Thanks for the reviews guys! I'm excited to work on this next chapter because something a little different is happening ;). So on that note, enjoy this chapter and I'll try to update again today if I have time!


"We did it for good reason, just hear us out," Dean said nervously. "Uhm," he paused, not sure how to approach the situation, but his eyes caught on to the food on the table he'd pulled into the room just a few feet away. With a hopeful look he turned back to Death and tried to sound as friendly as possible. "Fried pickle chip? They're the best in the state."

Dean wandered over to the table while Death stared down his nose at him, his lips pursed. He watched Dean momentarily as he opened up the bag of food.

Death took a few steps towards Dean, causing me to shrink back from his presence, his cane tapping along the ground with each step.

"That easy to soothe me you think?" Death questioned him, causing Dean to stop in the middle of what he was doing, eyes wide. "This is about Sam's hallucinations, I take it? The wall I put up appears to be gone."

"What?" Dean asked, appalled to hear Death mention anything about hallucinations. He glanced back at his brother who only avoided his gaze.

"Sorry Sam," Death continued on as if Dean had never said anything, "Only one wall per customer." He raised his hands up again, a fiercely annoyed look on his face. "Now unbind me," he commanded.

"We can't," Sam said in a small voice. "Yet," he tacked on when he saw the look that crossed Death's face.

"This isn't going to end well," Death warned as he began to survey the room.

"We need you to kill God," Dean threw out.

Death's head snapped back to him so fast I nearly jumped. Why couldn't Dean ever be more tactful?

"Pardon?" he asked calmly, like he hadn't just heard what Dean had said.

"Kill God," Bobby affirmed. "You heard right…your honor."

Once again in my life I found myself thinking that had the current situation not been so tense and serious, I'd have found the moment funny. What did one call Death as a title of respect anyway?

Death placed his cane in front of himself now and laid both his hands on top of it, leaning a little forward. He knew how intimidating he was to us.

"Why should I?"

"Because…we said so…and…we're the boss of you," Dean spoke hesitantly.

Sam, Bobby and I all slowly turned to look at Dean as if he'd just signed our death wish. He needed tact. And to learn when to shut up.

His eyes shot back over to us really quick before he returned back to Death's annoyed stare. "I mean…respectfully," he added.

"Amazing," a voice said right behind my shoulder.

My head snapped in the direction to see Castiel. He looked awful. Castiel's face looked like some of the skin was peeling off as if he had very bad burns.

"Cas?" I asked, unable to believe the figure beside me was the angel we knew.

He didn't even acknowledge me, just turned his attention to Dean.

"I didn't want to kill you, but…now," Castiel deadpanned, surveying the situation taking place.

"You can't kill us," Dean said firmly, though he didn't sound very convincing.

"You have erased any nostalgia I had for you Dean," Castiel said, ignoring him and raising up his hand as if he were about to snap his fingers and kill us all on the spot.

I noticed the back of his hand looked just like his face. So his vessel really was deteriorating from all of that power like Crowley had thought it would. Maybe he would just fall apart on his own?

"Death is our bitch," Dean said before Castiel could snap his fingers, "We can't die. Even if you try to kill us."

"Annoying little protozoa, aren't they?" Death asked Castiel, glancing between the lot of us. His eyes narrowed at the angel now. "God? You look awfully like a mutated angel to me. Your vessel is melting; you're going to explode."

Castiel looked defiant. "No. I am not. I can repair myself."

Death cut in quickly, "You think you can because you think you're just dealing with the energy from all of those souls, yes? But that isn't the only problem you have."

Castiel's faced betrayed a hint of fear, but he remained silent.

"There are things in purgatory that are much older than souls, and you swallowed those up too."

My mind was spinning. What could be older than a soul? And how dangerous could they be?

"I control them," Castiel spoke, though that hint of fear was still just visible on his face.

That hint of fear was making me nervous.

"Only for the moment."

Unable to remain silent any longer, and now that my mind was really reeling, I spoke up, catching Death's attention and feeling the full weight of his stare. "What could be older than a soul?"

"God made the first beasts, well before he ever created angel or man. Leviathans," Death responded easily, his gaze remaining fixed on me.

His eyes almost appeared black, not like that of a demon's where the entire eye is black, but it looked devoid of color. Like his eyes could suck you in like a black hole. I glanced away with a childish fear that maybe they could.

"Leviathans?" Dean asked, now becoming anxious himself.

Death now turned his cold stare towards Dean, allowing me to breathe a bit easier.

"Personally I found them quite amusing, but God was afraid they'd devour the entire Petri dish," he explained briefly. "He locked them up. Why do you think God created purgatory? He meant to keep those clever beasts away. And now Castiel has swallowed them. He is the only, thin, little membrane between your home, and its demise."

"That's enough," Castiel called out.

"Foolish little angel you are," Death shot at him.

