InsaneJournal

WHO: Dean Winchester and Death
WHAT: Making a deal. Because that never ends badly.
WHEN: Late afternoon; around 5PM
WHERE: Dean’s office at his shop
RATING: PG.
STATUS: Complete.

Although Death had been enjoying his vacation, of sorts, it was time to get back to work. He’d been summoned - in a manner of speaking - by one of the humans with whom he dealt with the most often. Dean Winchester. Death, of course, knew why Dean had contacted him. He was well aware of what had happened to the man’s younger brother. However what Death didn’t know was why Dean thought he had any right to determine the fate of another, even that of his future self, simply because things had taken a rather terrible turn for the worse.

Knowing that there was really only one way to get the man (or any Winchester, for that matter) to realize that what he was doing was wrong, Death arrived at the auto shop already knowing what he was going to do. It was time Dean learned a little lesson, time the man realized he couldn’t simply lose his temper and reap vengeance upon others due to friends and associates in more powerful positions than he was in. No, he needed to understand that there was a price attached to everything and that nothing managed to elude the strong-arm of fate for very long.

Appearing in the doorway of Dean’s office, Death cast a cursory glance around. His tone was quiet and droll when he spoke, one long finger dragging across the windowsill to his right.

"Really, Dean, must you continue to live up to your cliche?" he chided as he casually glanced over his shoulder at the man. He arched an eyebrow, lips twitching with thin amusement. "A mechanic shop is all well and good but a little cleanliness does go such an awfully long way." Turning the rest of his body so he was facing the man fully, Death clasped his hands lightly in front of him.

"So," he said, "I believe you have something you want to ask of me?"

Dean knew that what he wanted to ask Death was wrong. He wasn’t an idiot and he knew at best he’d probably get a no. And at worst he’d get his ass handed to him by a Horseman. He knew Claire wouldn’t approve and Sam would be pissed as hell. He knew all of that. But it didn’t matter. His future self had hurt Sam, had tortured and nearly killed his younger brother, and he wanted him gone. He knew he could be an idiot where Sam was concerned, that his devotion to his brother was unhealthy, but that didn’t stop him wanting to protect the younger man. They were family, and he had been raised to put family first.

When Death showed up, Dean was sitting at his desk with two cheeseburgers and a beer. Picking up one of the cheeseburgers, he tossed it to the Horseman of Death and then took a bite of his own. "Eat up," he said. Why worry about business first? Okay...that was important too, but he knew what the guy liked. "So...I need to talk to you about something. Obviously."

Death caught the burger, quirking an eyebrow at the man. He had to give him credit. Dean Winchester might do some rather stupid things at times, and he may have been a thorn in Death’s own side on more than one occasion. However, for every hair-brained, absolutely ridiculous thing that the man did, he also had moments of crystal clarity. And if there was one thing that definitely would make this request of his go a bit smoother, it was by asking while also providing greasy food.

Of course, Death still had no intention of giving Dean his way. He wasn’t about to eradicate another man from existence simply because he’d done a few things he shouldn’t. However he saw no reason to turn down a perfectly good burger just because he knew the likely outcome of this conversation already. So with a tip of his head and a polite, "Thank you," the Horseman unwrapped his food and took a bite.

A heartbeat later, he was sitting calmly in the chair across from Dean, the burger in one hand, the ring on his finger catching briefly in the light overhead as he took another bite of his food. "Yes, Dean," he said dryly once he’d chewed and swallowed, "I’m well aware you’ve something you wish to discuss. I would hardly expect you to have contacted me simply for a burger and a friendly chat."

"Hey," Dean said, "there’s no saying I wouldn’t have you over for just a burger and a friendly chat. This just...isn’t one of those times." He made a mental note to have Death over for just a burger and a friendly chat sometime. For a Horseman, the guy really wasn’t all that bad. He had good taste in food, and really good taste in cars. "Well...not entirely, anyway. How’s the car doing? I’ve told you, you can bring her in anytime you need work done. The places ‘round here don’t know a damn thing about classics. Hell, I don’t charge for the real nice ones."

He took a moment to enjoy his burger, then figured he probably ought to focus on the real reason for the conversation. "I know you’re probably going to say no," he said, "but I have to at least ask. I figure you know that, just like you know what I’m going to ask." He could still stop and not ask, be smart for once in his life. But honestly, he was really good at being an idiot. Experience and pure dumb luck, emphasis on the dumb, was what had got him through life. Besides, if there was the slightest chance Death would say yes, he had to ask. Or maybe he was just hoping to be told no. Even he wasn’t sure.

"I want my future self gone," he said finally. "He’s too dangerous. He’s attacked people. He shot me...but I don’t much care about that. And he tortured Sam. He’s a threat, and I’d kill him myself, except Sam asked me not to do it. But he never said anything about leaving it up to someone more qualified. So I figured...I could at least ask."

