Castiel recovered quickly from his surprise at the new arrival and instantly let his angel blade slide down into his hand. The newcomer slowly shook his head.

"You know that won't kill me, right? To do that you need this," -he nodded at the scythe he was holding in his left hand- "and the Mark of Cain." At this the man pulled up his black suit pant revealing the familiar Mark above his right ankle.

"I won't let you take Dean," Castiel said, carefully letting go of his unconscious friend and getting to his feet. "...or Sam. How are you even alive?"

Death smiled. "It's a story about balances. Quite boring, to be honest. Let's settle on that I am. You don't need to know any more. And, to settle your twitching fingers, I am not here for the Winchesters. Not for those two, anyways."

Castiel's gaze came to rest on Henry. "I can fix him," he replied, angel blade still firmly gripped.

"That you can, Castiel," Death nodded pensively. "But you won't."

"Why?" Castiel glared at Death. Death sighed.

"Do you remember what you told Dean before you started to travel through time and space to pick these people," Death pointed at the still unmoving hunters, "from their respective places? You told him you would have to return them to the exact same spot."

"I remember," Castiel said stoically.

"Good. Then you remember Henry was dying when you took him. As he is, now. If you save him, you'll have to kill him when you return him."

Castiel lowered his gaze, thinking. Death had a point.

"No!"

Both Castiel and Death looked to the side, seeing John Winchester pushing himself up on his knees. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs and willed himself up to his feet. Slowly he walked up to the two non-humans.

"I have no idea who you are," John rasped, looking Death squarely in the face, "but you seem to know a lot." Death pulled one corner of his mouth into a lenient smile.

"You could say that."

"Then you know I never had the chance to know my father nor say farewell to him. I... understand that he will go, and believe me, before this angel showed up with the current version of my son," John glanced briefly at Dean's bloodied face, "I would have fought nail and tooth to kill you just to save my family." John paused. "If there's a way I can have a few minutes to talk to him, I'd... appreciate it."

Death regarded the battered looking hunter, face contorted in discomfort. Then he sighed.

"You know it won't matter. Whatever you tell him now, neither he nor you will remember when you're back where you belong."

John took a deep breath. Then he nodded. "I know. But believe me, it matters."

Death studied John for another moment before speaking. "I can see where Dean got his stubborness from. You got five minutes." With that he turned around and walked away, motioning to Castiel to follow. The angel hesitated but eventually complied, stepping away.

"You know, Castiel, you should really heed Dean's words and fix Sam, else I will have to reap him after all."

Wordlessly, the angel knelt down besides Sam and held his hands over the badly wounded man. Amara had hurt him good already, and the fall from about ten feet off the ground hadn't improved Sam's condition at all. A bright, silvery glow came from Castiel's hands and he used his recharged grace to heal every injury to Sam's body. Finally, only the blood stains on Sam's clothes were testimony to the ordeal he endured.

Approaching footsteps caused the angel to lift his head and he saw Mary Winchester joining him. She looked down at her younger son, who was still oblivious to the world around.

"Is he alright?" Mary wiped the back of her hand across her forehead.

"Yes. He is fully healed. But he's still sleeping."

"And Dean?" Mary's hand again came to rest on her belly.

"Dean will be alright. He is safe in your womb," Castiel replied. Mary blushed slightly.

"You know I was talking about him there." She nodded at the prone form next to where John was talking quietly to a dying Henry.

"Yes, I know. I just thought you might want to know he has taken no harm in your time, too."

***spn***

"Dad, I'm sorry."

Henry opened his eyes at those word, blinking a few times until the world around him came in focus. His grown son was kneeling next to him, a sad smile on his face and his hand wrapped in one of his own.

"John, don't...," Henry replied weakly. Unlike John, who had years upon years to live with the events, for Henry it had just been a few days since he'd kissed his son good-bye in his bed. The way things happened afterwards, he still was wondering if he wasn't dreaming, perhaps. One day he was a young father, the next he meets his fully grown grandsons, and then his adult son, daughter-in-law and her father. All of them hunters. Oh, not to forget the angel.

