The Eyes That Saw The End Of The World

Summary: Death was once human, though he would never admit this to any of his Reapers. Death has seen many things in his terribly long life and enjoys reminiscing every Tuesday afternoon in a certain someone's favorite Heaven.

Now

Death is sitting on a little stone bench in Heaven, his aged eyes looking up at the fake skies of the eternal Tuesday afternoon of an autistic man.

He still wears his pristine black suit and the white stone ring. He still uses the thin, black cane that he doesn't need and, on occasion, totes around a soul or two in his ancient, black brief case. And he still very much enjoys taking a break on Earth to indulge in human junk food.

But, Death has recently taken pleasure in coming to this quiet place to reminisce when he isn't too busy ordering around his Reapers.

"I have seen so very much with these eyes in my terribly long life," Death speaks wistfully, bringing his sable colored eyes down from the skies to focus ahead of him. His gaunt features are stretched around an expression full of sorrow, but there is no regret seen in his inhuman eyes.

"I was once human and God was not always a god," the Father of all Reapers speaks again, but then smiles faintly and shakes his head. "No, I am getting ahead of myself."

A silence settles over the spring scene as Death gathers his thoughts and then begins once more.

"I believe you already know much of my story. Or at least you will, after you put the pieces together. But I want to tell you about the night that my life changed forever. The night that God became God and I was well on my way to becoming Death," he says with a thin smile on his pale lips and a sparkle of amusement in the bottomless depths of his eyes.

Then

It was the year 2011 and Crowley had fled the scene not too long before Raphael was turned into chunky soup that covered the walls of the manor's basement with just a snap of Castiel's fingers.

Sam had then stumbled onto the scene, freshly awakened from his coma, and stabbed the angel in the back with the angel killing blade. But, of course, it hadn't worked out as they would have hoped.

Castiel was no longer an angel. He was no longer weak. He was no longer vulnerable. And that showed. It showed in the way he held himself proudly and how he kept his expression calm and almost gentle, if not for the dangerous edge to it.

Sam and Bobby watched on, panic and fear welling up in their hearts as they knelt to the ground before Castiel. God's power was overwhelming to them. His influence stronger than Lucifer or any demon in possession of their mind or body.

But Dean remained standing. Remained immovable with his held head high and pain glistening in his hazel green eyes. And his soul remained strong, resolute and shining brightly against the Castiel who claimed to be God.

"We can be a family again, Cas. You just have to give us a chance. Give us a chance and let go of the nuke juice," Dean begged, a single tear falling from his eyes as he forced himself to watch his world crash down on him.

God, then still named Castiel, was upset that the elder of the Winchester brothers had just refused to bow down to his new lord. Had refused to acknowledge his newfound power and instead spoke to him as if nothing had changed. And God was angered because everything had changed and nothing would ever be the same.

"You don't understand, Dean," Castiel spoke, his voice deathly calm, but as sharp as a razor's edge, "We are no longer family. Can never be a family again. I am God now. I am offering you and your family paradise if only you would bow down to me. And yet you have foolishly refused my offer while Samuel and Robert have gladly accepted it."

When Castiel looked into Dean's eyes again and saw no hesitation, only regret and pain flaring brightly behind the familiar spheres of color, his own eyes darkened to a navy blue. Castiel then lowered his head ever so slightly, making himself appear even more deadly than he already was.

The sound of a million shards of glass and metal resounded around the small space with the shifting of his new wings. They appeared on this plane now, the wings that shimmered like smoky diamonds and looked as if each metallic feather were more deadly than the sharpest obsidian blade. They stretched across the room, the tips touching the walls to the sides of their bearer, created a heavy black curtain that was darker than a starless night and bristled in a display of his anger.

And yet, despite the terrifying display, despite Sam and Bobby feeling like they were a million miles away, and despite Dean feeling like he was standing alone in front of an army of very well trained monsters, he remained standing. His fear was almost overwhelming, but Dean stood and faced Castiel, his terror becoming unwavering determination in the face of God's Wrath.

Though it should have angered Castiel, the God found himself pleased. If there was anyone who could oppose the new God, Dean was the very best Castiel could have hoped for.

"Dean," Castiel spoke in his chillingly quiet voice, his dire expression softening into a serene smile on his pale lips as he approached the human. His favorite, most precious human.

"Cas," Dean ground out, his posture suddenly going tense as he sensed the real danger of his situation.

