Just a bit of cuteness after such a terrible cliffy for the season finale. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own a car, house or studio so what the heck would make you think I owned SPN?

Chapter Seventeen: Drag Queens and Kittens

After the undoubtedly scarring experience in Bristol and the somewhat admission of murder on Gabriel's part, it was unanimously decided that a drink was in order. Or three, or four, maybe ten if you were Gabriel. They were just going to drink enough to get themselves completely and totally hammered before calling a cab to get back to their new piece of crap motel room. He had to admit, it was better than the other one. Lifting the old bottle of Whiskey he had snatched from an ancient brewery that nobody had ever found, he ignored the bug-eyed look from the bartender and took a deep swallow without stopping to relish the burn.

Sam wasn't doing much better. Poor kid was drinking Tequila straight up, no rocks, no juice, hell sometimes there was barely even a glass! The look on his face spoke of massive amounts of emotional pain that would fade in time but never lose it's impact. He ignored all the lusty girl in their tube tops and short-shorts with the simple explanation of not being his brother. That was how Sam coped. Stay low, drink the bar dry and wallow in guilt like a Hippo does in mud. Ordering a new can of beer that he made damn sure was imported, Gabriel took a sip before moving on

Dean, on the other hand, was basically doing this for his brother. Every twisted look on his face brought another Brewsky to their table in the shadows. Kind of ironic, Gabriel mused. God's basically given up on us, there's no light at the end of the tunnel anymore and…there's a drag queen giving me the sex eyes. It was true. On the other side of the bar, a guy wearing a long red-haired wig and tight leather clothing was staring at him and all but licking his thoroughly lipstick-coated lips in a way that made a shudder run through Gabriel's spine. Eeeeew! It really didn't help that the way he was sitting gave him a clear view of more than just the guy's lips.

Suddenly, he decided he was drunk enough and rapidly stood to leave the God-forsaken bar before he got raped or something. Unfortunately the alcohol went to his head as well as whatever was put in it before being served to him. Great. The only archangel in history to get roofied in a bar. Now whining miserably at the pain in his stomach, Gabriel hiccupped before the alcohol decided to mess with his head again. Meaning he burst into tears. Sam and Dean looked on wide-eyed and hazily as the tears streamed down in torrents and nobody else noticed. It brought memories rushing back of the days when none of his brothers would care for him, play with him or notice him for decades and it only made him cry harder.

By now, the wails were piercing and the poor Winchesters had no idea what to do until Castiel half ran into the smelly bar to his mentor's side. After staring at his brother in utter bewilderment, he cautiously sat next to him and gave the archangel a slight pat on the back. Evidently, it wasn't enough because the screams were now bordering on angelic instead of just plain annoying. Too bad for them, because there was a shit load of Holy Oil burning through his stomach. That's not exactly something that can be ignored, especially when it starts to literally burn through one's stomach. Curling into a ball like a PMS-ing woman didn't help in the slightest.

Suddenly whipping his head to one side, he glared heatedly at the vampire now sitting calmly sitting at the bar nursing, irony of ironies, a Bloody Mary. The patrons were quickly leaving in the wake of the toilets, sinks and the nearby lake exploding into geysers and flooding the place rather rapidly. Dumb and Dumber were kneeling beside him while probably screaming at him to shut the fuck up, all in the time it took Castiel to fly his ass back to their side. Getting a hold on his pain, Gabriel grunted, "Well, this is all well and fucking jolly but now would be an excellent time to kill the drag queen sitting at the bar. Smells like v-vampire. !"

Alright. So now the Holy Oil has burnt through his stomach and is currently working on his lungs. Coughing deeply, boiling blood hissed and made a hole through the floor of the dingy bar before glowing gold as Gabriel's true form became harder to restrict. Before the Winchester's eyes could turn into a disgusting soup, Castiel made his move. Grabbing hold of the archangel's arm, he flew as fast as he could to the secluded area of Antarctica before his former mentor couldn't take it any longer. Loosing a scream that was, indeed, heard from China, Gabriel's true form burst through his vessel and thankfully didn't incinerate the Trickster. Castiel reached for the fluctuating grace with his own and tried blocking his brother from the pain. It was like a physical hug for angels. The waves of power still rolling off of the twitching bundle of feathers on the beyond frozen ground ceased as soon as he exhausted his reserves and collapsed.

