DISCLAIMER: I own nothing... Kudos to JK Rowling, Marvel comics, and who ever came up with Supernatural.
"Grim, why do you drink so much coffee? Don't you get jittery? Besides, I thought Brits drink tea," Peter Parker asked the young looking raven haired man who was chugging down a large cup of coffee.
"Tea to relax, coffee to cope," Grim said with a wink of an emerald eye to the teenager as he leaned a hip against the counter. "Habit I picked up over the years I suppose. Now, not to change the subject, but did you still want to do that training session this evening or do you have finals coming up?"
Peter sighed, "Why couldn't my powers let me do both…"
Grim shrugged, "The way of the world. You never get entirely what you want."
Peter watched as Grim took another swig of coffee. He knew the man had a point but he wished he could come to terms with it as easily.
Tony came in muttering over a device in his hands. He blindly reached for the carafe only to find it empty. He glanced over at Grim before shaking his head. "Would it kill you to make more?"
Grim grinned widely over his cup, "You know I would just be tempted to drink it."
Tony rolled his eyes, "True enough." He put down whatever he was working on to grab for the coffee grinder when the sound of glass breaking made him spin around.
Grim stared at his hands as they became translucent, his coffee spilling from his broken mug on the floor. A look of horror came over his face when the rest of him started to disappear as well.
"Grim? Harry!" Tony called, reaching for the man but he was too late. Harry was gone...
"We call upon the Master of Death! Grant us your power! We beseech thee…" garbled chanting is what Harry first noticed when he opened his eyes. His body was just beginning to solidify once again when he felt pain in the center of his back. The world turned grey and then black. Harry knew no more…
"What the hell is that thing, Sammy?" a dirty blond in a leather jacket asked hushedly.
"Not sure. Looks like a kind of demon but they have control over it. Well... mostly," the tall light brunette replied as he lowered himself back into hiding.
"What do you mean mostly?" the blond asked trying to see the creature before it spotted them.
"They keep giving it the order to kill and it won't. It just stops and shakes for a bit before they try a new target. It's happened each time. Dean, I'm not sure it's entirely demonic," Sam said as he watched the creature refuse once again to obey a kill command. It had no problem destroying property but people seemed to be another matter entirely. With each snap of its wings and swipe of its claws, buildings and cars were damaged but not enough to endanger anyone's life.
"If I didn't know better I would swear it was trying to protect people while still technically obeying orders," Dean said finally getting a good look at the beast. The ebony black skin glistened like polished leather as it stretched over deformed limbs. Its face held pure white eyes while sharp pointed teeth gleamed in its mouth. Its batlike wings were just massive. Its lizard like tail swished from side to side knocking over mailboxes and trash cans. Hands and feet were clawed and its legs were similar in shape to a bird of prey's. However, that was not all that grabbed Dean's attention. Something jutted out from between its wings, right in the center of its back and also it seemed to be wearing something.
"Sam, is it just me or is that thing wearing the scraps of some jeans?" Dean pointed out.
"That means it's possible that thing was or is human," Sam said in shock, watching the creature more closely. The more he saw, the more he wondered if that thing had a conscience, one that was powerful enough to fight back against the cultists' control.
"So we take down the cult, put that thing in a seal and either destroy it or make it change back," Dean said getting up.
"Wait! Dean! We need a plan!" Sam called quietly after Dean who was quickly making his way down towards the creature and the half dozen people who made up this particular cult.
"I got one!" Dean called back, keeping low but moving fast.
Soon he was directly in front of the creature who stood tall, with wings spread out, regarding Dean with an unreadable expression.
"How can I control you?" Dean asked quietly.
Sam watched in surprise when the creature turned and stared at a cult priest holding a small scroll in his hands.
"Gotcha," Dean said pulling a gun on the priest.
"Damn it!" Sam said drawing a gun as well and joining his brother in staring down the cult members.
"Master of Death, we beseech thee. Kill these men!" the priest cried out.
The creature groaned and shuddered but did not move. Instead, it glanced over at Sam and Dean and backed away.
"Do as I say!" the priest commanded before muttering incantations under his breath.
The creature howled piercingly, showing its fangs before slowly taking halting steps towards Dean. It clearly did not want to follow the command but whatever power the cult leader had in that scroll was forcing it to do his will.
"Dean...is there a phase 2 to this plan of yours?" Sam asks under his breath, as he edges closer to Dean.
"Yep," Dean says looking around wildly before firing on the creature.
The creature stumbles back in surprise, knocking into the cult priest which in turn knocks the scroll out of his hands. Sam dives for the scroll just as the cult leader grabs for it.
