This is the first of
five unconnected short stories crossing Supernatural with other
fictional universes. The
other stories
in the series can be found here.
Spoilers: Very mild for 1x12 ("Faith");
fairly massive for 2x01 ("In My Time of Dying").
Betaed by Solo. Thank you again!
Flirting with Death
The third time a reaper comes for him, Dean doesn't even try to talk
his way out of it. Third time's the charm, as they say.
When
a bridge troll catches your head between its fist and the concrete
pillar of its chosen bridge – yeah. That's pretty unequivocal, as Sammy
would say. Ketchup, as Dean might put it. Game over, thanks for
playing, and all that.
Dean figures he's been lucky. Right?
He's lived to see Sam safe. He's protected him for long enough to make
sure that he isn't ever going to fall into The Demon's clutches. The
Demon's gone. Sam's safe. Dean never expected to live to see his
thirtieth birthday, anyway. It's okay. Dean can go now.
Or
so he tells himself as the reaper approaches. He tells himself several
times, while trying very hard not to think about what Sam will do when
he finishes rigging the bridge to explode and comes back over here.
"Hey,"
he says, and smiles at her. She's being the pretty girl again. He'd
forgotten about her once he'd escaped her, but now that he sees her
again, it's all back. "Sorry about that last time. You know, the
demonic possession and all. That had to suck."
She smiles back. "It wasn't your fault. And I made sure to pick that
demon up in person when its time came."
So it is
the same one. Dean hadn't been sure. No-one really seems sure if there
are many reapers or if they're all one, somehow. "Hope you gave the
fucker a bumpy ride to hell."
Trade secret, looks like. She smiles like a sphinx and comes closer.
Nice
dress – death has a very pretty rack. Not that he's staring, that would
be crude. Not to mention kinda inappropriate, what with being dead and
all. It's not like he can help noticing, though, with that low-cut
neckline.
He wonders how that works. Is she plucking the
image of a pretty girl out of his head in specific – which, yeah, that
makes sense, but if he'd seen this form before on a living girl he's
sure he'd remember – or is it some kind of general template to fall
back on? Pretty Girl Number Twelve, dark-haired, pale-skinned, nice
handful?
Just one of death's unsolved mysteries, he guesses. "Okay then. How
does this work?"
She
holds out a hand, and he takes it, allowing her to pull him up and away
from the not-too-pretty wreck of his body. She smells nice, like citrus
and hyacinths. Or some flower, anyway. Not how you'd imagine death
would smell, and for a moment Dean allows himself to think that she's
making a special effort for him.
He grins at the thought.
Right. Not conceited at all, Dean. She wasn't even female at all,
really. Just some kind of anthropomorphic manifestation.
But... she had
told him he was cute. And this was their third date, in a way. Maybe he
could get a kiss out of it. Kissed by death, it would be fitting and
poetic and everything. Sam would approve.
Well. In theory.
For
a moment, he thinks that she really will kiss him. She pulls him closer
still, and he comes willingly, and she leans forward, and she feels
just like a real girl when he dares to put his free hand lightly on her
hip.
She huffs in exasperation just like a real girl, too, when she pulls
away. "Oh, you have got
to be kidding me."
Dean stares at her for a moment and then raises his eyebrows.
"Something wrong?"
Surely this isn't another
demon –
He
looks around, but there's just the troll lumbering off and his body
still lying there – and yuck, he really hadn't needed to see that from
up close.
But... wait a minute. What was that blue light
crawling over the corpse – him – his body? Trolls didn't have anything
to do with electrical phenomena. They weren't poltergeists – just big
lumps of animated rock.
The reaper sighs. "Well then. Guess I'll be seeing you, Dean."
"What...?"
But that's the moment when she does kiss him, just a peck on the cheek,
sadly enough, and it's also the moment when Sam finally does turn the
corner and shouts Dean's name, and then he loses track of things and
suddenly he's staring up into Sam's frantic face and everything is
hurting.
O-kay. More to this dying thing than he figured.
Maybe he'll manage next time.
(Highlander)