Checks and Balances
A Supernatural/Dogma Ficlet
Disclaimer: This a fanwork and no profit is made, or claims being staked on the characters portrayed herein.
Summary: Dean never thought much about the reaper in Maine, but it thought about him. Death doesn't like being in debt.
Loki was enjoying his parole, as much as he could enjoy it with his companion of millennia banished to the cold depths of hell, and sat cross-legged on oversized and overstuffed chair with a collection of pixie-sticks arranged by color on the coffee table before him. There were no other angels on earth, or rather none he was permitted to talk to, but he did have some companions. The alternate reality She had banished him to still had a Wisconsin, had the whole US of A as a matter of fact, but it didn't have the usual assortment of supernatural creatures. It actually had a whole plethora of nasty things waiting to jump out and eat people. And a whole lot of reapers.
The eternal child looked up from his cartoons, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles always reminded him of the arch-angels and got him feeling nostalgic, and was surprised to see a decidedly crypt-keeper looking reaper materialize. The reaper sketched a swift bow, Loki was the Angel of Death and their king/father figure as he found out upon awakening in a decimated field a few years ago, and awaited acknowledgment. The natural blonde/brunette, selected a blue pixie-stick and offered it to the reaper.
Loki sighed when the other specter declined the treat. They never tried any food. Always busy collecting souls! Never any fun! But he was working on his guards, and he was pretty sure Winnie's calm exterior was cracking as her interest in 'Passions' grew. Give it another month and he'd convince her to try some chocolate.
The angel smiled at the thought. "What's up?" He questioned Mr. Keeper.
The reaper actually fidgeted which just peaked Loki's childish curiosity as he leaned forward, wings quivering, a smile blossoming on his lips. "Come on! Tell me!"
"Sir. You are aware of how I was... detained a few months back?"
Loki nodded. "Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way. Not allowed to go around smiting humans while on parole, but what can you do?"
"I completely understand." The reaper responded quickly. He didn't blame Loki for not acting, though it would have been nice if was allowed. Perhaps in the future when God was feeling a bit more wrathful... "Are you aware of how my... detainment... ended?"
Loki crossed his arms and closed his eyes in thought. That was when he had his Sliders marathon, wasn't it? "Someone showed up and busted the altar, right?"
"Correct. But it was a bit more than that and, well, I was wondering if something could be done to thank them..."
Loki grinned and buckled on his sword as the reaper explained everything. It looked like he was going on the clock.
Dean was worried. The chick was a reaper, he figured that much out, and she was after him. But she wasn't going to take him without a fight. Could she do anything to Sammy or Dad, though?
Tessa looked at him with a soft expression. "It's really for the best." She opened her mouth to say more, Dean figured more platitudes about how life goes on and whatnot when her jaw snapped shut and slight surprise lit her eyes. "What are you doing here? I'm working the hospitals."
Dean turned to find a familiar creepy visage standing in the doorway. Another reaper. Crap.
"I'm afraid you contract with this mortal has been canceled." The other reaper stated. Wondering what that meant Dean shot a look at Tessa who was doing a good impression of a, well he wasn't quite sure. Something upset and pink, and she kept drifting between hot-chick and specter-of-rags.
"What do mean, canceled?! He's as good as dead! You can't deny it."
"I'm not." The other spoke. "But I have pleaded the case to out father, and he can."
Dean waved his arms. "Woah. Hold up, pleaded? What are you two talking about."
Tessa paled as the implications set in while Dean felt his frustration and confusion rising. "He's going to...?"
"Yes."
"Alright." Tessa vanished.
The other reaper stepped forward. "Dean Winchester? If you would accompany me back to your body?"
Sam was annoyed. He had a bag of occult materials his father wanted, but from the way Bobby had looked at this list he doubted it was for protections. He wasn't sure exactly what it was for he was willing to bet it had to do with the Demon. It always had something to do with the Demon. Dad never saw anything else but those twice-damned yellow eyes.
So embroiled in thoughts about his father Sam didn't notice the young man staring at Dean, not a first. It was kind hard not to notice the sword barely concealed by his long coat. First of all, who wore that many layers, inside? Second of all, a sword?
Sam dropped the brown paper bag and reached for his concealed gun. Not very smart in a hospital but he wasn't taking any chances when it came to his brother. "Get away for him!"
The man, boy really, blinked impossibly bright blue eyes at him and straightened. Then he smiled and crossed the distance between them impossibly fast. Not human! Sam screamed internally and aimed between the things eyes, but for all he knew it wouldn't even hurt the thing. Where was dad and the colt when you needed them?
"Oh! Nice one!" The thing whispered as it ran it's eyes over the handgun it was being threatened with. "Not very big, how do you intimidate people with it? Still, very shiny. I like it." He then smiled happily.
"Christo."
The thing's eyes didn't go any color, but it did start and look around. "Where?"
That was different. Still, he didn't react like a demon. "What are you?" Sam lowered the gun, but he didn't put it away. "Why are you here?"
"I'm just waiting for my minion to get back with your bro." The man-child answered simply and leaned back against the wall.
"E-excuse me?!" Sam demanded just as his no-good dead-beat Dad returned. The eldest Winchester took in the stranger, the gun waiting in his sons hand, and immediately pulled the colt from one of the long inner pockets on his coat.
"Sammy?" He questioned.
The stranger just shrugged, not in the least perturbed by the postures of the two men. "It's like this, okay. You guys helped out one of my guys, when I wasn't allowed to do it myself." At Sam's confused look the stranger sighed. "Maine? Faith healer?"
"The reaper?!"
That blinding smile was back. "Bingo! See, he told me about your little problem," he gestured to the bed where Dean lay comatose. "And figured something should be done about it. I mean, you really helped us. You can't believe how pissed I was that some two-bit mortal had gone and snagged one of mine, but you know, not allowed to smite humans just because I feel like it.
"So, to thank you, I'm going to work a little mojo." The stranger gave a little laugh and looked absolutely smug. "See, I'm not allowed to kill who I want, but nothing in the rules says I can't heal."
Dean would never live this down. Saved by an Angel. Sure, neither he nor his father believed it at first but when they regrouped with Bobby all the lore pointed to it. And he wasn't saved by fluffy-wings, harps, and halos angel, no, Dean Winchester had to get bailed out by the Angel of fucking Death. An angel that had slaughtered millions and flooded the world. Who apparently had an appreciation for modern weaponry, he'd dumped of a couple rounds of ammunition for the magic colt with a muttered 'that yellow-eyed bastard keeps body-jacking my kids to make his deals, faster you guys snuff him the better'.
If it wasn't for the cat-in-the-cream look Sammy seemed to be always wearing Dean would have found it flattering. Of course the Angel of Death would be the one to show up for Dean Winchester. No pussy angels for this Hunter.
But it was annoying how they now had proof that angels existed, even if there was some vague rules preventing them from really helping out. Unless they could figure out Azrael's true name, then they could make with the mojo and have a seriously big gun in their corner.
Dean gave a sigh and pocketed the single feather that had been found in his hospital room after he woke up. Someone had ordered another round of drinks. A woman in tight jeans leaned against the bar. If she hadn't been a hunter her would have hit on her. "Is it true you got healed by an angel?"
Dean groaned. He was going to kill Sammy.
END.