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Supernatural and everything that pertains to it belongs to Eric Kripke.
No copyright infringement intended.
"Deborah Moss," said a voice, soft and loving, accented with a gentle, British brogue. "It's not her true name, though," the voice corrected itself, turning dejected, "but it'll do for now, I suppose. We'll have to change that last name nonetheless—make it harder for them to find her and all that."
There was a heavy exhale soon after—a weary, feminine sigh.
Gabriel rolled his eyes. His Other-Half was sometimes far too schmaltzy for his liking, but he was being a nasty little hypocrite right now and he knew it—so he really didn't have any room to talk.
There were days when Gabriel would sweep his Other-Half off her feet and disappear with her to the ends of the universe, lavishing her in jewels and fancy clothes, loving every inch of her body, letting his grace reach out to embrace her's…
Not today, though. There was no time for romance, not with an oncoming storm of Hell's elite headed their way. The little cottage they found themselves in would only last so long against an attack of demons, no matter how many wards and sigils were in place.
They were working on a tight schedule; the birth of Deborah Moss had already gotten out to the ends of Hell and back. It was only a matter of time before a swarm of black-eyed demons (or worse) came crashing through the threshold with the sole purpose of killing the newborn babe.
That of course, could not—would not—happen.
There was a reason Gabriel's name meant "strong man of God." He would take down Hell's worst singlehandedly if the need for it arrived, which he sincerely hoped it would not. Strong man of God or not, he never liked being in the center of conflicts.
"Rosie, just grab the kid and let's amscray," Gabriel told the owner of the British tone, Rosiel—the Angel of Youth, the Guardian of Innocents—his Rosie-Rose, and his personal Cherry Lollipop.
The petite redhead, who had once worn a look of tranquility, quickly changed her facial expression with the disgruntled crinkling of her button nose. The content smile she had once worn quickly turned into a small scowl, and her blue eyes flashed in anger shortly before turning icy, sending a glare at the honey-eyed Archangel standing beside her.
Gabriel—smartly—took a step back upon seeing his Other-Half's upset features. Being with Rosiel since before the creation of humanity had made him adept at when to back off when she was caught in one of her moods.
The saying, "Hell has no fury like a woman scorned," was practically conceived with the notion of Rosiel in mind.
"I cannot simply, as you so crudely put it, 'grab the kid,'" Rosiel spat in a quiet hiss as not to awaken the sleeping Deborah.
The aforementioned Deborah lay asleep in a nest of blankets and pillows on an old, rickety cot, wrapped up tightly in a pink blanket—"Like a little burrito," Gabriel had cooed earlier in a slight moment of fault.
Rosiel knew that her Other-Half secretly loved children, but he was acting tough and unconcerned just for show—it was irritating for her. She did not like it when he feigned to be someone else.
Hearing her thoughts and feeling her emotions through the special bond they shared, Gabriel opened his mouth to protest as well as to hand out an order that Rosiel, as his second in command, would not be able to refuse, but the unexpected sound of fluttering wings made him keep his mouth shut.
With the fluttering of wings, an angel always followed, and right now, that was certainly not in the plans. Out of all the angels of Heaven, only Gabriel and Rosiel knew of Deborah's existence, so who—
"I'd be more than happy to take Orelthel off your hands," said a British voice with a similar cadence to Rosiel's voice.
Oh, of course it would be him. Gabriel snorted crossly.
From a shadowy corner of the dark, moonlit room, the angel known as Balthazar emerged, running a hand through his perfectly (purposely) disheveled blond hair. His designer jeans were neatly pressed, encasing his long legs, and his black blazer was flawless, covering a tight gray shirt overtop a lean torso. An arrogant look danced across his blue eyes, and on his lips stretched out a rather impish smirk—though it quickly melted into a genuine smile as he approached the little cot piled high with blankets.
All the while, Balthazar ignored the looks of incredulity that both Gabriel and Rosiel were shooting him.
"Oh, little Orelthel," the blond angel said quietly, almost sadly, leaning down and letting his lips gently skirt across the skin of Deborah's cheek in greeting. "Look at you, so small and… pink."
"Brother, what are you doing here?" Rosiel was the first to ask, regarding the back of her twin brother's head with a look of distrust. She loved her brother dearly, there was no mistaking that, but his presence in the cottage was severely uncalled for…
How Balthazar had found out about Deborah, let alone gotten through the protective wards and sigils placed around the cottage, was beyond Rosiel. The demons and entities of Hell, Rosiel knew, would know of Deborah through the connection she shared with Lucifer, but Balthazar, being a fellow Angel of the Lord, had no reason to know about the little human currently sleeping snug as a bug in her fortress of blankets.
