Stand-In
Rating: PG-13/T
Genre: Humor
Summary: While Castiel is… Indisposed, Balthazar steps in to help Sam and Dean with a hunt. Things don't go well, but that's par for the course.
Author's Note: This actually came from me misreading a prompt on spn_balthazar while I was hunting for more to fill.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. It belongs to Eric Kripke.
()()
"Balthazar."
"Kff- Yes?"
"Don't say a word."
"I haven't the slightest of ideas what you might possibly be referring to, oh ever-darling little brother of mine-"
"This is not funny, Balthazar."
Balthazar snorted into his hand in a poor mimicry of a cough and tried to force his mouth back into, at the very least, a straight line and not a mirthful, mocking grin. Cas got so pouty when he was upset.
"Well don't throw the book at me, Cassie, I'm not the one that trapped you." They were in heaven. Whose individual heaven, Balthazar had no idea. But Castiel was on a bed, which was surrounded entirely by holy fire. The glorious leader of the rebellion looked none too pleased. "Dear lord, tell me Micah hasn't done this after finally deciding to act out his repressed homosexual urges-"
"Balthazar." Castiel snarled.
"Easy now, Cas, we've discussed how poutiness looks eerie and out of place on you."
"Micah had nothing to do with this." Rachel's sudden appearance and what it implied made Balthazar abandon his attempts to stop grinning entirely, and he broke out into chuckles.
"You? Oh, and the plot thickens. Why, dear Rachel, did you trap Castiel on a bed? Planning to get lessons on how to perform the horizontal mambo? Finally. You need to loosen up."
His remarks were received with almost total blankness by Rachel. She blinked, and then shook her head. "Castiel-" She turned to glare sternly at their brother, "Needs to rest."
"Rachel, I am fine."
"You almost passed out during the meeting."
"I'm fine."
"You can say it, but that doesn't make it so."
"I'm just thinking out loud, but didn't you teach her that, Cas?" Balthazar inquired innocently as Castiel glared viciously at him.
"Rachel, let me out."
"In three days I will, after you have rested."
"And what makes you think I will?"
"Not like you have anything better to do." Balthazar broke into chuckles again at the look Castiel shot him. But the look of little-angry-brotherly-wrath was interrupted as Castiel twitched, blinked and touched the side of his head in surprise. "Oh, your little howler monkeys do have the best timing, don't they Cas?"
"Shut up."
"Ooh, snippy."
"You're not going."
"You're not my mother."
"No, I'm your lieutenant that would prefer you be around long enough to see the end of this war."
"I'm not a child!"
"Then stop acting like one!"
"I am not acting like a child, you're being unreasonable!"
"Unreasonable?"
(It should be noted at this point that Balthazar's head was swerving gently back and forth, as though he was watching a mildly interesting game of tennis).
"I am competent, and I can make my own decisions!"
"Your decision seems to be to push yourself until you collapse, and I'm not going to let you do that!"
"I think I'm a better judge of my physical state than you are."
"Apparently not!"
"Rachel-!"
"Castiel-!"
"As-" Balthazar made sure his voice carried louder over his now furiously bickering siblings. "-entertaining as your little lover's-spat is, several facts are obvious: Castiel, Rachel is not letting you out. Rachel, the Winchesters are calling and, unfortunately, sometimes they do have a good reason for it."
"And?" Rachel and Castiel prompted in unison.
"And so whilst Castiel rests and Rachel keeps an eye on heaven," He said, gesturing to both of them in turn, "I'll take care of the Winchesters and whatever their problem is. Not a problem."
"You hate Sam and Dean." Castiel intoned in a voice that said that he was expecting nothing good to come of this.
"It's really more Dean, actually. As long as Sammy has his soul and therefore the sense to not threaten to burn my wings 'extra crispy', I don't have a problem with him."
"Why Dean?"
"You haven't met him yet, dear: You'll learn." Castiel seemed irritated with this remark about his friend, but Balthazar ignored him. "Point being, I'll take care of them."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Castiel said hollowly, and Balthazar could tell that he was picturing the thousand and one different ways in which this could all go to Hell in a finely woven hand-basket.
"Rachel's not letting you out, she needs to be here in heaven, and I know how to handle the boys, mm? Sounds like the best set-up you're going to get." Castiel covered his eyes for a moment, then uncovered them and turned pleadingly to Rachel. She shook her head, unmoved. He growl-sighed and let himself fall face forward into the bed.
"Don't kill them, Balthazar."
"Of course not, Cassie."
He disappeared, and Castiel had the strong, strong feeling that he was going to Regret This.
()()
Three days later, Rachel released Castiel from the circle of fire.
"How did you sleep?" She inquired innocently, straight-faced and solemn as ever. Castiel glared at her.
"I'm still very upset with you."
"Go right ahead, Cas: You haven't look this rested in months." He hadn't felt this rested in months, but he wasn't about to give Rachel the idea that this was an acceptable method of getting him to rest in the future. Not that he thought it would dissuade her if she was so motivated.
"Did Balthazar tell you where he was going?"
"I believe he mentioned Montana. Would you like assistance?"
"I highly doubt Balthazar is in such trouble." Rachel stared at Castiel for a long, long moment, and he sighed. "I see your point. But I'll be fine." His expression flattened slightly. "I am, after all, rested."
Rachel only shrugged her agreement, and Castiel left before he could lose his temper with her.
Narrowed down to a state, it only took about ten minutes to find Balthazar and the Winchesters.
Castiel landed in the basement of the old, abandoned church and stared.
Most of the basement seemed to have been converted into some kind of torture chamber. There were iron maidens, racks, whips and hammers and knives. The distinct smells of blood and death and gore perforated every inch of the room.
