Maisie Winchester: The Cursed Hunter

.one.

DISCLAIMER; SUPERNATURAL ISN'T MINE AND THIS WORK IS COMPLETELY FAN-MADE AND HAS NO RELATION TO THE CANON STORY BESIDES THE FOLLOWING OF THE SEASON EVENTS (SEASON 11).

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THE BUILDING DEAN HAD brought them to began to rumble as Dean finalised the spell. Maisie didn't even bothering to pretend she was okay anymore. She could barely lift up a finger without feeling like passing out. When death arrives, observing and commenting on Dean's offering, he simply demands two things. Maisie's survival and his death.
"No," Maisie protests, shaking her head as best she could. "No I won't let you kill yourself."
"Your daughter is right, Dean. You can't kill yourself. I can't kill you. That mark on your arm? Nothing can."

"Can you remove it?" Dean asks instead.

"Not unless you want the darkness released on the world... a destructive creature she is... if she is released, the whole universe will be in jeopardy. I won't allow it."
Dean looks to his daughter, his mind racing. He couldn't die and the mark couldn't be removed. There was only one option left... he knew he was running out of time. So long as he was still in the company of death, he wouldn't hurt anyone. He needed Maisie fixed first.
"Fine. What's going on with Maisie?" Dean asks, quickly grabbing hold of her arm before the girl fell from the table she was using as a support. "We've tried everything we can, she's only getting worse."
"Of course she is," Death laughs shortly. "Entering that stupid little bunker of yours and creating a bond with you was what triggered her curse."
"Her curse!?" Dean repeats with anger. "What damn curse!? From a witch?"
"Not a witch," Death says with the same amount of calm he has with everything he says. As if the conversation bored him. "The big guy. Wrote it into her very code. Well, not specifically her. But anyone who meets the requirements that she does."
"What requirements?" Maisie asks through a coughing fit, clutching onto Dean as tightly as her hands and arms would allow to stay standing.
"First born daughter of a hunter - that's your mother," Death sighs. "And a scribe - men of letters. Your father -, a curse of light and dark I will provide."
"Awesome," Maisie gasps for air through the lungs she knew were slowly filling with blood. "How do we stop it?"
"There is no stopping it," Death scoffs, looking to Maisie. "There is only seeing it through. These trials are not for the faint of heart. Which is why God has made them so exclusive. Of the over one hundred and seventeen billion people to have lived and died, there has only been a few dozen women who have had this curse. Fewer still who have succeeded in conquering it. Each of which being notable in their own right, whether they have become famous for their trials or not."
"That's reassuring," Maisie gasps sarcastically. "Who we talking here? Madonna? Cher?"
"Think bigger, Maisie," Death rolls his eyes. "Women who have changed history."
"Oh, so the queen." Maisie says with even more sarcasm.
"In your recorded history there have been just over a dozen women successful in overcoming this curse, all of which saving humanity from mass extinction events at the hands of the supernatural. Mother Theresa inspired peace, unity and faith. She discouraged and exorcised countless demons in her life. Florence Nightingale slowed the spread of human disease, often spread by my brother, pestilence. Mary Seacole was a mixed race merchant who aided in wars - this of course included supernatural related supplies. Queen Boudicca of the Iceni tribe almost completely eradicated the invading Romans - you guest it. Ancient Rome was indeed corrupt with countless monsters. Which brings us to cleopatra who again, fought of Rome but also brought them successfully through pestilence and famine and a myriad of witches curses... but of course the most notable. Mother Mary herself. Surely I don't have to explain that one."
Maisie goes to respond but another coughing spell. Becoming to weak to stand, Dean carries her in his arms. Her breathing was short, laboured and sounded as if a small ominous rattle has settled into her chest.