Summary: It took numbers to storm Hell. The whole of the Heavenly Host, dispatched for one righteous soul. Balthazar didn't think it was worth it - a suicide mission, in his opinion - but Castiel did. Too bad it wasn't Castiel who pulled the Righeous Man from Hell. It wasn't Castiel who raised Dean Winchester from perdition. It really should have been. Balthazar was a poor choice by anyone's standings, including his own.
A/Ns: For those following TRSF(TTA), I know I missed a post this weekend D: I'm still working on the next chapter, and RL has been excruciatingly busy this holiday season. I'm hoping to get a chapter up this weekend, since I'm going on vacation. Until then, the muse still seems interested in this one, so here's another chapter. Heads up, though, I probably won't get another chapter of this up until after the new year.
Story Warnings: Character death, depictions of violence, swearing
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Part IV
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Dean met his third angel a week after Balthazar popped into his head for a late-night chat and oh, yeah, run-for-your-lives warning. He and Sam could only stay off-grid for so long, even with the hex bags Bobby whipped up for them to do just that. They were hunters; it was in their blood to keep up the family business. Turned out, that actually made it pretty damn easy for someone with supernatural powers to find you.
Zachariah showed up in the middle of a hunt that Heaven had apparently orchestrated in order to draw the brothers out. That was probably the last straw either Winchester had when it came to holding out any hope or trust in the angels. They'd allowed four people to die at the hands of a vampire nest just so they could have a chat with the two hunters.
Oh, and they conveniently waited until the two had taken care of the monsters entirely by themselves – Sam getting a brand new scar running the length of his left shoulder blade for it – before showing up all haughty and demanding.
Dean instantly hated the portly, balding angel in his bad suit and tie. He'd never worked a desk job in his life, but he was pretty sure this was the reason some people went postal on their bosses. Just about the moment he met Zachariah, he thought, 'I should probably just kill this one now, ask questions later.' He didn't, though. Mostly because, unfortunately, the Winchesters still didn't have a way to kill an angel. Another thing Balthazar could have left them before he, oh yeah, left them.
The first time the bastard showed himself, it was to ask the two where they had disappeared to, and then he followed it up by asking them where Balthazar was. Dean told him to go screw himself, and Zachariah spent the next six and a half minutes teaching the two humans where exactly they stood on the food chain.
Stomach cancer really wasn't one of those things either Winchester had ever really thought they needed to worry about.
After that, the bastard would pop back up from time to time with a task for them to do, which they would, but only under threat of more pain like the last round. More often than not, the orders would come with a demand about their errant angel. The pompous ass talked only to Dean, flat out ignoring Sam unless it was to degrade him for one thing or another, something that pissed Dean off so much that he ached for a blade that would cut the bastard. It also guaranteed that Sam, the more likely of the two to actually work with Heaven, was staying as far away from them as possible.
Which meant he pretty much marched himself straight into Ruby's arms every opportunity he got, and there was shit Dean could do about it while Heaven marched his ass all over the damn country for truly useless causes.
The fourth time Zachariah showed up it was to tell them, haughtily, that Heaven had apprehended Balthazar and the angel was dead. Dean didn't believed it for a second. He was a liar and a pretty damn talented conman when he wanted to be; he knew another when he saw it. Unfortunately, his confidence that the angel was actually still alive, even if Heaven hadn't found him, dwindled every damn day, and it left both Winchesters without much against the storm clearly building on the horizon.
Like lining up the last domino in an endless, complicated pattern of messing with people's lives and not helping, Heaven and Hell managed to finagle the brothers exactly where they needed them to be. That way, when push came to shove, their loyalty to each other wasn't enough to keep them together. Dean's insistence that they could face it without help – Team Free Will – wasn't enough to convince Sam. Hell, it was hardly enough to convince himself, most days.
When the younger Winchester inevitably chose a demon over his own brother, it left Dean with only one place to go.
-o-o-o-
The room was gaudy as hell. Seriously. What was up with angels and their interior decorating choices? Not that Dean hadn't figured the Louis XVI getup for Zachariah, a hundred percent. Probably the dickwad's idea of showing off power and superiority. God, what a douchebag.
"So, we gonna do this, or what?" Dean barked, throwing his hands in the air when the butt-muncher finally showed.
The angel smiled like slime, that is, if slime had a receding hairline and a mouth full of teeth that reminded Dean of a shark. "Patience, Dean. It's all coming together, and you're part in it is coming up."
