The Only Ending
K Hanna Korossy
"It's just...you," Dean told himself in the mirror. "It's all you."
"Oh, Dean," Jessica sighed, unheard and unseen. "You keep telling yourself that."
Reapers wasn't supposed to feel anything toward mortals, even ones they were assigned to keep an eye on, but it was hard not to be dismayed as Dean tried so hard to keep an archangel locked up in his mind. There was no way a human could succeed against an archangel for very long, yet Jessica found herself hoping the Winchesters would pull off yet another miracle. They had sacrificed so much for others; it didn't seem fair that this was the way it would end.
Jessica suddenly stiffened as a familiar presence registered. And then Billie—Death—was suddenly in the room, as invisible as the reaper. Even more surprisingly, she was carrying a death book with her.
"Go check on Sam," Death said, her eyes also on the human. "Dean and I need to have a little chat."
Jessica silently obeyed.
Sam, though exhausted, was of course in the library, the place he always ended up when something was on his mind. Like saving his brother from the latest threat. (Which meant he was there a lot.) He already had a handful of books, and was muttering to himself as he scanned the shelves for more.
"Yeah, I don't think you're going to find anything in this place that can help you with this one, Sam," Jessica said regretfully. "But knock yourself out." None of their little hunter guests were around, so there was little to do besides sit down—so to speak—and watch Sam read.
Her thoughts wandered back to Dean. The Winchesters had certainly had more contact with Death—both the original, whom Dean had actually killed, and Billie the replacement—than any mortals Jessica had ever heard of. Reaper gossip even speculated that the Winchesters were almost a sort of friend for the Boss, which was definitely a first. Still, Jessica couldn't help wonder what Death's visit meant, especially with a death book in hand. As far as Jessica knew, those never left Death's reading room.
"Maybe another egg…?" Sam murmured to himself, scrawling a note on the pad beside him.
Jessica gave him a rueful look and opened her mouth—
—only to find herself in the hallway outside Dean's room, facing Death. Summoned.
"We're done," Death said. "Stay with Dean; don't worry about his brother right now. Keep me informed about what he's up to."
"Of course," Jessica said, bowing her head. And then she was alone again.
Curious and with some dread, she returned to Dean's room.
He was holding the death book, open, staring at its pages. Another surprise: she didn't think mortals could read the books that held all possible versions of their deaths. But the way Dean was engrossed in it, face even paler and stretched into something like horror, he was very aware of what it said.
"What did she tell you?" Jessica wondered aloud. She sidled up beside Dean to peer into the book.
But in that same moment Dean closed and dropped the volume on his bed. Then he sank down next to it, head in his hands, and quietly began swearing.
"Well, that's not ominous at all," Jessica said, frowning.
She did keep careful watch after that. She reported back about the sleepless night that followed, Dean awake on his bed, staring at nothing. Dean determinedly collecting several tools and old volumes from around the bunker the next day. (She left out that Dean hugged his brother when he left.) The messages he left for friends as he drove, and the friends he went to see, obviously saying goodbyes.
Death took it all in with stoic—but maybe satisfied?—silence.
And then Sam caught up, and Dean finally revealed what he'd been doing, what Death had told him. Every death but one was at the hands of an almighty Michael? Every path but one leading to the end of the world? Was that possible?
And the only one that didn't: eternal imprisonment with Michael as his only company. For Dean, the guy who sought out his brother in their home if he hadn't seen Sam in a couple of hours.
It made Jessica feel sick. She hadn't even known she could feel sick.
Jessica was reluctant to leave when Violet came to spell her. She wasn't at all sure Dean would be there to return to when it was her shift again, and the thought disturbed her more than she could admit.
Reapers didn't require rest; Violet taking her place meant Jessica was available to reap again. But reapers lingered in the reading room or the veil until they were needed, and she found herself in the "W" section of Death's library before she even made the conscious decision to go there.
Dean Winchester was not hard to find; he had a particularly large section. She hesitated as she reached for one of his volumes, however. Reapers weren't invited to read death books. Jessica wasn't even sure she was able to. It had never even occurred to her before to try, and that alone probably said a lot about the Winchesters' influence on her, for better or worse.
