Chapter Text
Balthazar laughs as they half-walk, half-stumble into the clearing, leaning against each other and leaving a trail of blood drops in the dark grass. Castiel is silent, heavier, as though he’s injured and Balthazar is carrying his weight.
But the blood isn’t theirs, and Balthazar pulls ahead as they approach the pond, tearing off and tossing his uniform haphazardly onto the ground with a loud sigh of satisfaction. He leaps into the water and disappears deep beneath the surface, letting the waves settle before he bursts back out, finally leaning back against the ridge with another breathlessly happy laugh, arms thrown casually over the sides.
Castiel doesn’t follow, sinking tiredly down onto the grass near the pond’s edge. After a minute, calmer, Balthazar turns to him, motioning him closer with a sweet, almost sensual wave of his hand. Castiel shifts towards him, sitting back on his heels as Balthazar tugs at his uniform, pushing it off, aside, and gently, gently pulling Castiel into the water and onto his lap.
As Castiel rests against him, Balthazar cups his hands over and over into the water, running them up and down their bodies and limbs, washing away the sweat, grime, and the few flecks of blood splattered across their skin. Then they sit in silence, Balthazar’s fingers dancing feather-light against Castiel’s lower back.
“Please, my love, what is it?” he murmurs. “What’s troubling you?”
“I… Lately, I…” Castiel starts to answer after a long moment, then sits up with a frustrated sigh, laying his hands on Balthazar’s arms. “It’s taken me so long to recognize it for what it is, but now I know. Balthazar, I am… I am afraid.”
Balthazar blinks in surprise. “What are you afraid of, Cassie?” he asks, softly.
“I’m…confused. I just don’t understand what’s happening to us,” Castiel answers, his head hanging. His nails start to dig into Balthazar’s skin.
“Us?”
“Heaven.” Castiel looks back up at him suddenly, his eyes reddened. “What’s happening to our home, that we’ve stood on a battlefield against our siblings, against, against—”
“An archangel.”
“On whose orders?”
“Another archangel.”
“How? Are we not all one with God? How can they make us—” Castiel stares at his hands and shakes his head in horror. “Balthazar, I’ve killed angels.”
“Lucifer stood against God,” Balthazar mumbles passionlessly.
“Who told us that?”
“The other archangel.” Balthazar huffs a small, bitter laugh.
“I don’t think it was right,” Castiel says very, very quietly. “Balthazar, I think I’ve sinned. I think I’ve done something truly unforgivable, but I don’t know. I don’t know enough to disobey. I don’t know enough to take a stand, or choose a side. I don’t understand what’s happening and I am so very, very…”
His faint voice cracks sharply, and he sinks forward again, his cheek pressing hard into the crook of Balthazar’s neck. Balthazar winds his arms around Castiel’s body, anxiously stroking the back of his head.
He, Balthazar, has never felt fear. Fear is what he sees in his enemies, eating them up in battle, etched deeply onto their faces in their final moments. Fear is not for the righteous or the powerful, for those who, like Balthazar, have the weight of God behind their might.
Led by Castiel, led by God, Balthazar brings fear, damnation, and salvation.
But Castiel is crying on his shoulder, and Balthazar can feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes.
He is afraid, too.