It was Gabriel's fault really. He's the one who had suggested a road trip though Castiel had no idea why. In his experience, cars were slow and a very poor mode of transportation. In the end, Gabriel had won the argument, stating that it wasn't about how they traveled or even the destination, but the journey itself. When that had failed to sway Castiel, Gabriel simply told him that he was going and would like it, or Castiel would send the next couple of months as a baby turtle.

As interesting as being a turtle might be, it was not the most useful or mobile of animals so Castiel had accepted the archangel's terms. It didn't come as any surprise to find out that he wasn't allowed to drive this vehicle either, but at least he could ride shotgun. Castiel didn't mind though. The 2013 cherry red Mustang convertible with the pointless white racing stripes(he didn't believe they made the car go any faster no matter what Gabriel told him) down its center was nice enough, though Castiel quietly admitted to himself that he liked the Impala better. For an inanimate object, it had a lot of character. It also tended to have Dean in it as well.

Unfortunately, Dean had supported the idea of the road trip, even if he thought it was a pointless waste of time looking for God on the highways and byways of the open road. He predicted that they weren't going to find God while checking out the largest ball of twine. The hunter was right of course. God wasn't at any pit stop pretending to be a point of interest. The very idea was ridiculous to the point of absurd.

The angels found God on Venice Beach doing yoga.

Greetings had been somewhat awkward and stilted, mostly because Gabriel had never expected or intended to actually find their father. That and Castiel was still complete shit at small talk. If Gabriel hadn't insisted on trying to teach Castiel how to surf, they would have missed their Father altogether, but here they were. In God's studio apartment, the Creator of all making them breakfast.

God lived in a sun faded building in need of a good demolition, over a head shop that was owned and operated off of the strip by the Creator. God's chosen furniture was mostly bean bags, and the d├ęcor was painted in strange shades that caused migraines or revelations in mortals, suggesting that acid trips were taken to achieve that kind of patterning.

Or that was simply Gabriel's own perception of the place. He would have to ask Castiel later on about what he had seen.

If there was a later on. Gabriel wasn't sure how God was feeling about the unexpected company. It was almost worth annihilation though to watch Castiel try to sit upright in a bean bag chair. God didn't seem to be in a smiting kind of mood though. The fluffiness of eggs were saying cheerful so Gabriel took it as a good time. Eggs almost never lied.

And then Castiel had to go and open his mouth. "Father, what are you doing here? Why are you here while Heaven, Hell, and the world of men fall into turmoil and destruction? Where have you been all this time?"

"Here. I like Venice Beach. It's very colorful, always has been one way or another." God shrugged, working on some crepes to go with the eggs. "I also enjoy doing yoga on the beach."

"So what have you doing lately besides improve your flexibility?" Gabriel found himself asking. He had to admit he was kind of curious. God had skipped out on them for a long ass time. He felt they were due some kind of answer.

"Combining bacon with chocolate. You're welcome." God said, dividing up the crepes and scrambled eggs onto three plates. The Creator set out some butter, a half empty jar of Nutella, and peanut butter, adding a bottle of maple syrup into the mix upon remembering Gabriel was there with them.

"That was you? I thought a demon came up with that. It's got sin written all over it." Gabriel's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had not seen his Father's touch in that creation.

"Anything taken in excess can become a sin. Do not blame the perfection of the combination, but ones who chose to abuse it." God pointed out, looking through drawers for utensils. God found some metal chopsticks to use(having no idea where they had come from because things just tended to show up and leave all on their own in his utensil drawer because it kept things interesting) and gave the lone fork to Gabriel. Castiel was given the spoon, God playing it safe for once.

"You'll have to work that into the Bible." Gabriel snorted, drowning his crepes in enough maple syrup to make them float like waterlogged rafts on his plate. "Thou mayest enjoy the fried meat of the pig and the sweetness of the cocoa bean, but beware the sins of excess for thy heart will give out, ye fatty fatty two by four." Castiel couldn't seem to make a decision on the matter of crepe toppings so God did it for him, loading up the baked goods with Nutella and peanut butter to the point physics had be altered a bit to accommodate the load.

"How do you like the crepes, Castiel?" God asked the younger angel who was studying the crepes more than he was actually eating them, like the baked goods held the secrets to the universe between the Nutella and peanut butter.

"I find them acceptable for eating." was Castiel's ringing recommendation for the food. "I have been told though that pie is the preferred breakfast for champions."

Arching a brow, God looked over at Gabriel in question of the odd answer, the archangel shrugging back while shaking his head. He had no idea what made Castiel tick, his tock definitely off from other angels. He blamed Dean though(and rightfully so) for the later part of that answer.

"My best idea so far." God said, moving on. The Creator of life, the universe, and everything else looked on in amusement as Castiel experimented with different paces of chewing to deal with slightly evil nature of peanut butter while Gabriel weighed the pro and cons of putting hot sauce on top of eggs or just eating them with the maple syrup. The archangel ended up throwing flavor caution to the wind and did both.

"I'm telling Jesus you replaced him with a thin pancake."