caveofsapphires | (no subject)

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WHO: Balthazar (Alexander Wilton), open
WHAT: A sarcastic, cynical ~~angel~~ lush enters a place of worship. Stop me if you've heard this one before.
WHERE: The Temple
WHEN: Monday, April 16th
WARNINGS: most likely religious references.......?

It was like being home, he guessed. Well, if home had a creepier, stepford vibe, where everyone had to live their lives like nothing was wrong, and God was playing the role of an enigmatic puppeteer who guaranteed a good life if only you obeyed his laws. ...Wait, let's start over.

Balthazar was always good at avoiding people. Hell, he had managed to stay hidden from an angry archangel and the rest of Heaven for an age and a half. It was only natural that he would abuse this skill the moment he had woken up in this nightmare, staying quiet and unnoticeable amongst the others who had woken up like him. Maybe in a nother life he might have made an effort to appear civil, but that was the thing. He was alive again. This was disturbing because there shouldn't have been an 'again' tackd onto the end of that sentence, it should only be 'he was alive.' The whole nasty business of him dying wasn't exactly what upset him; he had been a soldier once upon a time, and he never fooled himself into believing he'd be around forever. Dying wasn't what had him in such a mess. It was the way it had gone down that had him currently emitting the 'unsociable prick' aura. He wasn't mopey by nature, in fact he was rather a dry cynic with a hint a humor, but he guessed he was allowed to sul when his best friend had gone crazy and killed him.

It was easy for him to follow the rules and play nice with whatever world he had been thrust into when he was like this; doing-everything-i-say-or-else-faceless-dictator? Sure, why the hell not, he was an angel, wasn't he? That was pretty much in the job description. Although, he had to admit, the whole memory-plant thing was kind of making him scratch his head a little. What they had told him about his fake life, it seemed like something he'd do. It was pretty much what he had did with Heaven. In quieter moments, he almost didn't seem to mind that he was given a chance at another, (somewhat) normal life. It was, overall, so much better than his real life, but then he remembered who he was, what he was, what he had done.

Despite wanting to do nothing more than rebel, rebel, rebel, being oh-so-very-much-more cynical about life in general these days, he knew he had to just play the game. He knew how to act like nothing was wrong, that he had everything under control (granted, the last time he had played with this skill a little too hard and fast, it had gotten him killed), so that was what he was going to do. Bide his time. Think of how to reconnect with his lost Grace and give Castiel the beating of his life.

He found it almost ironic coming into the temple to get away from the world around him and just be alone with his thoughts. Back on the Earth he had known, he had always looked at 'houses of The Lord' from a distance, amused when he thought of how many would cross its threshold waiting to find his Father's spirit waiting for them. Too bad they'd never find it. During those moments, though, inside a strange building, in a strange realm, he wished for nothing more than for everything to return to what it had been before.

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The Temple was emphatically not a potentially regular haunt. It was a temple. Gabriel tended not to enter temples unless they were run by people he had an ... 'appointment' with. They were too much of a reminder of all the things he'd been trying to pretend weren't there.

This particular one seemed like his best chance of actually getting in contact with anyone from his original world. Or possibly Aziraphale's; Gabriel might accept that, if only so he could see just how humourless his other self apparently was. It was also one of the least likely places for being watched.

Besides, it wasn't specifically one of Dad's houses. It was just a temple. That made it okay.

When he strolled in on this occasion, a box of somewhat stale wedding cake under his arm, he was vaguely surprised and irritated to find that someone had beaten it to him again. What, did no one have anything better to do? A population this small and people were actually using the religious paraphernalia? Please.

"Right, Temple's booked this afternoon, off you go," he said briskly to attract the man's attention, waving toward the door. Hopefully this one would leave as easily as the other had.

Good lo-- someone, he was in no mood to deal with some fanatic. Hardly anyone payed attention to this place, much less entered it, so why now, of all times, did someone decide they desperately needed it? It wasn't like any deity actually lived here; this place was as empty and cold as one of those castles in the British country side. Lovely to look at, not really meant for long stays. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Piss off," he politely replied, not even bothering to turn around to see who was offending his very existence.

