A familiar face returns, yayy!
My beta is apparently very busy at the moment, so this has not yet been looked at... Sorry if there are any errors :)
As always hope you enjoy and reviews are very much appreciated, thank you so much! :D
"I knew you were gonna do that," were the first words to cross Dean's lips after the two of them arrived before a large mansion, illuminated only by a few of its still burning lights in the darkness.
Castiel sighed inwardly, not understanding the hunter's frustration with this more practical way of moving. He thought that it was more than a benefit to them, especially after he had been forced to endure that horribly long car ride, feeling like he was trapped in a metal box that just seemed to get nowhere.
He did not understand how humans managed to live this way, how they could spend their lives knowing how much time they wasted with things so simple and mundane as travelling. But then again some of his brothers would probably never understand why he would ever agree to travel at the means of a human, so maybe he was just as strange.
"Huh," Dean said, looking at the giant mansion that lay before them. "I was expecting more Dr. No, less… Liberace."
References, always references that he didn't understand. What a peculiar thing the human was.
The two of them slowly started to advance toward the mansion, neither of them really knowing what to expect. It was a huge building, so whomever they were looking for could be anywhere. Castiel of course soon became aware of an angelic presence that he couldn't quite place, but when Dean suggested that they split up, he chose not to inform the hunter about it and agreed.
As grateful as he was that Dean had helped him to get here and find his thieving brother, he still felt that the confrontation was something he needed to do alone. It was his kin after all, his family that was on the verge of war and his resistance that needed all the help they could get. Dean had never really understood the complex ways in which heaven worked.
Once he was sure that the hunter was headed in an entirely different direction, the angel cautiously made his way into the building and the direction where he felt the familiar grace was originating from. The closer he got, the more confused he became, for he did not recognize the grace as any that he had felt in a while. There was music coming from the same direction, he noticed in slight astonishment; the source being somewhere on the second floor.
His wings swiftly carried him up the distance and he settled just outside the entrance of the room, taking in the flashing bright lights and the rhythmic music with increasing furrowing of his brow.
He noticed that the surges of grace he was receiving were guarded – almost as if his brother knew he was coming and was shielding his identity as best he could. Castiel found himself becoming more and more suspicious at that, for the presence seemed so unbelievably familiar to him. It was an angel that, he realized he had once been very close to, someone with whom he had shared a more special bond than with several of his other siblings…
But that couldn't be. That was not possible. It couldn't be him.
He was dead.
Castiel stepped into the large room with all of his senses prepared and highly alert for any kind of danger that might be waiting. The dancing lights did not serve to confuse him for a moment, for he knew exactly what he was searching for, his own grace reaching to touch the opposite one, hoping to pin it down in an exact confrontation.
The door behind him seemed to close of its own accord and this only served to heighten his suspicion, the silver angelic blade sliding almost automatically into his readied palm.
But with a sudden flash of awareness, the familiar grace washed over him wholly, effectively ending their game of hide and seek and making any doubts to who it was impossible. He knew who it was. He had known from the start.
"Cas," his brother's bright and cheerful voice sounded over to him, his vessel's British accent ever so prominent. "You're here."
Castiel warily turned around, having a surprisingly hard time believing the sight before him.
"Balthazar?" he asked with a soft hint at incredulity.
The angel smiled mischievously, swaying the glass of scotch he was holding in a playful manner before extending his arms in a saluting gesture. "It's so good to see you."
Castiel stared at his believed-to-be dead brother, needing a moment to compose himself, for he was currently feeling more emotion pass through him than the average angel was supposed to. Mostly because a bond as close as he had shared with Balthazar seldom existed within their ranks, few of his brothers had ever meant this much to him. He had gone through a horrible fit of grief when he had learned of his brother's death during the war and had had to force himself to work through it all as fast as possible as to not arouse suspicion of compromise toward his superiors.
And now that same brother stood before him, apparently alive and well and smiling as if the whole world would bow to his wishes. It was almost too much for the shocked angel to grasp.
"What… How are you…?" Castiel heard his own voice murmuring, but he could not feel the words passing his vessel's lips.
Balthazar shook his head with a smirk. "A good magician never reveals his tricks," he chuckled.
Castiel cocked his head to the side in confusion. "What does that mean?"
The relaxed angel casually waved his hand as if to dismiss the issue. "Never mind, it's not important," he said. "I'm glad you're ok, seeing with all the" – he waved his hand once more, indicating a chaotic cycle – "you know."
Castiel continued staring at him for a moment, not knowing what to say. "I grieved your death," he then said and it sounded almost like an accusation.