"Dad...," John started again, tears prickling in his eyes at seeing his father in pain, dying, looking like the day he'd last seen him as a young boy. And there was nothing he could do about it. He'd seen enough, lived through enough, to know he could do nothing this time. A hand rested on John's shoulder. Looking up, he saw his Mary, squeezing his shoulder with a sad look in a comforting gesture. He blinked and nodded his thanks.

"Johnny," Henry whispered. "I am sorry... that I couldn't return. That you must have felt I abandonned you. I never wanted that. You grew up well. Your sons grew up well. I'm... proud of you!"

"I'm sorry to interrupt this rather touching scene," Death said as he stepped up to them. "But it is time."

John nodded and then looked at his father one last time. "I love you, dad!"

Death touched his hand to Henry's arm and they vanished. John stood up, stretching to his full height and felt himself being wrapped in Mary's arms. He savoured the feel for a moment. Then his gaze fell on his first born son, laying still and bloodied on the ground

"Do I have to make an appointment for you to fix him, too?" He growled at the angel. Castiel looked from him to Dean.

"Of course not," he replied and kneeled down next to Dean. A moment later, just like Sam earlier, Dean seemed to glow in a silvery light. Then all wounds were healed. As the angel straightened up, Mary went to her knees besides her son.

"Dean?" She called, patting his cheek gently. Dean moaned. His eyelids fluttered and then opened. Mary smiled. Dean looked at her and briefly reciprocated her smile. Then his eyes wandered over to John and Cas, taking in the figure of Samuel getting to his feet behind his parents.

Finally Dean's gaze came to rest on his brother. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, when a figure flickered into focus next to Sam. Dean's eyes widened and he jumped to his feet, rushing at the figure.

"You stay away from him, you son of a bitch!"

"Dean!" Cas called, but Dean didn't listen. Just before he reached his brother and the threat to him, Cas materialized in between them, causing Dean to almost collide with the angel. Dean's eyes narrowed angrily.

"Get out of my way, Cas. It's not Sam's time to go!"

"No, it isn't, Dean," Death replied. "I'm not here for Sam. I believe Castiel has already healed him. He's fine."

Confusion washed over Dean's stubbled face. "Then why are you here? How are you even...?"

"Alive?" Death finished. Dean nodded. John, Mary and Samuel had stepped closer to the trio and Sam. "I am not alive, Dean. I never was. I'm Death. Being alive is a paradox that wouldn't work."

"But I... the scythe," Dean didn't know how to pick the correct words.

"You didn't kill me. You sent me away, and in my place, the Darkness rose. If she hadn't risen, the world would have been at an imbalance. All life would have perished."

Dean swallowed as Death elaborated about the world's balance. On the ground, Sam began to stir. Death looked down at him.

"I believe this conversation requires more comfortable surroundings," he declared and clapped his hands. Everything turned black and the hunters felt a sickly tingling in their guts before all light returned and they found themselves back at the bunker.

Dean looked around, seeing Sam and his parents, as well as Samuel standing around the world map table. Death looked around and proceeded to take a seat, looking at the hunters expectantly. John and Mary, as well as Samuel followed his example. Sam just stared at everyone bewildered.

"Where's Cas?" Dean asked pointedly.

"Oh I believe he is capable of getting himself back here, archangel that he is. I wonder if Lucifer enjoys being imprisoned inside that vessel," Death pondered.

"He doesn't," Cas' voice stated calmly behind Dean, who spun around like stung by a bee, staring right at the tip of Castiel's nose.

"For fuck's sake, Cas, haven't you still learned about personal space? Get. Out. Of. My..."

"I was never in..."

"Shut up," Dean sighed and pulled up a chair to sit down wearily. "Now what was that lesson about balance?"

Death looked around. All the hunters, including the angel, were sitting around the table, attention trained on him. The ghost of a smile flickered across his usually emotionless face. He got up and slowly walked around as he talked.

"There was a time when the Darkness and the Light lived in balance. That changed when the Darkness became unreasonably annoyed with her brother's obsession to create things... and beings. He was more interested in his creations than in her and she grew bitter. Their altercations became so violent, that he saw no other way for keeping the peace, but to lock her up."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, and I unlocked her."

"Stop, Dean. It was as much my fault as it was y...," Sam fell in before trailing off to Death lifting his hand, gesturing for silence.

