Title: untitled
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: future!fic
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 290
Point of view: third
Alistair heard the call and answered out of pure disbelief. An angel—and that angel, in particular—summoning a demon? Summoning Alistair?
"You rang?" he said, staying in his true form.
The angel stood just outside the circle, edged in light. "I have need of your assistance," he said, head bowed, wings wrapped around him.
Alistair laughed.
o0o
The angel's plan was simple: catch Death and destroy him forever.
"Are you serious?" Alistair demanded. "That's fucking insane."
Grimly, the angel said, "Tell me now if you can aid me. If you cannot, I will send you back to the Pit."
Alistair studied him, the light steadily glowing dimmer and dimmer, and smiled. "Falling, brother?"
The angel snarled, wings flaring. "I am not your brother."
"No, not yet," Alistair mused. "But if you do this—even the attempt is enough to damn you. What would dear old Daddy say?"
"Now, demon," the angel hissed. "Can you aid me or not?"
"Of course," Alistair drawled. "I'm an old friend of Deathy-poo. We go way back."
The angel cocked his head. "Then why would you aid me?"
Alistair looked at him, raising a brow. "Seriously," he said, "How have you lasted this long?"
o0o
Death is ancient, second only to Life in age. But his scythe kills anything save God.
"Last chance to back out," Alistair told the angel.
"I will not retreat from this," he answered. "I cannot and—" He paused, back straightening. "I cannot."
Alistair smirked. He did so love it when God's little soldiers tarnished their shiny halos. And killing Death himself, well—that just meant he would really have forever to play.
He nodded to the angel and started chanting.
Castiel didn't glow at all anymore.