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Things are going to pick up now a little quicker than usual. I hope you enjoy! This one might be a little longer.
The storm outside was hardly even a problem on his mind, much like everything else that was outside of these old walls. Michael gaining the upper hand, Lucifer plotting some sort of trickery, Gabriel trying and failing to lead the worst army anyone's ever seen, and the apocalypse on nigh. To hell with all of it. He had never cared before. Who said that losing his wings meant that he should start to care now? He was good at what he did when Father gave the orders, but without God...?
He was selfish. He cared very little for the majority of his family. He cared even less for the masses of Dad's other little creations. Balthazar cared only for himself. It was how things were and it was how he liked it.
Then this human woman crawled inside of his comfortable space and attempted to upturn all of that. It was a failed attempt, all things considered. He was still selfish, just in a slightly different way. All he cared for was himself, but the loss of her would ultimately cause pain.
He did not like to admit that he cared for the mortal little thing, but he did. His own survival now hindered on her well-being and happiness. One would think that would be considered a troublesome problem, but he begged to differ. He wanted to be kind to her. He wanted to help and protect her. He wanted to lay down his life for hers and be her winged champion. He also wanted to make her feel very... very good and he wanted her to make him feel very good and he wanted absolutely no one else to make her feel the way that he could make her feel. He wanted her smiles and affections just for himself. He wanted to keep her like this forever, away from everything else. Let the damn world burn. She was his.
Finally his.
The floor was uncomfortable against her back – even he knew that much – so Balthazar planned to go through pains to make sure she was well and completely distracted from the fact. Then there was her hurt shoulder... All things considered, tonight wasn't really all that good of a night for this if logic was on anyone's side, but that didn't matter. She seemed more than compliant with the setting and he was already going slow enough from trying to savor every moment of this to even dream of hurting her further. So far, that is. He had to remember to be gentle.
He kissed around her neck, gently tracing the veins with his lips until meeting her ear. Then he took a moment to lightly nuzzle against her jaw which was something he didn't think he'd do to any sort of being, but he couldn't really help it. He wanted to be so much closer than this – a drawback of losing his grace. He wanted to see her soul again so badly, especially now. He remembered how bright it was.
Her breath was haggard against his ear and he was getting to the point that he desperately wanted to hear her moan, when a hand brushed lightly against his face. It was the arm she had wounded and he remembered how little she could use it earlier. Still, it didn't stop him from obeying its soft push and bend away from her neck to see her face and look her in the eyes for a moment. The light in her eyes was so dull, but it was there – her soul shimmering just as beautifully as he remembered – and she smiled to him. Maybe it was the look on his face, maybe it was the moment, but it was the best smile that he had seen on her yet and he couldn't help but to lean in and kiss her soft lips.
She returned the kiss for a lingering moment until they both broke away to look at each other again. Her warm smile had only seemed to grow. "Bal."
He didn't respond. He didn't have to. He felt a smile growing across his own face, too, and he wondered how long that had been there. She must have liked it on him.
Her hands traveled over his ribs, gently gliding over his chest and neck, before settling on either side of his face. Her smile didn't waver, but her eyes softened a margin as she looked up to him before quietly whispering. "I'm here." He blinked down at her, the words confusing him, but her smile only widened at his confusion. "I'm right here," she told him softly, one hand lightly brushing against his cheek and hair.
He still didn't understand what she meant, but something in him must have felt like he did. His heart swelled, his throat choked, and he started realizing how deeply her words had moved him when his eyes began to sting, despite how much he didn't really understand the meaning. But she was right. He could feel her hand on his cheek and see her soul in her eyes.
"I'm here," she whispered again, the words hardly a murmur while her thumb gently traced the skin beneath his eye like he had just done to her a few moments ago.
He had to gasp for a shaken breath as he looked down on her. She was really here. "Catherine." After hardly mumbling her name, he desperately took her lips in his. Then he quickly pulled away and moved to her neck, pushing his head against hers like he had earlier, trying to bury himself into her collar. A kiss wasn't enough. Sex wasn't going to be enough. He wanted to hold her and never be forced to let her go again. "I love you," he said beside himself, hand tangling into her hair and feeling like he may choke on a sob. "I love you. I love you."
