Disclaimer:I own none of the characters nor their series.

AN:I know I said I'd update next week but I manage to upload this today because of free time. Also this is chapter is not an Avengers Crossover. But this is still part of my drabbles, it's connected to what I've already uploaded and what I'll upload soon. This is a 'The Sandman/The Endless' Crossover. It's written by Neil Gaiman.

Also thanks to my beta: toady28.

Death, a word so often uttered day by day. A word feared because of its implications and finality. Death, so mysterious and alluring, it causes so much confusion. How can one mourn for the death of a person and celebrate the demise of another. Death, believed to be the end of all; that nothing good can ever come from it. People, humans, finding a cure for death like it is some abhorrent disease.

Death takes many forms, known by humans in so many names. Sometimes as defenseless child silently watching as destruction falls upon her home, other times a faceless soldier following the order of his delusional superior on a suicidal mission, seldom a harmless black cat the only witness to a crime most heinous, usually a frightening skeletal figure clad in dark robes leaning down to grab an unfortunate soul; Death holds no true gender.

But sometimes it is easier to think Death as a she. After all, the females of the populace are the ones that give birth to new life; so wouldn't it be logical, if the anthropomorphous representation of Death would be a female?

Death was a pale and slim figure. She had wild hair that was so dark that it could blend with the darkness of night yet still be able to stand out. Her eyes were equally dark as well, yet there was a certain quality that makes it so light. She was usually clothed nowadays in casual clothes, right at the moment she's in a simple black tank top and skinny jeans paired with black combat boots. Never forget the Horus Eye-like make up motif and her signature silver ankh around her neck.

Right now, she was supposed to collect the soul of a troubled single mother who lived in Wisconsin that had a drug addict for a daughter (not that the mother knew as far as she was concerned she was still in college getting her degree in psychology). But just after she grabbed the mother's soul out of her body, the sad Ms. F. Jones, she felt it. Something that did not belong here in this continuum, yet oddly enough it felt familiar to her. It felt a lot like…her, for lack of better words, but at the same time not.

What could possibly feel like Death but not be her?

Puzzled and slightly annoyed that she could not answer her own question she decided to walk around, see if she could track down this presence. That in it-self puzzled her as well. Usually she'd be more than happy to leave things be whenever weird shit goes down. Because really she had no business in what was happening, besides collecting the souls of the casualties of whatever happens ends.

But she could sense that whatever this presence-disturbance-was, means no harm or wants to cause anything, which baffled her more as she shouldn't be, couldn't be sensing these feelings. What was causing it?

Letting her feet take her to where ever the presence was and days later it led her to Boston. The neighborhood she ended up in was a typical Boston sight. But what could have led her here?

She continued to wander the Boston streets trying to pinpoint the exact location of the thing that brought her there but she could sense that whatever it was, it was on the move as well. She could've stayed in one part of Boston to see if at one point her target would pass by but she was never good at staying in one place for a long time. And, as Death, she still had a job to do.

Until finally she found what caught her attention: a boy. A seemingly harmless and innocent looking teenaged boy, he looked short for her eyes. He wore a comfortable looking blue sweater and a pair of faded frayed jeans and worn grey sneakers. He had the same paleness that she possessed and the same dark and wild quality her hair had as well. But the boys eyes….they looked were a sickly acid-like green that was at the moment staring at the for rent sign for an apartment posted on the window of the local bakery he was standing in front of.

And then as though he felt her gaze on him, they were suddenly staring at each other eye to eye.

That's when it finally hit her why. Why his presence drew her attention, why he seemed so familiar. With whispers of what the Death, aside she, had done many a century ago and universes away in her ears, it clicked.

For many centuries there were beings desperate to capture Death. Death can never be so easily caught but there was in once an 'incident' or two where Death was 'bested' by mortals and as a 'reward' for 'evading and besting' Death, they were given relics that were made by and from Death's own core. These relics often change shape depending where they were able to appear next. Sometimes they take shapes to easily blend in with their surroundings; taking forms of keys, scepters, books, once they even took on the form of a little black notebook, but rarely, though they can because of their sentience, they can take form of human. And never has there been a time wherein the three were united under one hand.

Until now.

Death should be angry, vicious in rage and maybe despairing really because someone was finally able to entrap Death. But why should she. She knows how he was able to obtain these Hallows, as he called them; she knows he never wanted anything to do with her except greet her, maybe, at his own demise, how all he wanted was to be normal, how he came to accept after years and years of waiting that he can never be rid of Death or her Hallows.

All she feels as they still lock each other gazes is contentment and, dare she say, joy. If she so really wished it, she could be free. But with this newly appointed 'master' she is most free than after Death created the Hallows.

Now no one can take Death they can try but it is for naught. So she smiles to him as she greets the boy, welcoming him to the world he managed to land himself in. "Hello, Young Master of Death."

"….Death….?"

AN: Thanks again to all that viewed/followed/favorited this story!

AN: I might upload either this week or next week or weekend a sort of prequel to this chapter. Though that would be a separate story altogether because it's already a couple of chapters long. And it won't be in the crossover section.