1- Distortion

When Dean got the call, he thought he was still asleep. His eyes were still closed when he put his phone to his ear.

"Dean, I found him!" Cas said, sounding so happy Dean almost didn't recognize his voice. "God! You have to see him, it's glorious." There was a burst of static on the line ... but did Cas actually laugh beneath it? "Belleville, Vermont. You have to -"

The call cut off with such abruptness, Dean opened his eyes. He looked at the motel ceiling, and the phone in his hand. He was awake? Must have been. But there was no way that was Cas on the line.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he called Cas's number, and only got his strange voice mail message. "Cas, did you just call me from Vermont? Call me back."

Dean had been having lots of nightmares lately, otherwise he would have assumed the Cas call was a dream. First of all, he was never giddy. Second, finding God? Yeah, right. Dean kind of hoped he did, just so he could punch that motherfucker in the face. If he wanted to end the world, then he could fucking do it and leave him and Sam out of it.

By the time Dean was done with his shower, Cas hadn't called him back. Another attempt at contacting him got him the voice mail again. Was Cas in trouble? He couldn't shake the thought he was, so he looked up Belleville, Vermont, and hit the road.

Part of him wanted to call Sam and tell him, but he didn't. He hunted for years without Sam. He could do it again.

It was a long drive, and he'd hoped that Cas would get back to him before he got there, but he never did. He crossed the state border of Vermont with the sun coming up, turning the sky a rosy hue. For some reason, that stupid old rhyme popped into his head: Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. What did that even mean? And where the hell had he learned it? He would swear he never had, and yet there it was, in the forefront of his consciousness for some damn reason.

He wanted to blame it on the upcoming apocalypse, but he blamed everything on the upcoming apocalypse. Everything felt wrong, and he wasn't sure how to stop it. He tried not to think about it too much, or the self-loathing became really wanted a drink, but it wasn't even eight in the morning. Dean had made himself not drink before at least eight, but why bother? The world was ending. Drink 'em if you got 'em. At the first stoplight, he took a swig from his flask.

He hadn't been in Vermont an awful lot, but it was always pretty. Lot of trees, lots of rural scenery, especially nice in the fall. But dark, ominous clouds seemed to grow thicker the closer he got to Belleville, and finally the skies opened up, drenching the car. The windshield wipers almost couldn't keep up with the deluge, and his visibility neared zero until it finally let up near the Belleville city limits. Was this a sign? If it was, was it good or bad? You'd think the sky clearing up would be a positive development, but he trusted nothing.

Belleville was a tiny place, very pastoral, a postcard perfect small town, so of course Dean distrusted it on sight. Would God really settle here? He might be that much of an asshole. Still, if he did, it was very disappointing.

He followed winding roads through forests of pine and maple, and they were so empty Dean began to wonder if he was driving the same roads over and over again. Maybe this was some kind of divine punishment for interlopers. A Mobius strip roadway.

But then he came to a steep curve, and the road turned down into a shallow valley, where a town straight out of some '50's movie appeared, complete with a white steepled church and not a single parking lot in sight. Or big box store, or fast food place. Did those places exist anymore? Dean wasn't sure they did.

He had a bad feeling creeping down his spine, which only got worse when he drove into the heart of the town. There were very few people out and about, but those that were all had blissed out smiles on their faces. like they were as high as fuck, and really satisfied with this life choice. Dean envied them, and also pitied them. How could anyone be cheerful with the apocalypse pending?

Dean was hoping Cas would know he was here and just show up, as he sometimes did. They had that weird connection that he didn't fully understand, and he wasn't sure he wanted to or even could understand. Cas was Cas. He was the reason he was out of Hell, and alive today. He was the closest thing he had to a friend. That was sad, wasn't it? Not much he could do about it now.

Dean parked the Impala out in front of what looked like a mom and pop hardware store, the kind that didn't really exist anymore, and waited for people to look at him, point, and scream, like in Invasion of the Body Snatchers. But it didn't happen. People went on like he wasn't even there.

He walked down the street to a diner, which had a handful of customers in it. Formica counters, vinyl booths, a line of leather stools pulled up to the main counter - it looked exactly like he expected it to look. It also smelled exactly like he thought it would smell - like bacon and maple syrup, with a hint of coffee.

Dean frowned at his own thoughts. Why wasn't he trusting this place? It seemed fine. Why was he automatically so suspicious? Maybe because of his entire life. He could hear his Dad in his head, telling him, "If something is too good to be true, it is, one hundred percent of the time." Good old Dad, sharing his paranoia with him. Had it ever been wrong, though?

He sat down in the nearest booth, and took out his phone. He called Cas's number again, and got the voice mail. After the fourth time, it didn't seem as funny as it usually did. "Cas, look, I'm in Belleville, in Betty's Diner. This place is starting to give me the heebie -"

"Hello, Dean." Cas said.

Dean almost jumped, but he should have been accustomed to Cas showing up in a blink. He looked like himself, from the dark blue tie to the rumpled trench coat, but as he slid into the bench seat across from him, he grinned. His usual sober face was suddenly split by this brilliant smile, that made his eyes seem to shine. It was odd and deeply disturbing. "I can't believe I've found him. We can stop the apocalypse."

"Have you talked to him about it?" Dean asked.