He could feel her hand combing across the back of his head, trying to quiet him. She still spoke softly to his ear. "I'm here, Bal. I'm here."
He kissed her shoulder twice- three times, before nuzzling into her neck again, wanting to find her lips.
Balthazar tilted his head in his sleep, slowly beginning to wake when he felt nothing that he expected to feel. His eyes opened to see the interior of the Challenger, the windows still pelted with water, but any traces of the storm that caused it seemingly gone as dusk set in. Sleep still clinging to him, Bal glanced behind him to realize that his back was pressed against the seat. He turned forward to check the front, finding that no one was sitting there and his mind tried to figure out where she might have wandered off to.
He stopped moving, realization slowly sinking through him like ice. His breath hung in his chest for a moment as he stared straight ahead, his mind stalling. Then he realized that he couldn't breathe.
He shot up and quickly climbed to the nearest door, about ready to kick the damn thing before it opened. His feet planted against the ground, but he couldn't find the strength to stand and move, so he stayed there for a moment, cradling his head in his hands and forcing himself to breathe as best he could.
She was not here and he hated the fact that those dreams persisted. Why did he dream that? Why her again? Why? Well, any moron would tell him why and he knew it, but why did it have to be... that? Why that night? Why did she have to say that? That last part didn't happen back then. Why did he have to bloody dream it, too?
Why did it have to be that night?
He took a few deep breaths and looked up to the sky's dark red and purple hues with the stars beginning to shine out for the night. Balthazar just watched the sky get darker as he focused on breathing and thought of nothing else, waiting for the pain in his chest to die down and the stinging in his eyes to stop.
As Malachi had said, Thaddeus jumped around possibly more than Michael did. Balthazar had no intention of going after Bartholomew just yet, as he was apparently the archangel's right hand, so this one had to be dealt with first. He had no hopes of tracking the angel down and finding him, so the next best option was to draw him out.
He didn't know where Thaddeus was at any given moment, but he did know where he was going to go and where he had been, thanks to another dead rat. The latter was useless, but the former meant that there would have been scouts sent ahead of his pompous ass to check for decent vessels before he arrived on scene. Killing a group of his angels that was ahead of him also meant that Balthazar had more time to prepare for a fight. He didn't entirely know how much time, but it was less than two days, at the most.
It took a lot of thought and effort to get back into the car, though. He vowed to never sleep in the damn thing again, even if he had to sleep under a tree next time. However, once he did eat a little bit and finally continued along his path, it wasn't very long until he found one of those nests he had heard so much about near a cabin on the outskirts of a small town. Only had three angels, too.
Balthazar had killed the first one before she even knew he was there. The second tried to put up a fight and failed miserably. The third, though, managed to cut him along his cheek before that one inevitably burst into light as well. At least someone finally got a hit on him. He was beginning to take all of his recent luck for granted.
Another drawback of his current situation, aside from not knowing when Thaddeus was going to show his face, was that Balthazar had to stay in town for a little while after committing three murders. He had to get rid of the bodies first, which was definitely a troublesome matter.
After some thought, he decided that the best option was to burn and bury them. It didn't matter if Thaddeus found them or not – the angel would be paranoid enough with them missing as it is – but the authorities were another thing entirely. No, he had never dreamed of concerning himself with such a thing, but he wasn't about to take his grace just to break out of a pair of handcuffs.
Once getting the car to shine its headlights over the dead angels, he pushed the bodies aside and started digging. It didn't have to be deep, thankfully. Not that this was really all that problematic for him. Getting rid of bodies wasn't that hard of a task, all things considered. It kept his mind and hands busy, something that he was quite thankful for, and he hoped that he would be so tired later on that he wouldn't have any dreams at all.
Considering there were three bodies and not one, he ended up digging a little more than planned before giving up. The soil just got harder and harder to work with the further he went and he was already tired of it. So, Balthazar jumped out of the hole before rolling the bodies in as best he could. A shame about their vessels, really, but he considered it their own fault for saying yes in the first place. Now came the easy part. Burn them and cover the bodies back. Easy enough.
He spared a bit of gas for his project, even though he had started calling the stuff liquid gold these past few days. Again, he hated the monetary system. Balthazar grumbled as he put the can away and fiddled for the matches. The whole night was beginning to be a pain, he thought, striking the match against the box.
