The Man Who Knew Too Little
Ch. 2: by Clubs
Dean looked at Death with a look that would have been confused had his brother not been writhing in agony on the ground across the room from him. Because of that fact, the hunter's expression was more impatient and exasperated.
"What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded of the Horseman, who looked back at him, simply looking annoyed.
"That is not an angel of the Lord." He said, barely glancing at Castiel, whose main focus was on Sam, but who was looking towards Death at the moment, listening. "At least, not anymore."
"...what?" Dean asked, looking from Death to Castiel and back again, as if expecting one of them to start laughing or say "April fools!"
Needless to say, neither of them did. And it didn't seem like Death was going to elaborate without some prompting, so it was up to Bobby to take control of the situation and find out what the hell was going on.
"Well then what is he?" he asked. Death looked as though he may put a gun to his own head at the sheer stupidity he saw in the question.
"I believe I already told you. God. The original God. The supposed creator of all." The Horseman said. He didn't seem particularly bothered by the fact itself, just the fact that it had come as a surprise to him.
Sam's screams suddenly ceased as Castiel, or God as they now had been told he was, replaced the barrier in the younger Winchester's head. His full attention was on Death now, and he was smirking, a slightly amused glint in his ice cold eyes.
"Well, Death. I'm impressed."
"I don't see why," Death replied smoothly, "surely you can't expect me, a Horseman, to have such dull senses as to not sense such a powerful aura." He raised the cup of tea he had been drinking throughout his conversation with the Winchesters and Bobby to his lips. "I could smell you a mile away." He took a sip.
Castiel/God raised his eyebrows, skeptical of the Horseman's words.
"If that was the case, why were you surprised when I came here? Surely you were not expecting this."
"No, I must admit that I was not. However, I've gotten quite used to sensing you on Earth. Changing bodies did not alter the scent of you at all, so how was I to know what form you had taken?"
Dean had no idea how to react to this. Death and God were just idly chatting like old acquaintances while the deity was using his closest friend's body as his personal meat suit. Okay, technically it wasn't Castiel's body, but it was his vessel, and that was close enough, dammit.
"Yeah, I'm actually wondering about that too." He spoke up, and both God and Death turned to look at him, mild interest on their faces. "See, I don't know if you've noticed, oh great and powerful creator or whatever, but that vessel is occupado. By my friend. Who just happens to be one of your kids, too." Dean's words were his usual tough and slightly mocking banter, but in his head he was scared shitless. Where was Cas, if this wasn't him in his vessel? Was he still in there somehow? Bound and gagged by his own father? His creator? Or was he forced back up to heaven? He internally shuddered at the memory of the last time his angel had been forced back there against his will. They had almost brainwashed him completely. And if God himself was intervening now...who knew what kind of shit they were in.
"Hardly," God answered, tone dismissive, "what kind of a son would openly go against my will? Go against what I had planned for the world?" he sighed, with almost a hint of regret in his eyes, but not quite. "I had hoped that he would come around, see how things were meant to be if I showed him my will to bring him back from death. But I suppose I was the one at fault. This only led him further down the self-destructive path of attempting freedom from what is meant to be."
Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Self-destructive path? He was just trying to do what he thought was right! What about all those times he asked you for help? For guidance? Where the fuck were you then?"
"Dean..." Sam muttered quietly, a warning to his hot-headed brother that maybe pissing off what was arguably the most powerful being in the universe wasn't such a good idea. Dean ignored him in favor of glaring at said being, ignoring the cold prickle he felt in his chest at the familiarity of the eyes that were staring back at him.
"I'm not sure you understand the magnitude of what it is to be the creator of all, Dean. Every day, thousands upon thousands pray to me, asking of me so much. I hear them all, all the time. One little voice of a lost angel does not grab my attention. Especially if said angel is going against me."
To everyone in the room's surprise (or maybe just the humans, it was hard to tell with Death and God), Dean laughed at those words. It was a harsh, bitter laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.
"Wow. You know, I thought I knew something about douche fathers, but you," he shook his head, still laughing, "you take the damn cake, you know that?"
"Call me what you like Dean. Either way, it's you who's going to pay the price in the end."
"What, are you going to smite me?" Another snort. God smirked at the hunter's words.
"No, of course not. I just think it would be quite the impossible miracle if you two managed to stop the Apocalypse a second time."
A/N: Okay, well I'm really excited about the whole season 7 premier that just aired earlier tonight. So I think that officially makes this an AU fic (not that there was any real possibility that this would actually happen, but whatever). Either way, hope you like this chapter. Apparently I overuse the word "expression", so I tried to limit that, if that's even possible for me. And yes, I realize it's short, but it looked a lot longer on word, and that was really the best part to stop at. Please do not smite me for giving you another cliffhanger (FYI: God is really fun to write for. I'm probably going to hell for this).