Destiel one shots

Even Frost Knew His Name

Dean and Sam were in the library when the frost began at the threshold. Not gentle. Not quite, making the brothers get up looking around.

It cracked across the Bunker's stone floors like glass under pressure. The walls groaned. Lights shattered one by one as if bowing to an ancient force. The sigils in the war room began to burn, not glow.

And the temperature? Dropped like a blade. Dean and Sam stood frozen. Literally, the cold had sunk into his bones like a promise.

Sam was already at the war room table, mouth parted, hand outstretched, "Dean," he whispered, "He's here", he whispered scared.

Dean didn't ask who, he didn't need to, because there was only one entity who bought hell with him, because Death had come.

And he didn't look human. Or like a reaper. Or even a god. He looked like the end. This was the new death and he was scarier than any death Dean has seen.

Tall. Black cloak darker than thought. Eyes like twin black holes—pulling in time, space, light, hope. The scythe was in his hand now. Not resting. Poised.

Dean drew a breath, and it cut, he stepped forward anyway, "Why are you here?", he asked finding his voice.

Death didn't speak to Dean, he didn't even look at him, he didn't come for him, not today, so he spoke to the air.

"The angel has gone too far", he said and Dean's heart stopped, "Cas?", he asked already knowing the answer.

Death turned his head now, just slightly, "You were warned. This was not your war. The natural order has tolerated your compassion. But you have interfered with the balance of souls. You have undone death one too many times", he explaining walking front and Dean quickly stepped in front of Sam praying to Cas.

And then— A voice from behind Death. Steady. Soft. But pulsing with authority, "I'm here", he said and the cold faltered.

Like something older had stepped in, Cas walked into the room, coat brushing frost, grace held close—but there.

Not burning. Radiating. Death turned to face Cas and Dean held his breath, the bunker was turning warmer, slightly warmer, yet it was huge.

The brothers eyes widened because Death took a full step back. Cas's wings shimmered behind him—faint, like gold beneath river water, fluttering slightly making the room warmer, visible, not fully, only to make the room warmer.

"I know why you've come," Cas said, "And I reject your premise", he stated and Death blinked once. 

"You don't have the authority to refuse me", he said and Dean held his breath, will Death take Cas away again?, was his only thought.

"I do", Cas said, "I am an angel of the Lord. I do not serve you and I definitely don't have to abide by your order", he said.

"You serve the natural order", Death stated and Cas tilted his head, "No," Cas corrected, eyes sharpening, "I uphold it. When it fails", he said.

The lights above flickered and held, the sigils stopped burning and started glowing with warmth making Dean stare, Sam didn't blink.

Death's voice grew colder, "You have healed nearly eighteen thousand. You have broken threads written in the Book of the Dead. You took a soul from my own hands two nights ago", he said.

Cas didn't move, "I did. A girl, age seven. Died alone in a house fire. Her lungs were ash, but her soul was still reaching out for her mother. That death was not mercy. It was theft. I took her back", he said.

Death's eyes narrowed, "And what of the millions I do take?", he asked, "I let you," Cas said. Calm. Unshaken. 

"I am not opposing death. I am correcting injustice. I save children whose souls still bloom. I grant time to those still bound by love", he said and Dean stared in awe.