Of course it didn't light. With the way his day was going so far, why did he expect different? He tried a couple more times before the stick eventually broke. With a deep groan, he flicked it into the hole to get another out of the box, just for it to not light on the first strike either.
Right. Okay. He was putting too much force into it and he needed to calm down. Admittedly, it's been a long time since he's seen anyone light a match and he hadn't done something like that in a really long time either, but he didn't expect so much difficulty from such a simple task. He could kill a group of angels and track down their leader, but light a match? Balthazar, the angel of the Lord, captor of the weapons of Heaven, can't light a match. Yes, yes. Let's all have a laugh about it.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to relax himself. A shower would be wonderful right now, but this was going to have to be done first. Right. Bal sighed and tried striking the match again.
The match flared to life in his hand before calming down to a small flame. Balthazar watched the tiny light dance on the head, licking as high as it could manage, slowly warping and darkening the wood. He felt like, if he listened closely enough, he could hear it roaring against the wind and crackling from dry kindling. It could rise up to the sky if it wanted to, engulfing whatever was being fed into it without receiving any protest.
He jumped as his finger began to burn and Bal dropped the lit match into the makeshift grave. The fire spread through the gasoline like it was water – the bodies immediately beginning to burn together in a blaze. He jolted back from the sight and didn't realize that he had continued to backpedal until the back of his legs met the car's bumper and nearly tripped him.
The fire reached clearly over his dug hole and he watched the large flames try to lick up to the sky. He suddenly had the feeling that if he had eaten any more today, it probably would have come back up now. He remembered the pyre. He remembered the ashes rushing into the air and he remembered the smell. He remembered thinking how fitting the funeral was for her, the fire taking every trace of her body away as quickly as possible and making sure to leave nothing left. Just as she wanted. Just as she was. His legs were weak and he could swear there was a shadow on the other side of the blaze.
God, he missed her.
Was that a fact he felt sympathy over or something that he was ashamed of and hated?
Balthazar pushed himself off of the car and marched forward, ripping the shovel out of ground and starting on putting dirt back into the grave. He didn't care if the fire was done burning yet. He just wanted to leave.
Again, a downside of his wonderful plan was that he had no idea when Thaddeus would arrive for his head. It would be safer to not sleep and remain prepared through the night and morning – which he would happily do after his recurring dreams and that damn fire episode he had – but then he would be exhausted the following day if his enemy didn't show his face. What if Thaddeus opted to wait for another day before looking for his angels and the one who murdered them? What if he got reinforcements while he was at it? Balthazar wasn't sure he could fight anything if he was falling asleep where he stood.
So... he had to sleep. He needed his rest.
First, a shower. His weary body demanded it and the sooner that was done, the better. While the water ran hot over his back, Bal figured that he also needed to eat something. Not a corn dog and a few chicken strips either. He needed actual food and, surprisingly enough, he was beginning to get hungry for it again.
With a towel draped across his shoulders, Balthazar came out of the bathroom as the steam followed, shaking his head free of water. He stopped and took a step back, watching the corner of the room. After a brief second, he blinked and shook his head again, his tired eyes playing the oldest of tricks on him.
The idea of eating something decent was not forgotten, so he left the room for a moment to go back to the car and dig out whatever he had left. Bal didn't want to leave this motel for as long as he was going to be hunted. He wanted to fight on his terms, not be surprised in a back alley somewhere.
He closed the door to the car, a bag in tow, as he glanced up to the second floor balcony and stared for a moment. Sighing, he began to walk back into the room, rubbing his eyes. Food. A meal. He had objectives here before sleep took him, but the longer he stayed awake, the less he wanted to try and sleep.
So, Balthazar ate his food in silence, despite how greasy some of it might have been. He didn't eat it all, but he ate as much as he could without getting overly full and miserable before wondering if he was just stalling. Refusing to admit to himself that he probably was, he focused on something else, like his lack of prepared weaponry if his dear friend showed up.
Suddenly, Bal jumped and looked behind him, seeing nothing but the bare wall. He waited in silence for a moment, hand half reached for a weapon, before wondering about what had startled him in the first place. It was some sort of sound, but he wasn't sure what it was or why it had scared him like that.
