A/N: Prompt by yetanotherpromptsblog: "Isn't it time we set this story in motion?"
God sat at his writing desk. Well, it wasn't exactly a writing desk. On Tuesdays it was a chest filled with divine objects he had yet to finish creating — just so many tricky things to get figured out. And he'd invented Tuesdays, but for now, Tuesdays were sometimes Wednesdays, or maybe they were the idea one of his angels had come up with: "weekends." Sometimes it was that day he was thinking of getting rid of between Thursday and Friday: Loensday. Too many ideas, but more time than anything ever. He would know. He'd invented time. It'd be amusing watching the humans try to figure that one out. Based on his other universes they'd just think it was the movement of the planets, and they'd make clocks, a device that was based off of the movement of "heavenly" bodies. Hilarious.
They were clever though too, and brilliant. Which was why God was sitting at his writing desk, writing down gifts for Lucifer and Michael. They hadn't requested any, but he was their father. It was his job to create. Things had yet to get started, but that was because he was still finishing up. Light was a recent creation. Animals were all waiting to live upon the Earth, if only as microorganisms to start with, to really get things going.
The first gift he was working on — which he was almost finished with — was for Michael: Dean Winchester.
Humans tended to be too weak to hold celestial beings. He'd made his own body, but it was still his, still God-like. The others, well, they were weak, and he feared making all of them stronger would lead to destruction. So he'd created a select few ahead of time that could hold angels. And then, there were those who could hold his favorite sons, could be one with them. Why wouldn't he give them something to use to walk the Earth, his most favored creation? Why wouldn't he let them in amongst his most beautiful creations? They were his first children, after all. They deserved to see the fruits of his labor.
There was a knock on his door/not-door (for the moment it decided it wanted to show up as a floating decahedron, and God let it).
"Come in," he called, finishing up the details of Dean Winchester. He'd just written about his numerous freckles.
The decahedron disappeared, and in its place was now the hundred-foot high figure of Azrael, their multiple eyes glowing, animal horns sprouting from their many heads. God put his quill in the inkwell and just rolled his eyes.
"Azrael, what have I told you about taking a vessel from the FESV?" The FESV stood for the Future Earth Storage Vault, and God had recently decided that acronyms were in, and boring, long names were out.
The voice that answered was a boom, but also simultaneously a high-pitched chime: "Sorry, my lord."
God looked on with discontent, and then rolled his eyes. "You are forgiven, my child. What is it?"
"I — well, a few of my siblings and I — we… uh, were wondering when things were going to get started."
God raised his eyebrows. "Get started?"
The angel nodded with all of their heads.
"If you're really that anxious that you see it fit to question me, why don't you go oversee fish duty with Gabriel?"
"Yes, my lord."
Azrael bowed, and then they were gone. This time, instead of the door/not-door to God's office being a floating decahedron, it was just a pit. He shook his head, not liking that. The darkness in the amorphous pit reminded him all too much of his sister. If he was God, then she was a bitch. Oh wait, he was.
God snapped his fingers, and it finally became a door. At least, for now. Things were still shifting in this existence between existences. Once he'd wholly created the universe, everything would settle.
As he got to writing down the name, "Sam Winchester," another knock came.
God sighed heavily, but didn't put his quill down. He kept writing.
Sam would be like Dean, raised in an abusive home for the goal of hunting monsters. But that was only to lead them to their true, glorious purpose — belonging to his sons. Sam was four years younger than Dean, and he would grow taller than him. Sam would be taller than must humans. And kind. So kind. But not to the point of it being boring. It would be beautiful.
The knock came again.
"Go! Away!"
The door opened, and God had to calm himself so he wouldn't throw his quill that had now decided it was going to be a ball-point pen.
Lucifer popped his head in, not appearing in a vessel, but still looking human through the use of his Archangelic Grace. It was something God had wanted him to do, have him get used to the human body, so that Sam wouldn't be a problem for him. Right now he looked like a human that God decided he would later create. Nick. His hair was blonde, his eyes blue, and he looked soft and kind.
"Sorry, Dad, but—"
He waved his hand and got back to working on Sam Winchester. As far as time went, he was almost done while at the same time just getting started. Both existed at once. "Yes, yes," he said, "Azrael was just in here."
"No, not that, but—"
"Is there a problem with your aunt?"
"No."
"Then…" God trailed off, looking up at Lucifer, who had fully stepped into the white, and gold room.
"I just wanted to see what you were doing."
"Would you believe me if I told you it was a surprise?"
"You said that about the rainbow."
"Alright." He beckoned with his hand. "Come over."
Lucifer came over, and put a hand on the back of God's golden chair. The other rested against his desk, and he read out loud over his shoulder, "Dean Winchester."
"Look lower."
"Sam Winchester. Who are they?"
"Dean's for your brother, his vessel. Now this one, this one," he said, tapping the end of his pen against the Sam he'd created on the page, "is my personal favorite. He's the best. Made just for you."
"For me? Really?" Lucifer seemed pleasantly surprised, and his voice was filled with fondness. Ah, he was God's favorite.
"I want you to be able to join with him, live through him."
"Is he strong?"
"The strongest. Here, let me show you."
God twisted his body and then put two of his fingers to Lucifer's forehead. It wasn't particularly images or future memories that God placed in his head, but information, in colors, sound, dimensions that he hadn't yet invented words for, and that humans never would. With all of it there was beauty, perfection. He knew Lucifer got the information because a dreamy smile spread over his face.
His voice was almost low, and lustful (God was going to have to take care of that), as he spoke, "Sam."
God pulled his fingers away, and then picked up his pen, finishing up the last details.
Lucifer watched him finish, and then as God leaned back, his son asked, "Isn't it time we set this story in motion?"
God began to rub his hands together in circular motions, gold light coming out from them, reflecting in the blue of his eyes. Reality swirled around them as the sentient photons and celestial intent that were his children, began to have Heaven solidified about their matter and wavelengths and pure, brilliant existence. God spread his hands apart, but had them in fists now, the air humming, and his creations and plans all took over his thoughts at once, but in particular, Sam and Dean Winchester.
God clapped his hands together.
The world started.
He smiled, excited and overjoyed for the story that was to come with the Winchester brothers.
"I think it's time we do."