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I laid all the texts I had on the seals of the Apocalypse out on my coffee table. I went on sick leave indefinitely. I wasn't about to be teaching anything if the world was about to end. I needed to help Sam stop this anyway I could. Because this definitely affected me.

But, I had a hard time wrapping my head around it. The actual Apocalypse. It just didn't fit with what I knew. The 66 seals... they couldn't be real. They were an invention of man.

And yes, in case you were wondering, I had been avoiding Revelation 6:8 like the plague.

Maybe Sam and his brother were being tricked. Maybe this Castiel was a demon. That was something I was more prone to believe. But angels? I couldn't even attempt believing that. So there I was, burying myself in my books trying to make some sense out of this new... revelation.

I started laughing out loud. Oh God, I think I was finally losing it. Maybe this was me going senile.

The doorbell rang and I was broken out of my stupor. I would help Sam and Dean. Tell them what I knew (not that part about me being Death of course. What am I? Stupid?). I'd tell them I thought it was a crock and be done with it. Maybe I'd move to Fiji and spend my remaining days lounging on a beach with a beautiful woman. That was if the world even ended; which I doubted.

I opened the door and there was Sam. He was older in more ways the one. His eyes were less carefree. He'd clearly seen things. And his brother looked about the same if not worse. Dean, his formerly dead brother. Did I forget to mention that? Yes, Dean had been yanked out of Hell. By an Angel.

"Hello, Sam."

"We were in the neighborhood on a hunt and thought we'd see what you'd found." Sam said.

Sam was looking at me with a disturbed expression. I was a disheveled mess, I'm sure. I'd shaved recently at least, so I didn't look like Grizzly Adams.

"Uh, right." I looked at the shorter man as I drew a hand through my dirty matted hair trying to clean myself up at least slightly, "Hello, Dean. It's been a while, what nine years?"

Dean grunted, "And you look exactly the same. Well, except that at the moment you look like you missed the invention of the bath."

I smirked recalling what stood for hygiene in the my younger years. Best not get into it.

I shrugged, "Well come on in, then. I'll get you some beer."

I left the door open and head to the kitchen. I heard Dean whistle from the other room, "Those are some nice swords, dude."

Then I heard a loud clatter that could only be my swords falling off the wall. I rushed back, three beers in hand. Dean was standing slightly repentant by a pile of swords that had fallen on the floor; a 17th century Schiavona held in his hands.

"Those are also some very old swords. So, if you could be careful."

I carefully retracted the Schiavona sword from Dean's hands and set it off to the side. I collected the others and set them on the table along with it. I'd put them back up later.

Dean looked at me defiantly, clearly not liking my tone. He was the one who'd knocked my swords off the wall, so I don't know what he's so angry at me for. I glared back and shoved the beer in his hands, "Try not to break anything."

He gritted his teeth and then took a seat next to Sam who was already rifling through my books.

"Wow, Ben. Some of these books are over 500 years old!" He was flipping through the earliest version of the Apocrypha I had in my collection.

"Good thing I'm a pack rat." I smirked at Dean's ever widening eyes. Clearly Sam hadn't filled him in quite that much.

"You're over 500 years old?" He didn't look convinced, "You?" Dean gestured at my food stained knit sweater and jeans skeptically.

"He's older than that, Dean. He knew Aristotle." Sam shook his head at his older brother and returned to his book.

Dean looked at me like I have some infectious disease. He was a hunter, so it's pretty much expected. The fact that John grudgingly accepted me and Sam seemed to like me, were both miracles in and of themselves. I guess my luck with the Winchesters had run out by the time I reached Dean.

I ignored him and sat directly across from Sam, "Are you two sure this is really the 66 seals being broken? And not this Castiel person pulling your leg?"

"Positive." Dean said, matter of factly.

"But... Angels?" I ask with obvious skepticism, "Really?"

"Are you deaf?" Dean growled out, "We're positive."

I shook my head for what felt like the hundredth time, "If you say so."

I found it hard to think that Angels could exist when I'd lived in a time before they were ever even written of or spoken of. It made no sense. Demons I could handle, but Angels... that was different.

The things in the Bible? They were different. Because I knew for a fact that the Horsemen written about in Revelation weren't from Hell and they weren't going to ride out after the seals were broken. They were a group of four Immortals that had terrorized the Bronze age, nothing more. They were a frightening story mother's would tell their children. They were a story that had found it's way into a religion as so often happened with stories that were retold from generation to generation.