The figure was barely shining, now, so it was as safe as any time to allow the Winchesters to see a true angel. Gabriel would stay this way until all of the oil was through his system so there wouldn't be any sudden bursts of grace strong enough to bring life to Mars. Standing up shakily and flaring his wings for balance, the newly poisoned archangel groaned in his lovely twenty-tiered voice and whined, "Why does this never happen to Michael or Raffy? It reminds me of the time when the Babylonians decided to make me their slave. Cassie, why is it always me?"

Castiel was then reminded of how young his brother looked in his true form. Around sixteen or seventeen and standing at a massive twelve feet tall, with a golden braid running to his waist and several smaller ones surrounding his face and a rune under his eye, yet he still looked like a baby in Heaven's eyes. Gabriel was short compared to Michael's fifteen feet and Lucifer's even more astounding sixteen feet, but taller than Raphael by a good two feet. Therefore, it was doubtful he would even fit through the door of the motel and they agreed that he would make it into a camping trip.

Not that Gabriel particularly liked camping. It was just a hell of a lot better than telling him the alternative of carving permanent sigils into his bright wings or drinking the demon's blood he so despised. The golden, pupiless eyes glared at him huffily before wincing as the fire reached into his grace to deplete it enough so that he barely shimmered at all. He now looked like a giant portrayed by the people in old England, minus the fact that he had actual personal hygiene and had no sudden urge to devour livestock. With that all cleared up, Gabriel flew himself to the forest closest to the Winchesters and set up camp the old fashioned and monotonously boring way. By hand.

To say he wasn't exactly happy with the arrangement was an understatement, as he actually mourned the loss of the stained and rumpled sheets covering the beds in the motel. The sleeping bag Castiel had provided him with did nothing to save his all but human body from the chill of night. Suddenly, a warm hand came around his back and brought with it a large smirk on the trickster angel's lips. Voice like a song, Gabriel cooed, "Mikey, did you miss me? More importantly, why didn't you come when I was screaming in agony and being flown to Antarctica? There were no penguins where I was and you know how I love penguins. Their so cute and fluffy and-"

"Gabriel," said Michael with fond exasperation on his face. "I came as soon as I was able. Raphael is asking about the strength of your grace, while Lucifer is curious as to why the Holy Oil didn't incinerate you right away from the inside-out. Although, he is glad it didn't so there is a small miracle in there somewhere considering the stark and utter horror you caused us all. Gabriel, we thought you were going to die…again. There is starting to be a trend in this manner, brother. We would greatly appreciate if you would end the streak as soon as possible." That said, Michael reached up quite awkwardly to give his brother a hug. Imagine a Chihuahua trying to intimidate a Mastiff.

In other words, not going to happen.

After he was alone again, he yawned and actually fell asleep. Angels never fall asleep. Shit, he was practically human! Gabriel had an actual human dream in a human forest surrounded by human made objects. It was worse than Hell. At least in the pit he had someone to baby him and play silly games with but now? Deadsville. Actually, it's kind of like what happened to that one town in the good ol' BC days after I accidentally drove a Mastodon through the very first human village. It was hilarious, even though Michael didn't think so. Wait…he laughed, too.

This was getting depressing. Instead of actually going out and doing something, he was reminiscing about the old days like someone's great-grandfather. At least he didn't have to walk uphill both ways through knee-deep snow to reach the shitty little schoolhouse that really needed a new roof. Then again, the endless expanse of white and gold clouds, with a smattering of very dark grey when Michael got pissy, wasn't exactly stimulating. Yes, heaven was beautiful but it was as boring as a cemetery minus the vengeful spirits and zombies. So a morgue. Yeah, a morgue would just about explain it. Of course, it got a little too entertaining after the Fall and that much excitement coming that quickly was just a bit much for the geezers with the better-than-thou tempers. That's right, they'd lost the seraphim.

Priestly bastards.

Not that priests were bastards. There were a few that Gabriel actually quite liked. Pastor Jim was amusing when he sniped at papa Winchester and Bobby to eat or meet the business end of his almighty spatula. There was this one ancient Egyptian priest that gave him sanctuary from the army chasing after him, with the added bonus of not killing him when he was told of his origins. Well….decapitation would kill most people but then, he wasn't exactly people. Speaking of decapitation, there was this one time he had to save Sammy by decapitating the vampire about to take a bite from his nine-year-old neck. The look on John's face was priceless.

