Dean: Hey! HEY!

Lampito: What?

Dean: I am NOT serving cookies like this!

Lampito: You don't like the colour? I only made it pink because that's what aeicha wrote. Would you prefer blue? How about black? Nice, shiny, satiny black...

Dean: Listen, you pathetic review addict, I am NOT serving ANYBODY cookies wearing nothing but an apron!

Lampito: Suit yourself. *the eebil fickriter taps at keyboard* There. Better?

Dean: AAAAARRRRGGGGGGGGGH! *runs away*

Sam (doing double take): Did I just see Dean run through here wearing nothing but oven gloves?

Lampito: Technically there was also a tray of cookies. *hands him apron* Try this on Stretch. Can you balance a tray on each hand?

CHAPTER FOUR

"They aint payin' us enough for this," muttered Sam mutinously.

"For the record, I aint enjoying this any either," Bobby informed him, "But right now it's all we got. So, quit your whinin', gentlemen, and assume the position." Stiffly, he knelt, and the Winchesters joined him. Jimi trotted forward, and dropped in a show of solidarity. "Well, don't just kneel there, boy," Bobby told Dean, "Make with the adoration."

"Yeah, yeah," griped Dean, putting his hands together and clearing his throat. "Okay. Er... now I lay me down to sleep..."

"Except we aint," Bobby pointed out.

"Right, right," Dean stuttered to a halt. "Uh... our Castiel, who art in... where was he seen last?"

"Saigon. Shit," answered Sam.

"Oh, yeah, our Castiel, who art in Vietnam, hallowed be thy name, uh, no, wait... Hail Castiel, full of souls from Purgatory, the Leviathans are with thee..."

"Tactful, real tactful," huffed Bobby.

"I'm trying! Um... Dear Castiel, our friend and our god, who would save the ignorant from drinking sewage and the foolish from trying to copy the pizza man, hello from Sioux Falls. We are all well, except for Sam, on account of you having punched a hole in the wall in his head like a total dick..."

"Smooth as an android's bottom," commented Sam, eyes rolling.

"Shut up... We are all well, more or less. The weather here continues warmer..."

Bobby glared pointedly at him.

"Yeah, so, er, we're all doing okay, and we were wondering, how are you? Congratulations on your toffee wall, it's very impressive. And I laughed out loud at the North Korean rocket. We were very sorry to hear that people keep drinking sewage in your name, that must be very frustrating when you are just trying to help. So, uh, if you have time in your busy schedule to, you know, drop by, if you find you need a break from the people with small dicks and rocket launchers and immaculate babies and stuff, we'd be really pleased to hear from you, because we're, uh, a bit worried about you, and it would be nice to thank you personally for your efforts, because it can't be easy trying to make everybody happy, and the doughnut tree thing, totally awesome, so if you'd, er, like to, you know, come on by for some worship and adoration, we'd be really grateful. Amen."

"Amen," echoed Bobby and Sam dutifully.

"So, now what?" griped Dean.

"I guess we wait," shrugged Bobby.

"Outstanding," huffed Sam. "Now all we need is a deck of cards."

"If his holy accountantness thinks I'm going to wait around with bated breath for him to show his feathery ass, he can think again," Dean stated, "I'll be outside working on my car, my wrecked car, my wrecked car that is like that because of a certain flying..."

There was a flap of wings and trench-coat.

"Hello Dean."

Dean jumped like he'd been stung. "Jesus Christ, Cas, how many times do I have to say it? Personal! Fucking! Space! How the hell can you..." he gradually trickled to a halt, as Castiel stared at him hard.

"I don't wanna explode," said Sam in a small voice.

"I mean," Dean went on hurriedly, "It's not... appropriate for a god to be so close to one of his... subjects, is it? There should be, uh," he waved a hand vaguely, "A respectful distance between the divine person of the, er, divine person, and the, um, humble mortal, in order to show proper respect, and reverence, and... respect."

