Strangely enough the thought of meeting Death again didn't come with the same heavy feeling in his chest like the first time. It came with a light, almost jittery feeling; one he'd associate with meeting an old wildcard. And yet this is Death he's talking about, despite how smoothly their first meeting went, Dean can't be so sure it'll go just as smooth the second time around. Especially with this next request.
But now he had to deal with Tessa, a lower reaper who refused to summon her Lord. And while the prickling feeling of agitation began to seep through, accompanied by the ticking away of seconds before he runs out of time, he couldn't help but marvel the contrast between Death and his reapers.
"Where do you get the nerve?"
Dean couldn't help it, a twitchy smirk pulling his lips. "I'm his BFF." He shot back. She didn't look impressed.
"He calls us, we don't call him." She deadpanned, and boy, is the contrast real.
"I think you and I both know you can make an exception."
She opened her mouth, but fell short as her eyes looked at something behind him, trailing slowly up as her mouth closed, a look of defeat passing by her eyes. Dean didn't even need to guess who was behind him, even as two giant rectangular gloves land gently on his small shoulders.
"Dean, Dean, Dean! It's sooo good to see you~! And Tessa! My you look cute as always~!"
Dean slowly turned around, the gloves sliding off of his shoulders as Dean cranes his neck to come face to face with Death. He looked exactly the same as he remembered him, and if possible, more joyful than their previous meeting.
"You look positively blooming." Remarked Dean, forcing his body to relax around the odd ball. Death hopped backwards, literally, before tilting half his body to the side as if observing the two.
"And it's all thanks to you! Without your help the apocalypse would've been underway, and I'd never see my precious kiddo again!" He wailed dramatically, his mask never changing expression as he exclaimed.
Dean once more found himself on edge as he shuffled anxiously on his feet. "No problem, really."
"So, I'm correct in assuming you didn't kill yourself just to have a heart-to-heart?"
Whether it's the ridiculous get up, the tone of voice, or the freakish body movements, but Dean finds Death easier and easier to talk to as time passes. Internally, Dean wonders if that's the whole point. To lure people into a sense of comfort around the being; considering the strong enigma surrounding him.
"Lucifer's cage," began Dean, taking small steps forward. He may be child-like, but Dean doesn't know how he'll react to certain things. "I figure you're one of the few people that can actually jailbreak it."
Death remained stony silent, and the unease he felt before began to bubble uncomfortably.
"Sam's soul is stuck in that box. And our other brother is trapped in there too. Michael rode him in."
"Your point?" Piped Death, almost drawling it out, but as of yet Dean sensed no negativity.
Dean took a few steady breaths before letting it all out. "I want you to get them both out."
Death hummed in his usual childish way, blank eyes staring down at him with no emotion. It didn't occur to Dean until now how much conveying his emotions in such exaggeration could help ease the tension.
"Pick one."
Dean froze, "what?"
"As powerful as I am, even I am limited to certain rules. Bringing back the dead, whether it's both body and soul, or just their soul, is not something to be done willy-nilly. Everything is a balancing act, and bringing back multiple souls is something that can tip the balancing point dangerously."
Even as Death spoke, Dean felt as if he was a child being scolded for doing wrong; his head hung low as Death spoke, the feeling of dread seeping through.
"Technically speaking, neither Sam nor Adam are dead. So it is possible to bring them back without tipping the balance too much. However, after the damage the angel's and Lucifer caused, the scales are already tipped. Therefore, I will only help one."
Dean looked up into Death's mask, marvelling internally how passive it looks. How parental.
"Sam."
"I see."
Dean sat down by the stool, his neck cramping at the height difference. "His soul has been in there for a year, and I understand that it's… damaged."
"Oh yes, quite damaged~ You see," at this Death hopped over comically, sitting down a few stools over from Dean. All the while Dean tried hard not to stare at the unusual way Death sat. Almost as if there was a human-like body underneath. His mind flashes back to his son, and wonders briefly if he is indeed human looking underneath that cloak. "Souls are powerful things. They can be beaten, stretched, eaten, squished, but never sliced or hacked. Souls cannot be destroyed. In that year Sam's soul has been trapped in the cage, it would've been used for all sorts of unimaginable things. The poor thing stuck between Lucifer and Michael~"
"So, what are you saying exactly?" Stammered Dean, his gut clenching. "Is there a way to, I don't know, hack off the hell part?"
"You mean erase his memories? No, there is not. His soul physically experienced such hardships; it's seared into it, much like a scar on skin. However, I can place a barrier; a wall even, to block out the hell part. Think of it like placing a colourful band-aid over a cut~!"