Ok. So he wasn't exactly dreaming, just going through memories. Sue me. It was close enough. Actually, Gabriel was quite enjoying himself up until the point where someone muttered, "…Holy shit."

And there goes the neighborhood. Was it really too much to ask for one Winchester-free day? Or week, depending on how long the Holy Oil decided to try to kill him and how long God wanted to torture him? Gabriel was really starting to regret leaving Heaven for those two thousand years and not trying harder to sway votes to the Neanderthals. Maybe then there wouldn't be two Winchesters, a pastor and a priest who was currently all but scraping the ground with his knees in an attempt to bring about the picture of subservience. At least it wasn't Babylon.

Pastor Jim(AN: I know he died in the first season, but John and Mary came back so, Ta-Da!) wasn't exactly the picture of a man of God until you looked at his eyes, which were wide and awed now but likely wouldn't be as soon as he opened his mouth and spoke. Flaring his six golden wings mockingly at the priest, he took great pleasure in watching the idiot cringe away and…speak in tongues? Really? Gabriel had no idea why people though anyone, even God himself, could understand or even speak the 'language' without a mental impediment. Even then those with the impediment were generally saner than this…thing. Blinking at the priest dully, he drawled, "Sprekensie English?"

There were no words to describe how amazing it was to see the sheer awe in the priest's eyes and the total unimpressed quality in the pastor's. Grinning, he spoke directly to Jim and said, "Well, well, well! Jamsey boy! Good to see you hale and in one piece."

Bowing his head slightly, he murmured, "Archangel Gabriel, is it? From what the boys have told me you're quite the trickster. They also say you see things before they are to happen and I would like for you to help us with our hunt."

Well. That was straightforward. "Not even going to buy me a drink first, are you? Well, let's see… the thing you're looking for is called a Bishu, native to Asia but it doesn't always stay there. Looks like shit come to horrific life with fangs the length of your finger and a nose bigger than the state of Texas. On a map, obviously. Stands at about 4'3 with brown-red fur and is often announced by the smell of rotting human flesh which, by the way, comes from the fur they died brown with dried blood. Leaves one hell of a trail, though! Coagulated blood that flows from it's own overgrown teeth digging into it's upper lip. The jaw dislocates itself like a python's so it can eat things up to and including the height of a standing human around that guy's width. Any questions?"

Barely noticing the priest's burning look of devotion, pastor Jim stated calmly, "If you know all this then why don't you tell us where it is?"

"Isn't it obvious? Those things were around in the BC's. You know what that means? They had the opportunity to eat naïve angels in their vessels. They're so addicted to angel flesh they actually tried to command the humans to create a tower in order for them to slaughter us all and make a few massive chicken wings. They failed, obviously. The thing is, evolution did them a favor. They look like humans except for a few small details." Snagging one of the priest's gloves hands, he tore back the sleeve of his cloak and revealed the brown-red fur he'd been talking about. "Pastor, you already knew what he was. So this was either a test for me or a temptation for him. Believe me when I say, 'fuck you, and your little dog, too' wasn't in Dorothy for a reason and if there wasn't a reason for being here, I definitely wouldn't be."

Evidently, having an angel-eater standing extremely close to their General wasn't top of his garrison's priority list as the priestly Bishu screamed as the strength of a thousand bursting stars filled his bloodstream. Speaking over the sound, he continued. "Be thankful you are a man of God, James. Michael isn't very happy with you right now. On the other hand, Raphael is ecstatic to finally have a specimen to study without losing a piece of his arm. So, Pax Vobiscum and peace out. Goodbye. Alright, eedjits. Stop staring at my wings! Seriously! CAAAASSSSS!"

Guess what? No answer. Coward.