"Yeah, yeah, sorry about that…" Balthazar responded, taking a step toward him and again playfully swiveling his glass. "You know, I wanted them to think - you know, so they wouldn't come looking for me…"
Once the initial shock had settled, Castiel somehow noticed himself feeling more irritated with every word out of his brother's mouth. He had believed that he was dead and lost for such a long period of time and yet here he was with his music and his artistically dancing lights as if he were celebrating that fact.
With a single quell of his grace he reached out and shut off the annoying effects, wherever they were coming from, so that the room was at once flooded with light and the perfect stillness he needed to speak. "What… is all this?" he demanded. "What are you doing?"
Balthazar shrugged in good temper. "Whatever I want!" he answered, spreading his arms with glee. "This morning I had a ménage-à – what's French for twelve?"
Ignoring the unknown expression, Castiel shot his brother a disbelieving gaze. "You stole the staff of Moses?" he asked, not quite wanting to come to terms with the fact that one of his favorite brothers was responsible for all this.
"Sure, sure…" Balthazar spoke casually, stepping closer until their faces were only inches apart. "I stole… a lot of things." The words were spoken with an unmistakable hint at self-satisfaction.
Castiel shook his head, not wanting to believe that this smug counterpart was the same angel he had known for ages. "You were a great and honorable soldier," he started, but Balthazar only sighed with disinterest and turned away from him. "We fought together"-
"Yes, too many times to count…" he interrupted, an acknowledging tone lying within his voice.
"I know you!" Castiel insisted, his gaze intently following the casually pacing man. "You're not some common thief."
At that Balthazar turned and met his eyes, his expression almost amused. "Common?" he repeated his brother's statement. "No. Thief?"
He shrugged. "Eh."
Castiel looked upon his brother, unable to believe what he was witnessing. How could this have happened? How in the world could Balthazar have become so careless? He had always been a bit different than all of his other siblings, but never could Castiel have imagined him becoming… this. A relaxed, nonchalant and utterly indifferent creature, oblivious to all the harm he was doing.
However, he had to remind himself that this was not the reason he was here. He was here because he was hunted by most of heaven's forces and he was in search of some missing weapons that could bring him a great advantage in this situation. Maybe there was still enough of his old person left in Balthazar that he would agree to help him. He strongly hoped so.
"I need your help." The words were out of Castiel's mouth before he had even considered them. Perhaps he should have thought of a more subtle way to approach the matter, but this was the complete and utter truth. There was no other way to put it.
Balthazar's face instantly softened at that. "I know," he nodded in understanding. "I've been hearing all about you. I know Raphael wants to have your uptight, broomstick-pierced arse dragged his way as quickly as possible" – Castiel actually felt a nervous twinge at the words – "and as far as I'm concerned, you and me, Cas?" The angel smiled amicably, dropping all the jokes for a moment and seeming completely sincere. "Nothing's changed. We're brothers. Of course I wanna help you."
Castiel had seldom felt more relieved and pleasantly surprised in his life. The warm and affectionate surges of grace interwove and connected from both their sides and the tense angel felt himself visibly relax as an enormous amount of gratefulness spread within him.
"Thank you," he said earnestly.
Balthazar smiled in response.
"I need the weapons," Castiel went on, but at those words all understanding was lost from Balthazar's face and he turned away with a frustrated sigh.
"Don't ask that!" he responded in dislike.
In just one moment Castiel felt all his disappointment reappear and he followed his brother with an incredulous expression. "Why take them?" he asked, trying to make sense of Balthazar's actions. "Why run away?"
"Because I could!" Balthazar exclaimed, amusement making its way back onto his face. "Are you kidding me? Like you're one to bloody talk!"
Castiel stared at him, not knowing what to say.
"What?" Balthazar asked, gesturing toward him. "I mean you – you're the one who made it possible! The footsteps I'm following, they're yours." He curled his fist to make his gesture more intent while gazing at his brother in adamant excitement. "What you did… stopping the big plan, the prizefight."
He gave Castiel a thrilled and triumphant smile, everything about him being more than approving, but almost… impressed. Devoted. Awed. Castiel found himself suddenly being reminded of Rachel, even if Balthazar's ideals were completely different there was an extremely similar type of emotion in their voice and eyes when they spoke. It achieved nothing more than making him feel uncomfortable.
"You did more than rebel," he went on. "You tore up the whole script and burned the pages for all of us!"
Balthazar's face was lit up in excitement, but Castiel could not share it. Even if he felt he was doing the right thing, he knew that through this he would be responsible for a civil war between his brethren if it ever got that far. In his eyes, that was not something to be proud of. It would never be.