"Yeah, and what is that part exactly?" Dean shoved his hands deep into his jeans pockets. He never liked the dirty feeling he always got anytime he had to deal with this particular angel. Like he needed a shower just from staring at the asshole. "I wanna know the game plan."
"Let us worry about that, Dean." God, he really hated the way that bastard said his name. He wanted to punch the stupid smile right off his stupid face. "For now, we want you focused. Relaxed. Try a burger; they're your favorite. From that seaside shack in Delaware. You were eleven, I think?"
Then he was gone, and good fucking riddance. Dean was seriously reconsidering his options – of which there were none – if it meant Zach was stuck holding the ball and Dean didn't have to deal with him anymore. He couldn't deny there was a definite desire to kill the angel. Michael would probably still deal, right? Bigger picture and all that.
While toying with the idea (which was also a non-starter, as Dean was pretty sure only one of those glowing blades could kill an angel, and he didn't have one (another thing Balthzar could have left them, seeing as he so handily had two. Thanks a million, Balth)), the hunter paced around the gaudy room, staring at over-the-top paintings of Heaven and Hell waging war. Like that's what he needed to be reminded of right now. His idle perimeter search (aka: bored-out-of-his-mind-wandering) passed by an idealistic statue of an angel and Dean suddenly found himself incapable of resisting.
Fuck this place and his 'hosts.'
He tipped the thing right over and off the table, just because he could. Watched it break just to see if Zachariah would show his ugly mug. Just to piss him off.
But it wasn't Zach that showed up.
"You bloody idiot!" Dean was whipped around by a harsh hand on his shoulder and shoved back into the wall, a hand slapped to his mouth before he could yell – or return insults – and the hunter found himself inches away from the missing angel. He might have tried to say his name out of pure surprise (and, okay, fine, maybe a little bit of relief) if the angel didn't have a firm clamp over his lips. "I risk my neck to warn you to stay away from the angels and what do you do? You run straight to them!"
Dean managed to rip Balthazar's hand away, likely because the angel let him, and growled back, "Where the hell have you been?!"
"Hiding, you gigantic moron!" The angel didn't release him, and the warning look in his eye suggested they were both about to be in a shit ton of trouble. "What part of 'Heaven will come after me for telling you this' did you not pick up on?"
Dean paused, the next insult on the tip of his tongue, but he warily regarded the angel he had (reluctantly) missed these past months. "Then why are you here now?"
"God, you're dense. I'm rescuing you!" Balthazar raised an angel blade – his own, given the shine of life coursing just beneath the metal – and Dean couldn't hide the flinch as the angel sliced the blade between them. But it wasn't human blood that spilt. At least, not entirely human. Dean watched, confused, as Balthazar dragged his fingers across his own bleeding arm and started painting on the wall beside Dean's head.
The hunter recognized the symbol from the dream strip joint immediately and tensed, realizing they'd soon have company.
"Give me your other blade," he demanded, thinking it was a fairly reasonable request. Those blades seemed to be the only thing that could kill an angel, and Dean knew Balthazar had two.
"Just shut up and stay still."
"What if I don't want to be rescued?" Dean countered, half out of the need to be pissy and half serious. No angel was going to boss him around, thank you very much. Which, yes, he realized the ridiculousness of that statement while literally held up in a waiting room, waiting for angels to show back up to order him around. Thank you, now shut up.
"Then you're an even bigger moron than I thought." Balthazar finished the painting and finally looked at the human he still had pressed to the wall. "Heaven is playing you, Dean, and you're letting them."
"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in."
Dean's eyes snapped over the angel's shoulder as Zachariah was suddenly in the room, along with two other angels in god awful suits.
"I figured you for a lot of things, Balthazar, but loyal, wasn't one of them."
His smile was back to slime quality, not that it probably had any other setting. He withdrew a blade from his pinstriped sleeve slowly, and Dean suddenly found it weird that he'd never seen the angel with a weapon before. Definitely a boss, with minions to get their hands dirty for him. Definitely the kind you went postal on. Zachariah brandished the blade with the kind of bravado that said he'd only ever watched movies about combat. At least, that's the impression Dean would have if this guy was human.
"You'll regret coming for him. I've been looking forward to this moment for so long."