Dean faltered, trying to imagine how exactly that would work. "So… you can put up a barrier, in his mind? Something to block it out?"
"U-huh! However, just like a band-aid, if he keeps picking, scratching at it, the band-aid will ware and give way. If he experiences too many traumatising events that remind him of his time, it will overflow. Like fixing a deep cut with a small band-aid!"
As wack as his explanations are, at least Dean can understand how the wall will work. Unlike his drawing on sealing Lucifer.
"Okay, a wall, sounds good! Do it."
"Ara~ I never said I'll do it~"
Dean stared dumbstruck, the beginnings of a retort on the tip of his tongue, but once more Death proved quicker.
"I want something in return and if you complete it, I'll give you Sammy's soul, wall and all, with a nice cherry on top~!"
Dean couldn't help the hand that quickly ran down his face, blinking his eyes a few times before addressing the eccentric Horsemen.
"And what do you want in return?"
"Simple! I want you," at this, he pointed one large finger at Dean's chest. "To join me for a day!"
Dean did a double-take. "…join you, what do you mean "join you"?"
"Nu-uh! It's a surprise!"
Dean cleared his throat, a million possibilities running through his mind at the prospect of joining death for a day. Did he mean join him in some weird joint reaping? Follow him around? Cause death? Or did he mean playing pranks?
God he prays it's the later.
"Here! Find a large mirror and write these numbers on the mirror while saying these words! That way I'll be able to transport you over easily! I look forward to having you over~"
At this he handed Dean a piece of worn paper, neater writing on it as it displayed another crude drawing. Dean looked behind him, noticing Tessa looking anything but impressed. Lips pursed and arms crossed. Slowly turning back around, Dean stared at the drawing before back at the unusual being once more.
"So… you sure you can't give me a hint?" Asked Dean hopefully.
Death hummed once more, bouncing up and down like an excited child, "Hmmm, I suppose it's only fair~ Okay! I asked because-
Dean gasped for air, eyes wide and frantic as he took in his surroundings before slumping back down.
"Oh, thank Moses."
"You couldn't have given me five more seconds!?" Gasped Dean as his head lolled to the side.
"Son, you were gone for seven minutes."
Great, now he has a date with Death involving a mirror and he has absolutely no idea what he's getting himself into.
OoOoOoOoOoO
Relaying the information Dean had acquired by Death to both Sam and Bobby was a lot harder than he thought. Going with the wall analogy and not the band-aid, for God forbid if he used the band-aid analogy, trying to inform Sam that all hope wasn't lost was like pulling out teeth.
And while he and Sam continued to argue back and forth, Bobby had to spring the one question that Dean knew was going to make him, and Death by extension, look like a nutcase.
"I presume Death's not doing this out of the goodness of his heart." Began Bobby, walking towards the pair as if trying to quell the fire. "So what's your half of the deal?"
Dean mulled over it a few times in his head, each new explanation sounding just as unbelievable or wacky as the first. His eyes shifted to Bobby, then to Sam, then to the floor, unable to find the right words. How the hell does he explain that he's supposed to just dial call Death to "join him"?
"I'm sorry, I didn't get that." Retorted Bobby.
Dean swallowed the unease before giving up. "I don't know."
"Was that rhetorical?"
Dean sighed, "No. Look, all he said was that I'll be joining him for a day. That's all I know. Believe me, I tried to get more out of him but he's insistent on keeping it a "surprise"." Remarked Dean, followed by the quotation marks.
Silence stretched between the three of them, both Sam and Bobby have various degrees of confusion and scepticism. Dean knew what questions were coming his way, and merely held up defeated hands as he explained everything he knew from their brief encounter. Dean knew that most of this will continue to remain a mystery until they've met Death face to face, for somehow meeting the jovial being just magically makes everything less confusing.
"How do you know this isn't some kind of twisted trap?" Shot Sam, hands outstretched in a familiar manner. "I mean, come on. Death? Just wanting what, your company? This just smells like a trap Dean." Dean can't even fault Sam for those words, or the slight incline of Bobby's head as he subtly agreed.
Dean shrugged, "I honestly doubt it's a trap."
"And how can you be so sure it isn't?" Said Sam.
"You just have to meet him for yourself."
OoOoOoOoOoO
Internally, Dean wouldn't put it past Death to lie and set this up as some joke, laughing at him from somewhere as he exclaims that he fell for it; like a child playing a bad prank on their parents. But nonetheless, Dean fogged the mirror, pulling out the piece of paper as he read off the instructions.
