The story so far: In the beginning, the universe began. This prompted a lot of negative feedback, which may or may not be taken into account, should work ever begin on a sequel. Most races believe that the universe was created by some sort of "god", but there has been a lot of dispute as to which one could stake the most claim, which was not helped by select groups of annoyingly serene people suggesting that maybe all gods were about the same. As such, a group of hyper-dimensional beings decided that enough was enough, and set about to finally answer the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything.

However, some seven million years later, they discovered that the answer was, in fact, "Yellow". On further examination, it was revealed that the answer made no sense because they had yet to find the respective question and, to that end, the most intelligent, most intricate super-computer in all of space and time was built, and it commenced to run such a ground-breaking program that organic life was used as part of the computational matrix.

It was called the Earth.

Then it was demolished five minutes before completion.

At this point, the hyper-dimensional beings were more than a little peeved. However, luckily for them, there is a high chance that the question, or a variant thereof, still exists, buried deep in the subconscious of Dean Winchester, the Earth's only surviving human consciousness. Dean is currently slowly returning to consciousness as he lies on his back in the sick bay of the stolen Impala starship.

"Hey." Castiel smiled down at Dean, looking a little relieved. "You're not dead!"

"No…" Dean blinked, pushing himself into sitting up. "I'm not. What happened?"

"We started Leap of Faith drive. You weren't holding on to anything. You fell and hit your head… It was kind of funny, but then we realised you were unconscious, so we moved you in here."
"Oh." Dean ran a hand over his head, and felt a small wad of cotton at the base of his neck.

"Yeah, that can probably be removed. Here." Castiel rested one had on Dean's shoulder, steadying him as the bandage was removed. Castiel was suddenly very close and Dean wasn't sure what to do. But as soon as his brain had registered it, Castiel pulled the bandage off and moved away, the lights stopped swimming blearily, and Dean felt disconcertingly healthy. He was, he noticed, free of the headache that had been dogging him since he was dragged into that rhaptoor spaceship.

"That's amazing…"

"Yeah, Earth medicine was primitive." Castiel chuckled. "You've got a universe of amazing stretching out in front of you."

"Hey, how are you?" Dean swung his legs off the hospital bed, watching Castiel closely. "Since, you know… your mice…"

"I'm… yeah." Cas shrugged, a drowsy half smile on his lips. "I guess they're not my mice after all, which is kind of a shame, since they were my only refuge against Gabriel's… Gabriel-ness. I mean, he's a great guy. So are Sam and Balthazar, but sometimes they frustrate me."

"I can imagine." Dean chuckled. He punched Castiel amicably on the arm. "You know you and me can crack a beer together though, any time you want to be the smartest alien in the room."

Castiel laughed at this, cocking his head to one side as he stared at Dean. Dean felt himself shrink under the intense, ice-blue glare.

"So, uh…"

"Attention, crew." The voice of Bobby, the ship's computer crackled over the speakers. "We have landed. I don't know where in the hell we leapt to, but we've landed. Give me a minute to compute… oh, and Captain wants everyone by the bay doors soon as possible."

Castiel grinned, stood and left. Dean followed after, wondering if he had doomed himself to being permanently confused and knocked out every five minutes. He tried very hard to ignore the quiet snickering that came from the speakers.

When they got to the bay doors, Gabriel and Balthazar were nowhere to be seen. Sam, however, was waiting for them, and oddly resplendent. His chassis gleamed under the brilliant white lights that illuminated the bay, and his silver face-plates shone in their infrequently used "smile" configuration.

"Dean. You've regained consciousness!"

"Yeah."

"I want you to know that, no matter how much they claim to have laughed at you, both Gabriel and Balthazar were concerned for your wellbeing."
"Oh, that's… thanks."

"Humans have notoriously thin skulls, and they're convinced they can figure out some why to make money out of this question thing if you stay alive."
"Oh." Dean's face fell. Castiel chuckled a little, before turning to Sam.

"So you look positively shiny. Any reason?"

"Gabriel insisted I buff my chassis free of the Krippkethan sand. He even helped me. Sometimes, I get the feeling he really cares about me."