This wasn't happening. They had to be wrong.

I got up to grab another beer, "These are all the books I could find on the subject. I've bookmarked every reference to the seals I could find. I even have a few non-Christian texts that relay versions of the Apocalypse. I hope that helps."

"It does. Thank you, Professor." Sam looked at him, genuinely thankful.

I left him to his reading and went to sit out on the porch. I needed to clear my head.

It was about an hour later when Dean Winchester walked out to the porch to join me. He was silent for a long while and I made no attempt at breaking that silence. I was listening to the calming sound of the crickets when he finally opened his mouth.

"I made a deal with a crossroads demon to save Sam's life. The catch was I would die in a year."

I felt a silent pang. One year. Alexa.

I smirked remembering what John Winchester had said to me nine years back, "That was a mighty stupid thing to do, son."

"Cute." He chuckled lightly, "Anyway, I know you don't believe this. And I was pretty skeptical too, at first. But it's real." He stared up at the stars, "And I've been to Hell. I don't want that shit to leak out to the world. The Devil, Hell on Earth... it can't happen."

"If it's real, then I agree with you, Dean. Because if it does I'll die right along with the rest of the human race. I have a stake in this. But, I just... it just doesn't make sense with what I know." I tried to explain but was having little success at it.

"And what do you know?" Dean sipped from a newly opened beer he must have grabbed from my fridge before coming out here.

I looked over to Dean with a sobered expression, "I'm very, very old, Dean."

"Oh? How old?" He does a very good job of not looking interested.

I needed him to understand, and if that meant telling him more than I should... I guess that's what I would do.

"I lived in a time before Christianity. A time before Angels and the Bible. I met Jesus and his apostles. He was a nice man, but the son of God? Or God himself, in some versions? I don't know about that..."

Dean's eyes are locked on him he looks flabbergasted, "You met Jesus? As in Jesus, Jesus?"

"No, Jesus Rodriguez at the auto repair down the road." I rolled my eyes, "Yes, the Jesus of Nazareth. But that's not the point, kid. I just can't believe that the 66 seals are real. They can't be real."

"Why not?" Dean pressed.

"Revelation. The Four Horsemen." I really shouldn't be telling him this much, I knew it was a bad idea... but I was committed now.

"What about them?"

"There were men who called themselves the Horsemen. During the Bronze Age. They murdered thousands, pillaged villages over two continents. They were what was spoke of in the Bible. Living breathing men. Not literal creatures from Hell."

Dean crossed him arms, "Maybe they weren't the same ones mentioned in the Bible? Maybe they were copy-cats?"

I sighed, "No. It was them."

"And what makes you so positive?" Dean asks, still not in the least bit convinced.

"Because he was one of them."

I spun around to find the owner of the monotone voice. A man in a trench coat standing there staring at me, expressionless. He sent an uncomfortable chill down my spine.

Dean's face flitted back and forth from me to the man, "Cas, what do mean: 'He was one of them'?"

"Cas? As in Castiel? The Angel?" My eyes widen and I backed up slowly. The supposed Angel is staring at me. Luckily he hasn't decided to smite me or whatever Angels do.

Maybe this was all a dream. It was the only explanation that made any sense. Angels did not figure into the world I knew. But maybe... maybe I might be having to alter my world view. It wouldn't have been the first time.

"Yes, I am Castiel. An Angel of the Lord." He stepped toward me, and I'm silently cursing myself for leaving my Ivanhoe in the house. Although I doubted it would do much good, but everyone has their security blankets.

"Uh, hello. Pleasure to meet you. I'm Ben Adams." I didn't hold out my hand. I really didn't want to touch him.

"No, you're not." Castiel's eyes bore into mine like he was seeing into my very core. He probably was, come to think of it, which wasn't exactly doing wonders for my calm... no telling what he'd see in there.

"I am now. That's all that matters."

"Does it?" Castiel looked curious.

"Yes." I growled out.

"What's going on, Cas? Who is he?" Dean was reaching for the knife in the back of this pants and looking ready to gut me at a moment's notice. I feel so loved.

"He is Death."

I paled.

And yes, the irony of that does not escape me.