I do not know the exact layout of 221B so this is my closest guess...Also, this chapter is freaking insane. The plotline of ths chapter came in a sudden burst of inspiration and I don't even know.

Guess you could say it came in the...heat of the moment.

I'm so sorry.

Chapter 10: The End.

Sam woke up first the next morning. He was lying on the sofa, Gabriel's back snuggling comfortably into his chest. A large black blanket sat on top of them, shielding them from the London cold that seeped through the windows. He looked out the windows, seeing (surprise surprise) fog surrounding them. He determined it to be some time between nine and ten o'clock. He ran his fingers through his boyfriend's golden hair, gently stirring him into consciousness.

"Gabe," he purred. "C'mon Gabriel wake up."

The archangel groaned in reply and drew the blanket closer around him and Sam.

"Angels don't need to sleep," Sam said, softly stroking Gabriel's cheek with his fingers.

"Just cuz I don't have to don't mean I don't want to," Gabriel mumbled, turning his head and opening an eye to glare at Sam.

"C'mon Gabe, get up."

"Five more minutes..." Gabriel's eyes closed as he sank back into his original position.

Sam raised his eyebrows at the back of Gabriel's head. "We could make Nutella waffles," Sam whispered.

Gabriel practically jumped off the couch. "Did someone say Nutella?" he asked obnoxiously loudly.

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yes Gabe. I said the word 'Nutella,' calm down. It's just a-"

Gabriel wasn't listening anymore, though. He was already ripping the golden foil off the top of a jar he had just conjured out of thin air, spoon in hand. "I'm sorry, did you say 'it's just a' in the presence of my holy Nutella?"

"Since when is your jar of hazelnut spread considered holy?"

"Um, since I'm an angel and everything I make appear is automatically holy."

"Whatever," Sam said, standing. "I'm gonna put on a kettle of tea for the British guys. And can you conjure up a waffle maker and some mix? I don't think they have any," he said, referring to the consulting detective and his blogger.

"Fine," Gabriel said, snapping his fingers. A silver bowl appeared on the counter, along with boxed waffle mix, water, oil, and a box of eggs.

"Would it really be that hard to make actual waffle mix?" Sam asked, turning on the electric kettle.

"I ain't gonna waste my angel mojo on something it would take like three seconds to do," Gabriel said.

"You do that all the time!"

"Well yeah but that's for boring stuff like walking or flipping light switches. I actually like making waffles."

Sam sighed. "Fine, we'll make them manually." He noticed he had Nutella on his right cheek. "Gabe, you got chocolate on your face," he said.

Gabriel stuck out his tongue, trying to reach the glob of Nutella. But alas, his tongue was too small, and Sam sighed exasperatedly.

"Here, I'll get it." He crossed to where Gabriel stood. Gabriel smirked as Sam licked the Nutella off his face. He smiled pulled Sam into another sweet kiss.

If some of the waffles were a little burned from overcooking, Sam and Gabriel only had each other to blame.

—•—•—•—meanwhile—•—•—•—

Castiel never fell asleep, he only pretended to so that Dean didn't know that the angel was watching him sleep. Dean looked happy when he slept. All the loss and guilt that usually showed on his features were washed away, replaced by a neutral yet beautiful look of joy. Dean never looked that happy when he was conscious. Except when he was with Castiel or his brother. He seemed happy then.

Just as Castiel started to ask himself why Dean looked happy around him, the green-eyed man stirred in his sleep. His eyes groggily opened as he ran his hand through his hair.

"You watchin' me sleep, Cas?" he grumbled, his voice raspy from sleep.

"No," Castiel answered quickly. "Yes..."

Dean sighed, rubbing his bleary eyes. "Whatever floats your boat, I guess." He sat up and stretched his back. "What now?" he asked Castiel.

"What do you mean?" Castiel replied.

"The demon's gone," Dean said. "So why not just go back to America?"