Pastor Jim didn't look too impressed with him, which severely pissed him off for some obscure reason. When Gabriel gets mad it's usually a good indicator of what should either never happen or just what would end your life in a flash of lightening or, if he really, really hated you, a monsoon. Dean angered him further by actually pointing to his wings as if Gabriel couldn't actually see them, which was ridiculous because they were and will always be attached to his body. Sam slightly cooled his temper with a dash of amusement as the wide-eyed Winchester made an effort not to look at the feathery protrusions on his back. Pastor Jim was still giving him that look of disappointment that both curdled his blood and reminded him of Michael after the Hound's romp through Joshua's gardens.

Wincing slowly as the look didn't waver, Gabriel carefully began backing away and cringing until he was up against a tree. Although he probably could have gone right through the thing, it was over two hundred years old and probably didn't want to die due to an abashed angel. So he stared straight into the pastor's strangely serious eyes and did the one thing that came naturally before all the trickery; the one sure thing he had always done to get out of the look.

He started bawling.

That got the pastor out of it. Through his alligator tears, Gabriel could see guilt forming on the man's face as he actually tried to comfort an archangel two or three times his height. It was all he could do not to make the sobs turn into full-blown gales of laughter until he accidentally stepped on one of the only pieces of the Bishu that had survived being filled with angelic grace. Of course, it had to be one of the teeth. It hurt like a bitch and with the really crummy day he was having in accordance to the universal code of baby brothers, he screamed, "MICHAEL!"

As it turns out, Michael was busy. Too busy to help his whining baby brother. So he sent Raphael to do it, only to discover that he was even worse off because of a recent accident involving God-knows-what and Balthazar, who for some inexplicable reason was missing all of his feathers and hair. Honestly, when Michael saw him even the Commander had to agree that he looked like a plucked chicken. Gabriel got a kick out of it later when he wasn't so moody. Ariella was busy skewering some attempted pedophiliac rapist somewhere in Jersey, Aziraphael was in one of his trances and Castiel was snickering silently at his predicament. So guess who they sent? The most beautiful, most adorable creature Heaven had ever created.

A kitten.

The little brown ball of fur mewled pathetically from it's spot on the ground, covered in grime from wherever Michael had poofed it from. Eyes wide in an unreadable expression, Gabriel looked at it as the little guy opened it's big blue eyes and started scooting towards him. What could he say? It was adorable. Squealing and scooping up the kitten delicately in one massive hand, he regulated his strength and stroked one of the delicate ears. Preoccupied with the kitten, he didn't notice the awkward hunters slowly backing away and giving each other strange looks that questioned, rightly, the mental capabilities of one of the very first angels in Heaven.

That was okay, though. Michael and the others weren't sure if he was actually credibly sane and always in the future or just…out there.

What followed was the most awkward get-a-way in history as well as one of the many things Lucifer would regret suggesting to Michael. It was right up there with, 'Well, let's let them build the tower of Babylon. What's the worst that could happen?…my bad,' and, 'What's this? Twenty pounds of something called chocolate? Hmmm. Well, go for it Gabe, it couldn't hurt…shit.' Because now there was an archangel, a kitten and two more archangels who didn't have the heart to take away the kitten and were now surrounded by jealous Hounds with very sharp teeth.

But Gabriel didn't care. He was too busy snuggling with his new kitty. Until it was slipped from his hands by the very same drag queen/vampire that had been eying him in the bar he'd been roofied in. The vampire took one look at his wide eyed horror before snapping it's neck in one fluid motion. He smirked in what he probably thought was a sexy rendition of the duck-lips before raising the now paralyzed but not quite dead kitten to his lips. Needless to say, it didn't get there. Not because of Gabriel, either.

As it turns out, the little critter was one of Lucifer's old hunting cats' son and mama wasn't very impressed with her newly paralyzed baby. Neither was Lucifer. Or Gabriel. Heck, none of the angels were happy with the poor little kitten's near death and were downright furious when he vampire's teeth actually made it through the kitten's already tough hide. To say there wasn't much left of him after both mama Percinua and the angels had gotten to him would be an understatement. There wasn't anything left. Of course, after he was healed by Raphael the little kitten had to go back to Heaven with Lucifer and his mother but only after being named by Gabriel.

He named it Hershey.

This is the second take of this chapter and if you want me to post the depressing failure, review and I'll make it into an extra. Sorry for taking so long with this. Apologies for anyone living in Jersey. There is not, I repeat, NOT a rapist in your city. Country. Tavern. Town…Now is a good time to bring up that I nearly failed Geography.