Fear not, Stewie tells me that this one is set quite some time into the future Earthside (linear time means so little to a Hellhound, wherever he is). Lemmy and Lars were grizzled veterans who went down fighting at an advanced age, like Jimi Jr before them. Another pup is probably Choosing the Winchesters as this happens, maybe one of the pups that RJ and his friends were playing with at the sleep-over in 'Escapees From The Plot Bunny Pen'. Don't be too sad: they were ageing, and they went out together, protecting their Hunters. You already know that for Hunters' dogs, it is the way of things, and they are content with that.

Chapter Two

It was hard to say why Jimi Senior, the Hellhound who had been inadvertently summoned to the Hunt by Dean Winchester and remodelled into a large, handsome Rottweiler had such itchy feet. After all, the Garden of Companions was expressly intended to be paradise for pets.

For the dogs, there were lakes to swim in (complete with dead stuff to roll in on the waterline), tyre swings to swing on, enormous baskets of toys that went squeak, honk or boi-oi-oi-oi-oing, treat balls of all shapes and sizes hanging from trees, ball throwers that never stopped, designated digging areas, sofas that were there to be jumped on, slept on, peed on or shredded. Some of the Heralds even took it in turns to drive cars and trucks around so that dogs could ride with their heads out the windows or over the sides to enjoy the breeze. They would even dress up as mailmen, and flutter around at ground level for the dogs to chase. (The theory about Jimi Senior's propensity to chase Heralds was that, in his short mortal life, he never had a chance to chase mailmen, and that left something unsatisfied deep down in his doggy soul.)

Gabriel was quite fond of They, maybe because they were so full of guileless doggy mischief (well, except for Lars: he turned out to be quite the schemer, to the point where Gabriel came to wonder if he'd actually split in half when Father had recalled him, and the dog was in fact his evil twin). Of course, being Gabriel, and most senior of God's Messengers, sometimes he liked to take the mailman thing one step further: he would put on his full battle armour, then wrap himself in bacon and run through the Garden, yelling "Come and get it!", then laugh like a loon as he rolled around rassling with They, as They clamouring to eat his trappings.

It could've been because Jimi had been born a Hellhound, freed of the usual constraints of time and space that other mortal creatures grew up with. It could've been because he'd had a short but eventful taste of life on the road, travelling with his Hunters. It you've moved from Hellside to Topside and taken physical form, obeying the limiting and restricting laws of terrestrial physics, then moving from one pantheon to another is a walk in the path by comparison.

Once he was Waiting, he often went back to visit Hell. He liked to visit Orgle, play with Phlegmgob the imp, and chew on Crowley's suits, then spend some quality romping time with his relatives amongst the Infernal Pack. He seemed to have a special fondness for Crowley's companion, his grand-pup Gedda the Teacup Hellpoodle, who was universally acknowledged amongst the demonic Hierarchy of Hell to be the second most terrifying hound in the Infernal Pack, exceeded in demon-shredding only by the Alpha dog, Chevrolet (another of Jimi Sr's grand-pups).

Jimi Senior was also regular visitor to Valhalla, where he liked to rassle with Odin's wolves, Geri and Freki, while the one-eyed old Allfather roared with laughter, and tossed him choice bones and morsels from the table. He also developed an unfortunate habit of chewing on the handle bindings of Mjolnir. Occasionally, he would steal the hammer, and be found trying to bury it in the Firmament, which would result in a message from Danael, and Danariel having to write a scroll of apology to Thor. Fortunately, the thunder god was a dog person and always laughed it off as funny; however, Denariel tried to make herself scarce if he came to fetch his hammer himself, because he had a habit of making what she supposed were intended as flattering remarks about her appearance, and slapping her bottom.

So when he went missing, there was a process in place to try to track him down: diplomatic communiqués were issued, a Messenger of the Host would head for one of his regular haunts, and Castiel would be informed so that he would be ready to enact a rapid diplomatic response to any incidents, such as approval of any expenditure required for dry cleaning.

For Jimi Senior, ex-Hellhound, Hunters' dog and one of Heaven's most relentlessly cheerful residents, going missing was not really terribly unusual.

But this particular incident was unusual in that the notification that something was wrong did not originate in Heaven.

...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo...

Castiel, Sheriff of Heaven, was diligently revising a document destined for the Archives, taking care to make the alterations indicated by the Red Pen Of Fury, when the cell phone he kept with him started to play 'Short People' by Randy Newman (Sam had programmed it for him, and this time, he did understand the reference).

"Hello, Crowley," he began.

"She's gone!" yelped the panicked voice at the other end of the call, "She's gone! Castiel, Gedda is gone! And it's ALL YOUR FAULT!"

Castiel cocked his head in confusion. "Calm yourself, Crowley," he instructed, "And please be assured that, if your Hellpoodle has gone missing, I had nothing to do with it. Hell is a large dimension; are you certain that she has not just gone out to play somewhere? Gone to enjoy one of her favourite pastimes?"

