(AUTHOR'S NOTE) I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters. In fact, I've only ever seen the first half of the first episode (although I intend to get the DVDs), so I'm sorry if I get some of the mythology wrong. Finally, note that this story would take place at the end of season 5. (END NOTE)

Mt Everest. The roof of the world, and the only place on Earth where demons could commune with the him. That's him with a capital H, of course. It was why Castiel had brought them both here to try and finally stop Lucifer.

"It's fucking freezing up here," Dean moaned, pulling his jacket tighter. Sam rolled his eyes, but Dean was right. Even with the enchanted amulets Castiel had given them to protect them from the cold and lack of oxygen, it was still freezing.

He glanced towards Castiel. The angel was in the same position that he had been for the last two hours, standing right at the summit of the mountain, face turned towards the sky, humming.

Did God respond to humming? Sam wondered. The answer was probably no. God didn't even respond when Dean took His name in vain with such vehemence that would make Gordon Ramsay blush. They may as well have fried some pancakes, hoping that would draw God down, for all the good Castiel's humming was doing.

Then, abruptly, the angel opened his eyes and looked at them.

"It's no good," he said, "I just can't find him."

"What exactly are you doing?" Dean asked.

"Communing telepathically," Castiel said, calmly as usual, "Searching for Him on a psychic level and hoping he will answer."

"The equivalent of shouting," Sam told his brother.

Dean sighed. "Do you're just standing here going 'Yoo-hoo! Jehovah! It's me! The angel who's been ostracised from heaven! Can you hear me? Well, I know you can hear me, because of the omniscience thing, which is a lot quicker than broadband isn't it?"

"Do you have any better ideas?" Sam asked, "Lucifer's taken over the White House and has started turning Mormons into an armed militia. We don't have many options left."

"Well," Dean said, "someone once told me that if all else fails, resort to provocation."

"Are you serious?" Sam asked his brother, "You want to insult God and hope he'll come running? Hasn't that been done enough already?"

Castiel shrugged. "Worth a try." He turned back to the abyss below the peak, and spoke, his voice magically amplified to sound so loud, Sam didn't think God could avoid hearing it.

"MOSES," the angel said, "WAS A PANSY."


Dean shook his head, "Too tame, Cas. Let me have a go."

Castiel sighed, and waved a hand at Dean's enchanted amulet. Dean walked to the edge of the peak and spoke, his voice amplified like Castiel's.


Nothing. Dean glanced at Castiel, then had another go.


Still nothing.


Thunder. Lightning. Fire.

"Jackpot," Sam said.

The clouds parted, and a huge ball of fire came streaking down towards them. Sam glanced at Castiel, alarmed – to see the angel smiling.

"It's the Flamemobile," he said, "The chariot of fire, driven by the all-powerful, the all-knowing… ah."

The figure seated in the chariot was not God.

"Hello Castiel," he said, "Long time no see. What can I do for you?"

"Hang on," Dean said, "You're not God!"

"Of course," said the figure, slightly annoyed, "I am an angel."

"Yeah," Dean muttered, "I saw a bloke with golden hair and wings and I thought 'either it's an angel, or it's just escaped from a laboratory.'"

"Well if you're going to be like that about it I'll go," said the angel.

"Wait, wait!" Castiel said, "Sam, Dean, this is not just any angel, you know. He's God's left hand, the most famous of all angels, the one who told Mary she was with child."

"You mean…" Sam said, surprised.

"Yep," Castiel said, "You are looking at the Angel Graham."

"Graham?" Sam said, "Don't you mean Gabriel?"

"Silence, mortal," said the Angel Graham in a voice that could move mountains, and Sam was silent. "I am the Angel Graham, and this is my support team: the Angel Derek, and the Angel Steve."

"Hi," said the Angel Derek.

"Hi," said the Angel Steve.

"So," said the Angel Graham, "Castiel."

"So," said Castiel, "Graham."

"Sorry," Sam interrupted Castiel, "I thought he was the angel Gabriel, not Graham."

"No," Castiel said, "that was a typo. The scribe who wrote up the nativity couldn't read his own notes, and by the time he realised his mistake he would have had to rewrite all the scrolls. Unfortunate, wasn't it Graham?"

"Yes," said the Angel Graham bitterly. "Yes it was."

"Because it meant all mortals came to know you as Gabriel, which is a bit of a nancy-boy's name, isn't it?"

"Yes." A glare from the Angel Graham silenced the giggling Angels Derek and Steve.

"Did the biblical scribes make any other mistakes then?" Dean asked.

"They certainly did," said the Angel Graham, "For example the Third Commandment should have read 'Thou shalt not invade the Lebanon.' Although if you ask me it was a deliberate mistake. Just like the location of the Promised Land – that was supposed to be in Belgium, until some Hebrew got conveniently mistranslated."

"If we could stay on topic," Sam interrupted.

"But what about their glow," Dean asked, obviously being facetious, "Is it like the chemical luminescence you get in some fish species?"

"Ignore him," Castiel said, "Look, Graham, we were hoping you could get us an appointment with the almighty, since you're his PA."

"No can do, Castiel. Sorry," said the Angel Graham, sounding anything but sorry, "He's taken a sabbatical. It's where he's been for the last two centuries."

"A sabbatical?" Castiel said.

"Yes," said the Angel Graham, "He says He's fed up with being at everyone's beck and call. Says He wants some more 'me time'."

"What the hell is he gonna do with this sabbatical?" Dean demanded.

"I'm not sure. He said He might have a go at writing children's stories. Is this going to take much longer? Only St Peter's organising a barbecue."

"Look," Castiel said, "I spoke to two angels who claimed they'd been appointed as Earth's managers, but they didn't say anything about this sabbatical."

"Ah, those two," said the Angel Graham, "They were a bit over-promoted."

"I didn't take to them," Castiel said.

"You stuck their name badges up their arses," said the Angel Graham, glaring at Castiel.

"Well I've never been one for formal complaints procedures," said Castiel, "They're so slow, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are," said a voice from behind them, a voice which made Sam's blood ran cold.

"Ah," said the Angel Graham, "I was wondering when you'd turn up. I've had to keep this lot talking for ages."

Sam turned.

"Hello," said Lucifer.

(AUTHOR'S NOTE) Hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter (this is quite a short story) should come as soon as I've had time to write it. Thanks for reading. (END NOTE)