Okay, I'm trying to get back into the groove of writing regularly. Thanks for the reviews and stuff once again. I can't tell you how much it's appreciated to hear good vibes from you all. :)

And how was that finale, huh? Eye opening is one way to put it.

She couldn't tell if Balthazar was worried or furious. He wasn't snapping at her, which she really wouldn't care if he did, but he was definitely angry. About which part exactly, she couldn't really say. It had to have something to do with them losing Raphael to Michael, but he was angry before she even managed to tell him that much.

It all happened maybe forty-five minutes ago and he had already dragged them both out of Raphael's hideaway, leaving all of the bodies behind. It had started raining and he demanded to drive for the next twenty minutes until he found an abandoned home a few miles from the nearest community.

Catherine leaned against the outside wall of the building – not bothering with trying to stay dry in the downpour – while keeping her jacket balled against the wound in her shoulder. Since Balthazar was insisting he do everything, she was going to let him go in first and do whatever he felt he had to do. Unfortunately, the first thing he did was kick the door in without even trying the lock. Cat rolled her eyes while he walked inside. Half a minute later, he came back to her with his arms out and she leaned off of the building.

"I can walk," she managed to say just before he swept her up and began to carry her through the threshold.

"I know," he grumbled. Cat didn't bother rolling her eyes that time. She just held her tongue and noticed a bag that he had slung over his shoulder from her car.

As he walked through the house, Balthazar checked into some of the old rooms again and carried her as he went. Catherine looked between his tense face and the bag on his shoulder, well aware of what was in it. She packed the damn thing. "It's not that bad," she said once looking to him again, "Looks worse than it is."

He didn't answer. Didn't really acknowledge that he had heard either. Bal seemed to decide on a decent enough room that was a bit cleaner than the others and he set her down on the floor, leaving the bag beside her. Finally, he looked to Cat – "Stay." – then stood straight and left.

She waited a second before her shoulders fell in a sigh. There was nothing in this particular room aside from a small table near the wall and a window looking outside into the night. The thunder struck louder, but Catherine felt like she hardly heard it. She wasn't as dizzy as before and the world seemed to be gaining some color to it again, but she still felt weak. Probably from a mixture of the wound and facing the two most terrifying creatures in creation on the same day. She wondered if it was wrong to hate and fear Michael the most.

Rummaging was heard from outside her small room and a second later Balthazar returned with an unlit lantern and a shotgun from the car. "The door's bared," he announced with the same frown and sat next to her, hardly looking up. After placing the gun down and lighting the lantern, he readjusted his legs and started going through the bag.

She watched him pull out fishing line, rubbing alcohol, a flask of whiskey that he gave an odd look to, and a needle before she finally decided to try asking again. "How's your head?"

"I'm fine," he growled, but only his voice showed any change in emotion, "If you ask me again, I'll take you back to the car and we'll stay there all night during the bloody storm."

Her lips grew into a thin line and she tilted her head. "Bal."

Finally, he stopped and looked up to her. He even looked sincere for a moment. "I could come up with more threats," he eventually answered, then went back to the bag and found a small metal pan. "I'm fine. Stop asking."

Catherine frowned and just watched him for a minute. It seemed that he planned to stitch her up, but she was very sure that he had never done something like that before. She wouldn't argue that it did need stitching, but a look again to his face made her want to say it again anyway. "It really isn't as bad as it looks."

Instead of responding, Bal poured alcohol into the little pan and began disinfecting the needle and line. At least he wasn't ignorant about this, which did surprise her a bit. She considered asking him where he learned some of these basic medical tips, but something else was said when she opened her mouth. "I'm sorry about Raphael." He was making her feel more and more guilty with every comment that went unanswered. Right after she said it, though, she wondered if Balthazar's reaction would be one of anger again and she regretted speaking at all.

However, he immediately stopped moving and looked to her again. They watched each other for a long moment while the anxiety of what he might do or say burned away in her. Eventually, though, he just shifted in place and went back to what he was doing before. "I'm not angry with you," he said softly. She was quiet, waiting for him to continue, but he didn't.