Apparently not. Gabriel hadn't stopped walking into the temple as he spoke, and now the only reaction to his companion's words was the slightest hitch of surprise in his footsteps. Well, fine. He'd just have to take greater measures.

Like talking. About nothing.

"I'm pretty sure the Workers would object to the mess," he said innocently, strolling up to the altar beside the man and dropping the box on its top. "They're so damned uptight, you'd think someone inserted something when each of them woke up." The box got flipped open and the cake revealed, complete with napkin and utensils. Hey, an angel's gotta adapt when he can't just snap things up or away.

Ah, so it was one of those days, then: fine at the start, but then one thing comes along and... Was he about to eat a cake on the altar? Balthazar supposes putting a face to the already annoying voice won't hurt; after all, this is a man who obviously cares not about respecting a place of worship.

Not that he's really any better.

For some reason, sweettooth seems familiar to the (former?) angel, but for the life of him, he can't explain why. For all Balthazar knew, the flippant man could've been an angel. Or a demon. Unfortunately for him, he had been cut off from feeling the presences of souls (and Grace, he'd bet) around him. Not only that, but besides a few angels and one, particular demon, he wasn't very knowledgeable on who's vessel was whose. He'd have to do it the old fashion way: guess.

"You speak about messes, but I doubt you're going to leave the altar very clean once you finish that off."

"You make me sound like I'll be dropping crumbs everywhere," Gabriel said in a faux-hurt tone while he moved the candles around, leaving a good space. Enough space for someone to sit. Which he did, pulling himself backward up onto the altar, crossing one leg under the other, and picking up the box.

"I'll have you know that I don't waste a single one when it comes to junk food," he told the man, waving his fork at him before digging in. Despite his levity, his gaze remained on the stranger, thoughtful and considering. He'd already met one angel in here; what were the odds he'd meet another? It was such a pain he couldn't sense souls or Grace, because he didn't know what any of his brothers' meatsuits looked like.

"You seem the type, what can I say?" Balthazar sits hunched forward, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together as if he really were in the middle of praying before hyped-on-sugar strolled in. He wasn't, of course, but he had to make it look convincing. After all, wouldn't it be kind of strange if a man with no real ties to a god hung out in a house of gods?

He returns his gaze to the wall, suddenly vaguely remembering those fake memories they had tried to spoon feed him. Something about his "older brothers," one with a craving for sugar and a wide smile. Just as quickly as the thoughts come, though, he banishes them, not wanting to even pretend to believe in that crap.

"Either way," he continued, "I'm not a fool, so don't take me for one. Hardly a soul comes into this place; there's no way you have anything booked."

Edited 2012-04-17 05:15 (UTC)

Hardly a soul. The phrase made Gabriel laugh, his tone mixture of genuine amusement and mocking. There was at least one soul in Dad's house right now who shouldn't be there, not because Gabriel wasn't allowed, but because he shouldn't have a soul.

"You seem the type," he parroted with a sardonic grin, kicking his foot and then shrugging. "What can I say? I like having a monopoly on things. It makes sure I get them when I want them."

Usually that wouldn't take anything more than a fingersnap. Here, it was going to take a little more, even if it included lying.

"And are you getting everything you want? Because it seems from where I'm sitting that all you have is a lot of talk and not much to show for it." Not that he could really lecture, seeing as he had no progress to show for almost an entire week being here. No clues on how to leave, no clues on how he got here, and if he even tried to act like himself, something unpleasant would happen. And could you blame him if he wasn't really ready to storm the castle and stick his neck out yet again in the name of the Right Thing? It had gone so well last time...

"Although, I'm not quite sure what a man of your caliber will gain from this place. Surely you, with your full schedule of getting everything you want, wouldn't require anything from a house of worship."

