Author's Note: Well, hello there. Thank you for picking my story to read. As you may find out. This story is a bit... slow to start. But after the second or third chapter, I promise, it will get more exciting :P The first part of this is set before 5.10, you... should recognise where we get to the main story. Anything to do with the horseman prior to this is fake in this universe. In this Death has a sense of humor, and he is not played by / he does not look like Julian Richings. Hope you enjoy :D
Note 2: I will not continue to post this story if there are no reviews, favourites, or followings
~Doggyfanfic x
Danny pulled himself up off the ground slowly and looked around at the dry, desert scenery, slightly regretting the trip he decided to go on. Well, it wasn't exactly a trip he planned, and he didn't actually know where he was going, but he still felt like he should be here.
His throat was bone dry, he had no food, no tent or sleeping bag, only the clothes on his back and a the cruddiest cellphone in the world, that coincidently that had no signal. His head was aching and his feet nearly bleeding. He knew that he should probably have turned back by now, but still something was urging him to go on.
~SPN*SPN~SPN*SPN~
Tristan sighed and patted his black mare's neck, looking across the desert impatiently for his brother.
"He turned up yet?" Martha asked, walking over, tying her long, wavy red hair up.
"No," He replied solemnly, looking over at her.
"Do you think he's gonna come this year?"
"He has to." He almost whispered
She sighed and sat down on the rocking chair across from him,
"Can you watch out for a while, I'm starving,"
"You're always hungry,"
He raised an eyebrow at his sister's attitude
"Sure," She concluded, shaking her head slightly.
Tristan gave her a weak smile, stroked the mare's neck for a second, before walking out of the room. She sighed again, gazing out of the window.
~SPN*SPN~SPN*SPN~
Danny pulled the jacket off himself, now finding it way too hot to stand the heat. He pulled his cellphone out from the jacket pocket and shoved it into his back trouser pocket. Not really bothering with it, he let the brown jacket drop onto the floor. Slowly, he shuffled along the gritty sand, too exhausted to pick his feet up properly.
~SPN*SPN~SPN*SPN~
Mors reared up in his stall with the need to get out. The white stallion kicked at the door furiously and huffed.
"What's wrong boy?" Damon queried, moving over, careful not to get into his personal space.
The horse snorted and kicked the gate with its right hoof.
"You wanna go for a gallop," He realised
He nodded slightly and kicked the door again.
"Just gimme a sec then," He smiled at the horse
Damon walked over to the other side of the barn, smiled at his sister and opened the large gate, knowing that as soon as he opened Mors' gate he'd bolt and go through there, even if it was shut. He walked back over to the horse and opened the gate, only seeing a flash of white as the stallion left.
~*+"SPN"+*~
Mors knew where he needed to go. Simple as. He galloped straight from his stall out into the yard, quicker than a striking snake. He didn't even slow down when he jumped over the two meter fence, or even when he heard Damon and Martha calling after him. Only one person mattered now. And that person was unconsciously killing himself. He had to stop it.
~SPN*SPN~SPN*SPN~
Danny sucked in a painful breath beginning to know that this was it. He was going to die. He felt his legs give way, and his face on the ground. He gritted his teeth and hissed on pain, some of the sand being sucked into his lungs with each sharp breath. He lazily looked across the sand and saw horses galloping towards him. He let his head fall back, knowing that he was now hallucinating - that he was going to die.
~*+"SPN"+*~
Mors galloped faster now that he was in sight. He could hear his sisters on his sides, begging him to stop. They didn't get it. Didn't know who it was. They never did. He ground to a halt next to the dying being and started to rear and make noise, convincing him to open his eyes. The sand covered brown-haired man opened an eye and looked at the horse.
"Hey horsie," He choked out, surprising himself with his choice of last words.
Mors bowed his head and managed to get the man's arm round it, but felt it being taken off. He snapped his head up abruptly to look at Damon picking the man off the ground. He huffed and turned to his side so that he could put the man on his back.
Damon lifted up the man onto the stallion's back, he placed the being's arms round the horse's neck, smiling slightly as he instinctively wrapped them round, tightening his grip.
As soon as Mors felt the arms tighten round his neck, and he felt sure the man wouldn't fall off, he started galloping. He galloped as fast as he could back to the ranch with one thing on his mind.
He was back. Death had returned.