Author's note: I got the idea for this while thinking about the horsemen, and I couldn't hold off writing any longer!

Edit: Changed some little things important to plot! Also, added a part to Ch. 4. Tried to make these first four chapters tolerable, should hit better pace around chapter 5~

Ch. 1

Before humans existed, God created four immensely powerful beings whose purpose was to spread his wrath when his creations ran rampant. These beings have been named as the four horsemen of the apocalypse; Pestilence, Famine, War, and Death. In the beginning, they were tethered to God's control, now they are constants in the modern world since he has disappeared. Though by no doing of their own—no—they just come and claim the souls after the humans make their messes.

To humans they were known by their formal names, but to one another and their respective reapers they were known as Sam, Castiel, Crowley, and Dean. Each of the four horsemen had their own accoutrements along with a reaper companion. One item that they all shared alike was a ring, the other was their weapon of choice.

Sam was Famine and was known for his dagger. A special dagger, of course, with an inscribed, jagged blade. One would have expected Sam to be a shrunken figure due to his namesake, but he was the tallest of the horsemen and broad shouldered. He had brown hair and hazel eyes. Physically, none of the horsemen had any telling features, but each had their own tick that corresponded to their ailment. For Sam, he was constantly comparing himself to his three brothers and hungering to be remotely as powerful as they were. He felt weak in comparison to the three juggernauts.

His reaper companion was named Gabriel. Gabriel was a sandy blonde with a sweet tooth, a smart mouth, and striking amber eyes. He was neither tall nor short, but often looked sleight of height due to standing beside his horseman—whom he affectionately called moose on occasion, along with a variety of other nicknames.

Castiel was Pestilence and his weapon was a sword of pure silver that shone fiercely when hit by light. He had dark brown hair and the most incredible blue eyes that seemed to stare right through you. His vice was that he felt as if those around him crumpled wherever he went, as if he were the plague. Which as such, he was.

The reaper that assisted him was named Anna. She was a redhead who was very much her own person and wasn't afraid to tell Castiel when he was wrong.

Representing War was Crowley, the daringest devil anyone could meet who was known for his sass, inappropriate comments, and a temper that occasionally got away from him. Crowley's weapon was a little different in that it was an animal opposed to an object. It was a hellhound named Growley that he often referred to as a dog of war, giving an ode to Shakespeare. His notable attributes were black hair, brown eyes, and a British accent. Markedly, it was probably his ability to hold a grudge and his temper that made him well suited for War.

His reaper went by the name of Balthazar and was probably the only being on Earth that could rival his sass, which made them a perfect duo. The reaper was blonde, blue-eyed, smarmy, and moved in a smooth, relaxed manner, much like that of a cat.

The last of the horsemen was Dean, also known as Death, the most notorious of the four. His weapon was a colt, more specifically, the colt. The colt was a gun that was created by Samuel Colt and could kill anything, apart from six individuals—Lucifer, the horsemen, and God. Dean had brown hair, and green eyes that could have belonged to a Disney princess. The weight that sat heavy on his shoulders was that he felt people around him died whether he willed it or not, so he had stopped making friends a lot time ago and kept to the company of his fellow horsemen and reapers.

Charlie was the name of his reaper. She was very up to date on pop culture and, if asked, her idol was Hermione from Harry Potter. She was a fiery redhead and would rise to any challenge that came up, which made her the ideal companion for Death.

For the most part, the horsemen got along remarkably well. However, if there was trouble to be had, it was with Crowley as he was the most morally ambiguous of the four. More often than not, it was Dean that had a problem with him. The perverted and scathing remarks easily got under his skin, so any chance he had to hold something over his head, he gladly took.

A war waged in a small country barely worth mentioning, and Crowley was idly hanging around while the body count racked up. He stood atop a small building, looking down as the people shot at one another without mercy, bullets splintering wooden surfaces and flesh alike. Humans truly were brutal creatures and it entertained him to watch them.

"So, Bobby tells us there's a storm rolling in." Dean said from where he and Sam appeared adjacent to Crowley on the rooftop. The horsemen and the reapers had a business to keep things orderly and Bobby was their secretary, so to speak. He always had all the information coming in, whether it were from the news on tv, to information that Ash brought in through the network. "Looks like this one's ours." Dean smirked, expression soon melting off his face at the withering look Sam shot him.

Crowley sighed and clapped his hands with a dry expression, "Cookie for you." He ignored the enthusiastic 'Cookie?' that came from famine's reaper.

"Like it or not, we're in and you're out."

"By whose orders?"

"Cain's. You don't like it, you can take it up with him."

To say that Cain was their manager wasn't quite right, but it wasn't exactly wrong, either. Cain was nicknamed the father of murder, when push came to shove, he guided the boys on who should get which souls. His own life had been rather tragic, being the same Cain of the story of Cain and Abel. But the humans had it wrong when they wrote that one down. Truth of the matter was, Cain gave his soul in Hell to send his brother to Heaven when Lucifer had been knocking on his door. It was by request from his dearly departed—another sad story for another time—that he began working with the horsemen to try and atone for the wrongs he had done.

Crowley hummed, not being one to argue with that. If he were honest with himself, which he rarely was, he was a bit afraid of Cain. Anyone in their right mind would be. Polite as he may be, he still carried the mark on his arm.

"Have fun, boys." Crowley snapped his fingers and disappeared, his reaper following suit.

Dean looked out over the carnage, storm clouds dark and foreboding in the distance. A flash of lightning illuminated the start of a funnel cloud twisting down from the sky. He felt a drop of rain land on his freckled cheek, warm wind blowing across his face. There was an unmistakable charge in the air, the telltale sign of an oncoming storm. This was going to be a good one.

Author's note: Almost forgot, based on my tumblr post here: post/73960499269/snakesandmischief-i-should-write-a-fanfic-where#notes

I hope you enjoy exploring this 'verse with me as much as I do writing it!