"The number to Death's room is… 42-42-564…"
Dean nearly jumped backwards when a ringing sound shrilled from the mirror, light blue ripples washing over the mirror like water as the numbers glowed. Then, the mirror glowed bright white, the screen slowly dulling as he comes to look at none other than Death. Utterly bewildered, Dean could do nothing as two large foam hands reach out and grab him, pulling him through the mirror with ease as if he weighed nothing.
Gone the gloomy and dusty room of Bobby's to a surreal and unknown location. Is he outside? It was brightly lit, with clear blue skies and floating clouds that lazed about both in the sky and along the ground. From the centre of the room, Dean could make out what seemed to be a graveyard of sorts, with one clear path leading in and out with guillotines above like twisted archways.
"Welcome to my humble adorn~! And perfect timing, as always~"
Right, he's at Death's freaking establishment, or whatever. Suppressing a gulp, Dean turned to face the jovial being in question. Noticing behind him the huge body length mirror.
"So… Here I am." Grimaced Dean, noticing how bare and empty the room is. A large foam hand landed heavily on his shoulder, Death pulling Dean along until he was pressed against his side; like an old friend greeting another.
"I took your advice! And booouuugghhhhttt this!" A puff of smoke, and in Death's hands is none other than the remote control drone Dean had pointed out during their first encounter. In reality, Dean should've expected this, considering Death did openly admit to wanting to prank someone with him, but at the same time, he didn't actually expect this-
He's dumbfounded. By all intent and purposes, he's absolutely dumbfounded.
"Spirit is out at the moment, probably at some bar. Let's scare him! I even bought a Halloween doll to put on top!" True to his word, Death pulled out a Halloween prop; mummified-looking, equipped with a small plastic scythe and snarling fangs.
"And look!" Death flipped a switch, and the doll came to life. Eyes glowing, arms moving up and down, accompanied by a corny stereotypical Halloween cackle. With its cloak, it easily covered the drone, propped up steadily and ready for take-off; Dean was out the door carrying it before he could even comprehend what was happening. Deaath pushing him out the door like an eager child pushing their parents out of the house to visit the park.
He found himself walking down silent hallways, the feeling identical to a school. The longer they walked, the more his confusion mounted. Questions brimmed against the edge of his mind, but he kept them hidden. He has a deal, and his barrage of questions isn't part of it. Whatever he's struck he doesn't want to ruin just yet. He'll save them for later.
Soon, they reached outside, the sun bright and burning, opposite to the mild temperatures at Bobby's. The streets were borderline dead, stores open for business, birds chirping overhead. The few civilians Dean did see greeted Death with a polite nod of the head and a cheerful greeting, to which Death always replies to equally, if not more so, as cheerful. Dean found himself tripping over his own feet every time a civilian, even children, greeted Death warmly like he's your average Joe. The experience so out there and unique that Dean didn't notice when Death pushed him behind a brick building.
The two stood out front of a bar, male and female laughter filtering out and reaching their ears. Even from across the street, heads poked out from behind the opposite building, Dean could still hear the laughter and drunken slurs from inside. Turning back around, Dean caught Death turning on the hidden camera attached to the drone before placing it carefully on the ground. With a few beeps, the drone is on and ready for take-off. But still, the drone remained motionless.
"Well?"
"Now we wait~!"
Death peered around the corner, the spitting image of a naughty child snickering as they played a prank, leaving Dean standing there as he stared at the being. Waiting.
It didn't take long. Death pulled back, activating the drone as it flew high in the air. Dean peered around the corner, just in time to see a dark red haired man, wearing something akin to a casual suit, exiting the establishment. Hands in pockets as he whistled joyfully with a faint blush dusting his cheeks. Death snuck behind him, being mindful of the drone, sneaking from building to building, Dean following silently behind him like a lost puppy before the two settled behind a building.
"Keep him still!" Whispered Death comically. Dean's head whipped around to face the ancient being.
"What!?"
"You heard me."
Dean faltered, "How!?"
"I don't know! Distract him!"
Dean looked between the whistling man- oblivious to the upcoming horror sure to sneak up on him- and Death. Arms out, a silent sigh escaping him in defeat, Dean supresses a roll of the eyes as he jogs to catch up to the man.
"Hey! Excuse me, sir!"
The man pauses, turning around to eye Dean with barely concealed suspicion.
"Oh? Who are you?"
Dean paused in his stride, his detective façade taking over instantly as he offers his hand. "Apologies. Dean Winchester. Yourself?"
The man pauses, eyeing the hand before hesitantly accepting it. "Spirit Albarn."
