tigriswolf | we are all born dying to know - SN fic

Title: we are all born dying to know
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Grace Bauer.
Warnings: spoilers for 5.10
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 950
Point of view: third

The pale horse prances out first, head high and tail flowing behind her. A shadow follows.

“Sammael,” Azrael murmurs as the horse paws at the dirt, wings flaring. “How long have we been caged?”

“Eons, brother,” Lucifer tells him. “Since the twelfth plague.”

The horse bugles and Azrael places a hand on her shoulder. “Peace, beloved,” he says. “Soon we’ll ride.”

Lucifer grins as Azrael looks around at his gathered army, waiting. “Return to your posts,” he commands. “All but my daughter.” The reapers depart until only one remains, wearing a young woman’s shape. Lucifer gapes, but Azrael says, “Hush, brother. We’ll speak in a moment.”

“Father,” the reaper says. She strides forward, stopping a step away. When the horse gently nudges her, she giggles, rubbing at the mare’s ears. “Father,” she repeats. “I found him.”

Azrael smiles, placing a hand on her shoulder as he solidifies into a man wearing a dark cloak. “Well done, child,” he tells her. “Go to him and I will follow.”

She vanishes; Azrael looks up to meet Lucifer’s eyes. “Shed that failing vessel, Sammael,” he suggests. “Speak with me truly, no boundaries between us.”

Lucifer nods and burns Nick away, until only the once-brightest of God’s angels remains. Azrael steps close, studying Lucifer in silence for a moment. “You are as beautiful as the day you fell,” he muses, slowly raising a hand to touch Lucifer’s face. “Had I gone with you then…”

“We would have won,” Lucifer declares, lightly nuzzling into the touch. “Michael would have followed you, and together—not even Father could’ve stood against us.”

“You unlocked the door so that I’d join you,” Azrael says, letting his hand fall.

“Yes.” Lucifer spreads his hands, encompassing all the sacrifices. “Join me. This feast is just the beginning.”

Hellhounds howl, filling the night. The pale mare responds with a scream that even Lucifer shudders to hear. The howling stops as the horse flicks her ears.

“Brother,” Azrael calls, spinning to face his mare. “I follow no one, not even Father anymore. He caged me because I grew too powerful—you seek to chain me to your cause for the same reason.” He leaps onto his horse and stares down at The Devil. “I let you live in thanks, Sammael. And because we are brothers.” The mare rears, pale as moonlight, and her wings carry them into the sky.

Azrael’s daughter is a bright beacon, calling him home to the human crafted as his house, the only thing besides his mare capable of surviving his glory.

Lucifer’s packs howl again, sorrowful and angry. The mare snorts and Azrael throws back his head to laugh. “Beloved,” he says, rubbing her shoulder around the base of her wing. “Can you feel him?”

Yes, she answers, a word that resounds from the top of the sky to the bottom of the ocean.

Death rides again, dark cloak billowing in the night air behind him, pale horse eating up the miles.

Do you need a vessel? she asks. Really? You are more powerful than anyone now.

He chuckles, sending out a message to War, Pestilence, and Conquest. Each shudders at the contact, but fears to decline. I need a vessel, he whispers to his familiar, because I must understand Life. We are creatures of spirit, having never needed breath, but a vessel will complete my knowledge.

And what will happen to me when you’ve become human? she asks, tossing her head. Will I have a place?

Azrael stretches out over her neck. My beloved, he says, his own wings shadowing them now. Even when I take my vessel, you will still be mine and I will be yours. The mare nickers, ear flicking. He smiles, patting her shoulder.

His companions will meet him at the vessel’s location, where his daughter already waits. Locked away in that cage, he had dreamed of living, the single thing he’s never done. Now with wind in his hair and a beacon showing the way, he does not care what other plans may be in motion.

The mare lands by a building, head high, and tucks her wings away. She doesn’t look like a normal horse anymore than he appears to be a normal man, but she is slightly less conspicuous now, to those few humans who might be capable of seeing her. His daughter stands by a beast he doesn’t recognize, grinning.

Azrael strides to her, examining the creature. “What is that thing?” he asks, rubbing his mare’s ear as she shoves her head over his shoulder.

His daughter pats the thing’s head. “A 67 Chevy Impala,” he says. “Your vessel’s steed.”

The pale mare snorts, stretching out to nudge it with her nose.

“He is marked,” his daughter says, serious now. “Michael’s claim shines all over him.”

Azrael chuckles. “Well, that’s too bad for my dear brother.” He closes his eyes, reaching out with all his senses.

You are yet an angel, his mare tells him. How will you convince him to agree?

He places a hand on her nose, looking into her dark eye. My brother, he murmurs to her alone, has placed a claim on him purely because of what his own brother is. But that man was born for me. Death has followed him, touched him, nearly taken him and let him go. Azrael kisses the middle of her nose. He is ours, my dear. He will say yes.

Azrael turns and strides to the door. “Daughter,” he calls over his shoulder. “When my companions arrive, tell them I’ll be out soon.”

Dean will consent because Azrael can promise something no one else is capable of: when Dean is Death, Sam Winchester will never die.