"I suppose we could do that," Castiel said, standing. "We should go down stairs and collect your brother, and then we will return home."

Dean smiled sadly and nodded in agreement. "Yeah...home..."

"Is there something wrong, Dean?" Castiel asked.

"No, nothing important." Dean stood, crossing to the door. "Let's just go and-"

"No Dean," Cas said. "Tell me the truth."

Dean sighed. He was never good with emotions or feelings or any of that crap. He wasn't even sure specifically he was upset about. Honestly, there were so many things wrong, he didn't even know where to start.

"The truth?" Dean shook his head. "The truth is I have no idea what's even going on in my life. Everything I touch gets broken. Anyone who even talks to me could die and it would be all my fault. And I'm scared, man. I just don't know what I'm doing at all anymore..."

Castiel walked over to him and pulled him into a hug. "It's alright Dean...you'll be okay...I'm here for you...I'll protect you."

Dean wrapped his arms tightly around his angel. Castiel's strong hold on him was the only comfort he needed, and he smiled into Cas's shoulder. "Thanks, man. I love you."

"I love you too," Castiel said, also grinning. He gave Dean a kiss on the cheek.

They stood like that for a while, just basking in each other's warmth, when they smelled something burning downstairs. "C'mon Cas, let's see what's going on."

"Alright, Dean." They pulled apart, looking into each other's eyes (Gabriel was right, they do that a lot.) Dean opened the door and walked downstairs to the kitchen, where he overheard Sam talking to Gabriel.

"You never gave me my shirt back, by the way."

"You don't need it."

"C'mon Gabe, it's cold here."

"I'm keeping you warm enough..."

"What's burning?" Dean asked, striding into the kitchen as if he didn't just see his brother embarrassedly scamper out of Gabriel's arms.

"Burning?" Sam asked innocently, sniffing the air. He noticed the smell and ran to a waffle maker on the other side of the kitchen. "Shoot, the waffles!"

"Holy Nutella Waffles!" Gabriel said, smiling. "They always end up burned."

"Gabe, we wouldn't have this problem if you just summoned them instead of having me cook them!"

"I don't think we'd have this problem if you stopped complaining and focused on the waffles!"

"I don't think you'd have this problem if you stopped making out and started making food," Dean said. Both his brother and the archangel shot him a bitchface, which shut him up.

"Good morning Sam. Good morning Gabriel," Castiel said, strolling into the kitchen. "You have prepared a breakfast?"

"Uh, kinda," Sam said. "Some of it is kinda burned but it's edible."

"Great, I'm starving," Dean said, grabbing a waffle off a plate and taking a bite. Gabriel did the same, but spread most of a jar of Nutella on it before biting into it. Sam took one too, putting only a little bit of the hazelnut spread onto it.

"You hungry, Cas?" Sam asked around a bite.

"Angels do not need to eat. When I eat I can only taste the molecules, not a flavor, so there is no real point," Castiel replied.

"Gabriel's an angel and he never stops eating candy," Dean said, mouth full of waffle.

"But I'm not really an angel," Gabriel said. "And the Trickster does what he wants."

"Whatever," Dean said, taking an other bite of waffle.

—•—•—•—meanwhile—•—•—•—

Sherlock woke up to the smell of something burning. Not wood, not a cigarette, not paper, a food. Judging by the time, a breakfast item. Not eggs, not meat, not muffins. Pancakes? No, waffles. Chocolate and hazelnuts...Nutella. Nutella Waffles. Who was burning Nutella waffles?

Those men who were here last night. Why didn't they leave yet? They must have slept here, if they did sleep. Three men, was it? One who obviously missed someone he had seen recently but had left, and the other two who were madly in love with one another. The shorter one with golden hair had disguised himself as Lestrade, but how? He would ask him today before he left. He was the one who drove Moriarty out of Sherlock's mind.

