A/N: Alright, so I know some of you have questions about why Death is acting the way he is, why he didn't go to Harry back at Bobby's, and some of that will be clarified in this chapter because we're going to see Death in this chapter and his conversation with Dean in the pizzeria from the episode "Two Minutes To Midnight".

Disclaimer: Nope.

Chapter Ten...When All Seems Lost

We didn't move for some time. Lucifer was constantly busying himself with making some sort of changes to the cuffs on my wrists. He had wasted no time in branding my ribs with Enochian but when one was trying to hide from Death, serious mojo had to be involved. I missed using my magic already. If only for the benefit of a simple cleaning charm for myself. My skin crawled with the remembered feel of his hands on me and fighting the urge to be sick again took an insurmountable effort. Even now as he labored over the changes to the cuffs, each time his fingers brushed my flesh, my stomach rolled in response. I never could catch a break, could I? Joy was never a lasting thing. It was fleeting like flowers in the spring or a first kiss. Over before it really began. All too soon did despair and terror tread on its heels, vultures to a carcass left in the sun. My captor made a sound of pleasure in the back of his throat, clapping his hands at, apparently, a job well done. I couldn't help but flinch a little at the sharp sound.

"Well! That went magnificently! I'll admit, I wasn't sure I'd be able to pull it off for a bit but we made it work. I think a celebratory bath is in order and then we can really get this party started! We have guests to go gather, Little Death. Why, it'll be a regular family reunion for you!" His tone was entirely too happy for anything good to come of this.

He picked me up and my head lolled to the side, under the crushing weight of the Spore once again. My limp, unresponsive body was carried into the dingy bathroom and laid into the tub. I kept my eyes to the side, unmoving. I was to afraid to see what my body looked like, what Lucifer had done in his desecration of me. If Death could just see me now...Could he hear me crying out for him? Was there anything he could do? How worried he just be, not knowing where I was or what was happening with only the soundtrack of my investors screaming to let him know that I was even conscious. He had to be as scared as I was. Water began to fill the tub, stinging my every wound as the level rose. Lucifer slid in behind me and my body tensed into a tuning fork of all things frightening and uncomfortable. Humming, the man snagged one of the standard white wash towels that were the same no matter the hotel and began running the material over my dirty skin. I felt filthy and the more he touched me, the dirtier I became. Sometimes not being able to die was a curse. Nothing would please me more than to drown myself at that moment. It was awfully tempting not to try it anyways. Anything had to be better than being pressed flush against my naked enemy while he touched and caressed every inch of me as if I were some prized possession. His hand dipped down to scrub at the mess caked onto my thighs and I whimpered, nausea rising up. He smirked against the skin of my neck.

"It could all be over, Harry. You know what it is that you have to do. It only takes one word. One single word and it can all end."

His only answer back was a furious shake of my head, trying desperately not to sick up again. Tears were rolling down my cheeks.

Please, Death, please...

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Dean walked into the pizzeria slowly, wincing at the scattering of corpses about the place. He stepped over a woman sprawled in the doorway tenderly. Walking over a corpse? That had to be bad luck somewhere. They had tracked the evidence of Death, hoping it would lead them to Harry and Lucifer but no such luck. Instead of leading them to the Master, he found the servant instead. A very very pissed off servant. To the casual observer, Death simply appeared to be enjoying a pizza pie, relaxed and unconcerned by the massive storm raging outside, but to the hunter, the sight told another story. There was tension in his posture, a deep frown in his brow that might come from a headache or immersion in some profound, Stygian train of thought. A piece of paper lay on the table at his side well worn and abused, as if it had been crumbled and then apologetically smoothed with care. He could recognize Harry's loopy handwriting running down the length of the strange parchment.

Petit Fours

Full English

Pizza with everything

Donuts

Pickle Chips

Sashimi

Bacon Dogs

Calamari

Tres Leche Cake

Strawberry Mochi

Edible Underwear

The sight of the oh-so-familiar handwriting made a lump rise in his throat. Harry...Just the latest person in a long line of friends and family that he had failed.

"Dean. Please, come sit. Have a slice." The deep, steady voice carved through the silence with the accuracy of a scalpel. The only choice he had was to comply, albeit with some reluctance, "You have some explaining to do, vessel."

Three guesses what that could be about and the first two don't count. May as well get the confessions over. Dragging his feet would only piss off the god-like, powerful entity sitting at the table.

"Lucifer took Harry. We went to find the bastard and Harry stayed back at Bobby's place. We lost two of our own there in Carthage...Before we could get there in time, Lucifer attempted the ritual to summon you but he got Harry instead. He looked...happy about it, though. As if he were expecting it."

Death's fork paused on its way to his mouth, a barely noticeable interruption of movement but one that was screamingly obvious to Dean's eyes. He resumed his eating as if the halt had never occurred.

