People always told him that the first thing you see when you die is 'the light' and you should go into that light. Problem is he doesn't see a light, not a spark, nothing, only darkness, empty pitch black darkness and it feels suffocating and he finds himself gasping for air that won't go into his lungs and his chest aches, his lungs burn and his heart starts beating so fast it feels like it's about to explode. He wants to cry out in pain but his voice is gone and no sound comes out of his mouth. He screams silently and gasps in pain because it hurts so much and yet he still doesn't let himself cry.
"That's enough theatrics, I think."
The unfamiliar voice cuts through the air and suddenly light overcomes the darkness, the golden lights giving warmth and glow to a small ballroom with mahogany floors, white tablecloth covered tables and large chandeliers on the ceilings. The room is practically the size of his childhood house in Idris and it takes him a moment to soak in the sights and colors…and the dead bodies on the floor.
Used to such things, he only blinks in confusion and wonders to himself why he was there.
"Don't just stand there, Jonathan, do sit down."
That's when he notices the woman sitting at the table near the large French windows that showed nothing but a dark, starless sky and he struggles not to shiver at the thought of the darkness he was momentarily in.
He takes steps slowly and cautiously, eyes on the back of the seemingly only live person in the room. Once he reaches the table, he finds himself looking into piercing grey eyes framed by a full heart-shaped face with lines that showed of age, the wisdom in her eyes are unmistakable. Her strawberry blonde hair pulled into a no-nonsense bun and her sensible black dress gives her an air of wealth, the bluntness and intelligence of a businesswoman.
He briefly stops his observations to take the proffered seat, her stormy wolf eyes never leaving his. Her gaze drops after a while but only because she's busy eating steak, nibbling on it delicately like she was the Queen of England. She speaks immediately after she swallows another miniscule bite.
"Pour me a glass, why don't you?" She speaks in slow, quiet and imperious tones. And when she gestures to the bottle of red wine near his elbow, he follows her order without thought. She takes a sip and he can't keep quiet anymore.
"Who are you?"
"Who do you think, Jonathan?" She settles down the glass on the table, her hands back to slicing up her meal. "Your body is currently lying on the river bank, a large hole in your chest and you're no longer breathing. Care to guess who I may be for appearing before you?"
The answer comes out almost as a question. "Death,"
"Very good, Jonathan. I was beginning to fear you had even less brain cells than I thought."
The insult rolls right of his back, irritation or even indignation giving away to another emotion. For the first time in his life, Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern, feels something aching to fear. It was a foreign emotion and one he decides he doesn't like in the least.
"Why am I here?" Much to his humiliation, his palms are shaking and damp but he inwardly congratulates himself for keeping his voice steady. But his voice wavers in the next question. "Are you going to take me to hell?" It comes out almost a whisper.
Piercing grey eyes burn with annoyance and the frown on her blood red lips deepen. "You have an high sense of your importance, don't you, Jonathan? You're too much like your father. I had to stop myself from laughing from all the things he told me when I met him."
The fear suddenly gives way to another unfamiliar emotion, dread, and he suddenly feels like he's going to throw up. His heartbeat continues to beat faster. "Valentine is-"
"-dead. Yes and quite irritatingly so, he's one of those types of men, miserable things that just can't accept." Her eyes are cold, ice chips that seem to see through his very soul…if he even has one. "I'm old, Jonathan, very old and far more powerful than your ignorant little mind can possibly process. Beings like you and your father are nothing but parasites to me. You cannot understand just how insignificant I think you are."
The indignation and anger he should be feeling is still nonexistent, the fear still winning over. A part of him, his instincts that kept him alive for as long as he did, tells him that this woman – whatever she was, could kill him with just the slightest movement of her pale hand. He could only feel helpless at the realization.
"Eat." She gestures to the plate of steak and mashed potatoes in front of him he didn't notice before. He only stares at the meal before him warily but those grey eyes stare at him expectantly and he picks up the silverware. He cuts the meat slowly, his hands shaking but he tightens his grip on the silverware lest they fall. The steak tastes delicious, he included, with his first bite. He chews slowly, savoring the flavor of red meat before he swallows. Those grey eyes continue to watch him.
"Good, isn't it?" He only nods and she seems pleased. "I suppose you want to know why I haven't dragged you off to meet again with that foolish man you call your father?" He doesn't understand why she has to keep insulting him and Valentine but he wisely keeps his mouth shut. "God has made a deal with me, Jonathan. For some reason, I can only fathom why, he wants to give you a second chance."
He's immediately filled with confusion and the fear subsides a bit. "Why?"
"How should I know? God is like a man in his fifties who still lives with his mother and does nothing but type away on his laptop. The man works in ways I don't bother to understand. He's always been that way."
"I just have to ask, how old are you?"
"Neither God nor I can remember but I do have the inkling that I'm older. It doesn't matter, I suppose, in the end everything has to die."
"Even God?"
"Even God."
He doesn't know what to think about that, he just pours himself a glass of wine and takes a long sip, the bitter taste sticks to his taste buds. "You say God wants to give me a second chance?"
"That's what I said."
"What's the catch?" He may be a lot of things but a fool isn't one of them. Valentine raised him with the philosophy that nothing in life is for free, there's always a price.
"You'll be human this time." She continues at his look of puzzlement. "You were practically a demon before. He wants to know how you fare as something less…beastly."
His throat suddenly feels dry and he takes another drink of wine to try and alleviate it.
"I'm sure you can already feel it, the vulnerability, the emotions, that irritating sense of being human. It's already starting and you can't stop it."
He feels like panicking, a part of him, that demon part of him fighting for survival. "What if I don't want to be human? What if I'd rather stay dead? Don't I have a say in this?"
Her eyes seemed to say "you foolish little boy". "Don't be difficult, Jonathan. Free will is just an illusion, you all follow what's destined in the end." She pushes a goblet towards him, inside is a liquid that seems to glow both red and gold. "This is to speed up the process. It's from Raziel himself. Now be a good boy and drink up."
He wants to protest, to scream, the panic and fear overcoming him but he knows it's futile. He could feel it. He's already becoming more human by the second. That dark part of him, that feeling of power and invulnerability is quieter, subdued and in moments will be gone.
"Drink." She says more forcefully and pushes the goblet closer towards him. He looks into those cold, grey eyes, seeing absolutely nothing in them but darkness and his shaking hand reaches for the goblet.
He can't explain the taste exactly but it felt like liquid fire, burning him from the inside out but it doesn't hurt. It felt good, he felt happy. And with a smallest sense of misery, one that's quickly overtaken by the joy from the angel blood, he realizes that the process is complete.
He is human.
"Time to wake up now, Jonathan."
Those are Death's last words to him before he opens his eyes and wakes to the bright sun, the air finally entering his lungs.
Death's appearance is based on Kate Burton while Death's personality is based on Julian Riching's character in Supernatural. Some dialogue in the chapter was taken and revised from the Supernatural episode, "Two Minutes to Midnight".