"A-ha! Just the man I was looking for!" Exclaimed Dean, his smile bright and dazzling. "I heard rumours around here that you're just the man I'm after! So many praises!" The lies fell from his mouth smoothly from years of practice.
Instantly, Spirits demeanour changed. Eyes sparkling at the unknown praise. A complete 180 from the chirpy man, to suspicion and hardened, to a complete sucker. "Really!?"
Thrown off guard, Dean continued. "…Yeah. They spoke quite a bit of your accomplishments."
The man quickly went into a tirade, eyes sparkling as he spoke of his adventures, his crazy ex-partners, before quickly side-tracking on to talk highly of his daughter; Maka. All within the span of one minute. And Dean didn't even have to speak another word. The man just spoke gibberish.
Dean's eyes spotted movement behind Spirit, seeing the drone slowly zero in on its target. Behind a garbage can, Death poked his comical head out, giving Dean a large thumbs up before retreating slightly. The drone didn't falter in its pursuit.
Quickly faking horror, Dean pointed at the drone, jumping backwards in exclamation. "Oh my God! What's that!?"
Spirit's reflexes, given the situation, are extraordinary, in Dean's opinion. Going from outright gushing and fawning over a baby photo of his daughter, to a battle stance, is perhaps the fastest Dean has ever seen. But then, within the same span of ten seconds, Spirits face drained of colour.
His limbs shook, his face ghostly pale, and the most girlish shriek Dean has ever heard from a man escaped his lips. A few more terrified words in gibberish escaped his chattering teeth before flailing, the drone zipping closer; making it enough for Spirit to jump back, panicked, before literally running for the hills. The drone metres behind him, easily keeping up pace as the doll cackled manically.
Dean merely stood there, watching the man attempt to hide every chance he got, before eventually disappearing from his sight. Death came out of hiding, standing directly behind Dean as he brought the drone back to waiting hands.
"I always love Spirit's reactions."
He'd have to agree, they were certainly something.
OoOoOoOoOoO
It'd been well over five hours before Dean's return to Bobby's. The great being having taken him around his make-shift town; Death City. An actual city he himself created dead centre in the Nevada Desert. The civilians are normal, having known about Death as if he's merely their mayor and not an all powerful entity. The one and only school being run being the only thing remotely different in more ways than one, with Death as the Headmaster.
Honestly, after today's events, Dean had forgotten about the real reason he's even on a play date with Death and was filled to the brim with questions. Though he wisely kept majority to himself.
At the end, after creating more pranks, having stumbled upon Spirit a suspicious amount of times, Death eventually selected still shots from the drone footage and printed them out for blackmail. All the while Dean watched as the all-powerful being cackled almost frighteningly as a stereotypical villain cackling at his own master plan.
Then, it was time for Dean to bid farewell and found himself in silence. Blinking once, than twice, then thrice. The reality of everything crashed down in him that Death has left him at Bobby's without another word of their agreement.
The room was dark, not a single light illuminating any rooms, with the house itself eerily silent. Warning bells rang loud and clear, suspicious rousing as the day's events vanished from his mind. Stalking each room individually, only to come up empty handed. Murmuring sounded between the floorboards, directly below, and Dean wasted no time silently stalking to the basement stairs.
Whether Death is far more all-knowing than he's letting on, or he has impeccable luck, Dean came down just in time to witness Sam, his soulless brother, gripping Bobby's head in his hands as he raised a hunting knife high above, ready to mercilessly strike. Dean jumped into action, tightly gripping Sam's wrist, anger seeping into his words before delivering a fully packed punch to the face. He watched, albeit with satisfaction, as Sam fell haphazardly on the floor, knife cluttering out of his grasp whilst Bobby released a breathy sigh of release.
The rest of their actions were like clockwork. Silent of what had just transpired, as well as Dean's own disappearance, the two made quick work of restraining Sam in his unconscious state. Slamming the heavy metal door as a final barrier between them and the soulless.
Neither spoke. Bobby, too wound up on his near death experience regarding the man he thought of as a son, and Dean, whose frantic mind began doubting whether Death will ever show up. He felt wasted, as if tricked into a one night stand with the false promise of something worthwhile. And with no other word from the God about their deal, Dean felt cheated. Worry ebbed in his gut, staring blankly at the metal enchanted door at what to do next. What could he do? The whole point of today was to get Sam's soul back, and that relied solely with Death. Without him, is there really anything else they could do for Sam? Absently, he noticed Bobby looking at him, but he paid him no mind.
