Chapter Three: Discussions

It took him a few hours to rework the sigils covering the house. The three hunters had apparently put up every single warding sign they could find, and every one he'd ever shown them. He reworked the ones that had been done incorrectly and added his blood to all of them, to prevent himself from being banished. By the time he was done, the house was as angel-proof as mortal or immortal effort could make it. It was uncomfortable for him, but bearable.

It was dawn by the time he finished, and a look at the clock indicated that it was almost the time Bobby had requested to be woken. He tilted his head, orienting himself on the older hunter's location within the house, and made his way upstairs. He reached the upper hallway, took a moment to register Sam's presence in the room on the left, then moved toward the door on the right.

He considered entering, but Dean had warned him more than once that humans were touchy about their personal space. He lifted his hand to knock, only to stop as the door swung open to reveal Bobby, already awake and dressed.

The older hunter eyed him. "Thought that might be you."

He blinked. "How did you…?"

"Stairs squeak. It's a good warning system, so I never fixed 'em." Bobby stepped out into the hallway. "Well, 'bout time for breakfast. Come on. We can talk while I cook up something."

He nodded. "Should I wake Sam?"

"Nah. Let the boys sleep. Been a rough time for 'em. 'Sides, I want a word with you, private-like." The hunter jerked his head at the stairs. "Come down to the kitchen with me."

He followed the hunter and perched at the table while Bobby pulled out a battered skillet, some bacon and bread, and began to work. The silence felt awkward, and he cast about for something to break it. Finally, he ventured the only statement he could think of. "You don't seem as angry as I thought you would be."

Bobby shot him a look, then shrugged and turned back to the skillet. "I ain't the most pleased with you, I'll grant you. But way I figure it, we're all entitled to a few dumb mistakes. You're the boys' friend more than mine, which makes it easier for me. And you actually stopped to think for a minute before the final monumental stupid moment, which is more than those idjits usually do, so points to you for that." He gestured. "Pass me the pepper, would you?"

He found the small container and handed it over. "Do you think Dean will still be angry with me when he wakes?"

"Probably. Boy don't like bein' lied to. And you did give Sam a fair amount of trouble." Bobby prodded the skillet, flipped some of the bacon. "You eat scrambled eggs?"

"I don't eat. But I might...I could try them." A poor peace offering, but the best he could do. "I'm sorry. I know I've caused you some trouble."

"Damn straight you have." Bobby flipped the rest of the bacon, then turned to look at him. "I'm gonna say this once, so you'd better listen up."

"I'm listening." He fixed his full attention on the older man.

"Those boys, they're like family to me. Their father was a real piece of work, and I don't mean that in a good way. I've done my best to do right by them, but they got a lot of sharp edges and scars that don't need poking. You go lyin' to them, pulling crap like you did with Crowley, and you're not just poking those wounds, you're ripping 'em new ones. Now, I'll grant you were just tryin' to take care of them, keep them out of trouble, so I'll give you a pass on this one, but you pull that crap again and I'll thump you good. Understand me?"

"I...think so." He really didn't, but he wasn't sure he should say that.

Bobby watched him a moment, then jerked his head at the fridge. "Get me some eggs and some butter out, would ya?"

He stood, went to the fridge and retrieved the requested items. He held them out to Bobby. The old hunter stared at him a moment, then abruptly smacked him just above the ear. The move was so unexpected he didn't think to block it, especially not with his hands full of eggs. He blinked as Bobby took the food from him. "What was…?"

"Warning shot. I do that to Sam and Dean when they're being idjits, and I'll do it to you too, Angel of the Lord or not." Bobby turned back to the stove threw on more bacon, cracked eggs into a bowl, and put bread in a worn toaster on the counter. "Like it or not, you been claimed as family, ya airhead, and that means you get the same hugs, smackings, tellin' off and feeding up that everyone else gets."

He blinked. That notion was so foreign to him. He studied the old hunter. "Even you?"

Bobby shot him a glare. "If I need it. But that don't happen often." The toaster popped, and he pointed at it with the spatula. "Butter that and put more toast in, while I start the coffee brewing."

He did as he was told, fumbling a little with the knife and still trying to process the odd feelings running through him. His head didn't hurt, hadn't when Bobby hit him, but he could still feel it, an odd phantom tingle that he didn't understand.

He fixed six more slices of toast before Bobby told him to stop, watched as the man turned off the stove and set out plates with brisk efficiency. "You've had practice."

"Ever since Dean was four years old I have." Bobby jerked his head at the stairs. "Go wake Sam. I'll get Dean up."