"Where you're sitting is about three feet lower than where I am," Gabriel pointed out cheerfully. Metaphorically and physically, of course. This one was an amateur, that's for sure. Not that he was wrong, but there were assumptions there that would have been amusing if he had been.

"You just need to know how to make it work for you," the archangel told him, patting the altar with fake affection. "I'll admit the line's a little wonky, but it's the best possible connection around here."

This battle of thinly veiled insults could go on forever. Balthazar expected that whomever this man was had about as many witty rejoinders as he did, which is to say a lot. In fact, his tongue had been poised and ready to strike, but the breath that had been worked up to form words only became a sigh. He realized how useless it was to keep shooting the shit like this and it was starting to get on his nerves.

So it was time to turn the conversation around into something much more productive and, perhaps, a little more revealing. "So then," he began, weariness clear in his naturally mocking tone, "You're here to talk to the man upstairs. Or men, whichever your little heart desires. Unfortunately, I think you might just get the answering machine."

Edited 2012-04-19 05:34 (UTC)

Well, that wasn't nearly as much fun. Gabriel wasn't quite sure if he wanted to chalk that up as a win, but then decided, why not? A win was a win. At least he managed not to let his mocking little smile slip, even while he wondered, just what were the odds of finding another brother here?

Surely they couldn't be that good?

And yet, this one was tired. There were a lot of things for an angel to be tired about.

"I am the answering machine," he told the man with a flick of his fork, and then he shrugged. "Usually. I quit. Figured I'd have a life-time's guarantee for some kind of contact details, but apparently the number's changed a bit."

"Ah," he said simply. So his question was answered and what a roundabout way to do it. Except it wasn't as revealing as a name, since most angels be likened to an answering machine. Please leave your prayer after the beep and we will get back to you as soon as possible. "Don't feel too bad, you're not the first He's turned his back on. I hear He's a love-them-and-leave-them type."

Balthazar was trying to be careful in what he said. He hoped he sounded merely jaded by a faith he no longer believed in, instead of an angel who no longer believed in the family he used to belong to.

“Now I wonder who could possibly have told you that?” Gabriel said sardonically, taking another bite of cake and looking at the man thoughtfully. Angel or not? Ex-faithful or not? Maybe he’d just known an angel. That was possible, if his world was different enough. The archangel wished he had his Grace.

“’Course, some would argue that I left first, but what can I say?” He shrugged. “Never-ending family spiels are so boring. Maybe He got fed up with the whining too. Can’t say I blame Him.”

"With all this big talk, you must believe you were an angel, then? I'd say an important one." He wasn't sure if he wanted to risk outing himself, even though he knew that this was one of his brothers. Not only because of how the people in charge frowned on this kind of thing, but also he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to reconnect with any of his family.

Not many angels had ever flown the coop purposefully. Lucifer and his lot, himself, Castiel (sort of), and Gabriel had gone missing sometime ago. Those were the only ones he knew of. Which made the vessel in front of him the unfortunate home of one prank-prone archangel.

Joy.

"Well, anyway, even if you were an angel," he continues, placing a heavy emphasis on the word angel. His voice sounds unsure, but Balthazar was clearing regarding his brother with belief. "It's better to just stay out of family arguments. They're always so messy and they can just drag on for eons."

Edited 2012-04-21 02:50 (UTC)

Careful, this one. That was wise. Then again, since when did Gabriel ever do wisdom over fun? Except here he didn't have his Gace. It made it hard to escape or put things right when he was just an ordinary old human, and he already knew that habit was going to be hard to break.

This stranger was almost certainly an angel, though. The way he was talking was distancing, but his mannerisms were much more truthful.

"Oh, I tried," Gabriel told him with a crooked smile, rueful and sarcastic and bitter all at once. If they were from the same world, his companion should be able to tell who he was if he hadn't already figured it out. Part of him grumped about how many people he'd told over the last few weeks, but really, after he'd already been outed and killed what did he have to lose? "Succeeded for a while, too. And then what d'you know, but I got sucked right back in."