"No she hasn't!" yapped Crowley irritably, "Orgle and I have looked everywhere! She's not in the Pit, snapping up tidbits from the racks, she's not snoozing in my bidet, she's not in the Throne Room tearing the trousers off senior demonic nobility, she's not splashing around in the Lake of Fire, she's not in the Pit of Perverted Predators – she loves to stand behind the little guillotine they use, and gobble up the bits they cut off..."

"Dogs are very much pack animals," Castiel reminded him, "Perhaps she has sought the company of her relatives within the Infernal Pack?"

"I'll tell you what the problem is, mate," Crowley shrilled, "One of her relatives has sought her out! It's that bloody Jimi again! I know it was him, because the arse has been torn out of two of my suits, and the miserable bugger has done wee in my shoes again..."

"If that is the case, you have nothing to fear," Castiel reassured the worried King of Hell, "She is completely safe in his company. He will allow not harm to come to her. Indeed, she is a dog capable of defending herself; was there not a rumour of her having put Duke Belaal, universally acknowledged as the demon keenest to depose you, to flight, by rending his garments and attacking his private parts?"

"She shouldn't have to defend herself!" Crowley shrieked, "She shouldn't be out running around who knows where, with that animal! What's he doing running around, anyway? Why is he not where he should be? It's irresponsible of you, Castiel! If you're going to keep animals, you should keep them where they are supposed to be! It's the custodian's responsibility to ensure that they don't escape! A dog's soul is for its owner's life, not just for Christmas!"

"Might I remind you," Castiel pointed out mildly, "That Jimi Senior was born Belisarius, Alpha of the Infernal Pack, before he left Hell to Hunt with the Winchesters. So, if we are to discuss the appropriate enclosure of dogs by their 'custodians', perhaps you might consider that.."

"Yes, yes," snapped Crowley, "The point is, the point is, Castiel, the point is that Gedda is now missing, in the company of that, that, that turncoat, that traitor, that Rottweiler-shaped reprobate! This is a serious situation! And I demand that you do something about it! I demand to know where she is! I demand that you make arrangements for me to fetch her home at once! Oh, my poor little Gedda, it's time for her walkies..."

"You are correct, Crowley," Castiel decided, "The situation is indeed serious. Jimi Senior's propensity to go visiting is already known, but if he is in the company of another, Hellside full-blood Hellhound, this could provoke a diplomatic incident with another pantheon. I think it is prudent for you to fetch her back as soon as possible, and I shall make arrangements to have a Herald of appropriate seniority accompany you."

"Well, yes," Crowley subsided somewhat, mollified a little, "So you should. Send me one of your flapping brainless yes-men to make the appropriate introductions. And do the navigating. I got lost last time I travelled to another pantheon, and I haven't had a chance to ask Orgle to program the Diabolical Positioning System for me. I want the voice changed, too, I don't want Darth Vader telling me where to go."

"Very well," agreed Castiel, "I shall make arrangements directly."

He cut the call, and did what Dean Winchester would have referred to as put out a call over Radio Angel.

Brother, are you there?

The answer came back to him almost immediately.

Yo, baby bro! 'Sup? You sick of flying the desk? Wanna blow this joint, get some candied popcorn, and watch inappropriate movies? Dean was wrong, you know, It's actually okay to watch it with another dude, provided you keep your hands in your own popcorn tub...

Castiel suppressed a sigh.

Gabriel, where are you?

Uh, even via celestial telepathic communication, God's Messenger sounded sheepish. I'm with the Healers at the moment, but it's all gooooOOOOOer, cold hands! How does that even happen? You're a multi-dimensional waveform of therapeutic celestial intent, and you got cold hands? What the fornicate?

There is an important task, Castiel relayed, Requiring the seniority, authority and dignity of a senior Herald. But if you are injured...

I'm fine, Gabriel interrupted, Just some singeing, and now possibly frostbite of the pinions, seriously, you need to wear gloves or something, I've snogged Jotun maidens who were warmer that this!. Be right with you, Castiel. As soon as the Ice Maiden here stops groping meeeeEEEEE...

A few moments later, Gabriel stood before his little brother, grinning and flapping his six wings. He had some singed feathers, a cut above one eye, and the remains of a shiner. "So, Sheriff Castiel, what's the job that's so important it needs my awesomeness to deal with it?"

Oh dear. Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear oh dear. Crowley and Gabriel travelling together are entirely capable of provoking a diplomatic incident all by themselves, I fear...

Stewie says that the reviews so far tasted very nice, and if you feed him some more, he will continue this tale. They also make the fickriter rite fics, although I prefer my reviews chocolate coated. But I'll take the carrot-flavoured ones. Or the celery flavoured ones. And I hate celery. I'd even take Brussels sprout flavoured ones. That's just what a sad, desperate and pathetic review addict I am...