ALL'S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR © 2011
a Supernatural fanfic by quantum witch
Rating/Warnings: PG, none
Characters: Balthazar, OC cherub
Pairings: None
Disclaimer: SPN characters are not mine. OC's are.
Summary: The rebel troops of Heaven finally discover there's a good use for those annoying cupids.
Note: Timestamp for "Use Your Illusions" fic by wanderamaranth and quantumwitch (see my bio page for links). This story explains a statement made in UYI chapter 7, referring to information Balthazar receives from "one of our little spies" to give Castiel. This part of the story takes place roughly between SPN 6x3 and 6x15.
Further note: This was written around Tuesday, and we couldn't find the right spot in the UYI fic. Then, wouldn't you know it, in the finale, Balthazar says of the "Judas in their midst" - "I'll bet it was that cherub". Sort of a vague Kripke, yet again.
"Goodness, you guys just work yourselves half to death," the cherub named Nustariel tutted over Castiel's troops as they lay exhausted in a cave deep in the Peruvian jungles, let me get you some refreshing manna."
He passed out slices of the heavenly bread to the other angels, who took it gratefully while another pair of cupids tended to their wounds. When he came to the sprawled and contused Balthazar, he was greeted with a sneer.
"I truly loathe this stuff," Balthazar grumbled, though he took a piece. "To think, if I hadn't followed Cas I could still be in a mansion wallowing on silks sheets, guzzling champagne and licking beluga off the bellies of porn stars. Not here… in this squalid hole with nothing but sticky flakes of heavenly pastry to sustain me." He neglected, as always, to speak aloud of the souls he and Castiel kept stored; they were far more useful for regaining energy. Unfortunately too many were watching for him to risk a trip to the cache.
"Oh, now, brother," Nustariel clucked, "if you would all just stop fighting each other in this silly war, no one would have to be hiding at all."
Balthazar glared incredulously up at the cupid's fat, friendly face. "You don't say? Why the bloody hell didn't the blindingly obvious occur to us?" he slapped his forehead. "Well, there's that solved. Let's just wrap this whole mess up and go home, shall we?" He scowled at the cherub, who pouted.
"You don't have to be a meanie, Balthazar," Nustariel said, his eyes growing misty. "I'm just saying it's sad and everyone's miserable. I don't understand why we can't all get along anymore."
"Sweetheart," Balthazar sat up, wincing at the stiffness in his back where he'd hit a mountainside at roughly two-hundred miles an hour. "I'm sure this has been explained to you cherubs more times that there are stars in the skies, but we're not doing this for the fun of it all. Raphael wants to kill everyone. 'Everyone' does include you."
"But I'm not his enemy," the cherub shook his head in confusion, "I've never done anything bad to him, or any other angel."
Balthazar sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, of course you haven't. You, like all good little cherubs, kneeled before him when he declared himself head of the Heavenly Host. You simply don't want to disappoint the upper management. But there's a bigger picture here, one apparently too big for your brains to encompass." He sighed and looked up at the unhappy round face. "Raphael will kill all humans. He wants them all dead. They will not be alive anymore. And you – you cherubs – will no longer have a job. You cannot match-make the dead. You will be obsolete. And then Raphael will have no use for you. And what Raphael has no use for, he will destroy."
The cherub's eyes nearly popped from his head, his mouth an 'O' of disbelief. "He wouldn't do that."
"He would, darling, believe me. Look at it this way, even if he didn't kill you all, you'd still have nothing at all to do for eternity. Do you know how boring nothing is? Even after a few millennia, it's enough to make you wanna hack your own arm off just to see how long it'll take to grow back."
"But, but… he's just trying to make sure he follows our Father's will…" The cherub now sounded doubtful.
"Of course, keep telling yourself that," Balthazar rose gingerly and made his way to the cave mouth. The skies were clear for now, and he knew they couldn't afford to stay here long
"And maybe a golden Pegasus will shoot out of your bum and fly you off to Venus, while you're at it."
He could hear the cupid begin to sniffle behind him. And while he smirked, he also felt a bit guilty. What was it about these annoying creatures that could make another angel feel that? They were irritatingly cheerful, until their feelings were hurt (all too easy to do) after which they all but mourned like widows. They never wore clothes while in a vessel. And they always, without fail, chose a vessel covered in cellulite and with a face only a mother could love, which he supposed might have been the point. 'Love was blind', and they took their motto far too seriously.
He turned back to face the cherub. "Look, I'm sorry, old fellow. I just cannot sugarcoat this for you," he said with grudging apology. "I cannot control Raphael's behavior. Nor can you, not even with your powers could you melt that self-righteous block of ice. All you can do is hang in there, and hope for the best. It's what you do, isn't it?"
"No," said Nustariel, his lip wobbling, "we don't hope for ourselves. We give hope to others. We bring love and peace and happiness."
"That's all very well and good, sweetie, but unless you know of a way to defeat Raphael, we're all gonna wind in a world of hurt, wiggling for eternity impaled on spikes shoved up every orifice. And since we won't be in vessels, that'll be wherever Raphael decides one ought to exist. Basically all over." Balthazar shivered at his own imagination, and nibbled a corner of the manna. How he'd love a glass of malt whiskey about now. And if he could escape long enough, he'd find that damned Crowley for a sabbatical.
Nustariel was silent for a long minute. Then he said, softly, "How can I help?"
A sandy eyebrow raised as Balthazar contemplated this surprising change of tone. Could there possibly be a cupid with a serious streak? And if so, could he successfully exploit that? His brain worked feverishly for a moment, then the spark of an idea hit him.
Cupids didn't pick sides among angels, they loved everyone equally. And they were already moving freely between one army and the other, because no one paid them any mind. Cupids were easy to ignore. But they had ears and eyes, and if they could be convinced to bring information only to Castiel…
Balthazar smiled. "I think… that's a question for our leader," he stepped closer and slung an arm reluctantly around the chubby shoulders and steered the cherub to the back of the cave where Castiel sat, going over battle plans.
- END -
Note: The name Nustariel is my own creation. It essentially means "secrets of God" in Hebrew.
See bio page for link to "Use Your Illusions", chapter 7, for context of this fic.