"How should I wake him?" He'd never attempted to disturb the Winchester's rest before. At least, not in what he thought humans considered a polite manner.

"Knock on the door. When he answers it, tell him grub's up."

He frowned. "Why would Sam be interested in worm larvae? I thought it was breakfast..."

Bobby snorted. "Grub. Backwoods slang for food. How the hell you been hangin' out with these boys this long and never learned slang?"

"I don't know." He filed the word for future reference. "I will...wake Sam."

He climbed back up the stairs, and knocked carefully on the door that separated him from Sam's presence.

A brief noise on the other side of the door, the sound of someone moving, and then the door opened to reveal Sam, disheveled and blinking drowsily. The young hunter blinked at him a few times, then swiped the hair out of his face. "Cas?"

"Bobby said to wake you and tell you that...grub...is up."

"Uh...yeah...sure." Sam blinked at him again. Then he sighed. "Umm...you might want to move back, so I can get through the door."

"Oh." he stepped back, let Sam exit the room, then followed him downstairs.

Dean was already at the table, sipping at a cup of black coffee and looking sleepy. Sam dropped into a chair, and Bobby set a mug and the coffee pot on the table. Sam served himself. Castiel hovered for a moment, until Bobby turned, huffed impatiently, and jerked his head at the chair next to the door. "Well, sit down. I ain't gonna serve you standin' up, dumbass."

He nodded and settled himself carefully into the chair. Bobby set eggs and toast and bacon on the table, served himself a mug of coffee, and dropped into the remaining chair. "All right. Everyone dig in."

He watched as all three humans served out eggs and bacon and took two pieces of toast. Dean eyed him for a moment, then caught Sam's eye across the table. The youngest Winchester promptly dumped a small serving of eggs onto his plate, and a slice of toast. Dean poured coffee into the cup next to his plate, then added two slices of bacon. "Here. If you're joining us for breakfast, might as well eat it."

He nodded, then lifted the fork and scooped up a bit of food, watching the other three carefully to see if he was doing it right. His brief experience with near humanity almost two years ago hadn't involved eating like this. He adjusted his grip on the fork, then stuck the eggs in his mouth.

He had a sense of what the eggs should taste like, but it was overwhelmed by the individual components, drowning the overall flavor. He chewed, swallowed, tried not to make a face, and opted to try the other food on his plate. The toast wasn't much better, but the bacon, which Bobby had peppered, was palatable, and he actually almost enjoyed the coffee. He managed a couple more bites of eggs and toast, then settled for another slice of bacon and finishing his coffee.

Dean eyed his plate. "Not a fan of eggs?"

Cas frowned. "They are...edible. But the overall flavor doesn't overwhelm the taste of the component molecules. And molecules taste..." He almost said 'disgusting' but he didn't want to insult his host. "...far less palatable."

"But you don't have that problem with bacon and coffee, apparently."

"No." He grimaced. "Apparently angels can find enjoyment in food, but it requires a certain strength of flavor to compensate for our alternative methods of sensing things."

"Explains the penchant for alcohol and candy." Sam grinned. "I always wondered about that, actually. Why you wouldn't eat, but you could get drunk."

He grimaced. "Liquor is indeed one of the things potent enough to overcome the barrier of individual versus overall taste value."

"Whatever." Dean stole the eggs off his plate. Sam frowned, but when he made no protest, the youngest Winchester eyed his toast. He pushed the plate towards him. Sam looked at him a moment, then promptly snagged the toast and offered him another piece of bacon, which he declined.

They finished eating. Bobby took the plates to the sink, then brought over another pot of coffee. "So, now that we're all fed, what are we gonna do about this whole screw up?"

Sam sighed. "Well, first we need to know exactly what we're up against." All three hunters looked at him.

He frowned in thought. "I can tell you about Crowley's progress. For an accurate report on Heaven I would need to speak to Balthazar. He's been working as my Second since Rachel's death." the memory made him feel guilty. If he had only listened sooner, she wouldn't have died. After all, her only reason for turning against him had been the plan to open Purgatory.

Dean dropped a hand on the table. "Fine. So summon him here, let's get the lowdown."

He nodded. "I need your permission to exclude him from the angel warding."

"How sure are you of his loyalty?" Sam frowned.

"He has as much to lose as I do if Raphael wins. And he...he urged me not to go through with this plan for Purgatory. I think he would support me now."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, if we can think up a viable plan for preventing Apocalypse 2.0."

"One step at a time." Bobby gestured. "Go summon your buddy and do whatever you need to bring him into this little powwow. Then we can put all our cards on the table and see what kinda hand we been dealt."