Oh God, thought Dean. Sam the Emotionally Unstable Cyborg clearly had no sense of moderation, and he was almost as insufferable happy as he was depressed.

"I found out where we are!" Gabriel grinned, as he bounded into the bay and slapped Sam's ass. The clanging sound that followed made everyone uncomfortable.

"CelestiWays." Balthazar said, more to change the subject than anything. "The ship has touched down outside of The CelestiWays restaurant."

"Ooh." Castiel grinned, smirking at Dean. "Not bad for your first meal off-planet."
"What's Celestiways?" Dean glanced around the group, who were all smartening themselves up as Gabriel opened the bay doors. "Is there something special about it?"

"Are you kidding?" Gabriel grinned, his eyes glinting. "It's the restaurant at the end of the universe."

(-*-)

'The Restaurant at the End of the Universe' is one of the most astonishing and outlandish ventures in the history of catering. A localised time-dome has been erected around one solitary asteroid, and projects itself forward in time to the very last few moments of the universe. The restaurant sits atop the asteroid, protected from the end of the universe by the presence of the time-dome. While inside, patrons from throughout time and space sit and eat the finest cuisine the universe has ever had to offer, whilst the cosmos explodes for their entertainment. You can arrive without any prior reservation as you can book retrospectively on return to your own time period, and you need not worry about paying, as you can simply deposit a small sum into a savings account in your own time period, and the collected interest will sufficiently cover it by the time you come to eat.

The entire process is showy, over the top and almost gaudy, causing many spectators to remark that it's a good thing CelestiWays was a restaurant, and not a broadcasting company. The CelestiWays advertising executives thought it was as good an image as any to cash in, and so came up with the advertising slogan:

"Too much of a good thing can only make it better… dinner for two at The C.W."

(-*-)

As the group were shown to their seats by a condescending waiter, a being that time had long since forgotten stood on a small stage, a spotlight blinding everyone with the glare from his gold tuxedo. His smile was sleazy, and one that barely masked his contempt for everyone present.

"Hello, there, ladies and gents, hello, it's wonderful to see you all tonight…"

"I think I used to go to school with him…" Gabriel leant forward, trying to get a better view.

"Baldur." Balthazar tutted. "He was a sleaze back then, too."

"Oh right! What a dick." Gabriel smiled, reminiscing. They tuned him out and talked amongst themselves, as it seemed everyone else was doing. Even the house band was playing over him.

"I don't get it…"Dean said, as he cast his eyes towards the domed, glass ceiling. The entirety of space stretched out overhead, boiling and seething as star after star turned supernova. "If the universe ends, won't we be ended too?"

"No." Castiel grinned, beaming up at the waitress who bought them their drinks. "Thank you. Three more of these would be wonderful." He turned back to Dean. "As soon as you come in, you get sealed in a temporal anomaly dome. It takes you through the end of the universe, and then pulls you back to five minutes before you arrived, so you avoid the whole mess of meeting yourself."

"Happened to me, once." Balthazar chipped in, already halfway through his drink. "Very embarrassing."

"But won't it…"

"Don't think about it, earth man." Gabriel advised. "It ruins the whole experience. You think too much, you end up like Sam."

"Hey!" Sam pouted, switching instantly from happy mode into bitch mode. Gabriel smiled apologetically and the two of them sank into whispered arguments. Balthazar was busy flirting with the drinks waitress.

"Look." Castiel smiled, seeing that Dean was still worried. He drained his first drink and turned on the second one. "If you're still freaking out, think of it this way. Imagine you've got a ball, ok? A kid's soccer ball, filled with air… except giant. Like…" he held his hands about three feet apart, and looked at Dean. "Big. And you take it into a swimming pool, a really big one, and you push it down under the surface of the water. And you push it as close to the bottom of the pool as you can, and when it gets there, you try to sit on it. Then, as soon as your feet aren't touching the floor, the, um… buoyancy of the ball takes over, right? So it pushes up to be above the surface of the water and pushes you with it. You fall backwards into the pool."

"And… how does that relate to this?"