Balthazar busied his hands and tried to not think about it. She could probably stitch herself up as she had likely done many times before, but he wasn't about to allow that. That wound was his fault. He had left her alone with Michael. "Take your shirt off. Move the jacket."

Catherine stayed still for a moment before doing as told. The shirt came off a bit slowly – which he, for once, honestly didn't notice – to reveal her dark undershirt beneath and the wound a bit better. She probably needed a doctor, but he already knew better than to ask, so Balthazar fixed the needle and thread together before moving closer. "My first time, so... let me know if I hurt you too badly." She gave a small nod. "Whiskey?" he offered, watching her shake her head for a moment, then seemingly change her mind and reach for it over his arm. He didn't say anything.

Catherine hardly swallowed her first burning sip before he started sterilizing the wound with more alcohol. Her face winced, but she didn't move away from him. She just heard him give a shallow sigh while his hands worked until he spoke again. "I shouldn't have let my anger get the better of me," he said, still not looking to her, "I'm sorry. If I hadn't done that, he wouldn't have knocked me out so easily."

She watched him gather the needle and line before beginning on the stitching. Cat closed her eyes from the pain, clenching her teeth while trying to focus more on the conversation. "No," she said, forcing herself to take a breath and speak evenly, "You were justified... I'm sorry we killed them. Those angels."

"He didn't give us any other choice," he spoke softly, focusing on his task, "If we went in without the intention of killing them, we'd both be dead." Catherine stayed silent again, not commenting on what he said and seemed to have just accepted it. Better that way, really. However, Balthazar realized that he was going too slowly with this stitching business in an attempt to hurt her less. It was doing no one any favors, so he decided to keep her mind busy. "What happened after I was out? I didn't really get the details."

"You didn't stop to ask," she answered, nearly grumbling about it. He was in a very angry hurry less than an hour ago, but she shook her head. "A lot, really. Michael-" Catherine winced again and she heard Bal give a soft apology, but she took a deep breath and started again. "Michael stabbed me with Raphael's blade. I dropped it when he decided to try throwing me into the wall. He was going to kill me. Said as much."

Cat had stopped talking and he noticed her eyes had closed again. He allowed her a moment to not speak while he worked before trying to continue the conversation. He was nearly halfway done now. "Why didn't he? Not that I'm glad he didn't."

She tilted her head to the side and took a deep breath. He assumed she was just in pain, until she finally answered him. "Lucifer showed up." She could feel where the needle stopped in her flesh and she wanted to tell him to hurry up with the damn thing, but she also understood his hesitation.

"What?" His voice was low and when she finally opened her eyes, she could see that anger wanting to come back again, probably to just replace the fear he over his face. Catherine nodded to the needle, which seemed to startle him back into the real world before pulling it through and fixing the stitch.

Once he seemed to find a rhythm again, she continued. "They talked a little. Michael turned back to me and yanked the damn sword back out. Hurt worse than when he put it in there..."

"And then?" He glanced over to her seriously in between the stitches, not wanting to get overly distracted.

"Michael killed Raphael," she answered in the middle of another deep breath. "Shocked the other guy, but he still handed his grace over as he died. An archangel's grace-... It's a little overwhelming." A silence went over the both of them and the pain in shoulder seemed to decrease by a few margins. "Then Michael left."

Balthazar began knotting the line, untying the needle from the spare inch of thread that was left. "Luci followed, then?" he asked, watching his hands on his work again. He needed to cut the bit of thread off, but it seemed he left any knives other than angel blades in the car.

She could see that he believed that was what really happened. It would be easy to lie if she was so inclined to. "No."

His hands stopped again and he looked back to her. "What do you mean, no?" Cat opened her mouth to answer, but he was already looking her up and down. "What did he do? Did he hurt you? What hap-?"

"I'm fine," she interjected, breaking his torrent of questions. "He didn't hurt me. He just wanted to talk, that's all."

"Talk?" Balthazar looked quite disbelieving and she couldn't really blame him.

After a moment, she gave him a more accurate answer. "He wanted to make a deal with me."