He didn't understand the reference to cards, but he did understand the order to get Balthazar. He rose from the table "Give me a few minutes."

Outside, he took a moment to relax. He felt more comfortable, here without the angel warding confining his essence. The air was sharp and crisp with morning scents, mingled with the tang of metal and dry earth and oil that was an integral part of the atmosphere around Bobby's house. He took a moment to enjoy it, and the odd, unaccountable feeling of 'home' that it gave him, then closed his eyes and cast his thoughts outward, seeking one unique individual essence. "Balthazar, I need to speak with you."

A moment passed, then a rush of displaced air. "Cassie." The brunet angel who was his friend and second in command smirked, raised his hands in surrender. "Apologies. Castiel. Commander. What can I do for you?" His eyes flickered. "Things are a bit rough upstairs, so we might want to make this brief. And you know I can't help much on the other front."

"That's what I wish to speak of. My other plan...I've decided to discontinue it. It's no longer a strategy I wish to pursue."

Palpable relief filled Balthazar's face. "Well, thank Heaven and our Father for that. I've always said going nuclear wasn't your brightest idea ever. Never mind handing the King of Hell the keys to the kingdom." Balthazar rolled his shoulders. "Can I ask what changed your mind? You were pretty certain you knew what you were doing, the last time we talked." Dark eyes regarded him with suspicion, and not a little bit of hurt.

He grimaced. "Sam and Dean discovered my betrayal. After that I withdrew to seek advice. I called out to God. And he...he answered me, in a manner of speaking."

Balthazar's eyes widened. "God, our absent Father whom no one has found in thousands of years, actually answered you?"

"Not in words. I just...there was a feeling, that I was being strongly discouraged from the action I intended to take. Perhaps it was only my own regret at alienating the Winchesters." The possibility had occurred to him more than once, but he couldn't quite accept it. "I don't know. I only know that I've decided not to open Purgatory."

Balthazar huffed. "Well, at this point, I don't care. You had me worried, my brother." He clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, bygones and all that. What are our plans now?"

"I have asked the Winchesters and their mentor, Robert Singer, for assistance."

Balthazar made a face. "Interesting. But I admit, I don't quite see how three hairless apes..." Castiel scowled and Balthazar backtracked. "...three ordinary humans are going to stop Raphael."

"They stopped the Apocalypse. With no one on their side save me. The Winchesters have proven they can do much with little. Even defeat Lucifer with nothing more than will power."

Balthazar cocked his head. "Point, I suppose." He shrugged. "Well, if that's the plan, then that's the plan. I like it better than your Going Nuclear plan, at least. If not by much. So...strategy?"

"The house is warded against angels. I have their permission to exclude you from the warding. Then we will...'put our cards on the table' according to Bobby."

"It's a start." Balthazar summoned a blade and cut his hand, his expression one of forced nonchalance. "Exclude away, Cassie." Castiel glared at him, then drew his brother over to the porch to incorporate his blood into the symbols there.

Ten minutes later they were done, and he led Balthazar inside. The Winchesters and Bobby were still at the kitchen table, but an extra chair had been added. Dean and Sam both regarded Balthazar with guarded wariness. Bobby's expression was neutral as he extended a hand. "Balthazar, I'm guessing?"

"The very same." Balthazar shook the proffered hand. "Heard of you, haven't had the pleasure of a face-to-face meet."

"Same here." Bobby gestured to the chairs. "Well, have a seat, and let's get the ball rolling."

Castiel settled himself into the chair. Balthazar frowned. "Not to be rude, but if we're having an extended talk, I'd really prefer something with a bit more comfort and class, if you don't mind."

Bobby scowled, then shrugged. "Knock yourself out."

Balthazar gestured. Every chair at the table was replaced with a much more padded one. It reminded Castiel of the chairs in the Heaven Raphael had claimed, though he didn't comment on it.

Dean whistled. "Not bad." he smirked. "For a feathery pompous dick."

Balthazar smirked. "Indeed. I said the same about that trick with the holy oil and the fire. But Cassie asked me to let bygones be bygones, and since he is, at the moment, my commander..." He held up a hand. "Truce and all that, shall we boys? All in the name of stopping Raphael and his little Apocalypse restart. After that, I'll be happy to return to mutual disinterest, or even outright dislike, if you like."

Dean shrugged and relaxed into his chair. "Sure. Truce till we gank Raphael. After that...well, we'll see." Sam rolled his eyes at the statement. So did Bobby.

"Can't wait." Balthazar lowered himself into his chair. "So then...how much do you boys know about the situation?"

Sam sighed. "Not enough. We know Castiel is battling Raphael. We know it's not going well."

