Prologue

Hey guys, God here. That's right. God. Jehovah. The Big Man Upstairs. The Great I Am. Or as you've more recently gotten to know me, Chuck. Yeah that was me. Didn't you hear my cosmic monologue at the end of Swan Song? No? …I was proud of that one. I thought the imagery was…well, never mind. Anyways, I know it seems like I haven't really been around that much, but really I'm doing my best. You guys forget that I can't just be changing every little thing! I've gotta think about character development, and narrative arcs, and …free will! It's a stressful existence, but somebody's gotta keep this mudball spinning. So I stay behind the scenes most of the time, nudging here and there. But not anymore! I have finally found something worth some serious divine intervention. Destiel.

That's right. If there is one thing in this crazy Universe that has my divine blessing it is Dean/Castiel. I mean, come on! Castiel pulls Dean out of Hell, falls from Heaven to protect him, and gets blown up, twice, and still he's hanging around, giving those intense, longing glances that just make me want to go cry a river of tears. And when Cas beat the crap out of him in that alley, being all dominant? Dean liked it. You know it, I know it, his brother knows it. It was one of the hottest moments of at least the last six millennia. And I would know.

Unfortunately, free will being what it is, I can't just snap my fingers make those two star crossed morons admit their mushy feelings and get on with the makey outey. I have regrettably been forced to employ more nefarious means. I mean it guys, no more Mr. Nice God. I am really pulling out the big guns. One gun, to be exact. One fully loaded, recently resurrected, deviously minded gun. That's right folks, get ready for everybody's favorite archangel.

Destiel will be canon. My will be done.

Hello, ladies and gentlemen! In case any of you haven't been clued in, this is Gabriel speaking. Yes, it's me. Did you miss me? Did you all shed many tears at my tragic demise? I'll assume yes. Despite my heroic final ending it would seem the bossman has a greater plan for me, so here I am, alive and kicking, and He's only asking one favor in return. Now I've spent the last few millennia picking a few choice words for dear old Dad, but how could I turn down one last go at Dean Winchester? For the sake of true love, my baby brother's happiness, and good, old fashioned mischief, I have magnanimously decided to set aside my Daddy issues. Watch out Winchesters. To quote another famous pair of brothers: I'm on a mission from God.