Title: untitled
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun.
Warnings: AU for 4.15
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 110
Point of view: third
It is trapped, stuck in the demon's sigil of power, and it cannot move of its own volition. "Pretty little body," the demon hisses, wrenching it up and making a shallow cut. "Metaphysical blood," the demon muses. "What d'ya think, Dean? Will it taste as good?"
"Alistair," Dean growls. "I'll kill you."
The reaper watches as both Winchesters strain to affect the environment, to stop the demon while trapped themselves. But the endeavor is useless—its master's mark is all over the scythe. Death has spoken. And the reaper is Death's servant.
"Dean," the reaper says, "Don't—"
And Alistair yanks it back, baring its neck, and Death sings.