.
Sam Winchester is what changes Death’s pull towards Dean. Death knows its wrong, he should be outraged and kill the woman where she stood the first moment that he felt her but he knew that she could do what he wanted. What he couldn’t do, he would stop the pull and he let her. He knew what he was doing was wrong and the reaper she was attached to screamed for him the entire time. He reached out to the reapers mind and calmed them, soon. He promised, soon this will end and you will take what she has claimed. He promised in his mind, soothing the reapers mind as best he could while getting what he wanted. When it was over his promised filled he left, needing distance. It was for the best.
He didn’t answer the soul during the car race, or when the youngest sees Dean’s death happening before his eyes. He doesn’t go when the man is being tortured, or his life held in a demons hand. One that seemed so familiar from somewhere. He didn’t answer when the soul faces off against a belief itself, or when he faces something Death remembers from the man’s past. Or at least the after effect was seen, but neither was the present so why did it matter.
He didn’t answer the call when vampire fangs tensed at the man’s neck or when Demons start to circle around him. What he finally answers he has no choice, he knew it wasn’t possible.
He knew it wasn’t but he was outside a destroyed car, Dean and his family lay inside. Broken and bleeding they were all in danger but Dean was the closest. Death was within his rights to reach out and take him, take the soul and end it all. It really did make sense, the man had lived and lived only to be something twisted that Death had seen from the future.
It was the youngest Winchester's cries for his brother that stills his hand, stops him from moving towards the car and what is in his right to take. He twists slightly to the side as the demon appears and a bluff is played, but was it really a bluff. Emergency services is too slow and Death knows that it is now only a matter of time before Deans hand slips into his own and he finds that distasteful.
Time slips as they are now being held in a hospital room, Dean’s body is hooked up to machines that maintain his bodily functions and Death dislikes it. But it doesn’t matter, he calls Tessa, his favorite reaper to his side and gives her direction and fades into the background. He hears another reaper call for his help but does not move knowing offering her aid this moment would end Dean.
In retrospect he should have saved them both, his favorites used to torment one another. He should have let them save each other, it wasn’t until many years later he realized what a mess he had made of the two blessed. After this it gets worse, Death has to watch - he did this, at least had a hand in it. John offered his soul and Death offered a reaper. Death could see the soul felt sick, touched by a demon. Unwanted and it twisted inside its seal, colours dim and the shine gone almost completely. Anger flying in every direction, unlike ever before, he used himself as bait a number of times.
Another close call with a sniper rifle and mind control, he was on his best behaviour when he had others to care for and Death was thankful for the young shining soul that makes Dean sway slightly. He is framed and almost killed and has a run in with hellhounds again. Death wonders why this soul must be tried time and time again and he knows that next time the man’s number is up he would not shy away. A very old virus resurfaces and Death watches with new interest as events start to pick up. It doesn’t stop the threats, a fellow hunter is a large threat that Death counts the day till he collects and wonders if Dean will be the one to offer that soul to him.
He gets shot by a demon holding his brother a few months later and Death knows more is at play when ‘Loki’ makes an appear. He wants to tell the hidden Angel he burns too bright to be anything but an Archangel; but he remains silent and hidden. He watches as Dean helps a lost soul move on and takes her hand to led her the rest of the way. A new threat is presented when he lands in prison, the ghost and inmates are all interested in the soul, who only puts on a brave face and pushes through it.
Death wonders what Dean dreams when the Djinn spins its web, the fact that the soul recognizes the fact and wakes himself is not a shock or surprise. The pain however would be nice to get rid of, Death wishes he could take the souls pain but knows the time is not yet. Silence, there is nothing. No supernatural talk, no human chatter. It worries everyone that is not on a side and they now something is coming.
The contract shouldn’t come as shock, it really doesn’t. The short period however, one year. Death now had the date, even if it wasn’t he one he had first seen since Dean Winchester came back to human form. Humans could change that, freewill was just that. Now he knew where the darkness came from that he had seen in the soul, he wondered how long it would be before the Angel saved the cursed soul.
Death tried to stay away from the Winchesters during the final year, he knew it would only be harder if he watched the man face his final year. He didn’t foresee being so connected to the soul and feeling his powerful emotions. The soul shaking ones, and there had been so many for a final year the man had been shaken. Presented with a possible son, cursed again, held with a demon, challenged by a living ghost, another curse that only was held off again by his souls desire and love to protect.
His brother is the one that finally offers Gordon to him and he has to admit that Sam Winchester is growing on him and he takes the man’s hand. “Do not enjoy your time.” He states the walls slamming behind the monster as he screamed through his rough landing. False gods once more, these boys did present the best offerings to him, what made it even better was the day they did it on. If Death needed power he would look no further than the two souls before him.
