"Hello~ Hello~ You've kept me waiting~"

Sam stood in the threshold, stunned, staring up at the looming figure a mere few meters away from him. The last time he saw Death was during a standoff with Castiel, and even then Dean did most of the talking; seemingly able to read Death like an open book. With an unnerving ease that spoke volume.

But Dean isn't here, and Death never looked so intimidating until now.

"Please, please, have a seat!" He exclaimed gleefully, large foam hand lightly patting the chair in front of him. He then moved towards the other chair opposite, practically sliding across the floor as his upper body lightly bobbed. It caused an unease to stir in Sam at the sight. Yet, when Death sat down in his chair, jagged body bending in a human-manner, Sam reluctantly took his own offered seat.

Despite this, he sat rigid in his seat. Posture ramrod straight and eyes struggling to maintain contact with the pitch black holes of Death's eye sockets. It was at that moment, Sam wondered how Dean had managed to become familiar with the ancient being.

"You know… when I heard it was you, I just had to come down and see for myself~" As Death spoke, despite quiet and almost lulled, he still stubbornly held onto the light pitch in tone. As if trying to coax Sam into relaxing by appearing as none-threatening as possible. Briefly, Sam wonders if he frequently does this to all he reaps, or if it's a weird quirk of his. He still remembers vividly that exact tone when scolding Castiel.

"Why? To make sure I'll stay dead?" Croaked Sam in response, still struggling to maintain eye contact.

"Of course not! You may be the bane of every reapers existence, but personally I find you and Dean amusing~" Then, he heaved a sigh. "If you chose to pass on, I'll quite miss you and your brother's antics."

At this, Sam let slip a light scoff. "I thought it was your job not to hold bias."

Death seemed to pause at this, mask a blank sheet and body stoic; almost statue like. He can't read the being in front of him at all and that just unnerves him greatly. Had he overstepped his boundaries? He remembers quite vividly every interaction Dean had with Death, remembers how open he even seemed, like the two shared a history of some kind.

But he is not Dean. He's not so naive as to believe that whatever relationship Dean managed to conjure with Death equally applied to him.

"I try so hard not to place judgement. Every being, no matter how mighty, eventually perishes. Including myself." The last bit was spoken so softly, that had the fire crackled any louder behind them Sam was sure he would've missed it. "But you? And Dean? I think it's one of those once in a millennia occurrences where I can admit such bias and laugh freely; ignoring the path of destruction the pair of you cause, of course." He sighed deeply, almost whimsical. "Kids."

Sam couldn't help but furrow his brows, his body relaxing as they continue this almost pleasant chatter. Yet despite his age and infinite experience, Sam couldn't help feeling a pang in his chest as he listened. Death spoke softly, as if coaxing a child, not in the same manner he often pitched his tones in a childish way. But a genuine soft lull as if drawing from experience. No doubt this ancient being has reaped many new born babes and children alike. Briefly, Sam wondered if this is how Death managed to draw in Dean. Providing his brother with something both familiar with the supernatural yet something he deeply misses.

Sam hastily looked away.

"I need to know one thing."

"Hmm~?"

His eyes stung, the corners prickling, and for once Sam can't berate himself for showing weakness in front of a being that coaxes it like a father comforting his son. "If I go with you, can you promise that this time it will be final? That if I'm dead, I stay dead. Nobody can reverse it, nobody can deal it away."

The words hurt to finally speak, to admit. Voice wavering between words. Like he's taking the easy way out, abandoning his brother and their shared responsibilities that they've silently taken upon themselves. Deep down he doesn't want to abandon his brother, to leave him all alone because deep down he knows how reckless Dean is. And how easy it can be for a lone hunter to perish. They themselves have experienced it numerous times.

"And nobody else can get hurt because of me."

The atmosphere shifted around them. Death's stony mask and abyss-like eyes remaining monotone and unchanging, yet Sam could feel a shift in him. A shift around him. Something benign and serene, unlike any experience he's had with lower reapers, who shift faces and appearances like a shifter. No, Death doesn't change shape in order to lure like the others; it's almost like the being treats those rare individuals he reaps as equals, whilst gifting them a show of his flamboyant and quirky personality. Like a parting gift.

