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Just a little scene I've been thinking about and wanted to get down before it disappeared on me... which sometimes happens because my brain is mean.
Don't read if you don't want to be spoiled for the story.
Don't read if you don't want to be spoiled for the story.
Sam didn't know how long he spent in that room. It could have been minutes or even hours. He wasn't entirely sure how time worked there. When he finally admitted defeat, having searched maybe a millionth of the space and finding shelves and shelves stretching off into the distance, he sat back on his haunches and looked up.
Death was standing at the end of the aisle he was currently in.
IT'S NOT HERE.
Sam wanted to say something glib like, I have no idea what you're talking about but he was pretty sure you couldn't really lie to the personification of mortality and get away with it.
For very long.
"Is it because he sold his soul?" Sam asked, wincing as he stood. He thought it was a little unfair that his knees were aching when he wasn't actually existing in the truest sense of the word at the moment.
YES.
"Ah well, that's that then," Sam said, shrugging. "So, if you'll just kindly put me back where I was I'll get on with, you know, dying."
HMMM. I DON'T THINK I SHOULD DO THAT.
"Why not?" Sam demanded, trying not to get angry because again, it seemed a little moot.
YOU'VE BEEN HERE BEFORE.
"I don't remember this place."
NOT HERE HERE, BUT DEAD BEFORE. IT DIDN'T STICK.
"No, I guess not," Sam sighed, leaning a shoulder against the nearest bookshelf. "But Dean's only got the one soul to sell so this one'll be for keeps."
YOU'D THINK SO, WOULDN'T YOU?
"What does that mean?" Sam asked, frowning.
IT'S COMPLICATED.
"How about you explain it then? I've got eternity apparently."
MAYBE LATER. ALFRED WILL SHOW YOU YOUR ROOM. THEN WE MUST DISCUSS SOMETHING.
"What?"
I'VE HEARD ABOUT THIS NEW FANGLED CONCEPT. IT'S CALLED JOB SHARING.000
When Sam was safely situated in Ysabell's old room, staring in horror at the profusion of pink and lace, Alfred made his way back to his Master.
"That wasn't very nice," he observed, looking at Death with his head cocked while the personification hovered by a small door out of the way of the main hall of Lifetimers.
WHAT WASN'T? Death evaded, although not very well.
"You lied to that boy."
I DIDN'T LIE. I OMITTED.
"His brother's lifetimer is here."
NOT EXACTLY. IT'S NOT HERE IN THIS ROOM. IT'S IN THAT ONE.
Death points a bony finger at the smaller door and then curls his arm back, looking as contrite as a tall skeleton can.
IT'S FOR HIS OWN GOOD.
"I don't like it," Alfred huffs. "Nothing good ever comes from omitting."
INDEED.
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Andy they are all set in Discworld. A land that is flat.
And while the books are incredibly awesome, would you like a derivative cheesy animated BBC mini-series version to introduce you to the Death?
Soul Music
1A 1B 1C
2A 2B 2C
3A 3B 3C
4A 4B 4C
5A 5B 5C
6A 6B 6C
7A 7B 7C
Please note, of course, that the books are much better than the "movies."
From:
no subject
From:
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stealborrow it from her.