Heaven's Child ≫ SPN

BEFORE (1) Destiny's Fate

c.1994

Reapers were drawn by the hundreds like moths to a flame.

They stood idle and obedient waiting for their signal. Around them was a hurricane of chaos and strife—a war on a little town that couldn't even manage clean water. The town kids and underfed townsmen were no match for the state of the art tanks that spewed hot water from one end and a Death sentence from the other.

He happened to be there as well.

He was standing in the middle of it, hands on his cane, eyes roaming carelessly. He glanced to the left when a fourteen-year-old boy threw a rock and the soldier in return lodged a piece of metal the size of a seed in between his eyes.

Like a frog seizing a fly with its tongue, one of the reaper's arms were around the boy in a flash. Not merciless, not unkind. Just nature taking its course.

Death sighed just slightly when the whoosh of a pair of wings he knew so well sounded by him.

"The Knights are gone."

"They've been dead for quite a while now, sister."

"Not Hell's Knights."

Finally, a small flicker of something hinted in Death's eyes. Not concern and certainly not interest...just quiet inquiry. He didn't turn his body, just moved his head by a small fraction to the right, eyes cast down.

Destiny was going to take it. This was the most anyone has ever been blessed with his attention in a long time. "Every single one of them. Gone."

And just like that, Death's attention dissolved. His head returned to look straight ahead. "Chaos in the realms, doesn't seem like anything's changed."

She took a determined step forward. "What are you going to do about it?"

Death's eyes narrowed and his grip on his cane tightened just slightly. He braced himself for the tantrum his sister was about to throw. She always cared too much. Flatly, "Nothing."

"Azrael—" She didn't pause after saying his Old Name, but a subtle twitch that didn't reach his face disturbed Death. When was the last time anyone had called him that? "—you can't expect me to just sit here—" He composed himself and cut her off.

"Since you seem to carry around a cloud of recklessness and unreason wherever you go, I suppose I can't."

Destiny's wings flinched quietly as anger began to coil up inside her. It was just like her brother to make light of impending doom.

"Don't do anything, and that is a direct order. Leave them be. They are millenniums old, they don't need to be reminded of their responsibilities." He didn't look at her as he said the words. He was Azrael, one of Father's few favorites. And since Father was nowhere to be found—he had crushing authority. He didn't need to assert his dominance with a look.

And yet, "Or what?"

The reapers risked peeking at their higher-ups. It was dangerous to look away while on a job—but no one dared to so much as step on Death's shadow in a long, long time—it was worth the risk to watch.

Finally, after moments of silence and a ruthless stare down, Death gave in to his sentimental side.

"Mind your tone."

But Destiny refused to take the warning. She was all heat and anger and control and defiance. "Heaven's Knights are gone and all the souls we've salvaged in heaven are in danger! You can't just sit by and watch—the time to do is now. Father's gone, you've got significant power, use it."