The blonde angel spared half a glance over his shoulder at his ex-boss like he couldn't care less, but Dean could feel the tension in his arm, could practically see it in his shoulders. There was something dangerous in Balthazar's eye that was at complete odds with the lazy grin on his face. Dean realized he might not get the chance to kill this douchebag himself; Balthazar was going to beat him to it.
"Oh, I promise you this, Zachariah: not as long as me."
But not today. Dean saw it coming. He slammed his eyes shut as Balthazar slammed his hand into the center of the blood symbol. Light ignited the room enough to turn Dean's vision blood-red through the back of his eyelids. Zachariah's scream ripped through the air, and the hunter decided it was a new favorite sound of his, followed by the not-so-awful silence signifying the bastard was gone. At least for now.
Balthazar peeled his hand off the wall and wrapped the bloody thing around Dean's bicep (damnit, he liked this jacket). Then they weren't in the Green Room anymore. Dean stumbled as they touched down. It was night, it was cold, and the pavement was wet like it had recently rained.
God, Dean hated traveling Angel Air.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered as he doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees to work through the nausea. "Give a guy some warning."
"Oh, I'm sorry, was the 'I'm rescuing you from the angels who are playing you because you're a bloody moron' not enough warning? My bad. Truly, I'm terribly sorry you've been inconvenienced."
Dean glared up at the angel, standing so haughty and cool. He groaned as he straightened, his stomach still cramping, but the hunter was nothing if not stubborn in the face of a fight. "What choice did I have, huh? Sam doesn't trust me; he chose a demon over his own brother. The angels were the only players left on the board that could stop the damn world from ending!"
To stop Sam from making the worst mistake of his life by having Dean make it first. Yeah, great plan.
"At the price of your life, you idiot, and it still would have cost half the bloody planet! And besides, since when do you play nice with angels?" Balthazar snorted, and it took a lot of the sting out that most of the disdain in his voice was actually directed at his own family and not Dean.
"Since the only one I trusted went missing for months!"
Well, that shut the arrogant dick up. Balthazar stood, staring and blinking, and Dean thought, 'so there' with the petulant kind of harrumph of a five year old.
"Man, I didn't have a choice, alright?" Dean ran an aggravated hand through his hair, scrubbing at his scalp. He was so damn tired.
"You didn't have a good choice," Balthazar corrected, though Dean could tell from the tilt in his voice that he was hedging. The hunter straightened, staring at the angel with wide, but hard eyes.
"You know something."
"I haven't been lying on a beach in Aruba sipping mojitos out of some pretty thing's navel these past few months, you know. As much as I may have wanted to." The sigh was as dramatic as the rest of the angel, and he cast his eyes heavenward at the clearly missed opportunity. He shrugged, but Dean could tell there was a tiny, little bit of pride in the angel for maybe having not run away after all of it. Regret, definitely, but just a sliver of pride. "I've been watching Heaven, who just so happens to be watching Hell. Who just so happen to be watching your brother."
"You know where Sam is going to be." Dean grabbed Balthazar's arm, and the angel's gaze dropped to the offending limb. The hunter didn't let go. "He's convinced he can kill Lilith on his own, and Ruby's pumping him up on friggin' demon blood, filling his head with shit."
"Oh, he's going to do a lot more than kill her," Balthazar pulled his arm free, but it seemed a far more tolerant gesture than Dean would have expected of the 'ew, humans are gross' angel. "It's so much worse than that; Heaven's going to let him. That's the last seal, Dean, to unlock Lucifer's cage. Heaven's been lining it all up like a golden tee and we just entered the last round of put-put. The last lock is Lilith's death, and Sam's probably rocking enough of the good stuff by now to pull it off."
Cold flooded Dean and, weirdly enough, of all the shit he should be worried about, all he could think of was how damn devastated Sammy was gonna be when he realized the truth. Damn it, he never should have let that kid out of his sight.
"We gotta go. We gotta go right now."
But Balthazar was already grabbing onto him, a parody of the grip Dean had held only a minute ago. The angel's eye roll and sarcastic, "You think?" were lost to the swirling vortex that was Angel Air.
-o-o-o-
They made it to the church in time to see Sam, standing in a room not two hundred feet away. His hand was outstretched and a figure in white was sprawled on the ground in front of him. Lilith – it had to be. Ruby was there too. She spotted them first, looking over her leather clad shoulder at them.
Dean started running the minute he saw that smirk spread across her features. God damn it, he knew she couldn't be trusted. She was a demon, after all.
