The two of you were veiled, sitting on a picnic table with your feet on the bench, staring out toward the lake. You were somewhere near the Great Lakes Region, likely some small town in eastern Wisconsin, and while the park, the greenery, and the pedestrians that occasionally passed by were all usually helpful in calming a stressful situation, there was a tension rebounding between you and Death. He was beside you, his hands on his knees while his back was perfectly straight; in a much less formal pose, you sat beside him partially hunched over, your elbows resting on your knees.
You had been sitting there for a few minutes, only letting the silence pass before Death finally sighed and turned to you, the motion causing you, too, to finally look him in the eyes.
“I must say: you’re very different from the way you were centuries ago, Y/N.” He must have seen the surprise on your face because he only smirked and shook his head, softly waving a hand toward you. “No, that’s not why I brought you here, it was only an observation.”
“I already know that it’s bad.” You said, bluntly, deciding to cut right to the conversation you knew Death had intended to begin at some point. “I already know that I shouldn’t be around Dean, but I can’t help it.”
“Sharing a hotel room with him isn’t a very good help to yourself.” Death paused and sighed, only now taking the opportunity to hunch over and mimic your own posture. Looking over at you before shrugging, Death shook his head. “You should be as far from that man as you can possibly be.”
“I know.”
The two of you looked out at the water a bit longer, letting thirty or so seconds pass before the next bit of conversation.
“So I assume you haven’t been keeping up with Cain.” Death said, to which you shook your head.
“I’ve been preoccupied.”
“As we’ve already discussed.” Death turned to you before sitting up, his back straightening to make him much taller than you. “I only want to remind you that your rendezvouses with the Winchesters are counterproductive in every manner possible.” When you only looked at the water rather than acknowledging Death’s words, he shook his head. “The order was copiously adjusted when there was one Mark on the earth, but now that there are two I’m beginning to question why we even bother with it. I simply cannot overlook the fact that half a dozen men are dead earlier than they were supposed to be—granted, not by much given their professions. You have to understand that.”
“I do.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“What am I supposed to do?” You turned to Death when you asked him this, watching as his eyebrows rose at the directness of the question. “I can’t just kill him, so I’m trying to keep him level, keep him from letting it happen again.”
“Have you tried killing him?”
Death’s words seemed to linger in the air for a few moments while your eyes narrowed and your mind sought an answer to the question that was more difficult to answer than a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ On the one hand, you had tried killing the demon that brewed inside of Cain and did a similar thing to Dean; when that didn’t work, you were certainly not willing to kill either of them in their entirety and, quite honestly, you didn’t know whether you had the power to do it.
Almost as if he had been reading your contemplations, Death continued, finishing your thought aloud. “You know that Lucifer made the Mark as an equal, gave it to Cain as a way to keep you busy, so why are you spending so much time around a person that holds the Mark when you know, full-well, that it is your one weakness?”
“Can it kill me?” The question was honest and you truly sought an answer to it, Death knew this, but he only shook his head and shrugged.
“Well you’ve seen that it has powers you can’t undo,” He gestured to your back, “Take this, for instance.”
“But I healed.”
“Slowly.” Death turned, then, to face the water once again, his hands fidgeting with each other as he spoke, his words slow and divided to be sure that you understood. “The Mark allows the owner to possess a power that is different from yours, and while it’s weaker in almost every way in comparison to that which you hold, it is stronger in one, key way.”
“I already know this.”
“Yes, Y/N,” Death turned back to you, “But I want to be sure that you really understand.”
Part of you wanted to tell Death to screw off, to stop guilting you for something that you were already guilty enough about, but the more rational side of yourself was quick to acknowledge how bad an idea that was. Death was, after all, the only thing that remained somewhat constant throughout your existence—with the exception of Cain, but since he was on and off the grid so often, he was hardly consistent—and while you were unsure of whether Death could actually end you, you weren’t about to put yourself in the situation to find out. You’d asked Death hundreds of times whether or not you were capable of dying, whether there was an unknown (or perhaps known) power out there strong enough to kill something that was made not to die, but he always shrugged it off, told you that your knowing what can kill you is a great way to mess with the order. Never one to argue with the master of destruction, you shrugged it off.
But now… now you needed to know. The Mark had been a part of your life since the beginning of time—quite literally—and you knew it was strong but were still uncertain as to how strong. Cain had managed to slice up your back some years ago, giving you the first indication that the injuries caused by the Mark healed in a more mortal fashion than any others you’d encountered; normally it took seconds for a stab or slice wound to heal, but the wound on your back that came directly from the First Blade? That took weeks, had you switching out bandages between demon collections.
