sirenspull_logs | (no subject)

Entry tags:

balthazar,
raphael

(no subject)

Who:

tryingitall Balthazar.

servingmichael Raphael expected, but others also welcome.
When: 2.21.13
Where: Around the edge of the lower-class sector.
Summary: Just wandering and trying to figure out how the place works.
Warnings: None likely.

He's been to inspect the docks, but there was no discernible activity there. Possibly this late in the day no one wants to risk ferrying in anything or anyone to the place, or maybe it's just not a scheduled delivery day. Balthazar is mildly disappointed. He's still trying to learn the ropes, trying to observe something that could be useful to the handful of siblings trapped here. Maybe even save some lives.

He's far behind the others, though, still off-balance from his arrival, and not as quick to pick up the subtleties of the place as he'd hoped.

With every intention of getting inside before the sirens, he's still in no hurry to get back to his apartment. He walks back from the docks, aimless but enjoying the feel of motion and impact of the pavement beneath his feet. As he moves toward more populated areas, he slows to watch the residents. Some are clearly up to no good, but others seem merely stressed and strained under an intolerable situation. It's anybody's guess how long it will be before someone territorial approaches to kick him out of their neighborhood.

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Raphael's doing the same, but perhaps it was his connection to children that made it easier to do so, to reply and encourage to keep talking, though she would grow steadily more tired, and will eventually fall asleep, slumping over in Raphael's arms.

You're welcome to come with me. I don't sit around an empty apartment all night, after all. He wasn't out in the Darkness, but he did work. They don't need much - most don't even know I'm there.

Raphael needs something - he's lost, and having nothing to focus on does nothing but bring to mind what he's lost. At least this gave him something.

Oh. Well. That's hard to resist. As the girl starts to drift off, Balthazar reaches over and smooths her hair once, gently, then returns to his previous spot.

Maybe I should. I don't have much to do, otherwise. If there's a chance it might make a difference, count me in.

...ought we to take her home, by the way?

Once she's mostly asleep, Raphael shifts her from his knees to his shoulder, tucking her head under his chin, holding her easily with his arms wrapped around her. That Donnie didn't have children, that Raphael has spent so little time with humanity in thousands of years - it says much just how much he has been here, just how much his instincts where will honed, that he so easily, naturally can move her around.

The people here lead brutal lives, really. The very rich do not, but even then - they are held hostage inside their fortresses every night. This is not a kind place. And kindness makes a difference.

He glances down at the girl.

I'll fly her home soon.

I read a book a woman wrote about her ideas of guardian angels. It was all so utterly wrongheaded. I picked it up to laugh at it initially, and wondered what she'd have thought of the real thing. And then I thought, you know, there are worse tasks an angel could be put at, than looking after people. He sits back, watching the sleeping girl with tired eyes.

I have a question for you, though. As long as I've got your attention for the moment.

Humans often confuse 'good' with 'kind'.

He continues to the hold the girl, all stillness and calm even if there was more unseen under the surface.

Ask away. Little reason to bite your tongue here.

True. But the two don't have to be mutually exclusive, either. He looks skyward with a little frown. I had a friendly little chat with Crowley. He said I've been here before. Did you know?

Either way, he's not going to make a big deal out of it. It just seems odd that none of his siblings would mention it. It makes him wonder what happened to him, or another version of him, that he's since vanished.

Raphael smooths a fold out of the girl's clothing, neatening it.

Michael told me you had been, but it was many months before I arrived. He hadn't purposefully been keeping it - he simply didn't know much about what had happened. Why were you speaking with Crowley?

The archangel and the demon had never had a conversation that didn't end in threats of violence and hanging up - Raphael may have needled the demon on purpose.

'Friendly' was, of course, sarcasm. Although Balthazar attempted to be civil, for the most part. He sighs, watching Raphael fiddle with the girl's dress. Crowley...posted something on the network about an angel having eaten drugged chocolate. I probably should have kept out of it, but...

But he's never been able to keep out of anything involving Castiel. But I didn't keep out of it. I'm not sure what to think, either.

I saw. He posted something he knew would upset Castiel, for his own amusement and likely to bait us and the Winchesters into responding. In Raphael's opinion, Crowley needed to viciously smitted, for many reasons - thinking himself, the bastard stain of a child Lucifer had created that he was thinking he could threaten an archangel being the chief of them, but there were many other reasons - he might hated Castiel, but he didn't want a piece of demon filth touching him either.

He wants to separate Castiel from his brothers, I believe. And while Raphael did believe that to be truth, he wasn't above using Balthazar as leverage to pry Castiel away from him.

Raphael knows all too well how to push Balthazar's buttons. His jaw tightens, a brief but visible display of emotion, while his Grace churns with distress. And it's easy, very easy, to be ready to blame Crowley for Castiel's recent actions, both within Siren's Port and outside it.

Balthazar really wishes he could believe his brother was led astray by a demon. Or a human. Or God's Plan.

