Requested by @AlyahWilliams 

Imagine Death meet a little girl that was brutally murdered in a way that he's never seen for a child and feels bad for her and redirects her and she becomes his little helper to comfort those who were murdered or are going to heaven, so she pretty much explains to them that they're dead then death comes outa nowhere and does what he does

A/n - child!Reader

Word Count: 656

~

You don't feel the pain anymore, the searing agony of flesh being torn apart having faded.

The memory of the blade slicing its torturous lines across your fragile body sends shivers down your spine. But now it's just that - a memory.

It's all over.

You stare down at the horrific scene in front of you. It's hard to recognize yourself lying there, motionless and bloody.

A woman stands beside you, trying to steal your attention away from the location of your demise. 

A voice, cold and calculating, interrupts her pathetic attempts, "Leave."

Without hesitating, she disappears. 

You don't look away from your dead body.

An icy hand gently lands upon your shoulder, "I'm so sorry."

You don't respond for a long time, not until you turn away from the scene. You raise your head to look up at the pale man. 

"Am I dead?" The question echoes throughout the basement where you stand. 

He nods down at you and then bends into a crouch, "Yes, child."

"Am I going to Heaven?" 

"If you want to."

"What's in Heaven?"

"Your happiest memories."

"I don't have very many," you say sadly, looking around the damp basement that had been your home for your entire existence. 

"I know."

"Is Heaven all there is?"

He pauses in his answer, "There are a few other places, but they are worse than anything here."

Your little heart sinks. You don't want to be dead, but at the same time it's better because you feel no pain. 

"Isn't there something else? I don't have to go if I don't want to, do I?" Your voice seems tiny in the presence of this man, but you try to speak up. 

"You could stay with me and help those like yourself who have been through such tragedy. That is, if you want."

Thinking it over, you shoot the body on the ground a glance. If you could help those who went through anything like you did, then maybe your life isn't a waste after all. 

"Sure."

~

The man stares at his body that lies on the ground with a fatal bullet wound. He looks at you, "Why?"

"I'm sorry. . . Come with me and you can find peace. . . I promise," you reach out your hand. 

He hesitates before grasping it firmly. You take him to his Heaven and watch as his face lights up as he relives his memories. 

You then leave to find Death, who has become your parental influence over the years. He helped you get over the traumas that had befallen you when you were alive. Now, he basically turned you into a reaper.

Walking into the restaurant, you see him eating deep fried pickles, one of your favourite snacks. You sit across from him at the table. "Hey."

"Hello, Y/n. How are you?" He asks after he finishes chewing and swallowing.

You nod, "I am well. How about you?" 

"The Winchesters never cease to amaze me. They tried to bind me to them in an attempt to kill Castiel."

"Because he's been causing havoc?"

"Yes. Although their foolish endeavour was cut short."

"So, it all ended well?"

"That is to be seen."

"I reaped a murdered man today."

He fixes his gaze on you, intently trying to discern your emotions, "And?"

"And he asked me why."

"They all do."

"I couldn't answer." You sigh and steal one of his deep fried pickles, "But he took it better than others, so that was good."

"Are you tired of this?"

You frown, "Tired? Of reaping people? Of helping people come to terms with their death? Of course not. Seeing them smile when they finally reach Heaven is reward enough to make me do this for the rest of eternity. You doubt me?"

"No, I just wanted to be sure that your interests haven't changed."

"They haven't." You stand, ready to leave again.

He stands as well. You wrap your arms around his waist enjoying the moment. He hugs you back, a smile gracing his countenance. 

"Love you," you whisper.

"I love you too, Y/n," he says back.