Cas nodded. He seemed almost stoned, although his eyes were clear. "Yes. He said he has a plan. He's not going to let his people die. Isn't that great?"

"His people?"

Castiel made an all encompassing hand gesture, taking in the entirety of the diner, and the outside world. This reminded Dean that Cas almost never talked with his hands, which seemed more like a human thing. "Everyone. All of us. We're saved!"

"Uh huh. Does Heaven know about this?"

"He said he'd informed them."

"Have you double checked?"

Cas's smile didn't falter. "No. I don't have to." He cocked his head curiously, that gesture that identified Cas more than anything else. "You don't believe me?"

Dean tried to step back and look at this clinically, from an outsider's perspective. Was he being paranoid? What did he see that seemed wrong, beyond a happy Cas? "It's not that -"

"It is that." Castiel straighted up and frowned, very slightly. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"Sorry for what?"

"Sorry for how your father raised you. He was really -"

"Whoa," he said, holding up his hands. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Your father, John." Cas sat forward, folding his hands in front of him on the table. "It's not your fault."

"Okay, I'm out," Dean said, sliding out of the booth. He wasn't drunk enough or awake enough to have a conversation even remotely like this.

Cas stood up as well. "Dean -"

"Can I meet him?" Dean interrupted.

That made Cas briefly pause. He didn't really have a Children of the Corn vibe, but something close to it, and Dean didn't like the way he was trying to throw him off by getting into his head. "Who?"

"God."

Cas smiled again. He - well, his vessel, Jimmy - was a good looking guy. But god, it was still creepy as fuck. "I was hoping you'd ask. Follow me."

Dean did as he said, following him out of the diner, and while walking, wondered if he had enough weapon options with him.

Cas stopped walking so suddenly that Dean almost slammed into his back. He pivoted smoothly on his heels to face him. "I wouldn't think that around him. He's very forgiving, but even he has his limits."

"Are you reading my mind? Cas, I thought we talked about this."

"I'm not doing it on purpose, Dean. Your thoughts are very ... loud."

That actually made sense. Dean often confined his screaming internally, since externally got noticed quite a bit. Still, Cas usually wasn't so blatant about picking up his thoughts.

"I think it's His presence," Cas said, as if Dean had said any of that out loud. "It's amplifying my powers."

"If you've got your powers back, why didn't you just get me? Why did I have to drive here?"

"Why would I leave here? And you love your car."

Dean had no response to that. He did love his car. Still, it was strange. Even as depowered as he was, Cas did like to drop in and grab him when he wasn't ready for it. Not that he was ever ready for angel transport. It was always weird, because it seemed to take place in a moment between breaths - you were one place, then you weren't, and it felt like your guts had been dropped off a ten story building at a hundred miles an hour, while the rest of you stood in place. Was a Star Trek like beam out too much to ask for? "What about Bobby? He still needs healing up. And why don't you get Sam? Nobody would be more thrilled to meet God than him."

Cas put a hand on his arm. It was weirdly chummy for him. "You need to meet him more than any of the others."

Oh, he really didn't like the sound of that. "Why?"

Cas gave him this look that Dean absolutely hated. It was some combination of pitying the poor, stupid mortal in general, and pitying Dean specifically. "No, Dean, it's not. It's -"

"Just take me there." Dean interrupted. He didn't want to hear it. Whatever Cas was going to say, Dean instinctively knew he was better off not knowing it.

"There's no reason to be afraid," Cas said, in a very gentle voice that Dean had never heard him use before. He was so creeped out he could barely suppress the shudder. Something was one hundred percent wrong with this place, and it was affecting Cas, whatever it was.

But why wasn't it affecting him?

Dean attempted to smile, and knew he'd failed, but there was no help for it now. "Lead on."

Cas stared at him a moment, in that disconcerting way that made him feel like Cas was staring straight into his soul and out the other side, and then nodded, as if he was satisfied with what he saw. He started walking up the street again, and Dean followed.

He also pulled his phone out of his pocket. He didn't care if Sam didn't want to hear from him right now. He needed to know weird shit was going on, and it may have snagged Cas. But Dean got no signal. Yeah, that wasn't a great sign either. He should have called him before he got here.

They seemed to be heading for the church, which made sense, although it was a cliché, wasn't it? You'd hope God would be more creative than that. A church bell started ringing, a quaint sound that reaffirmed how weirdly old fashioned this place was, and it took Dean a moment to realize there were people starting to gather in front of it.

Not just any people. They were all wearing blue robes, like those nuns on that old wine bottle, but without the wimple and head gear. They were also mostly men, with a couple women sprinkled in. "What's going on?"

"It's time for the ceremony," Cas said.

Okay, yeah, this was getting worse by the second. "What ceremony?"

"God has been in hiding for some time, and his power level is not quite what it was, so the people are helping him regain his strength."

What? "How? How are people helping him?"

As soon as the last toll of the bell sounded, the people - ten in all - stood in a circle, and pulled something out of their sleeves. When the sun glinted off of them, Dean realized they were knives.

It happened ridiculously fast. Dean took one step forward, and by that time, every single person in the circle had slit their own throat. Blood spurted, red and arterial, as they all collapsed to the ground, dying with beatific smiles on their faces.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Cas asked, still with that dreamy smile on his face.

What the fuck was going on?