Work Text:
Death looks on, amused. Bacteria these humans might be, but they are delightfully entertaining.
He is fairly certain Sam Winchester’s day is not today – not with his brother hovering so close, not when Dean is so imminently determined to figure out ways to cheat Death his due. He doesn’t mind, really. He’ll come for them both eventually. No one can resist him forever.
He watches the events unfold, only wishing they had better seating arrangements in hospitals. He can’t usually afford to stay long enough to get comfortable, but once Dean says an open prayer to all the angels, he has to stay and watch the show.
Almost as fascinating is what’s going on inside Sam’s head; that boy is wonderfully labyrinthine in there. Disguising parts of himself as Dean, Bobby, even Death himself – that is clever. It’s amazing what the human psyche can do to soothe itself, convince itself the life it’s lived has meaning.
As soon as Ezekiel enters the room, Death can see the handwriting on the wall – but he stays just to see all the pieces fall into place. Ezekiel must know that the Death in Sam’s head is only a figment of Sam’s desperately-reaching imagination, but it suits Ezekiel’s purposes, so he won’t bother to let Dean know. Dean seems to believe Death would pop into Sam’s brain without an invitation, though, and he really should know better.
He supposes one has to forgive Dean his lapses when so distraught. Neither of the Winchesters can really think straight when it comes down to the other. Watching Sam break down his hard-won acceptance and once again leap into the fray because his brother says so… Death smiles. It’s the most brilliantly crafted tragedy. Certainly Ezekiel has played the scene to perfection. He will have to keep an eye on these little amoebas – there is likely to be more good theater coming soon.