“When Lucifer made you, he knew that there was a chance that putting so much power into one creature might go awry, similarly to how he rebelled from God.” Death’s eyes were fixed on the lake in front of the two of you while he spoke, his words being carried off by the wind as they projected from his mouth. “He planned it all out, of course, knew that the only way for him to bring death and destruction to the earth was to have a key, a type of figure that could do his bidding while he was locked up, only to take his place when the pieces finally fell back into place.”
“Why are you—“ You began to ask, but Death only continued, acting as though you hadn’t spoken at all.
“Knowing that there was a high risk of you developing your own free will, he made the Mark. Now the Mark was never intended to be even close to as powerful as you, but it was a type of safeguard to keep you in check; he made it out of the bounds of time, which is why the deaths caused by the Mark are not accounted for in the order.” Death paused and took a breath in, his eyes never removing themselves from the lake. “Now the Mark has power, but it’s more of a restrictive power that is focused directly at you. It cannot actively do things, but it can keep things from happening.” He turned to you. “It can stop you if you get out of hand.
“When Lucifer first made the Mark,” Death turned back to lake, each of his hands now intertwined by his long, bony fingers, “He did it in such a way that only you could control it and of course, by ‘it’ I mean the owner. Cain. You couldn’t quite control the Mark, itself, but the vessel it used to translate the evil to actions was easily manipulated, which you’ve found throughout the years; the only hard part of controlling the vessel is tracking it down, seeing through the veil that the Mark used to protect itself.”
“I already know all of this.” Your eyes dropped to your feet. “Save me the commentary and get to the point, please.”
Death chuckled at that, always finding such humor in your impatience, and shook his head, ignoring your request and continuing from where he left off. “Lucifer is the king of covering his tracks, of closing any loophole, you know. The Mark is there to control you because he knows that he can’t do it from the cage; it keeps you busy, chasing after all of the damage it causes, plus it can keep you in check in case you get too rowdy. If you go against him with too much determination, he knows that the Mark will keep you in check.”
“So it can kill me?” It had meant to be a question, though when you spoke it came out as more of a statement. “The Mark, I mean. Is that what can kill me?”
“It can’t kill you, no.” You watched Death shake his head, his words having brought your eyes back up to meet him. “It can’t kill you in the traditional sense, but it certainly can do harm.”
“How do you mean?”
Death paused and looked at you, a kindness in his eyes that you knew no one would see except you; he was always kind, a type of father figure to you that you never really had, and now that he simply gazed at you, you knew that he wanted to protect you. He smiled and returned his focus to the lake.
“I’m only telling you this as a motivation to stay away from the Mark, Y/N.”
“I know that.” You nodded, your gaze still fixed on Death. “But you still need to tell me, you still need to give me that motivation.”
“You’ve seen what the Mark can do to people, what it did to Cain.” Death looked at you and paused, only continuing after you nodded to show that you agreed, understood. “The Mark was, like I said, made as a type of security measure against you, so it only makes sense that it have an overwhelming power to twist and corrupt the soul of the vessel it possesses until there really isn’t much of a soul left.”
“What are you getting at?”
“The Mark can be transferred one way to a new vessel, and one way only.” Death held out an arm and grabbed it with his other hand, his long fingers wrapping around the part of his forearm where the Mark would be. “By touch, it can transfer to a new vessel if that vessel is human and worthy.” He paused, waiting for you to nod once again before continuing. “There is, however, another way that the Mark can be transferred in the event that it is up against an opponent greater than itself.”
You scoffed. “I’m assuming that’s me, in this instance.”
Without confirming or denying, Death continued. “Every time the Mark harms you using the First Blade as a medium, a small bit of that energy will get absorbed into you, will give you a little glimpse of what it’s like to have the Mark. You’ll see through the eyes of a vessel that has it.” Your eyes narrowed while Death spoke, which he picked up on and nodded. Reading your thoughts, he said, “That’s why, I presume, you’re able to tell when the Mark is affecting Dean and when it’s not.” Death gestured to your back. “That gash on your back gave you just enough of the sight to notice how the Mark is fairing in its other vessels.”
This wasn’t exactly new information to you, you knew that the First Blade had a huge effect on you after Cain first sliced you with it, but somehow hearing Death say it with such confidence made you uneasy.
“So it can’t kill me,” you spoke slowly, trying to wrap your mind around the words, “But it can… transfer to me?”
Death nodded the affirmative.
You laughed.
