Warnings: SPOILERS - for SEASONS 10-11. Starting next line.

Summary - General plot: Death is dead. Someone needs to fill the slot and, uh, take responsibility. Call it Dean's bargaining chip to get Sammy his ticket to Heaven when he dies, instead of being thrown into the Empty.

Summary-starring Guest-stars: Walt and Roy (Form season 5, episode 16: Dark Side of the Moon). The two hunters who killed Sam because he jumpstarted the Apocalypse, and Dean because, according to Walt: "He made us and we just snuffed his brother, you idiot. You want to spend the rest of your life knowing Dean Winchester's on your ass?"

"Wait. Will you tell me what it all means?"

"Everything is dust in the wind."

"That's it?! A Kansas song?!"

And that was just his first day.

But now that Dean has been doing it for quite some time, he realized why the previous Death (the one he killed) was often detached and cynical toward people. It's not that he didn't care about humanity, but he was Death, as old as God. If he has to kill each and every person whose number is up for the Reapers to reap with his own bare hands, how many souls by now have asked him stuff like What it all means and Why until he decided to stop doing it manually and went auto?

Countless. Billions and much, much more, so much that even after one measly year, it was getting old. Tossing away sophisticated philosophical retorts and song lyrics to mess with people was amusing at first, but it was getting tedious. Dean wondered if after a while Death didn't even bother to hang around and just took off elsewhere before the dead had any chance to even take a good look around, leaving the Reaper to collect the goods. Dean was doing so now himself, unless he happens to like what he sees (tag: pretty chicks), but sometimes he also stayed for guys with certain types of eyes (tag; puppy dog eyes), the elderly, and always for children.

Dean also discovered that when he borrowed the ring to play Death for a day, he didn't have even a tiny speck of the Big guy's true powers. Death can control weather, can move planets (not exactly easy, but possible with no other options present), can raise the dead, obviously someone huge like Death won't skid through every single soul that needs to die personally. Dean has a long way until he could reach even a squirt of the strength the old Death had, but being an Ex demonic Hell-Knight empowered by a creepy ancient mark has it's own quirks; like finally being able to exchange blows with freaking angels without breaking his damn knuckles.

Dean realized that people could still die without him having be in their vicinity, so it's not like he actually killed all hundred fifty thousand people a day himself, which was a huge relief.

Of course, it was more entertaining to off people yourself, but come on, there's a limit even to Dust in the Wind and AC/DC's Highway to Hell.

Dean also always makes a note to make personal visits to people he knows, until they'll all die eventually. And hunters.

Like these two. Dean leaned on the bar-counter of the little place the nest prepared for himself for getting easy prey; it was a bar, just outside of town, and it was littered with bodies. Most of them were vampires, but the two hunters who got them didn't make it.

"D-Dean Winchester. Heard you were alive and kicking." Walt stammered, pretending to be brave. Roy just looked deathly pale.

"Dean? Yeah, sure. Not so much. I'm the Grim Reaper now, and I'm here to reap your hearts out."

They look terrified. And for a good reason. After they shot him to death, Dean promised Walt and Roy that he'll come back and he'll be pissed. They must have pissed themselves when the name Dean Winchester popped up after the Apocalypse was averted, alive and taking on hunts like nothing happened.

Dean was enjoying this... maybe a little too much.

"Okay, fine, I'm joking! Look!" he said eventually and pushed himself from the bar, snapping his fingers to undo the illusion. Something flickered in their vision and the two looked down to the bodies scattered around. "Looks familiar?" he nodded toward the bodies that Walt and Roy hadn't noticed untill now, thinking it was one of the creeps they came here to kill.

"It's-it's me—and Walt? What—"

"We're dead." Walt deadpanned, looking at Dean blankly, getting pissed off. "We're ghosts. You killed us!"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Souls, not ghosts. You just haven't been collected yet. And, please, If I really wanted you dead I would have gone after your sorry asses years ago, right after you blasted a cartridge into my brother's chest." He nudged Walt's corpse with his foot, not actually moving it. He glanced at the two, who backed away from him, fidgeting warily, aiming for their weapons on the floor, but, well, they couldn't exactly touch anything. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes again.

"These Vamps killed you. Not me. I was just messing with you here. Call it my little payback for that time, not that it gives me anything but juvenile satisfaction since you're already dead. I mean, it's not like you can get any deader. It was my only shot." he shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "Kinda like your shot when you offed me and my brother."

"You're brother jumpstarted the Apocalypse." Walt argued. "And I wasn't dumb enough to let you go after seeing this; I value my life too much. Well," he looked at his bloody corpse on the floor of the bar the vampires run. "Valued, anyway."

"But I heard you two fixed it, right? So it all turned out fine." Roy started. "Look man, we didn't want to do it, we were just—"

"Scared? Angry? Save it. Too late for being sorry now." Dean cut him off. "You know, I really don't give a crap about myself, but anyone who hurts my brother doesn't just get to walk away. The only reason I didn't go after you was because Bobby and I had a talk." he said. "W-well, that and I didn't have the time to waste on you two, but you got off lucky." he finished with his jaw set tight.

"Sir, should we take them now?" The two jumped at the voice and turned to see a man and a woman dressed in black suits who seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

"What? Take us where?" Walt asked suspiciously.

"These are Reapers," Dean drawled, mocking, as if talking to children. "so take a wild guess?"

"Why the Reapers calling you sir?" Roy blurted out.

"Because I am Death now, so that makes me their boss. Daddy Death? The Mother of all Reapers? Was dead serious about that Grim Reaper thing." He grinned, looking between the two hunters. "Get it? Dead serious?"

"Death eats pie?" Walt's bro creased, noticing the slice in Dean's hand for the first time and completely ignoring the dry humor. The pie itself was on the bar behind him.

"Death loves pie." Dean deadpanned gravely and bit on his the slice.

"I'd say it's an improvement." One of the reapers mumbled absent-mindedly. "The previous Death had a peculiar craving for junk food and fried pickle chips. I could never understand that."

"How is pie and cheeseburgers an improvement?" the shorter Reaper asked her male coworker quietly, tilting her head to look up at him in puzzlement, "It's as much junk food as the hot dogs and the pizza—"

"You done?" the two turned to see their boss staring at them.

"Uh..."

"Did it occur to you that Death likes junk food 'cause it's fast and tasty and while he—we—... I might seem like I have the time I really don't have the time nor the patience to wait for a turkey to roast in the grill?" he sent his Reapers a calculating glare, who looked at each other embarrassed. "Snacks and burgers are tasty, cheap, and available. And let's be honest; the fat can't kill me." Dean smirked smugly. Then his face fell, snorting to himself.

"Although, I'm not entirely sure the previous Death didn't like junk food just because all that unhealthy fat gives people heart attacks."

That was written before Billy, so I imagined two unnamed Reapers with British accents. And I really, really want Dean to run into Walt and Roy again. Preferbly when he's in demon mode. Or not. Doesn't matter. It's Dean, they'll still piss themselves lol.