He still internally cringed at the memory. Moriarty ruined his mind palace. Sherlock had spent the majority of the previous night just cleaning the different rooms, rearranging shelves and organizing cabinets. His palace was already messy enough before Moriarty broke in and wrecked havoc throughout the place. At least now he had the opportunity to clean up. But the words he had scribbled across pages...graffitied on the walls...Sherlock shook his head and erased them.

"Sherlock?" he heard John ask to his left. "You alright, love?"

"I'm fine, John," Sherlock replied, eyes still closed. "Go back to sleep."

"No, I'm going to go downstairs and see what's burning."

"Nutella waffles made by the tall man and his boyfriend," Sherlock deduced quickly.

"They're still here?" John asked.

"It seems so," Sherlock replied, opening his eyes. "They should be going soon enough, though.

"Alright," John said. "But I'm going downstairs now. If you-"

"Wait," Sherlock interrupted.

"What is it?" John asked.

"You referred to me as "love"."

John hesitated. "Would you rather I only call you by your name?"

"No," Sherlock said. "I think I like it."

"Then what's the trouble."

"That's precisely the trouble."

"What?"

"I liked it when you used an endearment," Sherlock explained. "That's never happened to me before. It's an odd feeling."

"It's good that you're getting human emotions, Sherlock. They aren't bad things, you know."

"I know...but it's just so...ordinary to be in love." He said the word 'ordinary' like it was poison in his mouth.

"That's not a bad thing, Sherlock. And if you don't like it, I'll just leave."

"No!" Sherlock sat up quickly. "Don't leave. I didn't mean I don't love you because I do love you. I just need to adjust to having emotions this strong."

John smiled. "We'll take it slow," he promised. "It'll be alright."

"Alright," Sherlock agreed. "Slow."

"Now let's go downstairs before they burn down the flat."

John opened the door and descended the stairs, Sherlock following closely behind him. They could hear voices echoing from the kitchen.

"But there are no nutritional values, Gabe!"

"Yes there are!"

"No there aren't!"

"Hazelnuts are heathy!"

"But there can't be that many per jar to make it considered heathy!"

"Ninety-four!"

"Excuse me?"

"NINETY-FOUR HAZELNUTS IN A JAR OF NUTELLA AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT!"

"But there's too much sugar!"

"No such thing as too much sugar, Sam!"

"You're impossible."

"I stand by my Nutella beliefs and nobody can stop me."

"Sam is correct, Gabriel," Sherlock said, striding into the room. "There are two hundred calories and twenty-one grams of sugar for every two tablespoons of Nutella, making it practically spreadable candy."

"Ha!" Sam said victoriously. "Even Sherlock Holmes agrees with me!"

Gabriel smirked evilly. "That's what you think," he said ominously.

"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked about to take a bite of Nutella waffle.

His hand stopped just as his mouth opened. He was completely frozen. Sherlock had stopped moving as well. The tea kettle stopped steaming. Everything in the flat froze, except the trickster, hunters, and the angel.

"What the hell?" Dean said.

"Gabe, what did you do?" Sam asked.

Gabriel was still smirking evilly.

He snapped.

The 221B Baker Street became their motel room.

"Gabriel," Dean said. "What. The. Hell."

"Surprise!" Gabriel said. "Betchya thought all of that was real!"

"Wait," Sam said, "all of that was fake?"

"Yup," Gabriel said.

"What the hell?" Dean said again.

"But...but John! Sherlock!"

"All three seasons are now available on DVD." Gabriel said, pulling some discs out of his pockets. The covers had Sherlock and John standing next to each other, with the word "SHERLOCK" in large letters underneath.

"You put us in an other TV show?" Dean asked incredulously.

"You betchya!" Gabriel said.

"Why?" Dean asked.

"I just wanted my ships to become canon..."

"I don't understand," Castiel said. "Are we talking about pirates now?"

"Yeah, I'm confused too," Sam said.

"What the hell?" Dean asked for the third time.