They wrestle for just a moment when a tearing sound reaches their ears. The scroll was beginning to rip. Sam punches the man in the face and grabs the ancient paper from him.
"Master of Death! I beseech thee. Take us somewhere safe!" Sam says quickly glancing over the ancient text and praying that if he copied what the priest had said, it will work.
The creature turns and rather gently grabs Dean around his waist before turning to Sam.
It holds out a claw. "This is nuts…" Sam says before letting the creature grab him as well.
Suddenly, with a powerful thrust of its legs and wings, they were airborne.
"The Impala!" Dean cried out.
"We'll come back for it. Right now we need to figure out what the hell this thing is!" Sam said over the rushing wind.
How long they flew, Sam and Dean didn't know. All they do know is the creature started to descend towards a ramshackle cabin in the woods.
When they land, they notice the creature was panting slightly.
"Definitely not a demon if it's tired," Dean said as the creature gently placed him and his brother on their feet.
Dean circled the beast which watched him with idle curiosity. "Sam, still got the scroll? What's it say?"
"Something about upon summoning the Master of Death, true control must be forced between wings of iron. Only then shall the Master of Death become its purist form," Sam said trying to make the words out in the growing gloom. "It gives a chant for control but that's it. Nothing else. Doesn't even mention what a Master of Death is."
Dean nods still studying the creature. "If this is a pure form then it must have an impure form right? ...true control must be forced between wings of iron...what if that's literal?" Dean mumbled stopping behind the creature and examining some sort of spike that was lodged between its shoulder blades and wings where it cannot reach it. The wound oozed some sort of black goo.
"How do we know it won't kill us?" Sam asked understanding what Dean was going to do.
"Ask it. While it's still under our control," Dean reasoned avoiding the creature's tail as it swished from side to side.
Sam looked down at the scroll but found nothing beyond a mention of prayer and supplication for all requests and commands to be granted.
"Master of Death, we humbly request the truth. If we remove that which controls you, will you turn on us? Will you harm or kill us? Will the spike harm us?"
The creature shook its head negatively before crouching before the brothers and tucking its wings and tail out of the way.
"Well that answers that," Dean said, reaching towards the spike. With a powerful jerk, Dean yanked the thing out of the creature's back. "Geez, this thing is like a foot long," Dean said holding the ooze and rune covered spike.
The creature immediately started thrashing. Limbs began to shift and change. Wings and tail disappeared into the creature's healing back. Skin color losing its pitch blackness. Eyes became more human like. In a matter of minutes a thin young man, no more than seventeen years old in appearance, was kneeling before them in the remains of torn and ragged jeans.
"Thanks," the kid said before passing out in front of them.
"Well...what the hell was that?" Dean said after a long moment of silence.
Hours later, Sam and Dean watched the unconscious youth on the couch they had found inside the surprisingly well kept cabin. They were amazed to find the place fully stocked with firewood, fresh food, and clean clothing. They even found a couple blankets to drape over the half-naked teenager.
A pot of stew cooked over the fire in the nice large fireplace, big enough to cook in and smoke meat at the same time.
They were just starting to grab a bowl of stew each when they heard the teen start to stir.
Dean grabbed a third bowl and filled it.
Green eyes glanced at them before the teen leveraged himself into a sitting position.
"Here," Dean said handing the bowl of stew to the teen with a spoon resting in it.
"Thanks," the kid said quietly before chowing down on the stew like he hadn't eaten in days.
Dean noticed the kid kept a weary but wary eye on them both as he ate.
The kid had some interesting scars. A lightning shaped one on his forehead, one on his hand that read "I must not tell lies," quite a few on his back and arms like he had been beaten a lot in the past, as well as two across his chest. One reached from one shoulder to the opposite hip and in the center, near his heart, was an ugly looking one that looked like someone stabbed him with a large blunt object.
They waited until the kid polished off a second bowl of stew before starting in on the questions.
"So...what's your name, kid?" Dean asked.
The kid grinned a little before replying in a surprising British accent, "They call me The Grim or Grim for short."
"Wait like a grim reaper?" Sam said standing quickly.
The teen laughed, "No. Grim reapers are like minions to Death. I'm The Grim as in the Messenger of Death."
"So what are you? The cultists thought you were the Master of Death. Jammed you with a spike that turned you into a creature of some sort."
"Demon looking thing? Black skin, white eyes, and a lot of teeth?" the kid asked with a sigh.
"Yep," Dean replied studying the kid behind a nonchalant face.