Witches cursed him, and a dreamscape was a soul scarring process for him. The year had been half over when Death smelt Archangel again and watched, unable to touch and fulfill his promise, as Gabriel kills Dean Winchester over and over again. The only saving grace was the soul had been removed before Death each and every time. It was treated with respect and grace that only an Angel could offer and Death let the lesson happen. The boys did have to learn it at some point, Dean’s soul normally was okay with leaving. Death knew it was different this time.
The hunts that followed did more to Dean’s soul than his body and Death knew the soul was growing weary, tired and defeated knowing that it was going to hell and what would happen to it once it arrived. When Dean started to blur the lines Death had to take his leave, at least until it was closer to the time. He didn’t want to risk Dean knowing who he was, not that it was likely, but the soul had surprised him before.
He felt the time near and the demon opened the doors, the dogs began to tear the body apart as I reached for the soul inside but it blinked away from my hand. I glared at the body and the hounds than turned to Lilith who only smirked at me before turning to Sam talking as if I was not in the room. Anger boils and I am tempted to snap her neck if I didn’t want to spend the rest of time fighting off demons and angels alike. He knew just who and what she was and wanted nothing to do with it. Dean gone, Death left, unwilling to poke his nose where it did not belong.
He leaves Earth behind after Dean leaves this life behind for a final time. Death knew what happened to human souls in the pit, what climbed out would not be Dean Winchester, just a poor imitation in about 200 years or so. Which is why he finds himself back on Earth on September 18th 2008, the Angels calling out : Dean Winchester has been saved! He couldn’t help himself he knows where the buried body lays. The soul was unclaimed by reapers and screams against time and space. He moved silent towards the hand that shoots up out of the ground and pulls the body behind it. It is Dean Winchester, soul shining with Grace and darkness beneath the combined shine. It’s clear he doesn’t remember everything yet and moves out of the area.
He follows until Dean has a plan and then he is off, he knows that for the moment he can do work and is just happy that the soul has not turned into the nightmare that normally comes back from the pit. He just wished he knew more of the Angel’s plans, but he sensed that he knew just what he needed thanks to Michael many years before.
When he goes looking for the missing soul he finds the wave of Angels and time movement and knows that this must have been one of the times that the soul travels in time. He knows that he will be save and returns to his work. The return leads to distress from the soul about his brother and his own return but Death can not offer anything and wonders if the Angel assigned will do anything about the growing feelings.
Dean has been back for six months or so when he runs into Tessa while attempting to save a seal. Death watches as the two interact and he is pleased that they can work together and that Dean admits to feeling out of place and missing the reaper. He wonders if Dean could also be missing him, but found it unlikely. Death watches as the Angels ask Dean to use his Hell bound skills to get information from his former Master. The soul twists but does as he is asked because Cass is the one that asks him to do it. Death just shakes his head at this.
When he wakes from his small coma Dean’s soul has never been weaker than it has at this moment, the only thing that offers any shine is the Grace Cass had offered and even it has dimmed to reflect the mood of the host. The demon dark taint is held at bay also but you can tell that Dean wants it to end and Death is tempted to take and fill the request for the man. He should have know the Angels would hide Dean for a while after that.
The Angels make it hard to track Dean or Sam after this and Death knows that the time is upon them and soon the end would be underway. He feels almost sorry for the two souls that only wanted to be brothers and live out their lives together. Death felt Lucifer rise and knew that things would start to get bad from here on out, his old cage pulling him downwards, he wanted to scream - he had left, he was free. Then he was trapped, he would get his freedom back. This he swore.
During the first few weeks of being captured his rage made almost anything impossible, he didn’t focus on one thing or anything specifically. A few times the calls from his reapers would make it to his ears but he could not reply and almost wished for sleep to pass the time. He felt a jerk at his body when Dean’s soul disappeared again and he wondered what the Angels were up to now, it was only a few hours later it returned and was whisked away by Cass this time.
Death went back to pacing, the next time he was pushed out of his rage it was once more Dean Winchester, who was now physically older than what Death had assumed was the age he would be reaped by. It was almost a shock but it was just his physical body and less than twelve hours later it was back to normal. Then the soul blinked out again, this time for much longer and Death was tempted to call for a face to face with someone. Dean reappears a few days later and Death was still silent in his room.