"Not going well is an understatement. Raphael is an archangel, darlings. And I'm not sure you comprehend exactly what that means, among angels."

Dean grimaced. "Cas mentioned something about being older, more access to heaven's power, but assume we're flying blind. The whole angel thing never has made much sense to me. I thought Cas came back stronger than he was before."

"Oh, he did. The Cas I flew to Hell with was a garrison commander. Prestigious enough, one would say, but not that high on the totem pole. Only one step above the average rank and file. Now...our little Cas is a Seraph. Promoted to the popular kids table, you might say." Both Winchesters looked blank. Balthazar sighed. "Think of it as the difference between being a rank and file soldier, then getting promoted to say...General. That's what happened with Castiel. Although, all things considered...it's more like being recalled from a dishonorable discharge and promoted." Balthazar frowned and sat forward, fixing the brothers with a stare devoid of any humor. "Castiel has power, but it's uncertain, because two years ago he was practically a fugitive. He's high ranked, and every angel who sees him knows it, and it's a bloody miracle, but he's not the top of the food chain."

"And where's Raphael in this picture?" Sam's voice was quiet. Controlled.

"Raphael? If all four archangels existed, he'd be...head of Congress, say. In the Presidential Advisory Cabinet. With the other three either dead or locked in Hell, boys, Raphael is practically the President. Commander in Chief." Balthazar say back. "And he intends to take the throne and make a dictatorship of it. Unless Cas can stop him, or unless God himself suddenly decides to return...Raphael will become the king. And what very, very little democracy and free will exists in Heaven, and on Earth, will be snuffed out like a candle in a tidal wave."

"Okay. That sounds bad." Dean huffed. "So...this heavenly power thing..."

"Raphael is a well known angel. One of the best, like the other archangels. Tell a human soul, assuming they're even aware enough to pay attention, that you speak for the archangel Raphael, and you'll get an immediate response. A jump. A spark. Recognition. And, in most cases, even if they call you a bald faced liar a moment later, admiration. And that admiration is just enough of a chink to count as permission. As allegiance. Unless it's specifically countermanded by the presence of an angel using that human as a vessel, or by a stronger form of recognition and devotion to another to another cause, another religion, etc."

"So recognition and trust allows Raphael to tap the power of anyone who feels that way."

"Exactly. Castiel...not as well known. There are souls that recognize him, acknowledge him. Even some that actively look up to him. But the number isn't anywhere as high as Raphael's."

"Yeah. Cas mentioned needing a 50,000 soul boost just to put up a decent fight."

"Indeed. And that's only half the problem, I'm afraid." Balthazar scowled. "Raphael's a damn sight more ruthless in controlling his troops than Castiel is."

Bobby scowled. "What the hell's that even mean?"

"I've tried to talk to those on Raphael's side. Convince them to withdraw, or to change sides. It's impossible." Castiel winced. "Raphael...he told me once that they wouldn't listen, because their hearts were his. I fear he meant the words literally."

Sam grimaced. "How is that even possible?"

"There are ways to bind an angel's essence...through coercion or through the angel's own free will. Once those are set...it takes enormous power to break free, incredible strength of will. An archangel's strength, or an incredible purpose, akin to a vocation." Castiel looked down at his hands, feeling weariness and grief wash over him again. "Raphael is invested with the authority of Heaven. I suspect...I know that he uses that to bind his followers. Just as he uses his position as an archangel, as the last archangel, to coerce those who might otherwise avoid the conflict into siding with him."

"So...he whacks them over the head with his 'I'm the boss do as I say' crap, then...brainwashes them so they can't do anything else?" Dean's scowl made Bobby's pale in comparison.

"That's about the size of it." Balthazar shrugged. "Cas, on the other hand..."

"I've only asked the other angels to follow me. I don't coerce them. I don't force them."

"Which is much appreciated, and earns a great deal of loyalty and all that, but it does mean that sometimes angels change their minds, in the interests of self preservation if nothing else. It also means that Cas can't force them into life-threatening situations. They will go, do a lot of the time honestly, which is all very helpful, but there are limits." Balthazar shrugged again, hands spread wide. "To bottom line it, for the sake of easier comprehension on your part...we're outnumbered several to one, and their side is using forced mindless conscripts, where we're relying on volunteer forces."

"And Heaven's weapons?"

"Not a bad little trick to have. But they're meant more for human use. They have a limited impact on angels, even used correctly." Balthazar shrugged. "Having them means we're holding our own. Barely. And the longer it goes, the less chance we actually have. We simply don't have the resources to keep this up. Not even with Castiel's new and improved status."