And there it was. Bypassing the commentary on his car for now, Death turned his full focus to Dean’s reason for the meeting. He did know what it would be about, of course. He knew his answer. He knew the very likely outcome of what would happen if Dean agreed to his deal. However to hear the man ask, to hear him actually state unequivocally what he wanted and why, instantly provided Death with the ability to address the situation properly. Which isn’t to say he couldn’t have brought it up before if he’d wanted. He wasn’t bound by some of the same rules as others and often used his knowledge of events to determine what he would say before they happened. This time, though, he had held out the faintest of hopes that Dean would change his mind.

When he didn’t, though, Death knew with absolute certainty that the lesson he had in store for the man was more than necessary. So while he did pause long enough to at least consider taking another avenue himself, in reality his mind was already well made up. Finishing his burger, he busied himself with balling the wrapper up before finally speaking. He had a feeling what he was about to say was probably not what Dean was going to be expecting so he wanted to be certain to savor it. Which was much easier to do when you weren’t focused on a rather delicious, greasy cheeseburger.

"Your brother," he finally said, "while certainly capable of extremely large bouts of stupidity, does have it right this once, you realize. If it were time for your future self, as you put it, to be gone, he would. It is truly that simple, Dean." A brief pause, more for effect than anything else, and Death continued.

"However, I’m feeling a bit... generous today, so I’ll make you a deal." The corners of his mouth quirked upward ever so slightly, his tone a bit lighter. The deal wasn’t all doom and gloom, after all. Death saw no reason to make it seem as though it were.

"I will give you my ring for twenty-four hours. In that time, you’ll play the role - my role - without cutting corners or giving up. You cannot, of course, dispose of your future self during that time, but should you manage twenty-four entire hours without removing the ring..." He shrugged his thin shoulders. "Then I’ll do what it is that you’ve asked."

He didn’t ask if they had a deal. He didn’t ask anything else. He simply fell silent, waiting for Dean to ask any questions he may have or offer any opinions on the subject.

Dean had been expecting a ‘no’. He hadn’t even entertained the idea that Death would say yes in any way. So he was honestly surprised when Death suggested his deal. A large part of him wanted to say no, to tell him to forget about it and that he had been stupid. But he was angry. And this gave him a focus for that. And before he knew it, he was actually considering this ridiculous plan that would definitely make Sam and Claire want to strangle him.

"Twenty four hours, huh?" he said. "I guess I don’t have to ask what you get out of it. Don’t imagine you get many days off, as it were." He considered it for a long moment. On the one hand, this was really stupid and he shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea of this. On the other, like he’d said before, stupid usually worked out pretty well for him. "All right then," he said. "You’ve got yourself a deal."

Although Death hadn’t expected Dean to turn down the deal, a small part of him was a bit surprised that he had agreed so readily. However, if he’d taken a moment to think on it himself, he would have realized he shouldn’t have been surprised at all. It was Sam who had been attacked, Sam who had been tortured and nearly killed. And when it came to Sam, what small bit of logic Dean possessed tended to evaporate in a matter of nanoseconds. It was touching, in a way, but also quite irksome to those such as himself who were meant to keep proper order and had to constantly deal with two co-dependent brothers who would do literally anything for the other.

Still. The deal had been made and Death knew, in the long run, that it would serve its purpose. So without any hesitation, he simply rose to his feet with a murmured, "Very well." As he began to pull off his ring, he met Dean’s gaze directly.

"Remember, Dean," he stated, just a touch of the real power he possessed ringing in his tone, "twenty-four hours and no shortcuts. And any attempts to dispose of your future self automatically render the deal null and void." An eyebrow quirked slightly. "And believe me, Dean, should you decide to nullify the deal with an attempt on his life, I will be most..." He smirked a bit.

"Displeased."

And with that, he pulled his ring off his finger and held it out for Dean to take.

Only Death could make ‘displeased’ sound like the scariest fucking word in the entire universe. Dean was starting to think he’d just made a giant mistake, well actually he’d been thinking that even before he’d agreed, but he wasn’t the type to change his mind even when it might be the smartest idea.

"Twenty-four hours," he said, "no shortcuts or taking the thing off. And no killing future-me. Got it." He took the ring and, for better or worse, put it on his finger. Shit, he was the most stupid person on the goddamn planet. Immediately, he felt different. It was weird, really. "I guess I oughta get to work." And text his wife and tell her he was Death for a bit. That probably wouldn’t go over well...but it would be worse if he didn’t tell her.

"Enjoy the burger."

Death tipped his head in acknowledgment, a thin smile on his face. He looked very much the same as he had before the shift in power, still just as gaunt and capable of being just as intimidating. However the aura of something powerful was gone. Or, rather, had shifted to another for the time being.

"I will see you in twenty-four hours, if not sooner, Dean. Take care," he replied simply before adding almost as an afterthought, "And who knows? Surprise me with this and I may very well bring my vehicle by for you to have a look." With that, and one final wave, Death turned on his heel and strode from the shop quite confident that he would be speaking with Dean Winchester much sooner than twenty four hours from now.

In the meantime, though, he had every intention of enjoying watching it all play out.