HEATHCLIFF STUDIOS - STUDIO 1B - HOURS EARLIER
Inferno's post-show time. This was the part of the night where Crowley and Balthazar do their meet and greets, answer fan questions, film bumpers and station IDs, stuff like that. But this time Balthazar walked out on stage alone, past a big, fake Devil's Trap painted on the stage. He was wearing this delicate little radio mic headset - the kind you'd see in broadway musicals - that wouldn't be all that noticeable on camera. He addressed the audience, super professional for once. This was his big arc-thingy after all.
"Hello everyone," he said and waited for the loving applause he always got to die down. He sure did enjoy that. "We're going to be doing something... a little different tonight. There's a new storyline we're working into the show, so we're starting with a cold open, a little drama and stunts up top. Bringing in a new character -"
Oh. The Zealots didn't trust new characters.
"- he's a villain called the 'Archangel'. Looking for these heavenly weapons I've stolen. There's a whole backstory to the character we're gonna tease out later, so don't worry if it doesn't make sense right away. Basically, it's an unexpected betrayal, hostage situation - a bit meta, like something's gone wrong with the show. Don't worry. It's safe as houses. We've been working really hard on this -"
By 'we' he meant 'Crowley'.
"- so we hope you enjoy it."
Before he could say anything else, the lights when out. So much cheering, everyone was pumped already. A spotlight came on, a ways away from Balthazar. He looked a bit confused and went to stand in the light.
"Are we moving my mark?" he asked the crew, sounding pissed off.
Another spotlight came on. Crowley walked into it, big applause as well. He took a little bow, all smiles. Mic'd up as well, his costume was different tonight. No jacket, no tie. Top buttons of his shirt undone. Less TV villain, more romantic hero - he looked like he was here to duel Gomez Addams.
But then another spotlight came on. Hitting... Raphael.
Yes, the Archangel Raphael, you guys remember? Yeah, you do. Anyway.
He was mic'd up like the others, dressed in an all-black suit and long coat-. Hey, there's the TV villain costume! And he was holding just... a big ole sword, fancier than anything an angel would really carry. Appropriately dramatic Tchaikovsky started to play.
Crowley didn't react but Balthazar was a little flummoxed. To look at him, it clearly wasn't an emergency to see his big brother here, nor was he shocked to see him alive. So this wasn't a big revelation. He laughed, even, but a teensy bit... anxious? "Raffy?" he said. "Don't tell me you've got the acting bug now?"
"The spotlight looks good on me," Raphael said, more... droll than Balthazar was used to seeing him. He stood on what must have been his mark, feeling the point of his blade with quiet curiosity.
Sure, Balthazar thought, this might as well happen. He clapped his hands together and then gestured to Raphael for the audience. "This is Raphael, he'll be playing the... Archangel?"
He gave Crowley a dirty look that screamed 'this is clearly your doing'. Crowley shrugged, smiling playfully.
"A bit of an encore, don't you think?" Raphael asked.
"Alright," Balthazar said, starting to get edgy. He didn't like not knowing what was happening. "Enough faffing about. Let's all have a good show."
The music swelled. Applause broke out and then died down.
"Give me the weapons," Raphael said, sounding very convincing.
"How about 'no'?" Balthazar shot back, being Mr. Sassy Pants. Got some nice laughs from his adoring audience.
"Then I'm afraid there'll be a slight change to the script," Raphael said ominously. "Forgive the lack of notice."
This was getting to be too much. Balthazar looked at Crowley, but this time Crowley looked just as lost.
"Brother," Raphael said to Balthazar, his voice gaining a deep, threatening edge to it. "Did you really think showing me mercy wouldn't have consequences?
A ring of friggin' Holy Fire erupted around Balthazar. Welp. That weren't in the script.
Crowley snapped his fingers to dose it but nothing happened. He tried again and got nothing again. He looked down. The fakey Devil's Trap? "Bugger," was about all he could think to say.