Rage changing slightly to worry about the two brothers and the wayward Angel, he knew he didn’t do anything to help them but he didn’t offer hurt either. He figured that was a fair trade off. It was shortly after this return that Death felt the pull upwards out of the cage he found himself trapped in. Lucifer had finally gotten around to the key but had found a chain also. He growled as he rose to the surface, he could feel Dean, Sam and Cass close by and hoped they left before he finished his rise.
“Oh, Death!” the bothersome Angel called and Death focused his glaze onto the fallen Angel.
“Lucifer,” he replies calmly as he feels the three vanish from their spots and Death knows this is going to - using Dean and Sam’s speech pattern - suck.
Death had been correct, working for Lucifer; if you could call this anything other than slavery. Destroy this, kill that, this was not how Death worked. He can no longer move by his own freewill and his ire grows but he stifles it. When the soul leaves this time Death knows it time travel again and the man will be back, not much he could do really. He knows its his own captivity that provents him from even thinking about offering help. It wasn’t long before the soul was back but the strength is surprising, it feels almost recharged and Death wonders who he ran into back in the past.
He can feel one of his brothers near Dean, Dean’s soul flares in response, Famine is too strong for him to offer the protection he wants but he does blanket himself from the evil touch of famine. Death wonders just what Dean’s true desire would be, most likely protection he would have made a great wolf. Listening to the man’s pleas later that evening Death knew it was time to step up and make his presence know, so to speak. His next orders align with his own desires and he went without much complaint to Lucifer, refusing to call him Master. He raises an army of dead, knowing he would need to give them an edge to fight Dean, he also wanted to test the hunter. He watches it unfold and reports back, leaving some parts out because he wasn’t asked and he’s not trying to help the little brat Angel.
He feels when Dean dies and lands in heaven, he would be happy for the man if it was going to stay. A wave spread over the supernatural community when Dean made his first large kill after his return. The Whore of Babylon, whispers started and Death knew the end was drawing near.
When Michael didn’t come to smite his baby brother he knew something had changed, something large and impossible. What had his favorite soul gone and done now.
Death feels when Dean meets Pestilence, there is nothing the soul can do to fight physical illness, the pain must be unbearable but they live to fight on, they were so close Death knew soon they would meet. He wondered if Dean would be able to free him as he believes he could, at least his plan still stood a chance.
Death knew asking Dean anything would get them no where which is why Dean didn’t meet the Death that maybe liked the soul. No Dean meet Death, the Death, the man that will reap god. The man that would reap Dean and his brother when the time finally came and he knew it would come. Death.
Death couldn't care less on the location, but is almost pleased that its Chicago, at least he can get a decent slice. Pulling the car in he parked and pulled his cane out of the passenger seat and started his travels. He had a few hours before the demon completed his side of the deal and brought the soul to his location; it was more than enough time to get everything in order. It was almost a shame when he had to kill the rude man, almost but not at all. If only he had listened to his mother all those years ago when she told him that the lack of manners were going to get him killed.
A connection flared between himself and the soul as it touched his scythe, this connection was different, this was centred around the final act in a souls life. The swinging blade, the sweet final release, death, it sang and moved freely. This soul had fed him well over the years and his weapon was happy to be so close to Deaths favorite soul. This distracted Death as he claimed a seat in a diner, after placing a order for a deep dish meat lovers he settled in and advised the crossroad demon that his turn was up.
Time moved on and the soul, demon still tagging along, were slowly making their way towards the city. Death called forth a storm, at least the beginnings and already the humans started to buzz around in a panic. Unexpected, unexplained. Really, they needed to stop and look around them, such a shame this skill had been lost to all but the young and tormented. The soul is within city blocks now, feeling safe and protected in its car.
Death finally lets his real self push forward and he almost feels sorry for the gathered masses of humans that had been enjoying their meals; but Death was just that, death, and it was not to be played with. The diner only held half the number of people that it did when he walked in, a good chunk of the humans feeling something was off and leaving before it was put to the test.
The soul approached and he held back the chuckle, he could feel it pulsing as it eased into the backroom and slinked into the man room via the connected kitchen. He finds himself curious about the soul morethan before as it makes it way towards him. The brightness was not overly shocking he had seen it before but the colours, to see them with human eyes from his temporay vessel is breathtaking. He wishes that he could have met the soul without the demand of a spell and ritual. He stops and refocuses calling his blade, not trying to kill or harm the man. No he was too close to his goals to let that happen, besides it wasn't the correct time for the man's death. He speaks and the soul listens, at least at first. Joining him at the table by request is interesting and the soul amuses him.