Castiel's face broke into a small, benevolent smile. "My apologies," he said, "It was not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable with the close proximity of my divine self."

"No, no, no, that's fine," Dean assured him, "It's just a bit... overwhelming, you know? For all of us." Sam and Bobby nodded vigorously. "What with you being our god now. Our better, benevolent, car-mangling god..."

"We are overwhelmed that you have time to visit us, your... godness," Bobby cut in smoothly, "When clearly, you have so much important work to do, ministering to the hungry, the sick, the oppressed..."

"The wrecked, the quote-obsessed," Dean added under his breath. Sam elbowed him viciously.

"It was pleasing to me to receive your prayer," Castiel smiled gently, "As we last parted under... unfortunate circumstances."

"Unfortunate," Dean nodded slowly, "Yep, definitely unfortunate, cannot possibly disagree with you there."

"But now that you are here, we can clear that up," Bobby nodded sagely, "Because you were our friend before you were our god, and it gives us great comfort and happiness to see you again."

"I'm so excited, and I just can't hide it," Sam sang, twirling a finger in the air and wiggling his hips, "I'm about to lose control and I think I like it..."

Castiel gave him a strange look, then smiled again. "Thank you, Sam," he murmured, "There has been a certain amount of hymn-singing, but nobody has done a dance unto me before. I am... honoured by your gesture of joyful worship."

"Yes, well, we're glad you like it," Dean told him, "Because quotes are, unfortunately, all he can come up with since..."

"Since that unfortunate incident with the wall," Bobby cut him off, elbowing him.

"Although, we quite like it, really," said Dean airily, sarcasm dripping from every word, "I'm thinking of having him painted yellow and black and changing his name to Bumblebee."

"I will gouge out your eyeballs and skull-fuck you..." Sam hissed at Dean under his breath.

Castiel gave Sam another hard look, and his expression became... sheepish.

"It is... regrettable that such an unfortunate incident occurred," he said finally, waving a hand at Sam.

"... Because you are a total jerk, Dean, and if you weren't my brother..." he stuttered to a halt.

Bobby's eyebrows shot up. "Has Chuck written a movie script for his 'Supernatural' books?" he asked, looking suspicious.

"I don't know," replied Dean, eyeing his brother cautiously. "Say something only you would say, Sam."

"Sam looked nonplussed. "You're a jerk, you drink too much, you have an unnatural relationship with your car, and you are emotionally constipated," he pronounced. "Hey!" he went on in amazement, "I'm not talking in quotes any more! The wall must be fixed!"

"Good! That's good!" Dean practically sagged with relief. "And about time, too."

"Thank you, O Castiel, for granting this boy, uh, renovation," intoned Bobby. "Amen."

"Amen," chorused the Winchesters.

"It is my pleasure," said Castiel. With a small sigh he sat down on the sofa.

"How have you been, your godness?" asked Bobby solicitously. "How are the divine revelations working out?"

Castiel's expression was slightly pained. "They have been more... complicated than I had anticipated," he replied finally. "Humanity has been more... confusing than I had anticipated."

"Humans will do that," Bobby nodded sympathetically. "Aint no animal on the planet more confusin' than human beings."

Castiel sat silently looking at his hands for a moment.

"I don't understand," he burst out in exasperation, "I first appeared at a place that people deem holy and explained that I was their god now, and they... they asked the strangest questions. I manifested from thin air before them, six feet off the ground, and they would not believe me!"

"It's the electronic age," Sam shook his head sadly, "People don't believe something until they see it on the TV, or it turns up as an internet meme."

"And then, they got it into their heads that drinking contaminated water was somehow holy!" the upgraded angel went on in bewilderment. "It wasn't even from the spring they thought of as holy, it was from a garden hose! Even after I told them, they kept drinking it! Even now, when it makes them sick, they still drink it!"

"They can be stubborn that way," Dean nodded, "They get hold of some idea, and no matter how much proof to the contrary you show them, they just will not let it go. They're like limpets on a rock, like pitbulls on a crippled grandmother, like social workers on a child..."