He shrugged and shoveled another forkful of cake into his mouth, then indicated the other probably-angel. "So just who did you play in this big ol' arr-pee-gee?"

He could've been meaning either the one they 'dreamt' about or the one they were in now. Or both. Preferably both; that would be good.

"No matter how far you distance yourself, family matters will always come back to bite you in the ass." He knew for Gabriel it meant literally; the entire Host had felt the archangel's death and assumed the worst about who had done it. A lot of angels had been dying left and right then, but only another archangel could've possibly gotten the drop on Gabriel. For him, though, the family cutting each other's throats had never really been a big issue. Not until they were trying to cut Castiel's and his.

"But that's neither here nor there." Balthazar contemplated what name he should give. Outright giving his real name would get him in trouble, giving his fake name wouldn't really say anything. And even then, should he bother with his real name? He supposed making alliances with a (former) archangel would only benefit him. "My name is Alexander Wilton. Although I've been having the strangest dreams about someone named Balthazar. An angel. Can you believe it? Rubbish, of course, but I still wonder where I could have come up with such outlandish story. Ah well, it's of no importance, I'm sure."

This whole playing-to-the-Cave thing was going to get really old, really soon, Gabriel could tell. Okay, so he'd forced Dean and Sam into playing their roles for three straight days, but somehow seeing one of his own brothers parroting words that weren't true was ... well, it made Gabriel felt like smiting someone.

He just thanked Dad that it was Balthazar, because the other angel always did have this way of putting a unique sardonic spin on things which said what he really believed. "I always did like you," Gabriel said with a smirk and a jab of his fork, not really surprised by the identification. Not all of his family had that sort of humour.

And apparently he actually could say that Balthazar was family. Which was, frankly, extremely interesting, given that he wasn't related to Aziraphale according to the Cave's records. "Apparently we're related," he told the other angel with a roll of his eyes and an exaggeratedly resigned shrug; then he bowed self-mockingly with a flourish of his fork. "Sylvester Wilton. Hey, bro."

Ah, well, he supposed it made sense that they were related in this place; "Alexander" had come from a big family with a group of four older brothers, completed by a distant father and a brother nobody really liked, but got along with anyway because he was dad's favorite. That was almost so ironic, Balthazar could've laughed until his sides cramped. Well, if he had been in any kind of laughing mood.

"Sylvester," he tested, almost finding the name fitting. "Yes, of course. How's that...thing you were doing after you left going? None of us had heard from you in so long we thought you had...fallen completely off the grid." He knew this kind of round-about way of speaking was most likely annoying (hell, he couldn't stand it), and if Balthazar were any of his more self-entitled and rasher brothers, he probably wouldn't be doing it. One simple thing separated him from them, though: Survival Instinct and the ability to bullshit.

"Fell through," Gabriel said with a shrug. "In the worst kind of way. Ran into our mutual big brother and got my ass kicked. Though in my defence, I went temporarily insane by I actually trying to take him on."

It was the Winchesters. It didn't matter how right they were, how true it had been that he liked humanity and wanted it to survive--it would always be the Winchesters' fault for dragging him up out of his self-chosen gutter. At least the gutter had been his.

"Yes. That." Which raised the question, how was Gabriel still alive? Or, alive again? That, of course, lead into his own bout with his current existentialism crisis, and really, his head was starting to hurt. You'd think he'd see and know it all by now, considering what he had come from.

"I would remark on how that was very foolish of you, but really, I have no room to say anything. I'm afraid I also went temporarily insane and tried to do some very stupid things that involve big brothers and fighting." Raphael might not have been on Lucifer's scale of power, but when the entire battle had been essentially between him and Castiel, it had seemed a bit daunting. He could only hope that, despite his recent, sudden dislike for his friend, Castiel had offed ol' Raphy for good.

A question Gabriel had been mulling over for the past few weeks. The only things he could think of were that he really was in an angelic afterlife or he'd been resurrected and booted into an alternate reality. Either way, he knew who had to be behind it.

