He sat casually observing the crowd as they passed by the empty diner, none of them so much as venturing a glance his way. If he had to be honest, he far preferred it that way. He had always been happier to sit in silence, watching the living pass by him, seeing each of their lives flash past him in an instant.
Silly creatures, these humans. Always running around trifling with such unimportant things, never truly taking a moment to appreciate what they had in the short time they had it.
He had learned long ago what one truly needed to be happy, and it was hardly what these gnats were always clawing over each other for. Possessions, money, power.
What were they going to do with it all when they finally had to meet him and his Reapers? Those are hardly things that made life worth living. The pursuit of power and wealth was seldom a happy one.
As he drew a slow sip from the bright red straw in the giant white plastic cup, a small smile crept across his lips. This was something that made him happy. It may have only been a small thing, for a short moment, but in that moment, it made him happy.
He enjoyed the muffled crinkle of the paper bag as he rifled around in search of another pickle chip, pulled one out and placed it on his tongue, savoring the taste with a satisfied sigh. he watched the people again, contentedly chewing on his slightly tangy treat. Dean was right. They are the best.
His thoughts turned to Dean and his brother Sam for a moment, such troublesome boys they had become. Still, they were a pleasant bump in the long road of his existence. Something to stir the pot and give him a break from the dullness of routine.
With another long sip of the sweet sour slush he so loved he cleared his mind of the Winchester boys and the damage they'd done to his brothers. They were impetuous and rash. Eventually he knew they would fall.
Gods, angels, his brother Horsemen, the human race. All would fall one day. Maybe not today, but someday.
Until then, He'll be content to watch, unnoticed as he collects those who's time has come; the young, the old, it didn't matter. He would be there to collect on time, throughout time, Until one day, perhaps, his own time would come.
The sound of the last of the liquid being sucked up the bright straw echoed through the room, and he felt the tell-tale tingle of another soul in need of his special services. Another who's moment on Earth had come and gone. Time to collect.
With that the diner was once again empty, no one ever knowing he had sat and watched them. Observing their lives, their insignifigant moments, and their most important ones. Clinging to anything that might, for a moment, make them happy.