"Why?" Castiel demanded, approaching Death with no fear evident on his face now. "Just because I opened a door he shut?" He stopped right in front of Death, holding his gaze. "What are you, really? A fly swatter?"

"Destined to swat you, I believe," Death replied back smoothly.

"Not if I get rid of you first," Castiel shot back.

Really? As if Castiel believed he could actually kill Death? That seemed like the most impossible and illogical idea in the world. The guys were right, Castiel had really gone off the deep end after taking in all of that power. He seemed drunk with the power, totally crazy and full of himself. It was depressing to see someone who, despite not being human, had become family to us, and then turned into such a monster himself.

"Oh Cas, I know God, and you are no God."

"Alright both of you stop, call him what you want, I don't care, just kill him now!" Dean said, breaking up the heated argument.

Castiel glanced over his shoulder at Dean, his eyes holding something in them that seemed to resemble hurt despite his earlier words. The two of them stood there a moment, staring at each other. I couldn't quite understand the emotions running through the two of them, but I knew they had been close. Closer than any of us had been with Cas.

"Alright, fine," Death said, raising up his left hand.

Before he got any farther, eyes still unblinkingly staring Dean down, Castiel snapped his fingers and the bind on Death's wrists broke. Death immediately drew his hand away and examined it, all the while Castiel kept his gaze intact.

"Thank you," Death said, crossing the room to where the food Dean had set down earlier was at. He dug into the bag as he continued on with, "I had a feeling I'd be reaping someone soon. I hope I'm not disappointed." Death glanced over at the couple Dean and I had tied up earlier, who had remained deathly silent the entire time, and called out to them, "Don't worry, not you."

But instead of Castiel smiting any one of us, he just disappeared. Death wasn't bound to us anymore, he could have killed us on the spot, but he chose not to.

I was confused. Wasn't that the point of him showing up in the first place? Hadn't he come here to kill us because we were trying to kill him?

"Someone was in a hurry," Death commented as he popped a fried pickle chip into his mouth.

He continued to eat as the room remained silent, tension filling the air. I awkwardly nudged Sam, who glanced at his brother and gestured for him to say something. Bobby stood there, stiff as a board, trying really hard not to make a sound, let alone breathe.

Eventually Dean cleared his throat, but he didn't get much farther than that.

"Shut up Dean," Death said simply, "I'm not here to help dress you in the mornings. I warned you all about the souls a long time ago. More than enough time for you to stop that fool but yet here we are, again, with your little planet on the edge of ruin."

"Well I'm sorry," Dean said gruffly, getting angry now. "I have been trying to save this little planet over and over, but maybe you should find somebody better to tip off!"

"Or maybe I should spend my effort on a better planet," Death chimed in, clearly unaffected by Dean's anger and frustration. "Well, it's been amusing, but it's time for me to leave." He stood from the chair he had sat in and took a few strides forward, his cane rapping against the wooden floor with each step.

"Hold on," Sam pleaded beside me. "Can't you give us something? I mean, you have to care a little bit about what happens to us, right?"

Death turned his attention from Sam, to me, to Bobby, then back to Sam, ignoring Dean entirely. "You know, I really don't."

"What about Castiel?" I pressed, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "You didn't seem to like him."

Death's cold stare redirected itself to me again. It was calculating and eerie; I felt uncomfortable again. Instantly I realized Bobby was the smartest out of the lot of us, being the one who had remained silent the entire time.

"I do find that trifling angel to be callous and arrogant," Death admitted, eyeing me curiously.

"Great, let's go with that," I prodded, hoping he'd take the bait and help us.

He leaned forward, his face mere inches from mine, his dark eyes were somehow even more frightening at this distance. I fought the urge to take a few steps back.

"You're only hope," he told me, his voice smooth and devoid of any real care, "is to put those souls back in purgatory."

"We need a door," Sam cut in quickly.

"You have everything you need at that lab," Death stated knowingly, slowly standing back up straight and giving me room to breathe. "Lure him there and compel him to give up the power."

Dean let out a snort of disbelief. "Compel him?"

"Figure it out," Death snapped.

For the first time since he had spoken the incantation for the spell to bind Death, Bobby spoke up. He still seemed rigid though. "The door only opens during the eclipse, and that's over now."

Death looked bored. "I'll make another. Three fifty-nine, Sunday morning. Just before dawn. Be punctual." With that he turned towards Dean, his boredom tinged with an underlying irritation now as he held up a finger to stop him from saying whatever he was about to say. "Don't thank me, just do it." He began to make his way out of the room and paused as he neared the woman tied in the chair, who cringed away from him as well. Glancing over his shoulder he said in a threatening tone, "Try to bind me again, and I'll kill you before you begin."

I didn't doubt that threat either. Dean needed to stop calling on Death; there was only so many times these guys could try to cheat it.

"By the way," he said, pausing before he fully exited the room, the atmosphere still tense which made the small smile now on his face somewhat disturbing, "Nice pickle chips."