Written for comment_fic on livejournal.

Disclaimer: I own neither Supernatural, or American Gods. I would be a lot richer if I did. I also do not own fanfiction. net, which is a shame, because then it wouldn't screw up my formatting...


A God walks into a bar.

"Hello Castiel" he says, but also Angel, and One Who Rebelled.

"Mr Nancy" the angel replies, and lets Anansi, Trickster and Spider hang on the name. "How is Odin's son?"

The old God sits, taking off his fedora. "Shadow is well. Returning his father's eye". He leans forwards "Czernobog tells me war is coming to your people. The Apocalypse has begun," Nancy grins "and you have rebelled, and joined forces with the vessels of Michael and Lucifer. I'm not sure if that is brilliant or stupid."

Castiel looks up, glaring. A yellow-gloved hand is waved in dismissal.

"Gods are not good at war, not even the war gods. All we think of is saving our own skins". The Spider leans back, "We only survived last time because of Shadow."

"It is a good thing I am no God then. Anyway, your war would not have changed much. People will worship what they have always worshipped. The new gods will not last. The God of Railways is a ghost, and Fossil Fuel is fading. The others will be replaced in time, and the Old Gods will still haunt the land".

Anansi narrows his eyes "It would have mattered to those of us who were destroyed. But you are correct. At least our battle would not have destroyed the world."

He pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it, blowing smoke over the angel's trench coat. "Tell me, do you really believe your father can stop it?"

"Yes" is the firm reply.

"And you really think he still has the power to do so? This is a bad land for Gods, how many of the church-goers actually believe in him, how many are simply going through the motions?"

Castiel glares at the Trickster god, "I will find my Father, and he will end the war, and there will be peace on Earth and in Heaven".

"You might want to try New Mexico," sighs Anansi.

The angel looks pained for a moment, as if he's heard the line before. "He is not on any flatbread."

Mr Nancy laughs, "No, but I hear Jesus is hitchhiking there at the moment, he may be able to help". He stands, puts out his cigarette on the stained tabletop and puts on his fedora. "If you need help, you know where to find me. We may hate this country, but we Old Gods like the world".

The Spider walks out of the bar, whistling a tune.

The Angel vanishes with a rustle of wings.


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