And in the very center was his brother.
"Hello Cas!" Balthazar chirped weakly, kneading his hands as the circle of holy fire flickered around him. "You might be wondering about, ah-" He gestured vaguely to Dean, who was strapped to a large, wooden wheel that was spinning round and round at a steady pace. Then he looked to Sam, who was trapped in a man-shaped metal cage, wrists bound together outside the bars. "…well, it's a funny story-"
"Cas!" Dean interrupted with over-the-top mock-brightness as the wheel continued turning. "Nice of you to show up. Hey, fun-fact: Did you know that 'Neo-Pagan' is code for 'Evil asshole witch with a knife-fetish'?"
"Neo-Pagans are not inherently bad people, Dean, and they don't like being called witches-"
"DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A RAT'S ASS, SAM?"
As Dean's head had, at that moment, been pointing at the floor mid-rotation, the general consensus was that he did not in fact give a rat's ass about political correctness at that particular moment.
"What…?" Castiel shook his head slowly, disbelieving. "How… Exactly… What happ…" His expression darkened slightly, and he turned to look dismally at his brother. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything!"
"'I can handle a witch!'" Dean mocked in an exaggerated English accent. "'Skinny little bugger like that, I can take him just fine!'"
"How was I supposed to know he had access to the rare holy oil you can only find in Jerusalem?" Balthazar snapped. "You're the ones that told me he was some stupid little greenhorn novice! If I'd known he was once rubbing elbows with Emperor Constantine I would have treaded a little more carefully!"
"You're an angel who loves to remind us that we're stupid little humans- We assumed that you could handle it!" Sam barked from his cage.
"And you're the hunters that have spent the majority of your lives hunting things like witches, so I assumed that you were capable of handling yourselves if I got trapped!"
"How exactly did you three get caught?"
Castiel was watching them with that look of befuddlement still glued to his face. He had yet to make any move to free them from their respective restraints.
Almost immediately, Balthazar and Dean started shouting, each one trying to get their own sides of the story out over the other, gesticulating wildly. Castiel was pretty certain that he'd heard a few of the more creative Enochian curse words from Balthazar. Dean was the typical slew of human swears, but much more uniquely arranged.
"-he was in the back-"
"-goat-licking-"
"-deepest pit of filth-"
"-grotesque display of masculinity-"
"-wine-keg-humping-"
"-bestiality lawsuit-"
"SAM!" Castiel barked over the din. "Sam! You! Tell me!"
Sam sighed. "Dean and I were investigating some suspicious deaths in town."
"Give 'em the details." Dean groused. Sam rolled his eyes and winced slightly.
"Uh- Deaths involving animals attacking people, ranging from dogs to chipmunks. One guy had a run-in with his girlfriend's pet chinchilla that ended up biting off his…" All four of them grimaced. "We tried hunting around, and we gathered as much that there was a witch, but all we got were dead ends."
"And then you called me." Castiel filled in.
"Yeah. We were a bit surprised when Balthazar showed up."
"Surprised? Rambo over there almost blew my head off."
"If only!"
"SO-" Sam raised his voice. "Balthazar agreed to help us. He helped us track down a lead, to a guy in the suburbs who claimed to be a neo-pagan-"
"Which is basically a witch."
"Dean!"
"The guy was sacrificing goats, drinking kitten blood and dancing around a fire pit, Sam, I don't give a damn what he labels himself that makes him a witch!"
"Can I gather," Castiel interrupted before a now twice as moody Sam could respond, "That this is the basement of the witch in question?"
"No, this is his best friend Bob's house." Balthazar said dryly.
"Then why are you here?"
Balthazar put his face in his hands, shaking it and moaning softly. "Really, Cas? Really? You still lack such a grasp on sarcasm?"
"You were joking."
"Yes."
"I see."
"Hey," Dean called, sounding a bit woozier than before (probably from the blood rapidly falling from and rushing to his head), "You two are a real comedy act, but I don't think the purple spots I'm seeing are part of the décor. Would you mind gettin' me down now?"
Castiel snapped his fingers. In retrospect, he probably should have waited until he or Sam was there to catch him, because Dean was at a forty-five degree angle when the shackles disappeared and he fell to the floor with a yelp and a muffled thud. Sam managed to catch himself on his hands as he fell face-first out of the cage and onto the floor. Balthazar, already standing and not otherwise bound, merely smiled and watched the Winchesters struggle as he stepped out of the remains of the holy fire circle.
"Thank you, Cassie."
But Castiel gave him a dark look. "You will not be substituting me again any time soon, Balthazar."
"Wouldn't even dream of volunteering."
"Thank God," Dean rambled as he got to his feet, stumbling. "Because I don't think I can handle your help again."
"Well it's not like I killed you." Balthazar drawled, rolling his eyes. "Oh- That reminds me." The angel disappeared into thin air, and Sam looked panicked.
"Where'd he go?"
CLANG.
THUD.
Balthazar reappeared a moment later, twirling a bloody shovel in his hand. "Witch is dead." Castiel, Sam and Dean all stared at him. "What? It doesn't have to be fancy. Good ol' blow to the head works just fine so long as they don't see you coming." He smiled and threw the gardening tool down. "Well, nice chatting with you: Dean, you're an ass; Sam, you're a psychotic pansy; Cas, I will see you in heaven. Ciao."
He disappeared.
"Don't leave." Dean reached over and wrapped his arms around Castiel. "Don't leave. Ever again. Please." Castiel sighed and gently patted Dean's arm.
"I promise I will never leave you with my brother's aid alone again, Dean."
He was starting to think that he should start reserving that kind of thing for punishments.
-END