"I am the Master of Death. That is my Horseman of the Apocalypse form. Luckily those idiots didn't know that although they made me assume my other form that doesn't mean I bring about the Apocalypse. It's hazy but I don't think I killed anyone while under their control. I am pretty sure I wouldn't be here in this form right now if I did," Grim said leaning back against the cushions of the couch and rubbing at his eyes with his scarred hand.
He caught Sam and Dean staring at it. "What?"
"Where did you get all the scars?" Sam asked quietly.
The kid stilled in a way that was unnatural before issuing another sigh. "Most are from before I was Master of Death. However," he touched the scars on his chest, "these two are the first I've gained in nearly 60 years. Luckily, the weapon that created them is safely hidden now."
"So you're what? An immortal?" Dean asked with a snort of disbelief.
"Sadly, yes," this kid answered. His eyes seemingly ancient. "Does that surprise you? In a world full of monsters and demons and pagan gods? Superheroes and villains? Don't tell me that you don't believe in such things."
Sam and Dean glanced at each other.
Grim smiled. "You know my youngest grandsons are about your age now." Grim stood up and crossed to a dresser in the corner and opened a drawer.
He pulled out a photo album.
"Is this your cabin?" Sam asked gesturing at their surroundings.
"You said take you somewhere safe. I built this place. Put protections on it. This is the safest place to be," the teen explained as he took out a pair of jeans and a button down shirt from the dresser as well.
He handed them the photo album before going into the bathroom to change.
They opened the album to see dozens of old photos. Some moved, some were very old, and only a couple were recent judging by the color and quality. All showed Grim with different people. One person in particular that kept popping up was a pretty girl who slowly through the progression of photos became a gorgeous woman while the teen never changed except to look more and more stressed. Eventually, they came to color photos of people surrounding Grim who looked a bit like him but also slightly different.
"Those are my grandchildren and great-grandchildren. My ex-wife died five years ago. Had to divorce and fake my death back in the fifties when we realized I wasn't aging anymore," Grim said quietly, when he crossed the room to see what they were looking at.
"How do these other pictures move?" Sam asked curiously, watching people laugh silently as they pushed and shoved their way into the picture.
"A spell. Pretty common one too," Grim said taking the album from them and putting it back in its drawer.
"Spell? What are you a witch?" Dean asked.
"Uhh... wizard actually. None of that cultish nonsense. I'm part of the true society of witches and wizards. You are born with the ability to perform spells or you are not. None of that deals with the devil nonsense. However, we keep ourselves hidden. Witch-hunts killed many people and instilled a deep fear of muggles even though we escaped the bloodshed. It was a bad time for our people," Grim said shaking his head sadly.
"So why aren't you hiding? Why tell us?" Dean asked, "You're taking a huge risk right now. That is, if what you say is true."
"I think the time is coming that we will no longer be able to hide. I won't give away my people but I will at least say that I am truly a wizard. Granted I'm different than the rest due to my duty as a Master of Death but I'm a wizard through and through. For some reason, I don't think you will hold it against me," Grim studied them thoughtfully.
"Now I have a question for you. Two actually...What day is it? Have you seen my cellphone? I know I'm not in New York anymore, which is where I was drinking my morning coffee and offering a tutoring session with one of the teens I work with," Grim said slightly annoyed, "That was good coffee too."
"Today is Friday, November 3rd, 20xx. We found your cell. It's on the table charging." Dean answered, curious.
"What?! Bloody hell! They had me for over a month!" Grim exclaimed, grabbing for his battered cell on the mentioned table.
He dialed a number and waited. Someone must have picked up because Grim immediately gave coordinates.
"Yes, I'm fine. Some bloody cult summoned me and stuck some kind of relic in my back to control me. Pair of hunters showed up and freed me...No the other kind of hunters...right. Logan and Strange mentioned them. Chase around after demons and such...right...hang on," Grim turned to them, "Do you still have the relic and the scroll?"
"Maybe…" Sam answered keeping a straight face.
Grim smiled before turning his attention back to the phone, "Yeah, they got it. Can you ask Thor to take it to the Allfather for safe-keeping? I do not want a repeat performance. Death is going to show up and ream me as it is... Great. Thanks, Phil."
With that he hung up.
"Phil?" Dean asked amused at the name.
"Old friend. He'll be here with a few other people. Don't worry. They're not like me. And ah...just a warning, Death will be here in a few to update me. Don't shoot alright? It gets annoying," Grim warned just as a dark mist formed in the shadows of the corner of the room. It solidified into an androgynous figure that was half shadow and half substance.
