Brothers Keep Her
*Dean's POV*

“She... what?” Dean’s mouth goes dry.

“That’s right,” Crowley says as they watch you disappear inside the bunker with Sam. “Ironic, isn’t it? One little kiss from the very man who killed Death. Although you and I both know it wasn’t just some little kiss, was it? You’ve started to actually fall for the girl. That’s the real irony, right there.”

Dean turns around, thoughts of your gentle kiss running through his mind, and runs his hands over his hair. This isn’t happening.

“Of course, she thinks you blame it on the drinks, and that it meant absolutely nothing to you.”

“She told you that?” He spins around, spitting the words in Crowley’s face.

The demon feigns wiping the saliva away from his cheeks. “It’s all she thinks about. Well. Before she connected the dots... now her head’s filled with other things. Me, mostly.”

It takes all of his restraint not to sucker-punch the former King of Hell. “And this whole telepathy thing between you and her..?”

“It’s because we’re in the same business. Well, she’s a bit less biased than I am, but in the business of souls all the same.”

“I just... how?”

“As I understand it, he knew his time was nearly up, and he devised a way to continue on. She’s both successor and reincarnate. It’s never happened before. Anyway, I need her in my corner if I have any hope of putting Lucifer back where he belongs.”

“Why did he choose her?”

“He didn’t. You did.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“She wasn’t the only one. See, Dean, Death placed a key. He left the rest up to fate. Or, the Winchesters, as it were. It was no secret he was fond of the two of you.” Crowley glances at the bunker door once more. “But, Dean, as your friend -”

“You’re not my damn friend, Crowley.”

“AS YOUR FRIEND,” Crowley continues, “I’ll remind you that the Reapers are not very fond of you or your brother these days. Word has it they’re not particularly happy that she ended up in your company.”

“Somebody wanted us to replace her. Our initials were carved on the back of her car, for God’s sake.”

Crowley rolls his eyes. “My point is: Watch your backside.”

“Wait, wait a minute. Are you saying I did this?"

“Are you daft? Was it not the kiss of Dean Winchester that opened the floodgate of memories? It wasn’t Sam Winchester who ran a scythe through Death. Yes, you sealed her fate. No turning back, now. I do hope you weren’t getting used to having her around.”

“I don’t believe this. I don’t believe you. She’s just a girl,” Dean says, his breaths shallow and quickening. He presses his palms to his eyes. “It was just a stupid kiss.”

Crowley shrugs. “You can deny all you want to your brother and blame it on the alcohol, but Death was very precise when he designed that key.”

“Oh, God.”

“A lot of good He’ll do ya, innit?”

“Shut your mouth, dick-bag!” Dean seethes as he whirls around, but the demon is already gone. “DAMMIT!” he screams, kicking a tuft of grass and dirt into the air.

He leans against Baby’s front fender with his hands on his hips and his head hung low. He can’t go inside the bunker yet.

There was a deal once; for 24 hours, Dean put on the horseman’s ring and assumed Death’s role. Dean had to be Death for one day, and it was one of the hardest days of his life.

And now, he’s condemned you to it for eternity.