"It's a new era," his brother murmured, triumphantly taking a swig of his scotch and walking past him to step toward the middle of the room once more. "No rules, no destiny, just…" He turned to took at Castiel with a thrilled expression. "…utter and complete freedom!"
"And this is what you do with it?" Castiel responded angrily, growing tired of his brother's unabashed optimism.
"Hey, screw it right?" Balthazar shrugged indifferently. "I mean, Dad's not coming back… You might as well blow coke and jump on the bed."
Castiel sighed in frustration but didn't know what to say. He didn't like anyone talking about his Father that way, he did not want anyone to think that He had abandoned them. Because He hadn't, He couldn't. The angel had been brought back by his Father himself, this was something he was completely sure of. If that proved anything, it was that He still cared. That He was still… somewhere.
"You proved to me we could do anything, so I'm trying… everything." Balthazar said, a sly smirk appearing on his face. "What difference does it make?"
This immediately earned him a scornful gaze from his brother. "Of course it makes a difference!" Castiel almost shouted, his anger ringing out at full power. "Raphael wants to restart the apocalypse!"
"I know," Balthazar responded.
"If he succeeds, your so-called freedom will be over! He'll hunt us all down and kill us all, one by one!" Castiel continued his outraged speech. "He'll turn the world into a graveyard! Brother, it doesn't matter how well you hide, you cannot hide from this!"
"Oh, Raphael can try me anytime," Balthazar said, smiling gleefully. "I'm armed."
Castiel could only stare at him, eyes filled with incredulity before sighing in frustration and shaking his head. "Balthazar, please," he lowered his voice, trying to sound less hostile. "I'm asking you for your help. If we can beat Raphael we can end this! Just give me the weapons." He gave his brother a pleading gaze. "Give me the weapons and we may even stand a chance against him!"
"You know, I notice you're saying we quite a lot, does this mean there are more angels you managed to convince of your little suicide mission here?" Balthazar asked sounding genuinely interested.
"Maybe it won't be suicide if you give us the weapons," Castiel insisted, therefore answering the question Balthazar had posed to him. "You can't keep running forever. He will find you."
"Hmm, don't know about that," Balthazar waggled his eyebrows playfully. "As long as you're target number one up there, I doubt I'll be of much interest."
Castiel stared at him disbelievingly, trying to remember how there had been a part in this conversation when he had actually felt grateful. It seemed absurd now. "Well, after I'm killed I'm sure the weapons will be his next most important interest," he responded coldly.
To his astonishment this actually seemed to take Balthazar aback, for he suddenly frowned, giving him a stunned look. "Killed?"
"Yes," Castiel nodded, wondering how he had not seen this coming. "You will most likely be killed."
Balthazar rolled his eyes. "Well, I know that," he lazily waved it aside. "I meant the part about you!"
"Me?" The angel frowned, feeling more and more confused at Balthazar's strange questions. "Umm… yes, I will be killed."
His brother stared at him for a moment, before letting out an exasperated sigh and shaking his head in annoyance. "It's a good thing you've got your looks, Cassie, otherwise you'd be bloody lost," he said, shooting him a strangely disbelieving gaze at the same time, making Castiel feel like he was missing a piece of vital information. "You – you actually think they're… just going to kill you?"
Castiel's frown slowly disappeared from his face, as he suddenly understood what Balthazar was talking about. Yes, he had been considering this fact a few times himself. "No, I don't," he said quietly. "I know they're not going to… just kill me and be done with it. I, uh, I rebelled too strongly for that."
He became lost in thought for a moment, his mind drifting to Lucifer of all places. The first and only angel to ever question the will of God and the objective of heaven before him. Death had not been a punishment considered strong enough, he had received something far worse. He could only speculate what awaited him for his betrayal.
Human literature and legend reserved the deepest circle of hell to betrayers. They did not know how right they were.
"They will want to make an example of me," Castiel murmured. "Destroy me publicly. Make sure no one will ever dare something like this ever again."
He stared gloomily at the ground for a moment, silence surrounding both him and Balthazar.
"Um…" Balthazar then said, to Castiel's surprise still sounding stunned. "You're still thick as hell, mate."
Castiel frowned, forgetting his bleak thoughts about the most probable punishment and looking at his brother again. "What?"
"You really don't know what they want?" he asked.
Castiel merely looked at him in confusion, now feeling completely dumbfounded. How was Balthazar supposed to know what Raphael wanted anyway? What was he missing?
"Cas, Raphael doesn't intend to kill you," Balthazar said quietly. "Well, not yet anyway."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Castiel demanded.