Do you think he actually-- he begins, then breaks off. It doesn't matter whether Crowley cares about Cas or whether he's using him for reasons of his own. He shakes his head, a wave of bitter frustration rippling across the mental connection. I still care, you know. In spite of all his mistakes. I'll never raise a hand to Castiel, and I'll always want the best for him. But I can't trust him any more. I can't trust him.

I'm not sure what to do. Not that he was ever sure what to do. Certainly not since he Fell. Somehow, now, it's gotten even worse.

Raphael knows too well how to push most of his brother's buttons - aided, perhaps in believing the demon had CLEARLY corrupted his brother himself.

He's silent, letting Balthazar speak. He's still my little brother, Balthazar. I love all my brothers. I can't forgive what he's done, and he's not wrong to think I do want him to pay for it - but I do not want that for him either.

Raphael wanted to cave Castiel's head in and shred his Grace, if he was honest. He wanted Castiel to bleed for all pain he'd caused, the war, Michael's deaths here, releasing the Leviathans, everything, all of it. Hated him for being the upstart who their Father now favored. But he didn't really want to kill him anymore. Living was so much worse.

He shifted the girl in his arms and smoothed back her hair and restored her clothing of tears and dirt before sending her back home to her home to her bed. "I don't either."

He looks warily at the archangel, wondering when he changed, and if it was as painful for him as it was for the rest of them. He says nothing until the girl is sent away, gathering his thoughts, then asks, "You don't want to kill him now?"

Because that makes a difference. He wouldn't be happy to see Castiel tortured or maimed, either, but he can't quite view Cas as all light and clumsy good intentions. Not any more. Maybe that's what hurts most.

"Or Anna?" Anna's not really the point of contention, but he'd be remiss if he forgot to speak in her favor, as well. "Or me?"

Change was painful regardless. And Raphael has been through it, brutally. Being here, seeing what Castiel became only pushed harder at what was already occurring. "No, I do not. I didn't want to back home either." Here had been when it was really cemented, but now...now he'd rather Castiel live with the pain he caused.

"I never wanted to harm Anna - or you." What happened to Anna was something he felt real guilt about.

"I don't think you're likely to get the chance to kill me, anyway," he says weakly, but he does seem relieved, leaning tentatively so that their shoulders brush. "You may not know the whole and sum of my sins, so to speak, but I'm sorry for them. Some of them I wouldn't change, but I'm sorry anyway."

"I'd rather not find out." It was quiet but firm - he hadn't asked about some things, and he didn't intend to start asking. "Likely I don't, no." Because he would be cranky, if he did. "Michael had a plan, for if we got back home and he remembered this place. He told me, in case he didn't and I did. We are going to change things. It'll be better, for all of us." It's a promise.

That suits Balthazar just fine. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. Best of all to get away with his transgressions scot-free. "So you've told me. I've been trying to think of an angle, but politics have been distraction. I'll keep doing what I can."

Sigh. "But in case Michael's plan doesn't work, just...I'm sorry, brother."

In the long run, unless one of them backs it out of this with their memories intact, Raphael doubts any of them will get away scot-free, in the end.

"So am I. I never wanted to see the Host descend into civil war again."

Somewhere between misery and despair is resignation. It feels strangely peaceful, having had this exchange. Almost like they've cleared the air. It may be an illusion, but Balthazar will enjoy it while it lasts.

"I know you didn't. I don't suppose any of us did." He places a hand on Raphael's shoulder tentatively, squeezing lightly.

Raphael feels settled - he's still tired, this place hasn't helped that one bit. Even if Michael's plan succeeds there is still so much work to do. He doesn't honestly know if he can endure it, though he knows he will, or die trying, because Michael asked it of him. He also asked him to keep the peace the two eldest had formed. He was finding that, at least, something he wanted to do.

He could scoff - after all, he'd tried to prevent it with Castiel, who seemed to only want hostilities. But he doesn't. The Host was damaged enough, he didn't need to strain the frayed seams. Balthazar's touch is startling, causing the briefest moment of tension to flare. Gabriel was fairly tactile, and Michael had been known, especially here, to put a hand on his shoulder, but Raphael was rarely physically in contact with his brothers. It takes him just a moment, then he reaches over and pats Balthazar's upper arm, jaw tense but mouth slightly unturned.

It'll be okay, little brother.

He almost flinches at the flare of tension, but in the end he's glad he didn't. Raphael seems to subtly appreciate the gesture, and some small part of Balthazar is pleased, even a little smug, that he can do something to support an archangel. Especially knowing what he knows about their future, if they can't alter it through this place.

He smiles, faintly but warmly, and withdraws. "It's getting late. I suppose I'd best get back to the Tower. Glad I bumped into you, though."

Raphael is glad he didn't either, affection, comfort of any kind is rarely something he's offered. He's not sure how to take it or what to do with it, but he does need it - he simply can't ask for it. "You should yes. There are a few more I should check on before I take my post for the night."

Because Raphael didn't stay confined and alone in the apartment building.

Balthazar rises to his feet with a slight nod. "All right. You be careful, too, though."

He hesitates for a moment, as if he's searching for one last word. In the end, he just murmurs a sheepish "And thanks", and takes off for his apartment with no further ceremony.

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