Balthazar ignored his sister's question, ignored the stares that were burning holes in the back of his head, ignored the distrustful emotions that he was feeling through his sibling bond with Rosiel. He stayed leaning over Deborah, studying her little human features, marveling at the fact that humans could be so very small and helpless when first brought into the world.
Their creation was far more complicated than that of an angel's. Humans needed to grow, to learn, to decide right from wrong—they had the luxury of choosing their path in life, a luxury an angel did not have without severe consequences.
They had free will, which was something most envious, especially to someone like Balthazar.
Deborah's eyes were closed, hidden behind petal-soft lids, but Balthazar knew that they would be a striking blue once she opened them. The tuffs of feathery hair on her head were a light caramel brown that would surely darken as the years went by, which was a pity; Balthazar thought that little Deborah would look lovely with light colored hair. Her skin, soft to the touch, smelled of milk and flowery powder—her complexion was fair, but being a newborn gave her skin a rosy tint.
She was a doll, and Balthazar could already see her having him wrapped around her fingers, which was a thought that made him smile halfheartedly.
"How did you find out about this?" asked Gabriel impatiently, his golden eyes narrowed, a look of uncertainty shining brightly within their depths.
The spell, for Balthazar, was broken.
"I've got friends in high places," said Balthazar with a roll of the eyes, turning around and standing up to his full height, which towered over Gabriel and Rosiel's short stature.
"What do you mean you have friends in high—Balthazar," said Rosiel with a gentle gasp, a look of realization shining in her eyes as she stared up at her brother. "You've been summoned?" she asked next, her words dripping with joyous disbelief.
Balthazar nodded, a rather pleased look flashing across his eyes for just a moment.
"But everyone thinks you're dead," said Gabriel skeptically.
"Obviously I wasn't careful enough when I faked my death, but then again our Father is God—he who is all knowing, blah, blah, blah," said Balthazar with a bored look in his blue eyes.
Leave it to Gabriel to ruin what would have been a good moment.
"So you're here to help?" asked Rosiel, a small smile on her lips.
"I'm here to help, and here to stay," said Balthazar with a small smile. "Father has informed me of what's to come and what it is that we will be expecting."
"Who else knows about this?" asked Gabriel, his skeptic eyes never leaving Balthazar. However, his tense shoulders relaxed just the slightest bit. It was a relief to know that their Father had personally called upon Balthazar to help them with this problem, but it wasn't enough to settle Gabriel's nerves.
Balthazar was, and always will be, a self-serving little bitch. He could not be trusted, at least not completely. The only person he was loyal to was himself. He had faked his death for a reason! He had grown tired of all the rules in Heaven, tired of serving underneath someone; he wanted to be his own boss, and so he left—but of course, Rosiel, being his twin sister, having a grace identical to his, knew that he was still alive, and through Rosiel, Gabriel also knew.
It was out of respect for Rosiel that Gabriel had never mentioned Balthazar's fake death to his other siblings, but if he needed to keep Balthazar in line, he now had something to blackmail him with—Balthazar did not want others to know that he was still alive… Or that he had stolen various Heavenly weapons upon his departure from Heaven...
Gabriel was not opposed to threatening Balthazar, and for Rosiel's sake, he hoped that it would never have to happen.
"Only you, Rosiel, and myself know about little Orelthel here," answered Balthazar seriously, before a sarcastic smirk flashed across his lips, and he added, "not including the ten demons I had to take out before getting here—you're welcome, by the way. I've just given us a few extra minutes before the cavalry arrives."
"Word spreads fast in Hell," mumbled Rosiel with a look of concern in her eyes as she stared down at Deborah, who now was beginning to stir in her sleep, roused by Balthazar's gentle touch.
"Well, when the Morning Star's twin sister decides to grace the earth with her presence once more…" the voice of Balthazar trailed off, a very sardonic tone to his tenor.
Gabriel sighed. "It's only a matter of time before word up above gets around too—for all we know, Michael probably knows about this already."
"Have you at least handled the situation down here?" asked Balthazar, regarding Gabriel and Rosiel with a clinical eye.
Rosiel was the first to nod, saying, "The parents are dead—"
Balthazar gave his sister a look.
"We didn't do it," Rosiel snapped, glaring at her brother, "demons did."
"It happened at the hospital," added Gabriel. "Mommy pops Deborah out, and then the room gets swarmed by demons. Everyone is dead within a few seconds—we were lucky enough to get the kid and zap out before they noticed us."
"Anyways," continued Rosiel, "the memories of all those who had anything to do with the Moss family have been erased—we've cleaned up thoroughly, I assure you."
Balthazar nodded, a look of approval flashing in his blue eyes.
"We better get moving," said Gabriel quickly. Turning to look at Rosiel, he added, "Rosie, if you'd be so kind as to… you know, do the thing."