"It was meant to be," he simply said. "Soon after he locked her away, he noticed vegetation wilting, creation suffering. Realizing what was going on, he contemplated letting her free. But she threatened to destroy everything he created. So he kept the lock and found a substitute for her."

"I suppose that's you," John said. Death nodded.

"Light can only be with darkness. So, locking her away meant he had unbalanced the scales. He came to me and asked me to take over, to keep the balance. I agreed, on one condition." Death paused and walked a few steps until he came to the only untaken chair and sat down. "I wanted to hold the key."

"The Mark," Sam nodded. "The Mark is the key, isn't it?"

"Give the boy a cookie," Death said, eyebrows raised almost mockingly. Sam glared at him, annoyed.

"So if the Mark is the key...," Dean pondered loudly, "that would make you the lock."

"Who ever told you Sam is the smart one?" Death taunted. Mary opened her mouth but didn't speak. "I was getting bored. Reaping souls was one thing, but it can become rather tiring. Most came along willingly. Others came up with all sorts of deals trying to save their lives." At this he pointedly looked at Dean, who blinked once, but held his stare. "I decided to make things interesting and with his consent, I separated the key from the lock."

"You passed the Mark on to Cain," Sam and Dean said in unison, causing John, Mary and Samuel to exchange meaningful looks.

"Yes. Hence the name. You all know why Cain was chosen and what the Mark eventually did to Cain, though. He managed to overcome it, to control it. For centuries. Until you, Dean."

It was quiet in the bunker. The hunters were waiting for Death to continue. Death was looking for a reaction in Dean. But Dean stoically returned Death's stare. Finally, the dark creature picked up again.

"You took the Mark, killed Cain, and slowly fell prey to it's dark spell. I must say, I commend you. You fought it admirably. But it was only a matter of time, especially after it kept you, ummm, let's say, some kind of alive. Your brother curing you was just postponing the inevitable."

"And then, in the diner, lock and key met," said Dean. "You knew what was going to happen, didn't you?" Death nodded. "You knew and you tried to make me kill Sammy. Guess you found out the hard way that nothing can make me take my brother's life!"

"The moment my scythe disintegrated me, swung by the bearer of the Mark, Amara got unlocked. I was sidelined. To make a long story short... when you shot Amara with the spell upgraded bullets of THE Colt, it wouldn't have killed her had you not shot her through the Mark. That activated the key, and the scales were flipped. She was gone, I was back. And the world's still in balance."

"Where's the Mark now?" Dean asked.

Death pulled up the leg of his pants. "This way, even if I want to flip the coin, I can't. If my scythe destroys the Mark, it won't be 'fatal' to me. Unless of course one day I decide to pass on the Mark again."

"Well, let's hope that never happens," mumbled Samuel. "I haven't had an idea about any of this but from what I witnessed in this time, it wasn't a walk in the park."

"It was rather interesting, though," Death stated. "But now, I'd say, you all have messed up the time and space continuum more than enough. Castiel, I believe it's time you returned everyone to their rightful places."

Castiel nodded and got up.

"Wait," called Sam. "Does it have to be a rush? At least give us a few moments still. To talk. To... say good-bye?"

"I don't see why that would be necessary," Castiel spoke up. "They won't remember any of it, for I have to wipe their memories."

"Yes, Cas, we know. But 'we' will remember," Dean insisted.

"I could...," Castiel started.

"Don't you dare, Cas. I swear to you I'll pluck your feathers and stuff you like a turkey," Dean threatened and Sam snorted softly. Looking up, Dean saw everyone, including Death, had a smile playing around their lips.

"That reminds me," Death said, pulling something out of his pocket. He walked over to John and held out his hand. Hesitantly, John took the proffered item. It was a coin. "Your father gave this to me before I took his soul. Said to pass it on to you, that is was passed on to him by his father, and grandfathers before." Heads stuck together to inspect the ancient looking coin. "I can assure you there is nothing to it but a family icon of good luck."

John hated himself for his eyes watering. His father had shown him the coin before he disappeared. He'd explained its sentimental value and told the boy he'd get it on his 21st birthday.

"Thank you," he choked out and cleared his throat. "That is a memory you won't be able to take."