She pulled out a book at random and flipped it open.
Dean dead in a car accident with his brother during a bad storm. No mention of Michael.
Jessica took out another book. Dean's death from heart failure at the age of 82, his two children and Sam and Sam's family at his side.
No Michael.
Her frown deepening, she chose more books. Death by something called Covid, some kind of illness. Death by...ew. Death by vampire in an old barn. Ah, okay, death by broken neck by an angry Michael. But the next was death by torture by Chuck-god. Michael was just one of many possibilities. So why—?
"—did I tell Dean that the Ma'lak Box was the only other way?"
Jessica's head snapped up, and she stared with no small fear at her boss standing silently a few feet away, scythe firmly in hand. "Bil—" It was so awkward when a former co-worker got promoted. "Death! I'm sorry, I—"
"Had to see for yourself." Death nodded, not looking at all surprised.
Jessica bowed her head penitently. "I'm sorry."
"Ask your question," Death surprised her by saying.
Really? Jessica thought furiously for a moment. Then she went for it. "You lied to Dean." It wasn't really a question.
"I lied to Dean," Death confirmed with a nod. "The Ma'lak Box isn't his only chance. But there are things you don't understand, that I didn't understand until I became Death. Like the imbalance a rogue archangel, an archangel not even from this world, can cause. Michael needs to be off the board, fast. And if I have to sacrifice Dean in the process, so be it."
"I thought…" Jessica quailed a little under her boss's sharp eyes, but Death had told her to say her piece. "I thought each person has their appointed time, that not even Death can" (should) "change that?" Death was supposed to be impartial.
"This is one possibility of many. It's in the book. I just made sure Dean chose the right one."
It wasn't supposed to be up to the person, either, though. Other than suicide, of course, but even that was preordained. "But…the Winchesters have done so much good. This is…" Jessica's words picked up speed as she finally allowed her distress free rein. "It's not even death. It's eternal torture. Haven't they earned better? I mean, okay, I know they killed Death—the previous Death—but they've saved the world from untimely ends so many times, too. And Dean, his worst fear is being alone. You're damning him to eternal isolation with a powerful being that hates him. You can't just—"
"Can't I?" Death's eyes burned even as her gaze was cool.
She'd gone too far. Jessica's mouth snapped shut, but it was too late. You didn't question Death. And you certainly didn't question Death about a mortal's fate. There was logic to what Jessica argued, but also a lot of emotion, and reapers weren't supposed to feel anything about the humans they served. She'd given herself away.
"I'm sorry," Jessica whispered, cold to the core. Death didn't kill reapers, did she? There had always been rumors…
There was a beat. Then a gentler, "That's all right. It won't happen again."
Jessica looked up with a frown, to see Death reaching out to touch her forehead. Then—
00000
"I believe in us."
Sam suddenly hauled back and punched his brother, and Jessica's eyebrow rose. She hadn't expected that.
"I believe in us," Sam repeated, and went to hit his brother again, but Dean grabbed him.
"Hey, hey, hey, hey!" His block became an embrace, Sam clinging to him.
"Why don't you believe in us, too?" the younger Winchester asked, voice wavering.
Violet appeared next to Jessica. "My turn," she said. She eyed the brotherly clench. "What did I miss?"
"I think they're just about to throw a wrench into Death's plan," Jessica said, bored with the rinse, repeat.
"Let's go home. Maybe Billie's wrong," Dean was just saying, in fact.
Jessica sighed and glanced at her fellow reaper. "I'll go tell the boss."
"Have fun," Violet said wryly.
Fun. Sure. Like babysitting was so much fun, and bringing unwelcome news back to Death. Why couldn't these mortals just play their parts and make it easier for everyone? Instead, there was all this angsting and talking and angsting and crying. (Had she mentioned the angsting?)
Jessica rolled her eyes. She was looking forward to going back to reaping humans instead of just watching them make a mess of things.
Like reapers were made to do.
The End
