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For theangel_cas

"We really should have roasted Raphy's feathers while we had the chance, Cassie."

Balthazar quips, a shrug of thin shoulders as he lays the weapons that he recovered out carefully, sighing.  He knows why he's doing this, of course.  The reason is standing right over there in a tan trenchcoat.  But, it still seems strange that after so much effort trying to avoid this fight, here he is, laying his weapons down for Cas' side of this ridiculous civil war.  He was clearly far more sentimental than he let on.  More than friends, at least for his part, though Cas had never seemed quite as invested.  He knew why Cas hadn't offed Raphael, of course.

The Winchesters.

Balthazar would have liked to have claimed that he was free from envy.  But, there was something to the way that Cas looked at them sometime that flared it through his being; utterly un-angelic, but equally unavoidable.  They would likely have been lost in the conflict, which meant that Raphy knew they had the weapons and was free to continue on with his plan to jumpstart the Apocalypse.  He shook his head, pausing to make sure the lock on Pandora's Box was still fastened tight before setting it down, then a chalice cut entirely from ruby.  He had the Paracelsus Scrolls, the Trumpet of Gabriel, and many other beside.  Balthazar had kept a few on him, things to barter for souls, and for his own protection, but the fact of the matter was that he had stolen the entire Armory of Heaven.

Thief, yes.  But there was nothing common about it.

For heavenonhigh

As it turned out, Balthazar and Dean got along about as well as Cas had probably imagined; maybe a little worse.  The fact that helping Dean had been what had turned him against Castiel and ended him up in this mess in the first place didn't help their relationship any, either.  When Balthazar wasn't blatantly ignoring Dean's existence in a way that was full of conscious and intentional offense, he was making deliberately snide comments.  The problem, of course, was that Balthazar was aware that he didn't have his Grace, but it was still a bit soon for that to really sink in.  He still acted as if Dean was somehow this pesky creature that he didn't much like that he could piss over beyond good sense without any particular ill-effects.

It was the sort of situation where a breaking point was only a matter of time -- and not a lot of it, at that.  And so it was completely unsurprising when Balthazar quipped something nasty at Dean, and Dean proceeded to punch him in the face.

Balthazar actually stumbled a little from the unexpected force of it as pain blossomed along his slender cheekbone and the side of his jaw.  His hand went to his face, clutching at where he'd been hit, looking wide-eyed and rather confused.  There was that part of him that had somehow still expected Dean to be the one backing off, clutching his hand and wincing in pain.  He had not been at all prepared for that; pain was new.  Pain came on angelblades, pain came with Castiel, not like this.

"That... hurt."

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