She allowed a moment for that to sink in, before he finally furrowed his brow. "A deal?" The notion sounded odd to her, too. Crossroads demons made deals, not the devil himself. Yet, here they were. "What sort of deal?" he asked, "What did you say?"

"I told him no," she answered first to get that out of the way. "Or I did in the middle of his little speech. It was kind of hard to talk when he was done... Told me to call him when I make up my mind."

It was a small change in his features, but Balthazar honestly did look a bit crestfallen and worried. "He'll be back," he finally said in a hushed voice, "He's interested in you." She looked down to her lap, not liking that at all. She could also feel this angel's eyes on her but didn't look back. Finally, he asked again. "What was the deal?"

Catherine let out a sigh, not seeing a way out of this. On one hand, she honestly didn't want to tell him everything. Of course, she already knew she wasn't going to say anything on Lucifer's little speech leading up to the deal, but Cat still wished she hadn't mentioned it at all. "He offered to give me a way to stop Michael," she finally said, "Not kill him. Just stop him and expel all of the graces he has."

Balthazar gave a dry laugh. "Which only leaves Lucifer to win." She nodded in return, so Bal just looked down to the extra inch of line from her stitches in thought. "That's not a very proper deal," he muttered, "What does that leave you?"

Cat shook her head, her mouth forming that all too familiar thin line. "He said he'd give your grace back," she finally spoke. A long silence passed between them again as she debated what to say next carefully. "He said he'd return it once he was... done. Let you live and everything."

He was quiet and he stayed quiet for a long time. Catherine listened to the heavy rain hitting the roof, ignoring the pain throbbing in her shoulder. The sound of the rain, the fresh smell wafting in from the outside world, made her want to forget about the whole thing and just rest until it all blew over. Unfortunately, his voice broke through the silence and pulled her back to the precarious situation in front of them. "Why would he make a deal like that?" His question wasn't one of mock curiosity. She felt like she was being interrogated.

Her good shoulder bobbed slightly. "He knows we're after it. I don't know. Honestly," she sighed again, "I think even Satan's out of ideas."

She was finally looking up to him again, and he glanced away after a moment so he could think clearly again. "Maybe," he answered. Bal stayed quiet for another long pause. Eventually, his gaze moved up to her wounded shoulder again and the extra line he still needed to get rid of. His eyes roamed to her arm that still had his blurry writing etched over the skin like it belonged there. He remembered telling himself when putting the marks there that he was only taking so long with it because he was stalling out of fear of Raphael. It definitely had nothing to do with the fascinating way the ink melted into her skin or how smoothly his hands could glide over her.

Thunder cracked outside, bringing him back to the present. Balthazar blinked and glanced over to her face again. Catherine was looking down to the floor, away from him. He glanced down, too, and asked, "Do you remember what happened back with Sachiel?"

Catherine's lip twitched and she tilted her head. "Lucifer got her," she said, surprising Bal, "He told me. She's gone now."

He was shaking his head before she even finished and then he groaned. "Predictable," he said to himself and waited a long moment before saying anything else. "Do you remember what she said? To us?"

Cat looked back up to him and thought about it. "She said a lot of things to us," she said after a length, "She thought we were going to kill her or something."

He rubbed his thumb across every finger of his hand, watching the motion as if they weren't having a conversation. "She asked if you were sure," he said quietly, moving his thumb across the backs of his fingers now. "She asked you if you really wanted her to break the spell on us."

Her brow furrowed and she frowned to him, not sure if it was from confusion or worry. "So? She didn't want to break any of the spells. Acted like it was... something good she was doing."

Balthazar wasn't looking at her, though. He stared down to her stitches and the writing on her arm. She shifted slightly, trying to lean over to catch his eyes, but she almost regretted it when he finally did look to her. His eyes locked with hers and neither of them glanced away. She couldn't if she tried and it worried her. "Catherine," he said her name in a breathe and shifted his legs again to get closer to her, "It was my fault."

Her eyes narrowed in confusion. "What do you-?"

