Again, I should be working on other stuff... but...

The empty shells of dozens of humans lay around his feet, where they belonged. They had served as demon vessels for a short time, just long enough for their lives to be sucked from them in order to raise the last horseman. The fallen angel smiled grimly. Death. Once he had the fourth and most powerful of the horsemen under his thumb, the apocalypse could truly begin and this headache of a war could end.

As he chanted the last of the spells needed in order to complete the ritual, Lucifer began to feel an excitement he hadn't felt since he first escaped the Cage. Pure, unadulterated power crackled through the air, and as the last words fell from his lips the earth seemed to stand still. Every being, celestial and not seemed to hold its breath. Finally, the last piece fell into place.

Where moments earlier there had been nothing, a bleak looking man stood, looking mildly irritated. His suit seemed ruffled, but his sleek dark hair looked eternally pristine.

"Oh hello Death." Lucifer purred, taking in the only being that rivaled God himself in power. The man stood, surveying his surroundings before seemingly noticing the angel for the first time. He rolled his eyes.

"Ah, Lucifer... right? One of God's more annoying creations if my memory serves." Lucifer huffed out a laugh.

"Very insolent for one bound under me, horseman." At that, Death quirked a sardonic half smile, looking at Lucifer as if he was a simple child.

"Angel," he said with condescension in his voice, "I don't think you know quite what you're dealing with."

For the first time since he was cast out of Heaven, Lucifer felt something other than hate and satisfaction. Confusion.

"I bound you to me, you are under my will!" he said almost petulantly.

"It's not that simple, Angel." the man sneered. "I am already bound to someone," He looked Lucifer up and down before smirking. "Someone I am actually quite fond of. Very charming, makes a good fish and chips." The angel felt his confusion melt away into a more familiar anger. "Good luck with Armageddon." With that, the horseman vanished, leaving the exiled angel alone among the corpses. A scream of rage rented the night air.

~O~

A young man, looking to be about twenty years of age, sat quietly on the floor in the middle of his living room. His sparse but homey furnishings had been pushed against the walls, leaving the floor bare but for a few candles. The glow of the candles made the figure's pale skin seem more gaunt than healthy, his trademark green eyes underlined with dark shadows. The man let his eyes drift close, but even still, he sensed everything. He felt his house, liberally encased in runes, wards, and sigils which exuded heavy magic. Farther away, he could sense the life force of all living things in the forest he resided in, focused on how they waxed and waned under his attention. He could see a fox dying in its den, aura sputtering out leaving a shell of what it once was. Simultaneously, a chick hatched from an egg, life force so bright and new it made the jaded man almost smile. Taking a deep breath, the man opened his eyes again, focusing on the present. He could feel someone was coming... and it wasn't his house mate. It was someone far older, and far more familiar.

"Death," the man acknowledged calmly, brushing his unruly dark hair out of his eyes.

"Harrison Potter," the horseman nodded slightly, showing respect.

"It's Black now, and I've asked you to call me Harry." The man, Harry, got up swiftly and flicked his wrist, banishing the candles and moving the furniture back to its normal positions. "Tea?" He passed by the hearth, causing it to ignite with a glance. It cast a warm glow to the previously stark room.

"Please." Death sat down in one of the armchairs, with a familiarity that came with being a regular visitor. Harry returned moments later with two steaming cups of tea. Sugar for the horseman, cream and sugar for him. They sipped it contemplatively. "How are you feeling?"

"You would think after being Master of Death for over ten years, you would get used to it." Harry said wryly, setting his tea cup down. "I still get headaches, especially since this apocalypse business. Sometimes it's hard to control... hard not to see everyone... everything." The wizard sighed, looking a decade older than a moment ago. "It helps to have someone to ground me."

Death gave a sad smile to the boy in front of him. Because that's all he was really, a boy. He didn't ask for any of this. He didn't ask for the knowledge, power and responsibility that came with being the Master. And the boy was so humble, so meek... that's why he had taken a shining to Harry. He was something special. If anyone had to take the job, Harry would be the one.

"Ah yes, the housemate of yours..." he tried to keep the disgust out of his voice, but didn't do a very good job if Harry's face was anything to go by.

"He's a good guy!"

"He's crude, and disrespectful." Harry didn't deny it. Death counted it as a victory. "But this isn't a social call Harry. The apocalypse is accelerating at a breakneck pace... I fear that you may not be able to stay out of it for long." The man pulled a face.

"No."

"It isn't a matter of yes or no." Death was becoming a little irritated. "Lucifer tried to bind me today."

"I don't care. I have already been in one war. I lost everything... everyone I know and love." The green eyed man had a pained face. "I won't... I can't do it again... I just can't." Harry had his end of story face on, so the horseman changed tactics.

"I know you don't want to be a part of this, but being attached to me has linked you to the coming events. Lucifer will look for you, and sooner or later those meat headed hunters will too."

"The Winchesters?" Harry had heard plenty about them from his house mate.

"Yes. And you better hope that they reach you first. You may not be able to die, but you can still be hurt Harry." The Master of Death looked into the horseman's eyes solemnly and inclined his head.

"I'll take it into consideration." he said a bit sadly. Death looked away and began to get up.

"I have to leave, the job's been busier recently." Harry didn't respond, lost in his own thoughts. Death looked at his Master one more time. "I'm sorry." he said quietly, and walked out of the house.

What do you think? Review please! Who do you think his housemate is? Who will reach Harry first? :)