“So how is that going to affect me, honestly?” The smile on your face and the humor you felt was certainly not appropriate, you knew that wholeheartedly, but somehow you couldn’t help but get a kick out of the prospect of having the Mark. “I don’t have a soul, I’m already the product of literallythe two most evil and renowned creatures on Earth, and somehow I’m struggling to imagine that the Mark could disturb me.”
“I’m only telling you so you know the threat you’re facing in sticking around the Winchester.”
“He doesn’t even have the Blade,” you rolled your eyes as you said this, sweet relief rushing through you as you realized that what Death said was hardly anything for you to worry about at all. “Worst case scenario, he beats me up and I can’t heal as quickly as normal.”
Death was silent. His eyes looked on at you, exploring your features for any indicator as to whether you were being serious or not, and after a few moments of this you cleared your throat and looked away, uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze.
Silence fell between the two of you and Death finally turned back to look at the lake, the birds and sounds of the waves the only things keeping absolute silence from sitting between you. After a while your mind wandered and finally, after thinking on the Mark for a few minutes, you spoke up.
“So is there a cure?” You turned to Death. “For the Mark, I mean. Is there any way to get rid of it without killing the vessel?”
Death stood in front of the picnic table, wiping his hands on his pants before turning to face you. Putting his hands in the pockets of his trousers, he shrugged. “You know the answer to that.”
The two of you exchanged looks and you tried to figure what he was getting at. Finally, apparently reading your mind once again, Death nodded, the movement slow and held-out. “Yes. There’s a cure and you know what it is.”
Your stomach dropped and your eyes narrowed as you looked on at the man in front of you, disbelief washing through you; you had thought of a potential cure for the Mark, one that was essentially unheard of by anyone you had come in contact with, but you had thought of it nonetheless. Because it was so crazy, of course, you weren’t sure whether Death was thinking the same thing as you, so you tried to clarify.
“You don’t possibly mean—“
“I do.”
You could have sworn your heart stopped beating at that, the sheer absurdity of the suggestion far surpassing anything you’d heard in your whole existence. He couldn’t possibly mean it, he couldn’t possibly be talking about the same thing as you.
However, knowing what you were thinking, Death shrugged. “It’s not a pretty prospect, I understand, but you know what you need to do in any very desperate situation.”
“I will die.”
“So now you know the one and only means to your demise.” Death’s eyes held on to your gaze a moment longer before he sighed and shook his head, his gaze falling down to his feet. “Which is why I urge you to keep cleaning up the messes of the Mark and that is all.” He looked back up at you, his voice now stern. “Do not get more involved than you need to, do not develop feelings and desperation, because you know where that road will lead.”
You shook your head, your hand coming up to cover your slightly-opened mouth as you tried to deny it, tried to tell yourself that this wasn’t true. “There’s got to be another way to get rid of it.”
“Well I suppose you could ask the maker to remove it, though,” Death’s eyes narrowed and he bit his lower lip, holding the pose a moment before shaking his head. “I doubt that would work, considering.”
Death was right, Lucifer would never remove the Mark, especially knowing that you were the one asking for it; you hadn’t seen him in centuries, did your damndest to try and keep him in the cage, and he wasn’t all that forgiving in the first place. Even early on, when you had only spent a few decades on earth and the humanity began rubbing off on you, Lucifer was quick to drag you back down to the pit, to remind you of what you were and why you were doing the things you did. “I can’t have you getting weak,” he would tell you, “I can’t have you finding sentiment in things, that clouds your judgment.”
“So, on a not-so-different note,” Death chimed, drawing your attention back from the nasty flashbacks of encounters with Lucifer. “I’ll take the time to tell you that Cain’s death count is consistently getting higher, so I expect you’ll do something about it.”
Your eyes were still fixed on the ground, slightly wide as they locked on one, specific spot, similarly to what happens when a person daydreams, but you nodded slowly. Speaking quietly, your words slightly slurred together, you told Death that you would take care of it.
“Good.” He said, and from your peripheral vision you saw him beginning to walk away. He was only a few steps out before he turned to face you, a smile on his face when he said, “And only a word to the wise: if you ever want to make a business deal or have a serious conversation with someone, try to limit the amount of processed grains you have on your person.”
With that Death smiled and was gone, leaving you by yourself, veiled from any human, demon, angel, or monsters’ sight, to simply think about what was said. You had known it all, had known the bit about Lucifer and about the purpose of the Mark, but there was still a growing sense of unease that you got from knowing that Death had confirmed your beliefs. Dean was a danger to you, you knew it for certain now, and what scared you wasn’t even the fact that he might hurt you.
It was the fact that regardless of knowing what a threat he stood against you, you didn’t much care.