"You did?" Gabriel lowered his fork and looked quizzically at Balthazar. The other angel had always been somewhat more ... lax than most of the family. Sure, Gabriel had stepped out of the fight, but that was because he was invested. He hadn't been able to choose a side. He remembered Balthazar as just being lazier.

More to the point, he didn't recall Balthazar being much involved in the apocalypse thing at all before Gabriel had confronted Lucifer, which meant he was from sometime after that. Colour him curious. "And which big brothers might those be?"

"The surprise in your voice is very reassuring." But Gabriel was right, Balthazar was never one to go looking for fights. Even if Castiel had said he was an honorable soldier, he was never the type to proudly display that fact. Sure, he could fight with the best of them, but that didn't mean he actively liked doing it. Either way, "The only one left after you, Daddy's Little Loyal One, and Screw-You-Dad-I-Do-What-I-Want all winked out of the picture completely."

He still wasn't completely sure about talking about their REAL family matters out in the open. If they had different names in this reality, surely Lucifer, Michael, and Raphel would have them, too. If they even existed in this reality, and for Father's Sake, he really hoped they didn't.

"It was all to help our dear, younger, naive brother, of course, so I suppose it never was possible for me to say no."

There was so much information laden in those few vague descriptions that Gabriel actually just sat there, stunned, for a moment or two. Those meatheads and his little brother had actually won? They'd beaten the apocalypse? They'd stopped Michael and Lucifer from screwing the planet over completely?

Even with those final minutes of wild, rueful hope, Gabriel had never quite imagined that it would be possible. He had stood up because it was right, because he wanted to, and because in the end Dean Winchester was the damned hypocrite Gabriel was, deep down, tired of being. Even when he made the tape about how to lock Lucifer back in the box, he'd never actually stopped to think about the hows and the coulds.

But they'd done it anyway. And apparently somehow taken Michael down with Lucifer too. Well, damn.

Then the rest of what Balthazar had not said started to sink in and Gabriel's amber gaze snapped back together, penetrating and hardly amused at all. "What did Raphael do?"

A moment later he realised what he'd said and grimaced, directing his words up at the ceiling as he said, "Or, you know, the dick angel with the thing for mocha in the dream--oh, screw this."

He flipped the bird with his fork in the general direction of where the cameras might be, put the container aside and resettled his gaze on Balthazar, no longer with any patience for ridiculous dissembling. "What happened?"

Oh, for fuck's sake! If Balthazar had been capable of words the moment Gabriel had blown their collective cover the blond had just spent all that time and breath on, that's probably what he would've said. Instead, he was left to simply gape at the only creature in existence who's very virtue was patience, yet didn't seem to have a shred of it. He KNEW this was going to be a bad idea, just like he knew helping the Winchesters was going to be a bad idea. He really should start trusting his instincts more.

"Thank you Gabriel for destroying my safety net. If you weren't my older brother, I might have strangled you." After rubbing away the oncoming migraine, Balthazar blew out a sigh. Well, there was nothing he could do now. If someone truly was watching, they would know now that Balthazar wasn't really buying all this bullshit about being native. "Well, now that I have no choice but to talk freely, I suppose I'll just get it all out, shall I?" Balthazar stood from his seat, hands on his hips as he prepared to recount the story. Not that he was going to have all the answers.

"The cage I assume you told the boys and Castiel about worked, except it also dragged Michael and Sam Winchester into the pit, as well. I heard dear Cassy made an appearance back in Heaven after that, but I had since then faked my own death and gotten out of there. I'm honestly not all that sure what happened after the Not-Apocalypse, as I was much too busy getting drunk and having too much sex, but I believe the gist of it was Raphael didn't really like how the story ended. He and Castiel were fighting against each other over a reenactment of the Apocalypse. Blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda. I assume the fighting's done by now, since ol' Cassy had this wonderful idea to absorb all the souls of Purgatory to become powerful enough to kill Raphael."

