Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. The plot of the story is inspired by a tumblr post.
Did people realize they were dead? I mean, after being killed, or passing away in their sleep or something. Did they acknowledge the fact that they were no longer alive right away, or did someone tell them or did they live in a place they considered as heaven with their loved ones and their dream life and everything they ever wanted, thinking they are actually alive and well? Unfortunately, Kevin Tran was not one of the lucky ones.
He knew he was dead the moment he woke up in his old house in Michigan. His computer was turned off on his desk which was covered in books and notepads, pencils and bottles of water. The bookcases covered every wall of the room, filled with everything an advanced placement needed. His cello stood silently next to his bed, waiting for his fingers to touch the strings. Even his cell phone was there, plugged into the charger in the corner with a text from Channing reading 'good night, I love you'.
Was it because he was a prophet? He didn't know. All he knew was that he felt surprisingly calm for a murdered person. He did remember everything about how he was killed. Sam came up to him and he found the chance to express his worries about Dean. And that was when he said that Dean would be fine in a strange sort of voice and then he touch his forehead… and that was it. Should Kevin feel angry? Confused? Devastated? Maybe. He was certain that wasn't Sam. Who it was, he didn't know. He felt like the Winchesters would be in great trouble back in the living world, though he didn't feel like he should warn them or try to help them. He only felt calm, peaceful. Was that what death was like?
He couldn't stay there forever. His heaven couldn't be his old room, that empty and cold. And to be honest, he felt as if he deserved some kind of special treatment; not to brag, but he had done a few things to help back on earth.
Kevin opened his bedroom door and found himself in the kitchen, although he would normally have to go down some stairs and go through the living room to get there. Sunlight was coming in through the windows and the whole room smelled like… home. A petite figure was in front of the counter, moving around hastily while smoke came out of pans and saucepans.
"…Mom?" Kevin said, his voice breaking.
The woman turned around, a big smile forming on her face the moment she saw him. "There's my boy. If you wait for a bit, dinner will be ready soon."
He just walked the few meters that separated them and gave her a bone-crushing hug. She squealed in surprise, but didn't pull away. "Not that I'm complaining, but what is that for?" she just asked, joy obvious in her voice.
It's because I couldn't protect you. It's because I'm so, so sorry. It's because you have no idea how much I've missed you, he wanted to say, as he let the tears soak Linda's shirt. But that was when he realized something was wrong.
A part had been skipped.
Reapers. He worked with Sam and Dean Winchester, who had died more times than any person in the history of creation. He was a prophet. He should have known something wasn't in order right away.
He gave his mother one last kiss on the forehead and ran to the opposite direction.
A man was waiting in their living room.
He couldn't say what age he was, with his dark hair with a few bald spots. He had a long hawk-like nose and his eyes… they seemed so deep. Maybe tired, maybe mysterious, maybe both. He wore a white shirt and a tie below his black coat and he held a cane which was resting on his knees as he sat with his legs crossed on one of the armchairs.
"Are you here to reap my soul?" Kevin asked, the question sounding dumber than he thought it would when he went over it in his head.
"We'll see about that. Why don't you have a seat?" the man replied, his voice deep and calm, as he gestured towards the other chair.
Kevin obliged. He sensed that that wasn't a person someone would want to disobey.
"I would like to inform you about a few things," he continued. "You have lived the past few years as a Prophet, a job that is not easy, I must admit. That is why there seems to be something… abnormal about your after-death time. Most humans keep wandering in the place they died, until they decide to follow their reaper… or choose the alternative option, which includes more wandering. You, on the other hand, seem to have got an early taste of Heaven."
It was heaven. His old life, uneventful and quiet, that was how he would live in the afterlife too. He nodded.
"Normally, this is the part where I urge you to follow me, live your alive self behind, let me take your soul with me."
"So, you are a reaper then?" Kevin asked.
"I would like to think of myself as of something a bit above them, I must admit," the man commented and laced his fingers in front of him, so that his big white ring would be visible.
"You're Death," Kevin exclaimed, a few parts amazed and many parts scared.
"I had to come myself," the Horseman confirmed. "I do consider it an honor to collect the likes of Kevin Tran."
Kevin tried to keep quiet, but he couldn't. What was the worst thing that could happen? He was dead anyway.
"Because I'm useful," he said, the bitterness obvious in his voice, choking back a few tears. He could finally admit it out loud, the thing that he believed all along. He was a tool. For everyone. And even in the afterlife, he would be treated as that; a tool that helped a lot, but a tool nonetheless.
However, Death kept the same calm stasis, as he stared right into his eyes and said "Because you made a difference."
Kevin couldn't look at him for much more, so his eyes dropped to his shoes and he wiped his face with his sleeves. There was nothing else he could say- he just wanted that whole thing to be over, for something in his life to be clear for once.
"When that day comes, I'll be waiting," the man started and Kevin could feel his eyes piercing through him, seeing into the depths of his soul. "But, it is not your time yet."
The boy found the willpower to raise his face just enough to look at him. "Does this mean… does this mean I'm going back?"
"The world still has need of you, Mr Tran. You are a Winchester after all."
"No, I am not."
"Yes, you are," was the last thing he heard coming out of Death's lips.
Author's Note: Third published story, woohoo! It's the first proper Supernatural fic I write, so please be kind. Reviews are always great and make my day!