"I healed lepers in India," Castiel related plaintively, "And when they regained their feet and legs and arms, they used their walking sticks to hit each other, because of some were born into different castes, a thing over which they have absolutely no control. At least when they were missing limbs they could not assault each other..."

"Some prejudices run so deep, they're beyond reasoning and rationale," consoled Bobby.

"I tried to put things in writing, systematically," Castiel almost wailed, "And all people can do is ask for clarification of ever more obscure and unlikely scenarios! I do believe," his face hardened momentarily, "That if I hear the phrase 'Yeah, but...' one more time, I may in fact smite the offender."

"Doesn't that just drive you nuts when people get like that?" sympathised Dean. "Pick, pick, pick, always looking for loopholes."

"Homo sapiens is the only species that ever invented lawyers," nodded Sam sagely. "Or needed to."

"They are never satisfied," bemoaned the new god, "The things they pray for, the endless list! Everything from 'world peace' and 'global harmony', which is never going to happen while the lepers keep hitting each other – what am I supposed to do, infect the entire planet with leprosy until their arms fall off? – to the trivial, the ridiculous, the impossible and the bewildering! A larger bank balance! The declaration of cabbage as a chemical munition! A 'flying broomstick like Harry's'! Smaller hips, larger breasts, and longer legs! Oh, and the smiting requests, everything from 'Turn the man next door to turn into a weasel' to 'Wipe the country next to us off the map'! X-ray vision to look at a classmate's undergarments to see what colour they are!"

"X-ray vision to look at a girl's panties?" Sam looked astonished. "Who the hell prays for x-ray vision to look at a girl's panties?"

"A schoolboy in Idaho," Castiel replied. "I was... flabbergasted. I do not believe that any American schoolboy has ever prayed for such a gift before."

Their attention was on Castiel, so nobody noticed Dean's face colour slightly.

"That's humans for you," Bobby stated, "Give 'em an inch, and they'll take a mile. There's a reason that Greed and Envy had to be declared Deadly Sins."

"It's all so much... harder than I thought it would be," Castiel sighed reluctantly. "Humans are so difficult to understand. One of the most frequent requests makes absolutely no sense; surely, having it much longer than how it has evolved would make walking comfortably difficult, not to say the discomfort it might cause a sexual partner..."

"Had you considered, maybe, stepping back a bit, leaving people to sort out their own problems, you know, be more self-reliant?" suggested Sam carefully. "That is, uh, a tried and true approach to the whole, you know, godding job."

"But I'm a better god!" Castiel said emphatically, "I am there for my people, I want to help! I want to be there for them, not like... not like..." he stumbled to silence.

"Givin' people what they want for no effort isn't always helpin'," Bobby pointed out gently. "Sam might have a point; maybe steppin' back a bit would be good for everybody. Including you."

"But.. but... how will they know that I'm there if I don't show myself?" asked Castiel, sounding decidedly ungodlike.

"They'll just have to have faith, won't they?" Bobby told him briskly. "What sort of believers are they if they don't believe?"

"Is it fair to expect them to believe?" demanded Castiel. "And never show myself? I believe that they deserve to know that their god is there. I believe that I am doing the right thing. I believe..."

The quiet of the living room was broken by a truly epic gurgling, rumbling, grinding sound, like an earthquake gargling treacle. The sofas on which they sat vibrated with the noise.

Castiel clutched at his midriff. "I believe... that I am going to be sick."

Imagine somebody you can't stand. It could be a workmate, it could be a reality TV 'star', it could be a 'celebrity' who's famous just for being famous, it could be a member of your family, it could be a Canadian singer. Now, imagine that person... being turned into a weasel.

Reviews will make the people you can't stand turn into weasels!

Maybe.

Or you can imagine a Winchester serving you biscuits wearing the apron. Incidentally, the recipe for Dean's chokky chip bikkies can be found in the last chapter of my story 'Hot Stuff'. BE WARNED: they are ADDICTIVE.