Edited 2012-04-24 23:40 (UTC)

"You haven't seen me in a while, bro. I've changed." Gabriel gave him a tight smile. He didn't have much sympathy; Balthazar could have pretended he was just humouring the crazy man, could have avoided letting on that he believed the dreams even if it was obvious Gabriel did. The archangel had spent millennia listening to his older brother's whining or just waiting around for the fighting to stop. Now that he'd finally thrown off the apathy he wasn't going to just submit to being shoved back into that box, even if he was going to limit himself to only mild nose-thumbing. They already knew he didn't believe.

So he listened. And when Balthazar was done he pushed himself to his feet in a sudden explosive motion and flurry of hands.

"That--nnnngghhrrr!" He closed his lips on the various curses he'd been about to snarl, most of them emphatically not of languages Sylvester should know, and settled for compulsively snapping his fingers and gesturing violently. "Oh, I just hope he's lying in one of those pods waiting to wake up like we were."

Seriously. Seriously? Gabriel had gone and gotten himself killed to keep the world from ending, and Castiel went and pulled that crap? At least Raphael had the excuse of still being semi-brainwashed, even if it was voluntary.

Were he any other person, any other angel, Balthazar might have jumped at the sudden outburst of movement. He had never really seen Gabriel that mad (actually, "seeing" was relative; he had never experience Gabriel this mad), but for him, it was only shocking in a very minor way. In fact, the only reaction the cursing and gestures got out of Balthazar was a raising of his eyebrows. Gabriel's display was about the same thing the blond had done, but with less drama and more internal panic.

"Anyway," Balthazar began again, tension now in his voice as his expression closed off; almost became too neutral. He really loathed to talk about Castiel at the moment, Gabriel's words rubbing at that sore spot in him (okay, more like an open wound). He half-wished that his younger brother would come here, just so he could get all of his frustration and anger out, but the other half could really care less if he saw that back-stabber (har, har) again. "There's no use getting worked up over it. We're here: far, far away from that battlefield."

Gabriel turned, eyes narrowed, to watch Balthazar's face and the way the other angel was closing down. It looked familiar. If Gabriel had been able to sense Balthazar's Grace, he imagined it would have felt familiar too. Betrayal. He pointed.

"There's something you're not saying, but since I'm feeling generous I'm not going to push it." His tone of voice sounded far from generous, thrumming with frustration and anger. Damn Castiel, anyway. Well, he was going to damn himself, if he'd actually succeeded in that endeavour.

Gabriel sighed, slowly, consciously releasing as much of his frustration as he could. What was it with his brothers and getting into fights?

Abruptly he turned again and picked up his cake-container, his movements sharp, before moving to where Balthazar sat. "Yeah, well, I've been 'far, far away' before," he told his brother, sprawling with false casualness beside him and offering him the remains of the cake. "And trust me, bro, it ain't all it's cracked up to be."

But neither was standing on the battlefield. Wanting to remain neutral sucked.

"I am awed and inspired by your generosity." Despite his sarcasm, Balthazar was thankful that he didn't have to go digging up his untimely demise all over again. It was really the only thing he had thought about the first couple of days awake; he didn't need anymore repeats. He knew, out of anybody in the universe, Gabriel would understand the most, but Lucifer had already been a complete, evil dick when he had faced off against the tricky archangel. Castiel was...

Well, never mind.

"Says you. Your problem was you actually cared for our family as a whole, despite your impromptu leave. I generally cared less and less as the years went on. Being far away was a blessing."

Lucifer had been a dick, but Gabriel still remembered what he had been, once. His favourite older brother. The one who taught him all his tricks. The protector. Everyone always focused on the dynamic between Michael and Lucifer, and forgot about the other angels; Dean's asking Gabriel to kill Lucifer was like asking Sam to kill Dean, and the most irritating part was that Dean had never seen it.

Whatever the differences between that and this, they didn't make the betrayal that Lucifer would actually do it any less sharp.