"I know. Tessa told me." The Horseman seemed to sigh, putting down the fork in his hand and steepling his fingers to stare over them at the hunter, "I'll be honest with you, Dean. I want to blame you for this. I want to wipe your existence from the face of the planet and go on with my day. But that isn't going to get my Master back to me. Lucifer has him hidden from my sight so I must depend on you to find him. You find him for me and I won't make your entire pathetic planet a mass grave, do you understand?"

The man felt his palms begin to sweat nervously and nodded, more of a jerk of the head than any real communication, "Crystal clear."

"Good."

Dean's lips pursed and he wiped his hands on his worn jeans in an uncharacteristic show of anxiety. An angry Death was an unpredictable Death and if he had been a lesser man, he would have never gathered the courage to question him further. He was Dean Freaking Winchester, though! He was born to be the thing monsters feared! After all, when one was named after a hunting rifle, what else could they be but a hunter of baddies everywhere. That's what he tried to tell himself as he picked up the line of questioning once more.

"Er, so how do we know if Harry is still...I mean, can the Master of Death, you know, die?" Well, he sounded like a preteen asking a girl to the school dance but the question was out there.

His reward was a scathing, scornful glance.

"No, Harry cannot die, but save for that, he is just as human as you or that twit brother of yours. He can be hurt, he can bleed. He can be afraid. I sent him to you, Dean, because I feared for him. My Master is human and humans are social beings, in touch with one another. Without such connections, the mind begins to deteriorate and suffer for the loss. I'm embarrassed to admit that my company simply wasn't enough for him, though Harry may not even be aware of it himself. He began to lose himself, lose that humanity that makes him so precious, so unique. As his lover, I'm responsible for his well being and his happiness, even if that means letting him go. For a time. Lucifer," The name was spat out as if it were something vile and repulsive, "Has been touching what does not belong to him. I can feel Harry calling out for me, screaming day and night but I cannot reach him. He's so afraid..." Death's voice trailed off for a moment like he was tuning in even then to the sound of his lover crying in his mind.

What would that be like? To have to listen to Lisa screaming for help constantly and not know how to help her? Not be able to find her? How horrible...How horrible for Harry. He must feel so utterly alone, so abandoned. Did he know that his lover was tirelessly searching for him? That they were? Or did he think that they had all just given up on him? And Lucifer, the way he had looked at Harry before. Oh, God. Dean's eyes widened and a sick feeling crept up his throat.

"What do we do?"

Death's black eyes flicked up to him and a shared determination passed between them.

"You find Lucifer. Then you leave him to me. I've played along with God long enough now. His little brats have been running around unleashed long enough and I'm done waiting for you moronic protozoa to get the job done. You think too small, Dean. Too inside the box. You insist on treating the Devil like a demon with your Colt and your childish salt lines. Lucifer is the father of their race but he is far from a demon. He's an Angel. So use that ring of holy Jerusalem oil like you would on any other Angel. Trap him, then call me. There will be no putting Lucifer into his Cage this time. Now, we do things my way."

Holy Jerusalem-? Oh. Oohhhhhhh. Now why didn't we ever think of that?

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Lucifer's intense work on my magic suppressing cuffs culminated into one result. The same obscuring ward that had been carved into the ceiling of the hotel, the mobile edition. I was out of luck. But maybe, just maybe...I was dropped onto the ground at the Angel's feet, crying out at the rough fall and the jostling of the still tender wounds. He'd taken me again this morning, slow and steady as if we were lovers but the pain lingered. Not just a pain of the body, but an agony of the spirit. The Spore coursed strongly within my veins and I was losing time little by little. One moment I was being carried, almost child-like, in Lucifer's arms and the next, I was on the ground looking up at him chanting to the tune of a ritual very similar to the one he had used to summon me. Demons stood all around, staring into space blankly. A blink. The scene had changed. The demons all lay dead and in their stead stood Famine. The Horseman was weak, shriveled, just a husk of himself. A whimper escaped my bruised lips and his gray eyes jerked to me. I recognized shock there and so too did our captor.

"Ah, yes. I'm afraid we've woken up my Little Death. How rude of me." He hauled me up against him like a rag doll, tucking me in beneath one arm. All I could do to stop from falling was grip onto him tightly, the drug making it nigh impossible to stay standing unaided.

"You've bound my brother then?" Famine's voice was low and nothing more substantial than a croaking wisp of sound. He was very weak.

His words set a spark within my chest. A sudden, irrepressible flame that would not be subdued no matter how many drugs he pumped me with, no matter how much he beat me down. I would not give him Death, no matter what he did to me. I shoved away from Lucifer without warning, letting myself crumble to my knees painfully.

"No! No, I won't...give him Death. Never!" My heartfelt rejection came out between desperate gasps, black seeping in at the edges of my vision as the drugs did their dirty work. My last image before I slipped away from consciousness was of Lucifer looking down at me, a next to furious expression on his face and of Famine, who held something akin to respect in his eyes as he watched me fight to protect the one I loved the most.