Chapter 21: The Mark of Cain

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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?”

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