"Then you should have left earlier, like I did," Gabriel pointed out, pulling the container back with a shrug and finishing the cake himself. Despite the lightness of his voice there was an undertone--not a warning, not bitterness, but something dark. Balthazar had stopped caring, had he? Gee, Gabriel wondered what had happened to others who went the same route.

"Should have, would have, could have." The truth of the matter was, leaving Heaven had never been a thought until recently. He had been perfectly content to stay in his broken home, watching as humanity burned itself out and the world ended around them. In fact, he probably would've continued to stay neutral throughout the entire Apocalypse conflict had the scenario been different.

Balthazar crossed his arms, not daring to go any further down that road.

"That's neither here nor there. We have to put ourselves in the present. Whatever this all is, it requires our full attention."

The archangel spread his hands, his smile twisted. "Such as it is?" Their attention lacking their perception, ability to see souls, their Grace? If he didn't actually like humanity so much, Gabriel might have thought it was meant to teach him humility. Same for Aziraphale.

Maybe not so much for Balthazar.

"All I know is that it's one Hell of an alternate reality construct." He smirked a little at the double meaning of the word, and then lost it. "We've got another member of the family here, but from another universe entirely. He's not dead and he's got just a little too much spirit to be a construct of one of our family, so I'm fairly sure this isn't just my afterlife."

"Hmm, really? Another of us." And from a whole other reality, at that. Maybe this angel would prove to be slightly intelligent and useful. Maybe they too wouldn't be loyal, brainwashed soldiers. And maybe Balthazar might start dancing and stop drinking.

Still, even if he wasn't very sure about this other angel, one could still hope. It was something to mull over, at least; just one more piece in the game to figure out.

But, wait, afterlife? "What's to say it is the afterlife, as you have so colorfully put it?"

Intelligent, certainly. Loyal, also certainly. Brainwashed? Aziraphale seemed about half and half. He was stuffy and serious, but had enough of a sense of humor that Gabriel had hope for him. The fact he'd actually disobeyed orders, actually questioned, was what sealed the deal, as it were. Aziraphale was a brother Gabriel could invest in.

Though maybe not in ways Balthazar was thinking.

The archangel snorted. "Well, let's see, bro: I was killed by Lucifer and then I woke up here. The linearity of time indicates something coming after your life has ended is called an afterlife."

"Then by your reasoning, everyone else here should also be dead," he continued. Which, honestly, wouldn't surprise him, and what an...interesting afterlife this would be. So much for not having to worry about anything anymore, but it was much better than purgatory or, gasp, nothing at all. "Have you heard of anyone else kicking the bucket after you woke up here?"

"Actually, I'd been wondering if you were all constructs to occupy me," Gabriel said with a shrug. "It's be just my luck to wind up dead and then with universe full of people who aren't actually real. Where's the fun in that?"

Sure, he created them all the time, but he couldn't live in a world of them. Even TV-Land had only really been fun because of the element of realness--in that case, Sam and Dean.

"Doesn't sound like much of an afterlife to me." But then again, Balthazar had never given it much thought. Thinking about where angels go when they die was a subject that was really best thought about when completely hammered, and despite his boozing tendency, it wasn't something that happened him.

"It sounds more like a punishment."

Gabriel gave him an ironic look. "Uh, yeah. Duh." That's what he'd feared, at first. Sure the mystery was intriguing, but in general, the idea of everything around him being a construct? Not fun.

So maybe it was horrible, but he was thankful that, chances were, the people around him were actually real. And he didn't really care if it was horrible or not. Loneliness sucked. "But to answer your question: as far as I know I'm the only one who has."

"I'm sorry; you think you're being punished, why? Because you ran away to Earth and charaded as a pagan god? I'm sure if Daddy wanted to punish you, he would've done it sooner rather than later." And who knew if dear Daddy was even around to doll out punishment anymore? If Balthazar recalled, Lucifer was the only one who had ever received a spanking while their Father was still around.

"Well, I can assure you I'm real, at the very least. I'm positive the others are too, the poor bastards."