The soul questions if he was going to kill him and Death almost smiles fondly at the soul, if only he knew just how many times he had reaped him already. He found it hard to believe that this soul didn't remember its past lives, but then again this was the first time there had been Angels twisted into the plot. He had tried to offer the soul rest but it seemed that it wasn't to happen and now it seemed to be cursed to repeat its earthly bound quest until its completion. Instead of telling him all of this he gives a grand speech that he knows will make the soul pay attention.
He watches as the time moves on that the soul, or rather Dean. It is much easier now that he really met this version of the soul. Dean starts to relax slightly, after all he was in the presence of Death and unlike the other dead humans around him he wasn't stupid. Death even finds his humor somewhat bearable, and as he hoped the soul carried the conversation with some slight help in the correct direction. He knew that it would ask, it had always asked the right questions and this time was as promising as the others. Now, it needed to focus.
However, this soul wouldn't be the soul he enjoyed so much if it went out silently, he was offering a bargain. There is the soul radiating its entire being at him, asking for all the souls in this city. The buzzing, chaotic, disgusting humans, millions just running around lost in their little selves. His soul stood apart, tossing himself onto a plate. Death asks the impossible, he wants-needs-to know if he will do anything for him and the world he found himself on.
The chains loosens slightly as he removes the ring, the power fades slightly but it never leaves, it could never leave him. Not unless he was to pass the power. The ring is left in the soul's physical hand and he feels a slight connection similar to his scythe but once again different. Lucifer's connection is thankfully pushed to the background and Death enjoys feeling the soul so close, he just wishes this did not put the soul in so much risk but what was done was done.
He relaxed further as the souls desire for calm overtook him, the connection offering a straight bond and he could feel how the soul sought to have the world safe and sound. There would be no reckless death in Chicago this day, Death found he could focus on other things now that the connection with his ring had weakened and been placed in the souls hands. (So to speak.)
The connection to the soul simply meant that he did not need a 'ring' side (no pun intead) seat, but that was just what he got. The ring offered him the means to feel the soul and the events that followed his lesson to the young man. When it was all said and done Death was free once again, Dean kept the ring. For just over a year he kept the ring on his person, it never left his side placed on a string that was laced around his neck. Death wasn't sure why but he took to visiting.
The easiest time was in the middle of the night, while the entire house and neighbourhood were sleeping. Dean still protected the house, as this generation of hunters would, but a few others had slipped in, Death assumed the soul had been doing some research which was good it kept the mind sharp. All the same he slipped into the soul's dream and knew it would fade to nothing upon waking.
The soul stood in the graveyard once more, looking at the area beyond his car that had swallowed his brothers whole. He moved to stand beside the soul, it was still bright but the colours had faded in its sorrow. Shadows reflected where sparks had been before, the family his brother had wished for him could not fill the parts carved out.
"They all left, why shouldn't I just follow?" when he truly looked at Dean he noticed that the body was younger than his current age, probably in his early to mid twenties. Death also noted that he was in his human form before Dean, that had been a first always letting the soul set the scene and players.
"You promised," he stated keeping it straight-forward turning to face the younger version.
"Like that matters."
"It might." The silence stretches out between them for a long moment before the soul flickers into his older self for a split second than back again.
"What does that mean?" he finally countered, Death offers him a pointed look in return and is silent for a good minute before speaking.
"Watch the tone." Another long silence before a whispered 'sorry' is heard. Death waves it away and they turn back to look over the stop again.
"Do you wish to hear something I realized of late?" The soul cocked his head to the left and looked towards Death again.
"I guess," he ventured and Death almost chuckled. He was having a lot of 'almosts' around this soul- this Dean.
"I have learned that Winchester really means the impossible can happen." With that said Death takes his leave, knowing this would wake the soul and takes a moment to pause and make sure that the lesson sticks while the rest fades. Death can feel the soul's confusion at the words and what they could mean; it was less than twelve hours later that they all make sense.
Death hasn't left the city when he feels an unwanted pull, he knows that soul and knows it cannot be anything good. Dean's empty brother and distance family save the soul, but it is only the start and Death finds that he can not join the soul-Dean. The wards had been built and improved on and were much more powerful as the soul grew in strength. The ring long since buried when Dean went back to hunting. It was a wise decision, but still Death missed the connection.
Without anything else to do he went to work, back to reaping and guiding the reapers. It was numbing, familiar, welcome even. He found himself living by rumors. Almost killed over a shifter enfant, and the shell of Samuel was started to crack. Time meant little to Death but he could taste the vampire taint on the soul around the time that rumor made it in and he knew it was a breaking point for the soul. It would know now that something was not right.
END OF PART ONE