"It doesn't." Castiel turned a half-loopy smile on Dean. "But it's a lot of fun. Drink up, you're lagging behind."
Baldur returned on stage, just as their main course arrived.

"Now, now, ladies, gentlemen, thank you very much…"

"What do you think he's doing here?" Balthazar said, around a mouthful of steak. "I never had him pinned as a fanatic of the entertainment industry…"

"I don't know." Gabriel shrugged, between bites of something that looked, to Dean, like a savoury cheesecake. "I recall something about him being caught speeding around an ice moon and soliciting Pathneon call girls. I guess this is his community service."
"I suppose…" Balthazar stared down at the stage, his expression somewhere between pity and horror. "But let's be honest, I think we're the ones being punished here."

"True." Castiel nodded.

"Man, his jokes are old." Dean muttered, focusing on the food since it was markedly more enjoyable. "A whole universe I haven't discovered yet and they still tell knock knock jokes?"

"Talk about a primitive act." Gabriel agreed. "I think we're going to need more drinks."

Ten minutes later, a gleaming golden coloured waitress-bot approached the table with the sweet trolley.

"Good evening, Gentlemen. My name is Pamela Four-Zero-One, and I'm your serverbot. You want dessert before the universe implodes?"

"Sure." Gabriel was instantly alerted at the mention of sweet foods and the sight of a waitress (even a robotic one). "What do you have?"

"Well hun," the robot smiled. "I've got anything you like. I can reach into your brainwaves, pluck a memory of a dessert you once had out of that brain-box and materialise it in thin air."

"Really?" Castiel smiled. "How about…" He closed his eyes and seemed to focus on something. Pamela smiled, and her LED eyes switched off for a moment. She placed both hands on what Dean had thought was the empty trolley, and Dean watched in amazement as the trolley glowed, steamed, and then opened at the top, revealing a bowl of something that was oddly familiar.

"Hey, that was that damn fruit parfait!" Dean pointed at it, looking incredulously at Castiel. "The one that made me sick!"

"I said sorry." Castiel pouted. "It's not like it's my fault, anyway. You're the one with the flawed digestive system."

Dean was about to ask what that meant when Gabriel interrupted.

"Pan-Galactic Sorbet Blaster, Pam baby." He grinned and winked at her, as she performed her food generating trick again. Balthazar smiled.

"I'd take a… oh what was it called? Gabriel, that thing your third mother used to make? With the Fanga berries and the…"

"Don't need a name, sweets, I just need a memory." Pamela grinned at him, and with another glow and a puff of smoke, a bowl of some sort of steaming, orange berry sponge was placed in front of Balthazar. Pamela turned to Dean.

"I doubt you'll have made mine before."

"Ooh, I live for a challenge."

Dean closed his eyes and focused on the very best apple pie he could think of. With ice cream.

It took a while, but eventually, Pamela set his bowl down on the table, a slightly confused expression on her face-plates.

"That was… odd. Anyway." She turned to Sam, grinning at him. "What about you, grumpy? I'm sure I could oblige you with an oil change…"

Sam's eyebrows shot up his forehead so fast Dean was pretty sure he heard a telescopic zoom sound. Gabriel levelled Pam with a very stony, if drunken glare.

"His oil is fine. He could probably do with a side of back the hell off, though."

Pamela shrugged.

"Can't blame a gal for trying. See you around, boys."

And with that, she left, Gabriel's glare trailing behind her.

"Smooth." Castiel shook his head. "Very subtle. You'll get us kicked out."

"Castiel, why don't you…"

"Gabriel, I think we should leave." Sam's voice was back to its weary drone, setting everyone's teeth on edge. Gabriel sighed.

"Sam, just because one waitress hits on you, we don't have to…"

"Not because of that." Sam looked around the table. "I meant, we should leave because I've just picked up a police signal that says they followed the residual atomic signature left when we leapt through time, and now they're here looking for us."

"Oh." Said Gabriel.

"Oh." Agreed Castiel.

"Oh." Said Balthazar. Then; "We'd better get a move on then."

Dean sighed. He just wanted to eat some damn pie.