Fic: He is My Death
Title: He Is My Death
Author: Ebbtide
Series: Supernatural
He is seated at the table, always a table, and his black suit has tiny rivulets of silver running down it in a faint pinstripe. Dean Winchester does not see him at first, because his charming - and, lately, dimmed - smile is focused on the waitress behind the bar who gives him a large slice of apple pie.
When the combat boots do an about-face on the scuffed linoleum floor, that is when the older Winchester spots Him.
Death. Eating a sausage-salad sandwich with careful precision.
Dean freezes in place, his fork in one hand and plate full of pie in the other.
Death does not look up.
“Take a seat, Dean. We need to talk,” the man says.
“Um. Here?” Dean feels stupid as he glances around the crowded restaurant. He is not used to talking to Death within hearing distance of other living people.
“I can take care of them if you would feel more comfortable having this discussion in private,” Death offers without conscience.
“No!” Dean's urgent, distressed cry draws stares and a glare from the pretty waitress.
“Sit.”
There is no room for further stalling. Dean swallows hard, moves over to the table with wary steps and sits down. His pie is no longer mouth watering or even appetizing to look at. Not with Death barely a breaths length away. Dean's stomach churned.
“What is it?” the Winchester asked, steeling himself for the worst - whatever that ended up being.
Death stopped eating and sucked a few gulps of what looked like lemonade out of a prespiring glass, his obsidian eyes focused on the hunter.
“I wanted to give you a word of advice.”
“Advice?” Dean feels his 'I don't believe that's everything and I know I'm going to regret not shooting myself this morning' smile pull up one corner of his mouth. “From you?”
“Yes, Dean.” Death goes back to eating the revolting looking salad.
Silence falls between them and then the sounds from the other patrons get suddenly louder and then go quiet. Dean is afraid to look around, but he does so after a long moment. Everyone in the room has frozen, but they aren't dead so the blond hunter allows himself a breath of relief. He focuses a hard look on Death's unblinking gaze.
“I'm all ears,” Dean says even though he feels his hands starting to tremble.
“Good.” Death takes one more bite and then pushes the plate away, dropping his fork on the plate. “My advice is to hold on to that brother of yours. I may have gotten you his soul returned, but it is still a fragile thing...and Lucifer's hold on it has only weakened...it is not broken entirely. So, be watchful and hold on to him.”
Death is standing. Dean blinks at the immediate transition from sitting demurely to standing, towering over the hunter, next to the chair.
“That's it?” Dean asks.
The sound of diners and restaurant workers returns in an almost deafening roar.
“Yes. That is all,” Death says, stressing the last word sarcastically.
Then he is gone and Dean is left with a lonely looking piece of unappetizing apple pie. An ache starts low in his throat and ends wet on his cheeks. The hunter would give almost anything to take back the last four years of his life - of the planet's existence - but since that is not humanly possibly he must swallow away the tears and the pain and eat his damn pie.
THE END
~*~
Author: Ebbtide
Series: Supernatural
He is seated at the table, always a table, and his black suit has tiny rivulets of silver running down it in a faint pinstripe. Dean Winchester does not see him at first, because his charming - and, lately, dimmed - smile is focused on the waitress behind the bar who gives him a large slice of apple pie.
When the combat boots do an about-face on the scuffed linoleum floor, that is when the older Winchester spots Him.
Death. Eating a sausage-salad sandwich with careful precision.
Dean freezes in place, his fork in one hand and plate full of pie in the other.
Death does not look up.
“Take a seat, Dean. We need to talk,” the man says.
“Um. Here?” Dean feels stupid as he glances around the crowded restaurant. He is not used to talking to Death within hearing distance of other living people.
“I can take care of them if you would feel more comfortable having this discussion in private,” Death offers without conscience.
“No!” Dean's urgent, distressed cry draws stares and a glare from the pretty waitress.
“Sit.”
There is no room for further stalling. Dean swallows hard, moves over to the table with wary steps and sits down. His pie is no longer mouth watering or even appetizing to look at. Not with Death barely a breaths length away. Dean's stomach churned.
“What is it?” the Winchester asked, steeling himself for the worst - whatever that ended up being.
Death stopped eating and sucked a few gulps of what looked like lemonade out of a prespiring glass, his obsidian eyes focused on the hunter.
“I wanted to give you a word of advice.”
“Advice?” Dean feels his 'I don't believe that's everything and I know I'm going to regret not shooting myself this morning' smile pull up one corner of his mouth. “From you?”
“Yes, Dean.” Death goes back to eating the revolting looking salad.
Silence falls between them and then the sounds from the other patrons get suddenly louder and then go quiet. Dean is afraid to look around, but he does so after a long moment. Everyone in the room has frozen, but they aren't dead so the blond hunter allows himself a breath of relief. He focuses a hard look on Death's unblinking gaze.
“I'm all ears,” Dean says even though he feels his hands starting to tremble.
“Good.” Death takes one more bite and then pushes the plate away, dropping his fork on the plate. “My advice is to hold on to that brother of yours. I may have gotten you his soul returned, but it is still a fragile thing...and Lucifer's hold on it has only weakened...it is not broken entirely. So, be watchful and hold on to him.”
Death is standing. Dean blinks at the immediate transition from sitting demurely to standing, towering over the hunter, next to the chair.
“That's it?” Dean asks.
The sound of diners and restaurant workers returns in an almost deafening roar.
“Yes. That is all,” Death says, stressing the last word sarcastically.
Then he is gone and Dean is left with a lonely looking piece of unappetizing apple pie. An ache starts low in his throat and ends wet on his cheeks. The hunter would give almost anything to take back the last four years of his life - of the planet's existence - but since that is not humanly possibly he must swallow away the tears and the pain and eat his damn pie.
THE END
~*~