This was officially getting ridiculous and he rubbed at his eyes again. It wasn't like he had gone days without rest like before. It had only been twelve- no, fourteen hours since he woke up in the car the day before. He was growing tired of the world around him, yes, but not that tired. His finger traced the scratch on his face from the fighting earlier as he looked back to the wall again. Maybe he did need a really good sleep. Something without any dreams of rain or fire. Just... rest. That could have been the problem...
And yet, when he rose up from his chair and walked to the bed, he grabbed up his bag instead of laying down. Whatever was on his mind, call it stalling or not, he knew that he needed to be ready if Thaddeus showed up. The only thing that could harm an angel was his blade, but he could at least fight smartly. They were fallen, after all, and he was hidden from them. Something that could distort their vision would be helpful, but he had no smoke bombs or anything like that. A shotgun to the face might work for a little while, but they were still faster than him and he had no holy oil to trap them with.
Balthazar stopped shuffling through his things and glanced back down to the floor, seeing her bag sitting there like it always was. He had just dragged the thing from place to place, never leaving it in the car when he decided to stay in a room for the night. At any moment, he might need the things inside... like right now. He was fairly sure that the Winchesters had given them some of their supply of holy oil and Bal knew that it wasn't in the trunk of the car. That left one other place.
Not that he really needed it, honestly. It would just make things easier and... possibly save his life and the mission. He scowled down to her bag, as if it could understand why he hated the thing so much. Well, he didn't really hate it. Just like he didn't really hate the car or that he was meticulous about keeping the seats clean or that he didn't like leaving her things somewhere while he slept in safety. He didn't hate it; he just- Balthazar closed his eyes. He did not want to go through that bag. Above all else, he just wanted to leave the thing be so long as it was near enough that he could keep an eye on it and make sure it was safe.
Maybe Gabriel was right. Maybe he was going too far with her death. It was hurting him too deeply and he was having a hell of a time trying to continue on with that memory hanging in him. He needed to get her back, yes, but he couldn't get up the nerve to open her damn bag?
It's forbidden for a reason.
Balthazar grabbed her bag and threw it on the bed in front of him, pushing his own things aside. He wasn't pathetic. He wasn't that attached to a memory. He could muster up enough determination to go through her things. It wasn't forbidden for any damned reason. Angels felt pain and sorrow the same way humans did. He was just being a little bitch about it.
So he told himself as he glared down to the bag, jaw clenched in anger. He wanted very much to be angry at the stupid rules and himself like he always was, but for once he was angry with her. She made him feel this way and then ran off and died as soon as she had confirmation that her job had been successful. She swore to him, then she hurt and betrayed him. He shouldn't even look for her. She didn't deserve it.
The anger drained from him just as quickly as it flared up and his hand rubbed against his face, trying hard to stop what he was feeling. He wanted to crawl under the bed and cry in the darkness until Thaddeus found him and killed him. Ridiculous and pathetic and he had to reach out against the bed to brace himself from falling onto her things as he doubled over. "What are you doing?" His voice shook as he tried to gain a semblance of his composure again. Deep breaths and a clear mind. That's what he needed, as usual. He just had to stop thinking about it.
The lights flickered, successfully stopping Balthazar's previous thoughts and gaining his full attention. He waited for a moment, even considering that it was probably nothing at all, until they dimmed down again for a few seconds before coming back.
He took up his angel sword and paced towards the door. It wasn't too early for Thaddeus, that was for sure, but the electricity interference without any wings wasn't right. Perhaps he had brought more angels with him than was bargained for.
Bal slowed a few paces from the door, waiting for anything, when the same sound from before softly played behind him. He quickly turned back to the room, seeing nothing again. Was all of this his tired mind playing tricks on him or was that what his enemies liked for him to believe? Electricity buzzed loudly in the walls and the lights shone brighter as he glanced around in a near panic. Then the lights went back to normal and a moment passed of him just standing in place. All sound stopped and the world went silent.
"I'm here."
Balthazar spun back around, managing to catch a small glimpse of a bloody and broken Catherine standing in front of him before the lights blew.
Oh dear. Once again, things are going to start moving along now.
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