"That's Death?" Sam asked partially frightened but mostly intrigued.
"Yes. Please excuse me a moment," Grim said before turning to Death and staring into its hidden eyes.
The brothers glanced at each other in question as the two seemed to have a silent conversation. It lasted a few moments and then Death glanced their way before solidifying into the form of a very thin man in a suit. Grim looked at Death as if surprised.
Death grinned, "I appreciate you returning my Master. I will not forget this...favor...you have done." With that Death vanished in a black mist that dissipated so quickly, it was like he was never there.
Grim looked over at the two brothers, "You two are very fortunate to have earned Death's favor. It's not easily impressed."
"Is that what happened to you?" Dean asked, wide eyed. "We aren't going to be immortal right?"
Grim laughed, "No, you won't be immortal. At least not in the way I am. Who knows? Death will probably just make sure you die a nice peaceful death when the time comes. You never know with it. I became Master of Death due to three legendary objects, a prophecy, and dying once only to return to stop a man Death could not take due to having split his soul into seven parts. I...um...helped get rid of all the pieces of the evil man's soul and finally made him mortal once again. Returned balance as it were. That's my job. I bring balance to stop the coming of the end of the world and play witness to every major event that could impact the End one way or another. Quite time consuming really."
"So the Apocalypse we happened to start...Are we in trouble for that?" Sam asked hesitantly.
Grim glanced them over before huffing with annoyance, "Angels are morons and demons are no better. Bother fall under Death's hand eventually. The Apocalypse will not bring about the end of the world. In reality, they are bringing about Revelation rather than the End. Bloody imbeciles."
Grim continued, moving back towards the couch. "Only ones I kinda like are Castiel and oh...what's his name...Gabriel? Eats a lot of sweets. No...Crowley. I think that's his name, Crowley. Castiel is like a puppy in a trench coat and Crowley is just hilarious."
Sam and Dean grin at each other. Dean spoke up with a small smile, "We've met them. Have to agree with you."
Further discussion was interrupted by a knock on the door. Grim got up to answer it. An older man in a suit and tie, a woman with red hair, and a man who could only be Tony Stark stood on the other side.
"Well, gentlemen. My ride is here. I trust you can show yourselves out?" Grim asked.
Dean stood up, "What about my car? We don't even know where we are. How are we supposed to go get it?"
"Parked outside, Mr. Winchester," the older man said with a small smile.
Grim grinned. "Phil has you covered."
"How do you know who we are?" Sam asked.
"Ever heard of SHIELD?" Grim asked.
"Now and then, we hear rumors." Dean answered.
"All you need to know is the SHIELD prides itself in knowing everything," Phil provided. "We like the work you do, gentlemen. A little out of our jurisdiction but we see the results. If you need anything, here is my card," Phil handed them both his card, plain white with just his name, phone number and email, and the SHIELD logo.
"And Sam, Dean… don't use that summoning spell from the scroll. It just pisses me off. I may not be able to kill but I can make you think you are a ferret for the rest of your days. Call Phil if you want to get a hold of me. My phone gets fried at least every couple days," Grim added, before turning towards the door, and calling over his shoulder. "Feel free to use the cabin if you are ever in a scrape but don't bring anyone else. The wards will just send them back to the main road every time they come too close."
Phil came into the cabin, grabbed the scroll and relic, before leaving with a nod and a "Gentlemen." The woman and Tony-Frikken-Stark following closing the door behind them.
Sam and Dean looked at each other. Dean whistled, "He's got friends in HIGH places."
"If that was Tony Stark then the woman might have been the Black Widow. Dean, those two are with the Avengers. SHIELD is a crazy organization that has their hands in every form of espionage possible. They have the freak'n MASTER OF DEATH on their side. We might have just made some friends in high places ourselves," Sam said staring down at the card in his hand.
Suddenly, Dean's cell phone rings. Dean snaps it open putting it on speaker phone, "Yeah?"
"Hello, Mr. Winchester. This is Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD. I have been made aware that you and your brother Sam assisted Grim in his recent misadventure. Consider your records clean. For now. Best try and stay under the radar but we may be contacting you both in the future for your...expertise in getting rid of the more problematic supernatural things in our world. Good luck, gentlemen," the gruff voice stated before the call abruptly ended.
"Friends in high places," Dean muttered before snapping his phone closed.
Author Note: I know, I know. It's not an update on my other stories but this one was begging to be finished. I have had it sitting around since my first Grim story. It is a one shot that falls somewhere during Grim Conclusions but didn't fit. I hope you enjoy this brain child of mine.
Cheers! Randompersonality