If this was any other situation, Sam would've been terrified. And yet, it's only now that Sam can truly believe that he's lucky to be reaped by Death himself.

"Of course, of course~ Anything for you Sammy~" Then his voice softened, "You have my word."

The reassurance Death veiled in his tone felt genuine. Final. It softened the self-deliberate blows Sam was punching himself with internally, adding comfort to his decision. It gave him a soft lull that he wasn't abandoning anything.

His time is simply up.

"Sam?"

Sam whipped around, eyes widening at the sight before him. There, in all his fretting glory, stood Dean. His eyes flickering nervously between Sam and Death, as if hesitant around the being, before forcibly fixating his gaze onto Sam. An action that would've sparked questions if it weren't for his stunned reaction.

"Dean?"

"It's okay, Sam." His eyes then flickered over to Death. "I would've brought Crow Nuts, but time is short."

"I see." Sam frowned at Death in befuddlement. "By all means."

There was no cheerful tilt to his voice, no exaggerated body rolls, swaying, or bouncing. He truly looked eerie by the sudden stark contrast that Sam had witnessed. Something didn't feel right.

Sam looked hastily between Death and Dean, as if a hidden underlaid message was passed between them. "What's going on?"

"I found a plan."

"It's too late. I'm going."

"No, no, no, no, listen to me-" Began Dean, hand raised as if to placate, taking jerky steps forward. The action itself only served to make Sam even more annoyed at his brother's sudden appearance.

"Why are you even here?" He shot back, halting Dean in his quest. "I'm not fighting this anymore!"

"You have to fight this!" Argued Dean, all the while Death watched silently. If anyone else walked in they would've easily mistaken Death for a grotesque statue.
"I can fix this." His visage softened, eyes pleading, silently begging Sam for a second chance. "But not if you shove me out."

Sam looked away, hating to see his brother pained in this way. Because of him. Momentarily, Sam felt the corner of his eyes prickle; a silent threat of weakness. Utterly lost, Sam looked to Death.

"It's not his time." He heard Dean plead, though his eyes remain fixated on the rugged being. At the back of his mind, a nagging feeling tickles his mind. Something's not right. Something's not right. Something's not right.

"That's for Sam to decide." Answered Death, tone flat yet stern. Had he been in Dean's shoes Sam's sure he would've flinched. Again, the nagging spikes. Something's not right-!

"Sam, listen to me." Reluctantly, breath threatening to hitch as he pulls his gaze away from Death and onto Dean. "I made you a promise; in that church. You and me, come whatever, well hell if this ain't whatever. But you've gotta let me in, man. You gotta let me help!" Sam let his gaze flicker over to Death, chest clenching when the being who promised him finality watched on like a shadowing portrait.

"There ain't no me if there ain't no you!"

He's torn, in more ways than one. He's tired, body and soul aching from the mistreatment of their ragged years. He wants desperately to rest, to sleep forever in peace and to let his worries drift away in the clear water streams of Heaven. Yet his heart aches and clenches painfully at the thought of leaving his family behind. He feels selfish, knowing exactly how Dean would feel if their positions were swapped.

Unabashedly, he turned to Dean with a shaky breath, tears finally escaping the tight confines of his self control and trailing down his cheeks.

"What do I do?"

Dean's face melted minutely, as if reluctant to jump to conclusions. "Is that a yes?" He asked breathily.

Sam's furrow tightened, stealing one last glance to Death, who stared back ominously, yet remained silent. Briefly, Sam remembered their earlier conversation, the obvious bias Death admitted to holding in regards to him and Dean. Is this possibly another influence?

Removing his gaze, Sam looks to Dean, visage set into something more determined. More confident. "Yes."

Dean visibly relaxed, breathing a silent sigh of relief as his lips threatened to tilt upwards. The sight made Sam's stomach twist at the elation on his brother's face at his confirmation.

"Let's go." Dean reached forward, grasping his shoulder in a comforting yet familiar manner, before tightening. Startled, Sam looked up, flinching when Dean's once elated face glowed brightly, morphing into something unrecognizable as his orbs glowed a gut-wrenching blue.

An angel.

He'd been tricked. And Death let it happen.