"Cas, whatever you're planning, please, just stop," the human pleaded, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he felt the room seem to come to life with the sparking of electricity.

Before Dean could back away, before he could even move, Castiel was there, in front of him and grabbing hold of Dean's arm with an ice cold hand. Dean flinched as he felt something even colder than Castiel's skin was placed on his left ring finger. An all too familiar silver band that he had lost over a year ago that hummed with a sickeningly, powerful presence.

"Cas, no, don't," Dean bit out, struggling to pull his arm away from the God, despite Castiel's stronger than iron grip. But, with the chanting of a few unfamiliar words courtesy of Castiel, Dean felt a searing pain shoot up his arm and spread across his body, all of it sourced right from the ring.

Castiel continued to hold onto Dean's arm as the human fell to his knees screaming in agony. He watched with cold blue eyes as Dean's body began to glow with power just as his own had done not too long ago. And he stood as still as a mountain when a blast of energy radiated out from Dean, destroying everything around them within a two mile radius, including Sam, Bobby, and the Impala.

Later

It had been four years since that night in Crowley's Manor and Dean sat on the porch of his cabin at Camp Chitaqua, the silver band very much stuck to his left ring finger. But Dean didn't care that he wasn't getting laid thanks to Castiel's seemingly permanent cockblock. No. He was too busy making sure the human race survived the sudden influx of monsters that had appeared around the world.

Unfortunately, Dean quickly learned that this was a futile effort and that he was only reaping more and more humans every day with the aid of his hunting knife to dig out the souls.

"Dean?" a young woman, Theresa, called out to the fearless leader, breaking his moment of reminiscing upon those he had lost since Castiel became the new God.

Dean looked down at the raven haired woman and tried his best to smile for her, ever since he had been forced to reap her husband a couple months back after a particularly bad werewolf attack.

"What's up, Tessa?" he asked as he rose from his seat and dusted off his jeans. But he paused, seeing the haunted shadows in her eyes. "Is it another werewolf sighting?"

The woman nodded her head, a grave expression on her face as Dean began to head out to his jeep.

"Let me come with you," she said, desperation and anger in her voice, "Let me get my revenge, Dean, please."

Dean looked back at Tessa, hesitant at first since he usually worked alone, but he nodded slowly, believing that she would be able to look after herself. After all, she had learned how to wield a gun from one of the best.

Unfortunately, everything went wrong. So very wrong.

Dean had just finished up killing all but one of the werewolves when he heard a scream down the street from where he was standing.

"Tessa!" he cried out as he ran towards the sound, the streets too dark but at the same time too bright at night with the moon hanging full and bright above them.

Dean found Tessa, lying on the street with a werewolf kneeling over her body, eating the heart it had ripped from her chest with its clawed hand.

The silver knife in Dean's hand suddenly grew hot and shimmered like a mirage before settling into a new form. A scythe, but not just any scythe. Death's Scythe. It just looked newer, a lot newer. Like it had just been made, which would honestly be the truth.

Looking down at his new weapon, Dean smiled wryly and knew what he had to do.

"Hey there," Dean said with a smirk as he appeared before the werewolf, a young male, and grabbed him by the hair. Though the beast fought back, growling and spitting at him and lashing out at him with clawed hands, Dean felt none of it. Instead, he slid his scythe into place behind the creature's neck and jerked his arm back, letting the body fall dead while he threw away the head.

"Dean?" he heard a familiar voice call from behind him, but he didn't turn back to face Tessa's spirit.

"I'm Death," he said with a sad smile as he secured his scythe in the back of his jeans. "And you're my new assistant."

Now

"After that night with Tessa, I took a little trip back in time, where I knew God would be waiting for me. And I watched him create an entire Universe for me to watch and reap a trillion years from the moment of its creation," Death says with an almost fond smile as he rises from his seat, the crashing of a million shards of glass and metal alerting him to his guest's arrival.

"God, I have been waiting for you for such a long time," he greets pleasantly, none of his old mannerisms from his human life present after an eternity as another being.

Death draws out his scythe as God turns to face him, carrying a golden sword in indistinct hands.

God has been nothing but radiant light and wisps of white smoke for a long time now, just as Death has been a rather gaunt looking man in a fetching suit.

But, for a brief moment, they are Castiel and Dean again, the angel holding his angel killing sword and Dean carrying his trusty knife.

And in that brief moment, when they aren't just God or Death, they come together, stabbed through the hearts in an act that was long foretold and long awaited. Just so God could create the Universe all over again.