"Are you seriously going through with this?" Dean demanded of his younger brother. They were standing in front of a painted circle, tendrils of scented smoke spiralling into the air from strategically placed incense.
"Of course! If anyone can help us, it's the Master of Death, right?" he asked, turning towards the other man, who was sceptically eyeing him from across the room. "Oh come on Dean! You've seen for yourself how powerful Death is! So imagine how much more power his master will have! If we can just convince him to help us out, we'll have the upper hand for sure."
"Yes, I remember how powerful Death is. I also remember how much he didn't like being summoned and chained by us! We were like ants to him, so imagine how bad it'll be once you summon his damn master! We may as well just go and kill ourselves now if you summon him here!" Dean snapped back. He wasn't looking forward to his brother idiotically going through with a damn stupid plan to summon the goddamn Master of Death.
Sam studiously ignored his brother, and began chanting the ritual in Latin, also ignoring the thrum of worry he felt when the lights and candles flicked ominously as he came to the end. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he saw Dean shifting nervously as he drew the demon-killing knife and prepared himself for combat. They both started when they glimpsed the figure that had appeared in the ritual circle.
He was rather small, over a head shorter than Dean, with tousled black hair, glasses and bright, piercing green eyes. He was also very young compared to what they were expecting. Considering Death appeared as an older and definitely creepier looking man, they were startled to see that his master was in his early twenties at most, and was almost adorable compared to the imposing figure that Death presented.
"Can I help you?" he asked, clearly bored if his expression and tone of voice were anything to go by. "I swear, if you're another couple of idiot demons trying to control my power, I'm leaving."
The Winchesters glanced quickly at each other, and then back at the small figure in front of them.
"Uh…we were kinda hoping you could help us out a little problem?" Sam asked uncertainly.
"You know, I do have a life you know! I'm sick of people summoning me for stupid reasons! It had better be important, because I was enjoying my first day off in months before you forced me here." The mysterious man exclaimed, heavily scowling at the two of them.
"You're British!" Dean blurted, drawing strange looks from both his brother and the Master of Death. He flushed, and lowered his head to stare at his feet. "I mean," he continued, "are you actually British, or is that a vessel?"
Bewildered, Sam stared at his brother. What the heck? Who cared if the guy was British? Crowley was British and Dean had never made a big deal out of it before.
Laughing, the Master of Death introduced himself as Harry and confirmed that yes, he was British, and no, he wasn't possessing anybody. The tension easily seeped out of the air once the Winchesters saw that Harry could do something as human as laugh. It was a warm, calming sound full of genuine amusement, not sinister or eerie as they were used to from supernatural creatures.
Smiling to themselves, the Winchesters allowed themselves to relax as they conversed with Harry, the Master of Death, none of them aware that this was the beginning of a long and close friendship.
AN: I was a little bored so I wrote this, I might continue it if I ever have the time and motivation :)