Word Count: 1150
Warnings: AU Endfic, bunker, multiple instances of karma being a bitch
Author's Notes: You know it had to happen someday, didn’t you? Apologies for the use of masculine pronouns - the author is following the canon of the show and not necessarily her own beliefs.
It was a vibration that shook through the bunker. Sam, still weak from the expulsion of Gadreel, spun quickly at Castiel’s gasp. The reborn angel was waxen pale.
“He’s back,” was all he had time to gasp before he disappeared in a wink of blinding white light.
Sam was on the phone to Dean in the next instant.
“Who’s back?” demanded Dean.
Crowley was knocked off his massage table by the thunderous quake.
“Bloody hell!” he grabbed his towel in an attempt to gather his dignity. “What was that?”
A blazing sense of anger followed the vibration. “Uh-oh,” was all he managed before he disappeared, towel and all.
The throne had been neglected - swirls of cosmic dust that should have never been allowed to accumulate puffed into nebulae at his approach. He stood before the throne, not yet seated and looked into the corners of this one of many universes.
His voice shook the universe down to the last atom.*I want everyone in the front room RIGHT NOW! Someone is cleaning this mess up AND IT'S NOT GOING TO BE ME!"
He scowled over the hasty assemblage. “Why are so many missing?” He demanded.
One rather battered, skinny angel with dark, messy hair and an ugly trench coat came forward.
“It’s a long story, sir,” he quavered.
“I have a lot of time,” was the response. “A lot of time. I don’t recognize you, son.”
“I am Castiel,” he fell to his knees. “I have sinned and am no longer worthy to be called thy son.” There was a murmur from the other angels - it was hard to tell if it was agreement or protest.
“Let me hear your story before I decide that.”
“People have disappeared all over the globe.” Dean frowned over the mystic map in the bunker.
“People or vessels?” Sam shook his head over his laptop. “The numbers are matching with the known vessels. Oh, geez, the loonies are talking about the Rapture.”
“Isn’t that when all the Good Guys are brought up to Heaven before the last fight with the Devil?” Dean looked over Sam’s shoulder.
“It’s supposed to be when the Savior returns.”
“The Savior, or The Father?”
“Maybe Daddy’s home.”
Sam started to say something, then shook his head again. “Dean, we could be in serious trouble.”
“Good God, couldn’t you give a man time to put on his pants?” Crowley sputtered, desperately clutching his towel.
“I want to hear your side of the story, Mister Crowley,” came the rather amused rumble over his head.
Crowley looked at the throne and gulped visibly.
“Begin with your association with my son, Lucifer.”
Crowley was usually suave and disgustingly self-assured, but now he was stark naked in front of the most powerful being in the universe. A being who asked a lot of direct questions that he couldn’t lie his way out of.
God nodded. “Metatron,” he said. The angelic scribe appeared at his left.
“Let’s hear your side.”
Metatron looked from Castiel to Gadreel to Crowley. He looked at Crowley twice.
“Someone had to do something!” he wailed.
“Well, we have to do something!” Dean fumed, pacing back and forth.
“If this is God we’re talking about how do you suggest we do something?” Sam poured himself some tea. Dean batted the pot and the cup across the table.
“How can you be so damn CALM?” he roared.
“Because you’re losing it!” Sam shouted back.
Dean punched the wall twice and kicked it for good measure.
God sat with his fingers steepled. “Hear me! I’ve decided what I am going to do.”
“First, there must be renewal.”
And as had been done once before in the long, dark before time itself began - the font of all Grace whispered a name and Grace congealed into a being of Grace and Light. Name after name was spoken and angel after angel was welcomed back into the ranks.
Israfel directed the choir in a new and wondrous hymn that echoed beauty throughout the universe. Balthazar was motioned to remain before the throne, as was Gabriel.
Castiel remained on his knees. Gadreel joined him.
The doors of Heaven swung open and the souls caught between life and eternity entered; each finding their heaven where they could feel their greatest joys.
Damaged and lost vessels found themselves coming home to startled and welcoming families. Even Jimmy Novak staggered once more up to the apartment where his family lived. A joyful confusion would reign for months.
A seven year old felt the gift of the Prophet curl like a jeweled seed into his soul that would blossom in God’s own time when it would be most needed.
“Now,” he looked at the beings before him - now including the contrite Naomi and the fuming Zachariah. “What shall I do with you?”
“Er -” Crowley cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind. I’d rather be er-back where I came from. It’s not Heaven, in fact it’s Hell, but it’s home.”
“A good idea - except for one little change,” God snapped his fingers. “No more innocent souls in Hell and folks can proceed from Hell into Purgatory, but you can’t pull someone who has earned his way out of Hell back in. Now, back where you belong.”
Crowley vanished. His towel remained behind.
“And you wondered where I got my sense of humor from,” Gabriel remarked with a grin.
“And for the rest of you. . .”
“I don’t deserve this!” Metatron shouted. “I was doing the right thing.”
“You know what? I think you can just sit in Gadreel’s old cell until you figure out just why what you did was not the right thing.” Metatron vanished.
“Too long hanging out with mud monkeys,” muttered Uriel.
“You need more experience with them, you’ll change your mind.” Uriel and Zachariah vanished. “The drunk tank in Nacogdoches should be a little humbling, I hope.”
“As for the rest of you . . . I think I know exactly what I’m going to do.”
Here and Now:
“That did a lot of good,” remarked Sam as he bandaged Dean’s hand.
“Would you rather I hit you?” Dean snapped.
Castiel appeared in the first aid room.
“Cas! What happened?”
“Father is home and things will be . . . different.”
Gadreel blinked in. “I have been sent to apologize. Father thinks there are things I can learn from you.”
Balthazar appeared. “Lovely! I don’t suppose you have any decent wine, do you?”
“I’d rather have a Pepsi,” said Gabriel.
“Oh, shit,” said Dean. “We’re the den mothers of the Angel Scouts.”
“Yes,” said Castiel. “We have work to do.”
The End . . . ?