Balthazar looked harder at the trap. There was something underneath the paint, invisible to the human eye, almost invisible to Balthazar. He couldn't make it out but it had Crowley looking scared so he felt safe jumping to a conclusion.
"You?" he said to Raphael in the most accusatory tone. "You don't have your grace."
"You'd think I'd need it, wouldn't you?" Raphael asked. "To take you both on? But in this ridiculous playground you've built, all I needed to take from you... was your men."
The audience oooo'd. This was escalating too quickly.
"Are you joking?" Crowley asked, almost choking on the words. He and Balthazar looked around. Their minions were filming this, smiling. Not giving the slightest crap about their bosses being held hostage by an apparently graceless angel. "Oh, you're all ham salad!"
Balthazar raised his voice, "Raphael, listen to me! I'm the only one who knows where your grace is hidden. Without it, you'll never get out of here alive. You think these scrubs won't turn on you the moment we're out of the picture?"
The minions shrugged. Yeah, probs.
"You're right," Raphael said happily, his voice taking on the sassy, vampy-campy attitude of a much funnier villain. "I need to force a little information out of you. If only I had some leverage."
Dolly and Mog broke into Crowley's spotlight and got a hold of him, angel blades on hand. Threat to boyfriend: explicit. That was enough to change Balthazar's tone to something more fearful and tentative.
"Let him go first," He said carefully.
"How about 'no'?" Raphael asked.
Not knowing any better, the audience laughed their asses off. The same audience that had just been cheering for Balthazar like he was a hero. Ohh... This is was a touch of his own personal hell. "You bloody traitors," was all he could say to them.
"Enough struggle, boys," Raphael said carelessly, "you're not in a position to make demands. But if you don't feel like unburdening yourself, I'll take a little payback instead."
Raphael snapped again. Dolly and Mog whipped out some fairly cool-looking warded manacles and started cuffing and manhandling Crowley.
"A pound of flesh," Raphael went on, "for all the indignities you've put me through-."
"Indignities?" Crowley asked. "You cloud-sniffing ass rat! We spared your life!
"And I am grateful, really. While I can't return the favor literally, I can set you free metaphorically. With the truth. Your partner here - my own dear, sweet brother - has betrayed you. He's betraying you right now. He's read your mind. Learned your secrets. That's how he's been managing you all this time. Bending you to his whim. And I think that's so sad."
The audience was shocked. Somewhere between an ooo and a gasp. It couldn't be true... could it? Not their sweet angel.
Crowley scoffed off the accusation like Raphael was talking crazy. "Three years you've been prepping a revenge plot and that's the shocking twist you came up with? You need to lay off the fanfic, mate.
Raphael got all smug. "No, I didn't think you'd believe me," he said. He nodded toward Balthazar. "Believe him."
Crowley looked over at him, apparently not buying it. But then he saw the look on Balthazar's face. The guilt, the fear, the pain. And, oh no, now he was completely buying it.
Balthazar started shaking his head, a hand up as if to halt Crowley's train of thought. "It's not what you think."
"Aww," Raphael cooed, enjoying himself immensely, "betrayal. Hearts broken. It's all crashing down now."
"Shut up!" Balthazar absolutely barked at him, mad as all hell. And then he turned back to Crowley, now speaking very softly, but panicked. Full of regret. "I was about to tell you, I swear on my life I was about to tell you! I just needed a good way."
Crowley looked stunned at first. But then slowly, internally, he began to ever-so-subtly crumble. The audience 'awwed' for him. They weren't used to seeing him like this. Vulnerable. Frightened. Heartbroken. Losing ground. He laughed. Long and sadly, at himself. His whole body shook in the grip of his henchwenches.
"You had me," he said, sounding defeated. "I will give you that."
"It was never to hurt you," Balthazar insisted, starting to lose it just a little. "I love you."