Because Loki wasn't exactly a benign pagan god. Because he'd spent so long pretending to be something he wasn't that he couldn't be anything else any more. Because he should have tried harder to convince Michael to let it go. Because he abandoned his family.

Because he did nothing to help humanity, those who mattered and suffered most, until it was almost too late.

"There's reasons," he said with a dismissive shrug. "I debunked that theory a while back. Right now I'm just running with an alternate reality, but it's too seamless to be Lucifer's doing. I know how he builds things, and this isn't his style. Not exactly, anyway. And Michael doesn't have the imagination."

Therefore, left unsaid, there was only one.

"Hm." It was all he could say, could think to say. He honestly didn't believe their Father had anything to do with this. And why would he? To punish them? Balthazar scoffed at the very thought. Their Father had technically been punishing all of Heaven ever since he popped out of existence, leaving everything in Michael's and Raphael's psychotic hands.

But for whatever reason, they were here. It was better to focus on this than all the crap they had left at home.

"For the record, I sincerely doubt Daddy sent us here. Anyway, we could argue this for this rest of the century. We should just leave it be."

"Yeah? And who else has that power?" Gabriel lifted his eyebrows at his brother, but then waved a hand as if to do away with the subject. "So, forget the who, just deal with the how, the why and the getting out of here, huh?" It made sense. It was practical, removed one consideration, and yet ... Gabriel huffed, half a sigh and half a deprecating laugh. "I can't do that."

He'd spent too long just 'leaving things be'. He'd only just stepped out of that mentality, and he still didn't quite know at what cost (even if that cost wasn't the world). There was no way he could step, willingly, back into it. If it was Dad behind this, he had to know why--why He'd left, why He was subjecting Gabriel to this now after years of nothing.

Obviously, Balthazar had turned into the only angel with any common sense anymore. Gabriel wouldn't let the subject to and there was nothing he could say to make him. He could be annoyed, would be, but there were things he couldn't let go either and wasn't going to even try, so he supposed there was little he could retaliate with.

"Shall I leave you to clogging Father's answering machine, then?" As it was, Balthazar was quite happy to leave things just be. He knew the consequences of getting too involved with something.

Gabriel glanced toward the altar and then shook his head with a deprecating smile, shoving himself to his feet with a quick, loose movement. "Ah, forget it; somehow I don't think I'm gonna have any luck today, and I already got more answers than I was expecting. But, little bro." He lifted an eyebrow and snapped his fingers at Balthazar. "If you're so hot on staying out of it, then just what are you doing here in Dad's phone box?"

What a wonderful question, unfortunately, not one Balthazar could fully answer. Maybe because it felt the most like home, maybe because despite his aloof attitude this place left him the most comfortable, or maybe he was just a masochist. Instead of answering right away, the blond stood in a controlled way, simply shrugging one of his shoulders in a nonchalant manner.

"Funny how you can't get anything straight out of the old man, but He still manages to get answers to you, anyway." Whatever he had been looking, Balthazar found he was satisfied in his search now. The need to be here had dwindled and now he would be happy to leave. "Do keep out of trouble, Gabriel. I know you're not very good at that."

"Sure, it's hilarious," Gabriel said with a snort. Absolutely hilarious, how Dad apparently didn't actually need any of them and you could never tell when he was around. Even when it was your job to know where the answers were going.

"Hey, I'm great at keeping out of trouble," the archangel protested, and then smirked. "I'm just a specialist at putting others in it. You're my brother, so you get a warning: you just got put on my list."

"I'm quivering in fear, Gabriel." There may have been the faintest of smirks on his face, his eyebrows raised in an incredulous way at the fact that he was on the archangel's list. He made his way towards the door, though. He couldn't possibly let Gabriel think he was actually funny.

"Give me time and you will be," Gabriel called after him as the other angel left, amusement written all over his face. As long as Balthazar didn't look back, the amusement would drop a moment later.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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Never again will I type prose tags from a phone

boredom will put you to the test.

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