"Johnlock!" Gabriel said, earning blank looks from all members of the room. "C'mon, Johnlock! John plus Sherlock."

"You put us in a TV show so that John and Sherlock could get together?" Sam asked.

"Yeah..." Gabriel said sheepishly.

"You're almost as bad as Becky," Dean mumbled under his breath.

"You would get tired of the tension in the room between them if you watched the show! Thanks to me, they don't have to worry about never confessing their feelings for each other!"

"How do you even know they're together?" Sam asked. "I was with you the whole time."

"There are fake Gabriels everywhere," Gabriel said. "One of them sat back invisibly in the corner and watched Johnlock become canon. They are so in love. And, not only did I watch Johnlock happen, but Destiel, too!"

"What the hell is Destiel?" Dean asked Gabriel.

Gabriel waggled his eyebrows and disappeared.

"What the hell is Destiel?" Dean asked Sam.

Sam sighed. "It's like Johnlock. But instead of John plus Sherlock, it's Dean plus Castiel."

Dean looked appalled. "What?"

Castiel looked confused. "What?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Exactly."

"Did you know about this, Sam?" Castiel asked.

"What? No!" Sam answered. "'Course not, I swear!"

"Wait," Dean said. "Gabriel wanted me and Cas to get together?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "It's been really annoying listening to him complain all the time."

"Wait wait wait, "all the time"? What's that supposed to mean?"

"He visits us on occasion while you're asleep. And yeah, I didn't tell you because you'd want to kill him."

Dean was overwhelmed. "I think I'm gonna be sick," he said. "It is way too early in the morning for this crap."

"And that's not all," Sam said.

"There's more?" Dean asked.

"While we were in the other universe–you know, the Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles universe?–I found these websites."

"What kind of websites?" Castiel asked.

"Really weird websites," Sam said. "Something called ' ' and 'Archive of Our Own' and the weirdest, 'tumblr'."

"And...?"

"On 'tumblr' there were these fans of the show we were on, Supernatural. And they called themselves 'fangirls'. And they 'shipped' you and Cas, which means they thought you two should get together. They had fanart and 'headcanons' and the worst: fanfictions."

"Oh god," Dean said. "Is that..."

"Yes," Sam said. "Stories they make about us."

"Not creepy at all," Dean said.

"And you know the worst thing?" Sam said.

"I will soon," Dean said.

"We're in one."

"What?"

"We're in a fanfiction right now."

"Oh hell no!" Dean said, glancing around the room for a camera or some creepy teenage girl documenting their lives. "How can you tell?"

"Really?" Sam asked. "Does this seem like our real lives?"

"Well...kind of..." Dean said.

"That's what so bad about it," Sam said. "The author has awesome characterization, so we can hardly even tell that everything we're saying is part of a script she's writing out for us."

"I don't understand..." Castiel said. "How can you tell that this is a 'fanfiction'?" He used air quotes for the last word.

"I don't know," Sam said. "Just a feeling."

"So maybe you're wrong," Dean said.

"Maybe," Sam agreed. "Maybe not."

"So can the fanfiction just end whenever we want it to?" Dean asked.

"I guess so," Sam said. "But how? And what happens after it ends?"

"Who cares!" Dean said recklessly. "Hey readers!" he called to you. "Yeah! You! You're reading this cuz you want me and Cas to be together! Well I hope you're happy now! I! LOVE! CAS!11!1!"

He pulled Castiel into a reckless kiss, Sam rolling his eyes in the background.

"Sorry about him," Sam said to you, wherever you were. "I think you're making him uncomfortable. So I think this is where I say...

"The End.

You heard Sam, the end.

Yup. I don't even know which plot bunny hopped around in my head with the drugs and got all the other plot bunnies on drugs but this is the outcome.

At least you read it though, amiright?

And here's the part where I ask you to review!

I love you. Seriously, you *points to you* are the actual best.