Sam's brow drew tight. "It's a war of attrition. And he has the resources to outlast you."

"Exactly. Without something huge, some sort of...near miracle I suppose, Raphael will simply wear us down until we are all destroyed. Or until he can corner and destroy me." Castiel clenched his hands tighter.

"Which is why the whole Purgatory gig started." Dean sighed. "Damn. This is fucked up."

"Yeah yeah, table that for a moment. About the whole Purgatory thing...how's that really going?" Bobby sat forward in his chair.

"Slower than it would be if you hadn't killed Eve. But it is progressing. Crowley seeks the last piece of the equation, the proper materials for crafting the gate sigil, and verification of the incantation. He was looking for the dragons who raised Eve, but...there is another path, which I have no doubt he is also investigating."

"Yeah, and what's that?" Bobby's frown darkened.

"Lovecraft. There were rumors of a séance that opened Purgatory. Most of the people who were there are dead. Or insane. But there are survivors. And stories that something came through to this side." He stared at his hands. "I...spoke with a man who was a child in that house at the time. He gave me some information. He believed that something did come through, and that it...was masquerading as his mother for a time."

"Did you give Crowley the name?"

"I...yes. It was right before you summoned me." He swallowed hard. "Visyak."

"Visyak? As in...Ellie Visyak?" Bobby's fist clenched.

"I believe that was the mother's name, yes."

"Balls. I always knew there was somethin' off about her." Bobby flushed, then anger darkened his face. "How long ago did you tell Crowley?"

"A few days. But...she is well warded." Cas frowned. "And I believe Crowley would have called me, if he had managed to trap her."

"Darn right she is, and now I understand why she was always so wary." Bobby shoved his chair back and stood. "We gotta warn her. Ellie's a smart girl, but all it takes is one mistake."

"All well and good gents, but we have another problem on our hands." Balthazar spoke up. "Stopping Crowley is important, yes, we can all agree on that, but the bigger problem still remains. What do we plan to do about Raphael?" He spread his hands. "Suggestions? Ideas? Long shots? Because at this point, I am literally open to anything and everything you boy might put on the table."

Dean frowned. "Well, there's always baiting him into a ring of Holy Fire. Worked before."

"Valid. Although Raphael, most unfortunately, isn't stupid. A ruse that works once probably won't work twice. And a ring of Holy Fire won't hold an archangel forever." Balthazar cocked his head. "Other ideas?"

Sam shrugged. "Kill him before he gets out, I guess." he ran a hand through his hair. "Look, we'll think about it, but right now, we need to stop Crowley. Having one high-powered enemy is bad enough. If Crowley gets his hands on Purgatory, then we'll be under attack from both sides, and honestly? I don't like our odds."

Balthazar considered a moment, then ducked his head in a short nod. "Fair enough." He turned to Castiel. "Well then Cassie, what's our strategy? As the human saying goes, the ball is in your court."

Cas frowned at the colloquialism, but didn't pursue it. "For now...Balthazar, marshal our forces in Heaven. If the worst should happen, you'll need to take them somewhere safe. Sam, Dean...you need to protect this property. If Raphael defeats me, you'll need to shield yourselves." He turned to Bobby. "Robert Singer..."

"Bobby. I hate bein' called by my full name."

"Bobby. I believe you should look in on your friend. Bring her here if you can. That should keep her safe, for now."

Dean stood up. "And what are you going to do?"

"I am going to see Crowley. I may be able to discover if he's made any further progress. I also might be able to confuse his plans, give him false information. Failing that, I suspect I will simply tell him the deal is off. He will most likely be extremely angry, but..." Castiel shrugged. "I will...cross that bridge when I come to it, I believe the saying is."

"Yeah. Though you'd do better to burn that one." Dean sighed. "All right. Let's get moving." The rest of them stood, and Balthazar transformed the chairs back to normal. Cas turned to go, but Dean's voice stopped him. "Cas."

He turned. The hunter stared at him a moment, then sighed. Some of the tension went out of his shoulders, and some of the angry restlessness faded from his eyes. "You'd better come back safe, you hear me? And next time, don't wait so damn long before you ask for help."

Relief welled up in him. It wasn't forgiveness, not completely, not yet, but it was a beginning. "I understand. I'll be very careful." Then he turned and strode out to the yard, and willed himself away.

Author's Note: I meant for this chapter to involve Cas telling Crowley and the fallout from that, but the boys really wanted to have a planning meeting first. And I just couldn't leave out Balthazar...he insisted. So, this chapter planning, next chapter...Cas confronts Crowley and...fun happens.

Questions? Comments?