"My grace." Her features evened out when he answered and she looked down to the floor again while he continued. "You're blaming yourself. It was my fault. My choice. Catherine." His hand gently found the edge of her face, holding her jaw firmly enough to make her glance back up to him. He looked genuinely worried, but there was something else in his eyes that gave her pause and forced her to catch up with what he was saying. His hand didn't move. "If we're going to get it back, then we're doing it together and we're doing it the right way. On my terms. Not on your own. It wasn't your fault to begin with... I need you to promise me."

Catherine frowned and she wanted to argue. It was her fault. She was easy bait for Michael. She shouldn't have gotten caught and she should have handled the situation better rather than to wait for someone to save her. Again. She remembered the last time all too well. The edge of her lips pulled into a frown from his other implications. "I wasn't going to agree to Lucifer's stupid plan. What do you-"

"I'm not talking about Lucifer," he said firmly, leaning closer again but she didn't back away, "I'm talking about everything. Don't do something stupid for something I gave up in the first place." He could see the arguments already appearing in her eyes. "Swear to me."

She still did want to argue, but her eyes softened from the sheer determination he was looking at her with. He really did want her to promise. He really did just want to be sure... and it was a stupid promise. She felt guilty, but... she also understood what it felt like to have someone sacrifice something important for her. Catherine's throat felt dry and her voice came out in little more than a whisper. "I swear."

His firm determination immediately drained away into something much more gentle and his thumb smoothly glided over the skin beneath her eye, even surprising himself with the action. Suddenly, he remembered back to that motel room where he finally had her against the wall and how wonderful of a situation that was. He also remembered that she wanted him to stop. The word bugged him more now than it did in that moment. Yet, his eyes were still locked with hers and neither of them had moved away from the other. It took several second thoughts, but his hand eventually left her and he blinked to glance away again.

Catherine wasn't sure exactly what had just happened. There was some sort of moment there and she wasn't sure what it was or what had happened to it. She watched him for a moment, trying to figure out what to do now or what to say or what she should even be feeling. Her current emotions were something like disappointment, but she tried to not think about that.

Before she could think of anything else, though, he had shifted again. Cat glanced over just in time to see him slowly move down to her shoulder, holding her arm with one hand to keep her steady before taking the extra inch of line between his teeth. Her eyebrow shot up, but she didn't feel any pain or pressure as he bit the extra piece off. He slowly leaned back up again, taking the line from his mouth with a frown of disgust. "Bloody gross," he muttered beneath his breath, flicking the thing away from him.

After a second, a little smile appeared on her face and she moved closer to him again. "Balthazar-"

When he looked back to her, the smile she had faded away. His eyes still had the same intensity that shook between them a mere moment ago and she was frozen again. Neither moved, scared of doing something they shouldn't, until he finally moved back into the place he was before. She watched his face that she failed to read as his hand found its place on her cheek again. She quickly noted that perhaps she should be scared or stopping this before anything else happened, but he slowly leaned closer again and she watched him hesitate a few times while she remained unmoving until he finally closed the space between them, only to just barely brush his lips against hers as if he was still unsure of the action.

Catherine's eyes only half closed by the time he broke away from the small kiss. He still seemed unsure of what to do and they both stayed still for a moment, wondering what the other was thinking. She pushed away her own thoughts from before and closed the distance again to kiss him just as gently before pulling back like he had done. He still seemed frozen, so she kissed him again for want of a reaction when he finally kissed back. It wasn't hard or desperate like before. It was still gentle and slow while their lips moved together.

The arm that had been wounded didn't want to move much, so she just gripped at his still wet jacket with that hand, moving the other up to his neck. She wasn't thinking – didn't want to think – and she knew he wasn't either. Her hand moved beneath his jacket, lightly pulling it off of one shoulder. He shifted in the middle of their kiss and took it off himself, before his own hands moved back to her waist and neck, still kissing her lips slowly.

She knew that she should say something. Anything really, whether it was to stop or encourage him, something needed to be said. On the other hand, she didn't want to stop kissing him long enough to speak, and then he distracted her when one of his hands touched her bare stomach. She kissed him a few more times before pulling back and easily taking the undershirt off on the side of her good arm before he took over. Balthazar slowly looped the shirt from over her head first and then took the shirt completely off of her hurt arm, never touching the wound site or stitches. She wasn't surprised when he took a moment to look at her before his eyes landed on her lips and he moved closer to kiss again.

