Chapter — The Gloves Never Come Off
The rain fell like shattered glass from the heavens.
Smoke curled from the wreckage of twisted metal, the scent of burning oil choking the air.
Daniel stood still, drenched in blood, rain, and loss.
The Reapers circled, shadows without faces, waiting to collect the souls trapped inside the mangled remains of the car.
But they hesitated.
Because Death was already here.
Because Daniel was Death now.
The car door creaked open, jagged shards cutting into his palms as he peeled it back.
Inside, his mother — bleeding, barely breathing — looked up.
Her eyes softened as they met his, though confusion flickered there.
"Daniel…?" Her voice cracked like fragile glass. "Is it… really you?"
His throat tightened, but his face remained carved from stone.
"It's me, Mom."
His father groaned from the passenger side, blood trickling from his temple, one arm hanging at an impossible angle.
"Took you long enough, son…" He managed a smirk despite the agony. "Thought… you'd be taller."
Daniel almost smiled — almost.
Then his gaze fell to the back seat.
Her.
His little sister.
Barely ten.
Crushed by the impact, her small body twisted at an unnatural angle, eyes fluttering weakly as life slipped from her.
"Danny…" Her voice was barely a whisper.
He knelt beside her, rain dripping from the edges of his coat.
"Hey, little troublemaker."
She tried to smile, blood staining her lips. "You… look different."
"I am."
She blinked slowly, her soul already trembling at the veil's edge.
"Is this… the end?" she asked, fear cracking her words.
Daniel clenched his fists, fighting the quake inside him.
"No," he whispered. "Just the beginning… for you."
His mother's hand brushed his shoulder, weak but insistent.
"You always… had something… special," she rasped, each word heavy with pain.
His father coughed a dry laugh. "Never thought… it'd be this."
Daniel's grip tightened around the scythe that shimmered faintly in his hand.
"I didn't want this," he confessed, the last tremor of humanity lacing his tone.
"But you are this," his mother said gently, brushing his cheek with bloodied fingers. "You always were."
The Reapers lingered, shadows curling with patience.
But Daniel waved them off.
This was his to do.
His final act as their son.
Their brother.
Their reaper.
One by one, he touched their foreheads, guiding their souls free with precision — no pain, no lingering fear.
His father smirked as his essence lifted, voice laced with bittersweet pride.
"Make the bastards up there nervous, boy."
His mother kissed his hand, her spirit shimmering.
"We love you… even like this."
His sister's soul, fragile and bright, hovered before him.
"Will you… be okay?" she asked, eyes wide.
Daniel's heart, fractured beyond repair, barely answered.
"I'll… manage."
"I'll wait for you," she promised, fading beyond the veil.
And just like that — they were gone.
And so was Daniel.
The rain washed away the blood, but not the scars.
He stood over their bodies, his expression empty, eyes dark as collapsing stars.
The Reapers bowed, vanishing into shadow.
The First Death approached, skeletal, eternal.
"It's done."
Daniel said nothing.
He reached into his coat, pulling out the black leather gloves — old, cracked, worn from centuries past.
He slipped them on, fingers flexing.
They would never come off again.
His humanity?
Buried.
His heart?
Dead.
His purpose?
Inevitable.
The sky tore open.
Wings of light unfolded as the heavens peeled back.
God descended — no crown, no throne — just presence, raw and vast.
Lucifer hovered nearby, smirking faintly.
Amenadiel stood silent, eyes full of mourning.
Daniel didn't bow.
Didn't flinch.
"You watched," Daniel stated, voice devoid of warmth. "You saw."
God nodded, heavy with sorrow. "I did."
"You let them die."
"I honored the natural order."
Daniel's gloves creaked as his fists clenched.
"You could've saved them."
"It's not that simple."
Daniel's eyes burned with quiet rage. "You're God. It should be."
The universe quaked under the weight of his words.
Lucifer chuckled darkly, enjoying the defiance.
Amenadiel looked away, unable to bear it.
God exhaled, centuries lacing his sigh.
"If I bend for you… I bend for all."
Daniel stepped forward, the ground cracking beneath his boots.
"I carried them myself. I severed their ties. I sent their souls."
His voice hardened to steel.
"And you… stood there."
"They're safe," God whispered.
"They're gone," Daniel corrected.
A void stretched between them, heavy with unsaid truths.
"You have their love," God offered softly.
"I buried it with them."
God's shoulders slumped.
"I mourn for you, Daniel."
Daniel's expression stayed cold, the gloves sealing his fingers like a second skin.
"Don't."
He turned, the storm following his steps, his scythe glinting at his side.
Lucifer watched with quiet respect.
Amenadiel's wings drooped, eyes damp.
The First Death placed a hand on Daniel's shoulder, ancient eyes meeting his.
"You feel nothing now."
"Good."
She nodded.
"You are truly Death."
Daniel vanished into shadow, the storm swallowing him whole.
The gloves?
They stayed on.
Forever.
The man?
Gone.
The brother, the son?
Buried.
Only Death remained.
And Death never forgave.
And Death never loved again.
End of Chapter