Rolling her eyes at Gabriel, Rosiel stepped forward and reached into the nest of blankets, taking Deborah into her arms and cradling her against her chest as any overprotective mother would with their newborn babe. The baby began to fuss at being taken from the warm blankets, nose scrunching up in discontent, and lips parting ready to give out a shrill cry, but Rosiel quickly saw to it that Deborah was calmed. The redhead kissed the baby's forehead, whispering kind words, letting her influence ensnare the upset baby.
In seconds, Deborah was calm, with a drowsy expression on her little round face, and Rosiel smiled, a proud look in her eyes.
The Angel of Youth certainly lived up to her title. There was not a child that Rosiel could not sooth.
"All this time spent amongst man, and you'd think he'd learn how to hold a baby by now," Rosiel told her twin brother, giving him a look, one he returned with a soft chuckle.
"Rosie-Rose, you know I don't have that magic touch," said Gabriel with a grin, lifting up his hands and wiggling his fingers at Rosiel for emphasis.
Rosiel simply shook her head disapprovingly at her Other-Half's antics, but a small smile reached her lips nonetheless. She found Gabriel's odd quirks endearing… most of the time.
"You two make me want to vomit," sighed Balthazar, crossing his arms. "I don't think I can handle all this flirting."
"Well, get used to it buddy," said Gabriel with a teasing grin, patting Balthazar on the shoulder superciliously. "This is nothing, trust me. Your sister is a real—"
"If you finish that sentence, Gabriel, I swear to Dad that I will take my angel sword and shove it up your—"
Balthazar tuned the couple out.
He was sincerely happy that his twin sister had found her Other-Half, but out of all the Angels of Heaven, why did it have to be Gabriel? He was proud that his sister had been destined to be with an Archangel rather than a common angel, but Gabriel… well, Balthazar supposed he had to be thankful that Rosiel wasn't meant for Raphael, or worse—Michael. Although, if his twin sister had been bound to Michael instead of Gabriel that would have had its advantages—what, with Michael being Heaven's head-bitch and all that…
Nevertheless, Gabriel was still an Archangel, he was in the Ivy League, one-step down from God himself, and so Balthazar would not look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Well," he said, interrupting Gabriel and Rosiel's spat, "has Castiel been notified?"
The lighthearted mood quickly vanished.
"What exactly has Father told you about our little… task," asked Rosiel carefully, looking at her twin brother with a clinical eye.
"He told me everything that I need to know," said Balthazar simply, shrugging his shoulders.
"Then you know why Castiel can't be made aware of Deborah," said Rosiel, giving her brother a look.
"Yes yes," said Balthazar airily, waving a hand in the air dismissively, "but don't you think that he should be informed of Orelthel?"
"You know we can't go against our orders," said Gabriel with a look of disapproval in his honey colored eyes.
"Yes, I know that, but why does Father not want Castiel to take care of Orelthel? Castiel has more right to her than any of us—"
"She's not Orelthel, Balthazar," said Rosiel quietly, staring up at her brother with a look of sorrow in her blue eyes, "not right now, at least."
"Castiel needs to prepare for what's soon to come," said Gabriel cryptically, giving Balthazar a knowing look. "Orelthel—Deborah, would be a distraction. They will meet again once more, but not until Fate deems it right—and let me tell you, Lady Fate is a bitch, so it might take a while."
"I swear," sighed Balthazar in frustration, "we can bend the rules. We don't need to follow—"
"We cannot," snapped Gabriel, glaring up at Balthazar, a sudden look of contempt flashing in his golden orbs. "Not all of us can simply fake our deaths because we don't agree with—"
"Well at least I didn't runaway when things got too—"
"Balthazar," hissed Rosiel, giving her brother a disapproving look, "that's enough. And Gabriel, wipe that smirk off your stupid face. There is a time and place for that, and it is certainly not here nor now!"
Balthazar smirked at Gabriel, and Gabriel glared at Balthazar.
Rosiel sighed. "If this is how it's going to be from here on out, I can assure you that I will not hesitate to smite either of you—now say sorry!"
Balthazar and Gabriel remained silent, silently daring one another to say something to strike Rosiel's ire.
"I swear…" Rosiel trailed off softly in frustration, eyes narrowed as she looked from Balthazar to Gabriel. "Let's just go."
With a fluttering of wings and a snap of fingers, the cottage was empty. All that was left for the demons to find was a chocolate bar nestled within the nest of blankets.
The Archangel had left his mark—Gabriel had the last laugh.
NOTES
1. Pairings: Castiel/Deborah (Orelthel) | Gabriel/Rosiel | [undecided] Balthazar/OFC
2. Orelthel: aur-êl-thêl | Meaning: Morning Star Sister
3. Rosiel: rose-iell | Meaning: Daughter of Red-Haired One
4. Deborah: de-bo-rah | Meaning: Bee
5. Moss: m(o)-ss | Meaning: Saviour