Oooo! Admission! The audience was excited! Conflicted! A confession of Love, Sweet Love! But Crowley wasn't swayed. He shook his head, eyes elsewhere. "You just don't quit, do you?"
"I kept secrets, and I'm sorry-." The crowd started booing Balthazar, something that had never happened to him before. It stung, but he didn't have time for vanity now. "But it's not like that. My feelings for you are real. Look at me? Look at me, you can tell when I'm lying-."
"Apparently not!"
Ouch. You could hear a pin drop. The fans had never been around when Crowley lost his temper, lost his cool. Never saw him break character before.
"S'my fault," he muttered. "I wanted it. Wanted to trust you..." He drew a breath, and you could hear the pain rumbling underneath. "So much."
And 'awws' again. Why did this have to happen in front of a live studio audience?
Balthazar couldn't take it anymore. He just... stared crying. His panic took turns with his guilt. "I'm so sorry, baby, I didn't-."
"Don't!" Crowley seemed to be wounded to the core. Buckling. Finally beginning to cry. "...Don't call me that."
And now, for the first time in a long, long while, Balthazar felt helpless. An old familiar feeling-. Or should we say, familial? "Is this what you wanted?" he growled at Raphael. "To humiliate us? To watch us suffer?
"You don't have to be so dramatic," Raphael said, "just because we're on television."
In spite of the context, the audience laughed at that... Traitors.
"So far all I've done is force a confession," he went on. "Brought your dark secrets to light at last. Kill 'em with sunshine. You should be thanking me, brother."
"He's right," Crowley said, voice trembling. "I - I needed this. To sober me up. I've never..." He had to laugh at himself again. "Never been anything to anyone. The idea... that someone actually loved me...? It's a joke."
And that was it. Balthazar could not take any more. Everything. Everything he was afraid of was happening all at once. Throw in a drilling from Naomi and it would be a perfect nightmare. He dropped to his knees, to all fours, weeping openly, crushed by the weight of it all.
Raphael gestured and Dolly and Mog. They broke the trap and tossed Crowley into the ring of Holy Fire. Balthazar sat back on his heels. Kneeling before Crowley, full of shame and sorrow. Face streaked with tears. Too heartbroken to speak above a whisper.
"I'll do anything," he said, unabashedly pleading. "Anything."
"For souls," Crowley said bitterly.
"You can have the souls-" Balthazar said.
"Of course," Crowley went on as if he couldn't hear him, like he was delirious with grief, "what else could you possibly want from me?"
"-You can have anything, I swear."
"Why did I think that I'd found my... my Galahad? That's so stupid. It's childish. A knight in shining armor. You just wanted to be the King of Heaven."
"I don't! I don't, I don't anymore, you can have it. I'll be... Galahad, I'll be your knight. I will. A Knight of Hell. Your slave, I don't care. Just, please. Please. I'm so sorry."
He was getting a mixed reaction from the audience now. They weren't back on his side yet but... it was pretty pathetic.
Crowley frowned at the crazy. "What are you on about? We're already buggered, you moron. We can't make another..." And then.
And then!
Crowley looked like he was getting an idea. Something hot, something clever. He knelt in front of Balthazar. Got his face in both hands to look him square in the eyes. Dead serious. "Say that again." Balthazar was all confused. So Crowley whispered, "If I can get you out of this-."
Oh. Ohh! Balthazar got it now. Oh... sweet benediction. Santa Sneaka de WayOut.
"I'll be your knight," he swore.
"My Galahad?" Crowley asked. And there was hope and love and forgiveness in his voice.
"Forever. For all eternity."
That was all the haggling they needed. As if their lives depended on it, they kissed. A real, full, healing kiss, signing off on a brave new contract. A desperate hail mary, but any port in a storm.
The crowd went wild. There was no way Chicken in a Hat wasn't dropping them now.
The house lights went down... And then? The Holy Fire was dosed to thunderous applause.