𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 || 𝐒𝐚𝐦 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

Chapter 19 ~ The Origin Story

"And you two-" Dean said, pointing a finger in both our directions before retracting it, "-do not leave this Bunker."

"What? Is that an order?" Sam rolled his eyes, ever the snarky little brother.

Dean gave him a pointed look, green eyes stern in that moment, "Don't test me, Sammy."

With those final words, the metal door of the Bunker - AKA the only door - slammed shut behind him. The sound resounded through the building before finally dissipating, leaving a silence in its wake. My gaze flicked to Sam then, who sat across from me in the library, books spread out before us on the mahogany table.

"Well..." I began, gaining his attention as I trailed off, glancing down at the book of lore in front of me, "...this is boring. And Dean's gone. So now we don't have to research,"

"But-" Sam started but I cut him off.

"-you love research. Yes, I know that, you nerd," I smirked as he childishly stuck his tongue out at me, making me laugh.

He grinned at the sound, his aim all along and I rolled my eyes.

"We really do need to research though - it could help us find Cas, I mean...Lucifer and-" he began again.

"Don't argue with me, Samuel!" I wagged a finger at him sternly, "We're being lazy today, you and I. So we need something to entertain ourselves. Besides there's a lot you can learn that a book can't teach you..."

"What do you mean by that?" Sam asked me, voice tentative and wary, yet I could sense, also curious.

I bit my lip in thought, wondering just how much of my life's story I should divulge to him but glancing over into his warm hazel eyes that always had given me a sense of comfort since I first met him, I threw caution to the wind.

Twisting my body in my seat so that I was facing him now, I sighed before speaking, "Do you know the lore of Reapers?"

He frowned in thought, replying matter-of-factly, "Well, there's Reaper lore in pretty much every culture on Earth, I know that much. Goes by over a hundred different names, subject to Death himself,"

"Right. Of course there are ranks and the closer you are to the bottom of the 'Death Pyramid' if you will, the less authority you have. So you have ones that are above your station, like Billie is to me," I explained in detail to my boyfriend.

"Well...where are you on the 'pyramid' then?"

"Somewhere in the middle. I have ones I'm above - the newbies - and ones who are older than me are farther up the ladder than I am. It goes by age,"

"Age? But wait, how old are you then?" his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as if this is the first he was hearing of this. And truth be told, with how much he and his brother actually knew about the history of Reapers, I'm sure it was.

I cracked a small smile at that and couldn't help but tease him a little, "Sam Winchester, don't you know not to ask a lady her age?"

He blushed slightly, smiling as he shook his head at me.

"I've been a Reaper since 1942," I admitted, seeing the shock register on his face as soon as the words left my lips, "I got 'turned' when I was 17. So that makes me about...91,"

Silence passed for a beat.

"Uh, um...you-you look good for your age," he finally stammered out and I laughed at his reaction, shaking my head.

"Thanks, I get that a lot," I winked at him as I got up out of my chair and began to head towards the kitchen, my Jack Skellington socks padding across the wooden floorboards as I did.

Following after me, he continued with his questions as he sat down at the table while I fixed myself something to eat, "So, wait, um, you said you got 'turned'? How does that work? Do all Reapers get...taken?"

"No, not usually. Death sometimes takes on 'special' cases. But uh, no, it's not a common occurrence,"

Sam went silent as I began to smear some mayonnaise on a slice of bread, the only sound in the kitchen being that of sandwich-making. After a few minutes, I finished and took my turkey-and-cheese sandwich over to the table to eat, opposite Sam's still figure as he processed what I told him.

"So...how does it happen then? How are Reapers made, I mean?" he finally asked, meeting my gaze.

I shrugged nonchalantly, replying between bites, "Well, like angels are, I suppose.They just...exist. As long as angels have been around, Reapers have been around even longer. Since time immemorial. So I've been told, since the very first death,"

"Abel," Sam breathed and I nodded in confirmation, taking a swig of my orange-vanilla Coca-Cola.

"But if that's so, then how did you 'turn' into a Reaper then?" he asked, frowning, "You must have been human once, right?"

I stopped eating then, my cheerful demeanor faltering at his words as my past came back to me in flashes of black-and-white memory, long-since repressed as the years had rolled by.

Sam coughed, "Uh, look, Carter, if you don't wanna-"

I waved him off, "No, no. It's fine. You need to know this about me..."

I sighed then as I let the memories wash over me, taking it in as I tried to remember it all. But then again, one could not forget entirely...