A low mumble gnawed at his attention, too low to really capture his full attention, but enough to filter through the door and to his ears in the uneasy silence. He listened, perplexed at the strange noise, before realisation dawned on him. It's coming from inside.
Straightening, Dean lurched forward, Bobby startling at his sudden unprovoked action as his hands fumbled for the locks. Before Bobby could get a word in edge-wise, Dean flung open the door, eyes landing instantly on the familiar towering spikes of Death.
"Get the hell away from me!" Screamed Sam, his visage expressed genuine fear as he attempted to create distance between him and the looming figure.
"What the hell-!" Bobby attempted to lurch forward, no doubt in a pitiful attempt to protect Sam against what he perceived to be danger. Dean had hastily grab Bobby, turning his back to Death as he pushed Bobby back.
"Bobby! Bobby! That's Death! It's fine!"
Bobby didn't look convinced. Eyes frantically flickering between Dean and the God in alarm. "That's Death!?"
"Sammy! Sammy! Sammy! My~ Don't you look lively for a soulless man~." Death bounced to and fro in a comforting familiar manner to Dean. For Dean, it means that Death is good, that he'll uphold his promise, that he's truly being helpful in his painfully childish mannerisms. It didn't occur to Dean that that same comforting familiarity is striking fear and uncertainty within Sam and Bobby.
Death's signature giant foam hands materialised from his sides, causing Sam to flinch as he clapped them together with a soft "pat". He tilted dangerously to the side, scrutinizing Sam as the soulless brother continued to struggle against the handcuffs. Then, with those same foam hands, Death, through some unknown and mystic means, materialised a light blue glowing orb from inside him, holding it out in his open palm for all to see.
He then looms threateningly over Sam, once more causing him to attempt to shrink into his mattress, yet Dean continued to hold Bobby back, knowing that Death means him no harm.
"Now~ I'm going to patch you right up~! Okay? Nothing too fancy, all you need is a slap of a band aid and you'll be as good as new!"
Sam continued to struggle, muttering half-hearted "no's" as Death loomed closer.
"But I'll warn you, just this once~ Don't scratch at the band aid. You'll only make things worse~ Especially after all the fun Dean-chan and I had~."
Off to the side, Dean resisted deadpanning. A tickling of irritation and confusion mixing together at the little extra added to his name.
"Be still~! This'll only hurt a lot more if you move~!"
Sam looked over to Dean and Bobby, in a last ditch effort to save himself from the inevitable. "Please, don't" He pleaded, and Dean will admit, the look is convincing. The pleading stabbed at something deep within him, trying hard to school his expression at seeing such a look plastered on his little brother's face. Without warning, Death's large foam hand slowly lowered onto Sam's torso, and with it, the glowing soul was gradually absorbed into Sam.
Sam's desperate pleas ceased, the room filled with his pained screams as his soul is being skilfully attached back into his vessel. Death's mask remained monotone, his spiked body still looming. It painted quite the picture, to see such a monotone intimidating figure looming over a screaming man. Truly, in any other situation for Dean the memory would've been tainted with a mixture of negative emotions rather than the prospect of returning Sam to normalcy.
Then, the screams ceased. Sam crumpled back onto the mattress, seemingly lifeless as Death slowly retreated his hand.
"Is… Is it over? Did it work?" Dean's voice, curse it, was shaky. Breathless from having to watch, helpless, as his brother pleaded and begged for Dean's collaborated work to not go through. He felt a gut-wrenching feeling, barely comprehending Bobby reeling back when Death turned his cartoony mask towards the pair of them. Standing up straighter, revealing his menacing height. Then, like the flick of a switch, the image was ruined when Death childishly bounced over silently. One foam hand patted softly on Dean's shoulder, his own twisted sense of comfort, head slightly lowered as he towered over Dean. Though strangely, he's getting to the point where such actions don't frighten him.
"Your brother will be fine." His voice was calmer, its childish ring gone, though still light. "As long as he doesn't scratch at the barrier, it'll remain in place and your brother will be safe."
Dean looked up, staring directly into the black abyss of his eye-holes. He couldn't discern what the elder being was feeling. He never could, for the ancient being is a mess of contradictions and false cheeriness. His eyes shifted over to Sam's prone form, eyes unabashedly displaying the pain he felt, before flickering back over as Death thumped both of Dean's shoulders.
"Welp~ You know how to reach me~ Seeya Deano~ Bobby~"
Then, he was gone. The space considerably empty and bare without the looming grim presence. Slowly, he turned to face Bobby, who appeared all the more perplexed and flabbergasted at the sharp change in events that he could only muster the tyrant of emotions to colour his visage.
"What in the hell was that!?"