AN: Yes, I do how short this is. Yes, I do know how quickly I've been updating. Basically, my research paper does not want to write itself but this does.
This is one part an explanation of Balthazar and another part comic relief. I didn't much like the last chapter, but it had to be written for plot movement. I promise: everything ties together in the end. Also, this was supposed to be part of a larger chapter, but I hate when a chapter jumps between scenes and should really be two, so I just separated it. I'm still working on the other half, so bear with me. Oh, and, I'm sorry if this is out of character for both of them. They weren't in enough episodes for me to master their dialogue.
Balthazar and Gabriel landed outside a huge warehouse built into a mountain. There was no snow or sparkly surfaces; it was just a dirty, brown mountain in the middle of nowhere. A makeshift dirt path led from the door of the huge tin hut to the road which Gabriel could barely perceive miles away. The archangel wasn't sure if he should be awed by the sheer amount of nowheres-ville that stretched out around them or disgusted by the uncleanliness of it all. However, he never got the chance to decide, since Balthazar dragged him inside the ugly building almost as soon as their feet hit the ground.
"Let's make this quick, shall we?" Balthazar asked, releasing Gabriel and spinning dramatically on his heel to face him. The older angel was compelled to focus his attention on the irritated one speaking to him, rather than glance around like he wanted to.
"I was only in this to start for Castiel because he has been a dear friend of mine for as long as I can remember. I don't like you much, but do you expect me to? You were the only angel who could stand up to those morons and end the apocalypse before it began, but you decided to flee!
"I looked up to you!" Balthazar shouted, becoming more animated as he went on. He bounced on his toes for emphasis throughout his speech, and his voice echoed around the walls. "All of us cavalrymen, us foot soldiers, us simpletons," he gestured around himself as if to present a whole band of lower-ranked angels, "each had our favorite of you four, the archangels, the older brothers we were expected to emulate. I picked you. You had a sense of humor. You weren't serious or stupid, but you knew to pick your battles. And yet there was one battle you didn't pick that you should have. No, instead, when times got hairy, you ran away with your tail between your legs! I admired you, and you deserted me!
"So, no, I don't bloody like you anymore, and I was only in this for Castiel at the start." Balthazar took a deep breath and calmed down some. "However," he began again, crossing his arms indignantly, "the way you handled your recent hardships and ordeals, made me realize that maybe you aren't as bad as I thought. After all, you stood up to and died by Lucy in the end. Then, you got stuck under Michael's thumb for the longest time – which I am dreadfully sorry for. Karma's a bitch, isn't it?" he asked with a cheeky grin.
"My point is: in this case, you're Henry Jones, and I'm Indy. I'm sorry. I look up to you again, if that even means anything to you. Quite honestly, I don't care if you forgive me or not for the past few weeks because I still don't forgive you for the past few millennia. Still, we need to stop Beelzebub; he's more serious than I anticipated. I'm here now, and I'm in this for all of us, not just Castiel; though, I still won't take orders from you, and my main objective is saving that stupid trenchcoated lovebird."
"Wouldn't that make me your father not your brother?" Gabriel had to ask.
Balthazar huffed at Gabriel's comment but didn't say anything further, and Gabriel had no idea how to respond otherwise. So, instead, he finally took the chance to look around. He turned his guilty countenance away from the younger angel and was absolutely astounded by what he saw. Ceiling lights clanged to life, one by one, sparked by the appearance of the two angels. Inside the repulsive warehouse was a stone-walled room that seemed to continue without end in any direction. The two were standing on a grate cat-walk that extended around the perimeter of the ceiling the room and descended into the occasional ladder. Below them, out of the shadows, industrial shelving units emerged in neat rows, each one stacked in an organized fashion that utilized the most space. Squinting to read the cursive signs hanging above each row, Gabriel read that the stacks were arranged according to each book of the Bible.
"Balthazar…" Gabriel's voice dripped with wonder, "is this Heaven's stolen arsenal?"
"Half of it, yes," Balthazar said, staring straight ahead. "What I could salvage, that is."
"What do you mean, 'salvage'?" Gabriel asked.
"Contrary to popular belief, I didn't just steal a load of weapons for the fun of it," Balthazar spat. "I needed them to protect myself." His voice dropped off as he added, "Also, I scattered and hid the pieces rather well, so it's been Hell trying find them all again." He shook his head and got back on track, "Besides, do you even know where Raphael stood in the apocalypse? He kept away from it well, didn't he? That's because he and Zachariah and that prick Virgil. Virgil," Balthazar shuddered and sneered his name, "his stupid name fits his stupid self."
"Uh, no offense, there Balthy," Gabriel tentatively said, "but you've got a pretty dumb name, too."
"Well, at least the general population doesn't think I'm a woman."
"Hey, that's only 'cause the stupid Romans couldn't draw! They made sculptures of everyone else, but when I came around the gospels, Constantine had them draw me into the Bible," he protested with great frustration.
"Oh, stop whining, would you?" Balthazar rolled his eyes. "Let's just gather what we need. I believe the Staff is down this aisle somewhere," he said, gesturing broadly to a few stacks beside them.
Gabriel looked at the signs above and argued, "Isn't that row filed under Deuteronomy?"
Balthazar glanced up as well and hummed. "Maybe the next one over then." He grabbed Gabriel's arm again and suddenly the two were standing on ground level with the shelves towering over them.
"And why can't we just fly to the location of the Staff?" Gabriel asked smartly.
"Because of the warding and protection I've put up," Balthazar explained over his shoulder as he began to move down between rows. "Once off the cat walk, you can't fly anywhere but back up to it, and you can't fly to specific locations; it'll send you way off course."
"That's a ridiculous! Why the Hell would you do that?" Gabriel called after him, refusing to follow him.
Balthazar rolled his eyes again and turned around. "So that gits like you get lost, go mad, and can't steal anything. It'd be faster if we split up, so keep your phone on." He turned again.
"Oh, so cell phones work but not wings?" Garbriel shouted. Balthazar only shrugged and kept moving at his lazy pace. Resigned to the fact that he was on his own, Gabriel yelled, "Nothing happens to be labeled at least, does it?" as he inspected a slingshot-stone set.
"No, I just couldn't seem to find the time for that," Balthazar hissed.
"Alright, already! Calm down!" Gabriel exclaimed. With a heavy sigh, he realized that the slingshot was David's and the stone was Goliath's. He groaned loudly in frustration and jogged several rows to the left. "Well, at least he dropped me off in the Old Testament..."
Three things I feel I should add: (1) Yes, I had Warehouse 13 in mind while writing this. (2) Don't yell at me for my ignorance of classic movies for Balthazar's references. I rarely watch movies, so I'm just pulling things out of hats. (I do love Indiana Jones though, so don't mock it.) (3) The whole "we each picked an older brother" is how I actually imagine the family dynamic of Heaven.
Yes, I know how weird I am.
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