A/N: As much as I would wish otherwise, Supernatural and the characters in this story are not mine. Too bad, because I think Castiel could use a good hug.

The Trouble With Castiel

The situation was quite dire.

Castiel – or Godstiel – or whatever to call the thing that used to be their friend, had for some reason had a change of heart and allowed Dean, Sam and Bobby to leave the scene of transformation, death and betrayal with their minds and bodies relatively intact (more or less: in Sam's case, a little less.) Praise be for some small measure of good fortune in a day so filled with everything gone to hell.

So as soon as they were able to make it back safely to Bobby's house, they immediately went into research mode: find a way to save their friend, or at least buy some time in order to figure out what to do. And exactly what could be done, anyway? It isn't like this sort of thing happened on a regular basis, there wasn't any tried-n-true strategy for ridding an angel who was full to bursting with corrupted monster souls…even in the bizarre world of Hunters who have seen just about everything and anything possible, this problem was a new one.

But Sam found a spell in an archaic book from the pile that Bobby had handed him…a spell that might give them some breathing room from the vengeful new god. Not ideal, or even permanent…but something to keep both them alive and whoever other poor sods had the misfortune to run afoul of a Castiel out for a little Heavenly paybacks.

Then too there was the whole other concern of what was surely going to happen to Cas when those Purgatory monster souls and God only knows what else started chewing their way out of their friend…..it was bad news all around, and whatever they did, they would have to be on it, like, yesterday.

So Dean made a grocery run for all the various ingredients for the spell, and Sam and Bobby put their heads together and prepared for the ritual in the open area of the old garage. Sigils were drawn, implements were laid out, and incantations were rehearsed.

That afternoon, at 1300 hours sharp, they performed the spell that would (hopefully) banish (temporarily) their former angel friend Castiel to some other reality…and then pray they had enough of a breather to be able to seriously tackle the problem and find a more happy and permanent fix for Cas.

Which is how, in the middle of scaring the bejeezus out of some Evangelical Christians gathered together in an over-long church service, Castiel was yanked out from our reality and sent elsewhere.

Elsewhere being the bridge of the USS Enterprise.

Needless to say, it was surprise all around.

Everyone remained frozen in place for a second. Not that the Enterprise hadn't had it's fair share of surprise from advanced alien races popping in from time to time, but so far this was the first time one had shown up wearing a tan trench coat, dark suit and rather messy tie.

Castiel/Godstiel stared around him in confusion for a second – all the millions of souls shouting and carrying on inside his head making it difficult to focus – and then he was able to sense that the place he found himself was an entirely different reality and the magic was missing in this one.

This could be a problem.

But not for a super-charged angel-god like himself, or at least, not one that couldn't be overcome after a period of reflection and problem-solving. So he thought.

Because at that very moment, the cosmic wringer that he had just been squeezed through to shove him into this alternate universe was the straw that broke the camel's back…or rather, the tipping point that caused the crack in his Grace that was the only thing holding in all those monstrous energies from the depths of Purgatory.

Except…this universe was different. There was no magic here, no supernatural forces.

So what came out of Castiel as his vessel exploded in a blinding flash of light was…tribbles.

Hundreds, no – thousands, of tribbles.

It was quite the sight to behold.

When the light faded, and the dazzle cleared from everyone's eyes, the bridge crew of the Enterprise found themselves knee-deep in tribbles…the cute, small, furry, cooing creatures that were just as surely from Hell as those monster souls ever were.

Castiel, de-fused and now back to his former angel status, was buried under a multi-colored pile of furballs, passed out from the experience but in the brief moment of clarity before slipping unconscious his first thought was: "Free." Then, "What the hell?"

Kirk's first thought was "Oh, no…not again."