The doors slammed shut long before he made it to them. Still, he didn't bother slowing down. He bodily rammed into the wood at full speed. The double doors shook under the impact, but his shoulder could attest to their heavy construction. Balthazar was slower to join, though at least he was jogging, leaving that stupid suave saunter behind for once.
"Move," the angel said, actually pushing Dean to the side on one of his rebounds. The human grunted, but if it got them into the room before Sam made the second worst mistake of his life – behind trusting that demon over his own brother – than he could well shut the hell up about it. Balthazar pressed the flat of his palm against the wood and closed his eyes.
Nothing happened.
The angel frowned, eyeing the door for a minute before he pushed harder, the physical bend in his elbow the only sign. Light leaked from beneath his palm, glowing through the edges of his human fingers in an eerie red.
Still, the door held.
"Come on, are you an angel, or what?" Dean glanced between the door and Balthazar, his biting sarcasm just about the only thing holding his very frazzled nerves and pounding adrenaline together right now. "Put your back into it!"
"She's Lucifer's first born. Give me a bleeding break!" Balthazar grunted but threw his shoulder into the door, palm still flat to it. Light flooded from both now, along with his eyes.
The wood began to creak and splinter beneath the angel's power. When it finally gave, Dean had to dive to the side as the explosion caused friendly fire and debris rained down in the corridor. Balthazar stumbled through the mess, the weight of his power and vessel taking him into the room along with the dissipating smoke and dust such a destructive entrance caused.
Dean passed by him without hesitation, bolting further into the room. But they were too late. Ruby was laughing, holding onto his brother's arms like some sick parody of congratulations. Sam wasn't moving. She turned to meet Dean head on, heedless of the blade – her blade – that he pulled from his back.
"You're too late!"
The fanatic celebration in her eyes made him want to kill her all the more. It certainly didn't slow Dean down as he crossed the room in a death march. "I don't care."
Sam, shaken and confused and so damn broken, didn't hesitate. He finally moved, grabbing onto her, pulling her flush against him so she was wide open for his brother to sink the weapon into her torso, straight up to the hilt.
She died with a gasp and orange light, and it was too damn easy an end for her.
Dean met his brother's eyes, and it was even worse than he'd already known it would be. Sam just stared at him, lips moving several times before words came out. "I'm sorry."
They didn't have time for it. He grabbed Sammy by the arm and started pulling him. But Sam was back to staring at the woman in white, covered in blood that was slowly but steadily pooling into a pattern that only spelled disaster for them. Dean tugged harder. "Sammy, let's go."
Balthazar managed his way to their sides, dusting off his clothing in the same moment he spotted the blood. "Well, bugger." The angel didn't hesitate, reaching out to place dual fingers against the Winchester's foreheads. Only nothing happened. When Dean opened his eyes, they were still in the church and still in a shit-ton of trouble. "Double bugger. That can't be good."
The pooling blood met in the middle and light broke through like a damn search beam. Dean shielded his eyes from it, but Sam couldn't seem to look away.
"Dean…he's coming."
"Okay, time to go." Balthazar grabbed the taller brother by the bicep and bodily hauled him back the way they'd come. The spell on the youngest Winchester finally broke as he was forced away from what he had done, and the three went for the door, quickly. What was left of it, of course, slammed shut right in their faces, trapping them in the room with the soon-to-be devil.
Sam and Dean exchanged looks. Balthazar threw all his power at the door, but it bounced off like a god damn BB gun against a giant. Even damaged, splintered to hell and gone, and one of the panels hanging on only a single hinge, the blasted things didn't budge. Didn't even shake on impact, and the gaps in the wood showing the hallway beyond were as impassible as the rest of it, like the whole thing was a god damn force field. As a high pitch ringing filled the room, Balthazar stepped back from the door and true fear crossed his face for the first time since Dean had met him. His sword, shinning brilliantly in the abundance of light, slipped into his hand.
Dean had the weirdest impression, for only a moment, of the angel using it on himself rather than facing what was coming. But then Balthazar was turning, face stormy, and put himself purposefully in front of the humans.
"Stay behind me."
The truth was, Balthazar had more than thought about it (he knew his odds against the Devil, thank you very much), but he knew when he saw his brother again one day – and he would see him – that Castiel would wear a face of disappointment, not rejoice. And that just wasn't an acceptable option.
So. Fuck it.
He brandished his blade as the light grew too bright even for him, and the last lock on the cage blew open.