"Don't you get it?" Balthazar went on. "Why do you think they were so bloody desperate for you to kneel? Why didn't they just kill you from the start for rebelling in the first place? Send a much more powerful message with it, they would have… I mean, no second chances for disobeying. No forgiveness whatsoever. But they didn't… now why is that?"
The creases on Castiel's forehead deepened and he took a step closer toward his brother, the gloom of the situation slowly dawning on him. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Because they need you!" he exclaimed, his voice mixing a strange combination of fascination and discontent. "Think about it, Cas. Raphy wants to suddenly jumpstart an apocalypse that - last time I checked – took sixty-six seals to get started. How is he going to do that? How is he going to open the cage to let our dear prizefighters out?"
"I don't understand," Castiel murmured uncertainly.
Balthazar chuckled and shook his head in grim amusement. "It's quite simple, Cas. You laid siege to hell for forty years! No other angel in history, except for old Lucy has ever spent that amount of time down below… Forty years of fighting and digging and searching for your hero." He showed a small smile and yet the motion held none of the smugness or excitement of before. "No one knows hell better than you."
"But I don't know anything about the cage!" Castiel responded, trying to make sense of these new circumstances that Balthazar was bringing to him.
His brother shrugged. "Doesn't really matter. You're still the one who knows the surroundings best. If Crowley's forces manage to keep them out… then you're the only one who can bring them in. That's why they wanted you to resubmit and that's why they will stop at nothing to get it from you now."
Castiel let his gaze drop to the ground and tried to process all of this. He had never even thought of all the estimations Balthazar was making, but now that he considered them… they made such a horrible amount of sense. Everything about him, about his being, his grace, still felt so incredibly wrong whenever he remembered hell. All those fruitless years he had spent in search of Dean, all that darkness and corruption and sin. Balthazar was right. No one knew it as well as him.
"So… you're saying they don't want me dead," he summarized slowly. "They want to force me into helping them." He considered this for a moment, realizing how absurd it sounded. "Raphael must know that this won't work. I will never help him."
Balthazar gave a chuckle in response, which held absolutely no amusement. "Well, I guess you should know how deeply… persuasive they can be. Wouldn't be the first time they used it on you."
Castiel shivered inwardly, remembering the time when he had first wanted to tell Dean everything, let him know about the horrible wrongs that his kind was plotting against him and his brother, the result of which having been the most horrible experience he had ever endured. Yes, heaven could be very persuasive.
"How do you know all this?" he then demanded. "Why should I believe you?"
"Uh, it's a little something I do called connecting the dots and thinking for myself," Balthazar responded, back to his quick-witted self. "You should try it sometime, if you're – you know – not too busy letting your hairless ape do it for you."
Castiel's brow narrowed at the insult, though less for himself as for his friend. He didn't like anyone talking about Dean that way.
After the glare had held for a few moments, Balthazar's gaze suddenly softened again and he looked so compassionate and regretful. "You're gonna have to face it sooner or later, Cassie," he said sadly. "You know too much."
A moment later the softness and intimacy had already disappeared from his features and he was back to his carelessly hopeless state. "You can't stop any of this. It will never stop," he spoke with an air of definite finality, making all of Castiel's carefully built up hope come dangerously close to drowning. "My advice: Grab something valuable and fake your own death. You'll get off lucky, trust me."
Castiel contemplated this for a moment, looking at this heartbreakingly indifferent version of what had once been his favorite brother. It made him so unbelievably sad.
"You know I can't do that," he said quietly. "You may be able to abandon our home and everything we built… but I can't."
Balthazar nodded in understanding. "I know," he responded. "I'm sorry, Cas. All else aside… I'm really, really happy to see you. Even though you still have that stick up your arse."
Castiel stared unhappily at his former friend, not knowing what else to say. He wanted to tell him he was crazy, wanted to beat him for his stupidity and his selfishness in not helping them. He wanted to smile and laugh and wrap his grace around the brother he had believed to be lost until now. He wanted his wings to carry him someplace safe, someplace he could be alone, somewhere he could deal with all this new, horrifying knowledge so it wouldn't make him feel like the whole world was caving in on him.
It was all horribly confusing.
All of a sudden a deep and dangerous rumbling went through the building, making the lights above the two angel's heads flicker and the ground beneath them shake threateningly. It seemed their conversation had just been forced to an abrupt end.
"Was that you?" Balthazar asked casually.
Castiel frowned at him, not really knowing what that question implied and slowly shook his head.
"Oh, that's my queue then," he said cheerfully. "Tell, uh, Raphael… to bite me!"
And with one last smirk and a graceful flutter of his wings, Castiel's long lost brother had once again vanished.