This time she pushed against him, but he broke away and she feared that it had been the wrong move before his own layers of shirts came off, too. She only had a second to admire the view before his lips brushed against hers once more. Catherine felt his legs shift again and then felt her back touching the cold floor.

Dawn's golden light drifted into the old house well after the storm had passed. Balthazar was awake and had been for about an hour. For once, he was the first one up. Though, up was a debatable term. He was still lying in the same place he fell asleep in – beside her, on the floor, mostly naked from the night before. He had tried to awkwardly place his jacket over her to keep the cold away, especially since he wasn't chilly this morning, oddly enough. Just kept her close to him and that seemed to help enough.

Catherine slept soundly in his arms, though he still wished he had drove until he found a better place to rest that night. The floor of an old home wasn't a great place for this sort of activity, but it didn't really matter now. He just watched her sleep, moving a piece of hair from her face for the tenth time since he woke.

Other thoughts passed through his mind, too, and they were stupid and foolish and he knew it, but the same thing happened the last time she was sleeping like this next to him. He thought about the future and what was going to happen whether they win or lose. He thought about his grace and of the Heaven he left behind. More importantly, without ever consciously deciding one way or the other, he thought about how he was supposed to tell her. How she would take it.

Suddenly, she took a deep breath and his hand stopped moving against her hair. Her head tilted to the side as if she were stretching her neck, before opening her eyes to see him. For an instant, he worried what her first reaction to waking up like this would be, but she just smiled and closed her eyes again. "Aren't you cold?"

He smiled back widely to her tired, hushed voice. "Not really," he murmured back quietly, "You keep me warm."

"Stop," she laughed, turning her head away.

Bal laughed, too, until she turned back to him. He watched her smile for a bit until asking, "How's your arm?"

"Doesn't hurt," she answered, opening her eyes to see his very skeptical face. "It doesn't hurt badly," she revised.

"Good," he sighed, seemingly pleased with the answer. She smiled again.

Then one of their phones started to ring and her smile fell. Balthazar didn't turn to see. He just closed his eyes, letting his own smile fall, too. The outside world was coming back again and he didn't want anything to do with it anymore. After two rings, he felt her brush against his ribs and he opened his eyes again to find her leaning over him and reaching for her phone.

He turned on to his back, partly to give her room and partly to get a better view. However, what happiness that had brought him vanished when she looked to the phone to see who was calling and her frown deepened. He already knew it was Gabriel.

Catherine pressed the button to answer the call at the same time Bal took it from her hand and put the phone to his own ear. "Hello?" She frowned to him, but he gave a little smirk and spoke to the other end of the line. "Of course it's Catherine. Can't you tell by my feminine voice?"

She smirked, too, but didn't allow herself to take the opportunity to rest against his chest. Gabriel was calling and he wasn't known for just checking up on things. Maybe they had taken too long.

Balthazar's frown answered that question for her. "That would be because we found him last night," he said and waited a moment before continuing, "I tried calling. There was a storm. Blocked out the signal." She honestly didn't know if he was telling the truth or not, but he probably was. She just hadn't thought of calling and letting them know what had happened in the middle of everything. His frown deepened and the topic left her thoughts. "No," he answered seriously, "Michael got him."

Even she knew there was a silence on the other end and they both waited while looking to each other. But his eyes eventually left hers and fell on the still fresh wound on her shoulder that they had bandaged before finally falling asleep. A moment passed and she wondered what was being said, if anything. He spoke again after a silence, but his gaze wasn't on her or the wound. He was looking through her, pass her, somewhere very far away. "We'll be there before morning."

I think I speak for everyone here when I say FINALLY. Probably wasn't the best first time, but it happened anyway. I hope you're all prepared for the coming chapters, but always remember that we still have a good bit before this is finished.

I look forward to hearing your thoughts on the start of this lovely relationship. Review, follow, fave, whatever you like. Thank you all!