[audio . open]

[delightme]

Alexander Wilton has opened communication!

[This call was actually supposed to be only for Gabriel, but since he's really drunk, it's going out to everyone. His voice is a little slurred, although it's still mostly intelligible.]

Do you remember flying? I think...I think that's why we fall. Flying--. Flying was our little peephole into freedom, you know. I bet Father did that on purpose. He always...always had a poor sense of humor.

[Silence.]

I flew. I think. It felt like it, anyway. Maybe I'm imagining it. I can't seeeee my wings. Of course not. I just... I wake up these days wondering why the hell I do.

Comments

[trickntreats]

[It's not like Gabriel even needs to look for it. The image jumps out at him almost as soon as their eyes meet--a sword, Castiel's sword, through Balthazar's chest. It's so vivid that for a moment Gabriel feels the pain of the nearly-identical wound he suffered; with a sharp breath he breaks the eye-contact, his hand automatically rising to press against his chest where Lucifer had stabbed him.

[For a moment he can't do anything, his human heart pounding in his chest like he'd just run a marathon in the desert all over again. Then he forces himself to drop it and sits back on his heels with a bitter, falsely-ringing laugh.]

So apparently we're more alike than either of us want to admit.

[Deep breath, slow exhale, and he shakes his head and rises, moving to pull Balthazar's arm over his shoulders. He needs time to process this, the fact that Castiel killed his favourite older brother. He can't--he doesn't have any other words for it just now, not with Balthazar in the state he's in. The younger angel needs his help, so he's going to give it. (Because it's nice, nice in a way he'd forgotten, to feel needed, and the last thing he wants to dwell on right now is their family problems.)]

Come on, lil bro. Let's get you inside.

[delightme]

[When that memory is brought straight to the surface instead of lingering in the dark place of his mind, Balthazar feels the pain as if it had happened yesterday. Somewhat dulled only by the fact that it isn't really happening, he still grits his teeth silently, his chest constricting. Everything is unnecessarily raw, his eyes beginning to sting as they water up, and Balthazar isn't very sure after all is said and done that this was a good idea.

But it's out there now. Someone else besides him knows. He supposes when he wakes up tomorrow with rational thought backing him, he'll feel better. Right now though, he doesn't dare say anything or even look at his brother again, unless he wants to look like even more of wreck. He's pliant and helpful when Gabriel gets him to stand up. He thanks everything that nothing spins.]

[trickntreats]

[It takes another bout of manoeuvring to get them both up through the door and the aisle in the caravan is hardly wide enough for the two of them. The fact that Gabriel doesn't have any chairs readily available doesn't help, either, and after a moment's pause in the doorway Gabriel snaps one up by the banked fire in the oven and guides Balthazar to it.

[He doesn't talk as he pulls down the hammock to pull out some blankets, wrap them around Balthazar's shoulders, and start looking through his cupboards for some food the other angel might be able to stomach. There isn't really anything to say; they'd both been murdered by the brothers they'd loved more than nearly anything. The Dead Angel Club. Words couldn't express enough for that, and Gabriel can't summon enough levity to talk about nothing.]

[delightme]

[Balthazar had never been one for awkward silences; he always had something witty to say and if that didn't work, there was always the option to just fly away. Now he really had neither. Sure, he could try to disappear, but not only would it would cowardly and dickish, he doubt he'd get farther than outside the caravan. Where he would inevitably collapse.

The younger angel had never really known Gabriel, but no one except the older brothers did. Everyone who was born after those four knew Gabriel only for his pranks and tricks, his desperate want to keep the family together after everything happened with Lucifer. Balthazar had never paid him much attention and had barely noticed when he had disappeared. Still, though, he felt that this situation had revealed more about his brother than all those years in Heaven did.]

...Thanks.

[trickntreats]

[It was true there was a distance between the archangels and their younger brothers. It was natural, given the sheer difference in power. Yet Gabriel was the only archangel who had paid his younger brothers any attention which didn't have to do with training or orders, and given he had so many younger brothers, well ... He had to prioritise. Which meant that some, like Balthazar, who hadn't needed the guidance of an elder, hadn't seen much of him at all.

[But Gabriel still knew him. He knew the names and places of all his brothers. He didn't know if Michael or Raphael could say the same. The archangel pauses in the middle of opening a pantry, half-turning towards Balthazar. It takes a moment to answer, and his tone isn't exactly bland, but carefully not putting too much emphasis on the emotion. Just in case.]

You're welcome.

[Then he pulls one of his bread-rolls out of the cupboard, one of the ones he'd made properly and without spiking only earlier that day, and puts it pointedly in Balthazar's hand.]

Now eat that or I'll be force-feeding you tabasco-spiked cookies for a month. I'll even get you a non-lethal condiment if you need it.

[delightme]

[Balthazar just glares at the bread-roll like it's going to eat him instead, not really trusting his stomach, but hungry due to not having ate, oh, all day. Gabriel threatening him with tainted treats breaks some of the awkwardness of the situation, but it just feels forced.]

I would just stop eating cookies.

[Not that he really enjoyed cookies that much. He was much more of a cake person. Either way, he does take a bite of the roll, testing the proverbial waters.]

[trickntreats]

I'd start force-feeding you something else.

[Gabriel's reply is prompt while he goes hunting for a glass and runs Balthazar some water, setting that down, equally pointedly, on the counter next to the other angel.]

Pies, maybe. Or cakes. Tabasco cakes. Huh, maybe I should give that a try.

[The bread is actually good. It's fresh and there's a faint taste of honey to it. Not exactly manna, but it's close.]

[delightme]

You're making me nu...nau...ill thinking about it. [The bread is gone rather quickly, despite his unease. It was pretty good; he'd give Gabriel that.]

[trickntreats]

That's not my fault, bro, that's the fault of the booze you've been gulping down.

[Given how fast the bread is going, by the time Balthazar's finished the first little loaf Gabriel has a second ready and puts it straight in his brother's hand.]

[delightme]

It was good to me going down. [The second piece he more picks at, drinking from the cup of water in between. He's not sure he should be eating anymore, or staying any longer now that he thinks about it. Surely he must be pretty pathetic to look at. He figured when he could see a little straighter he'd brave a walk back to the apartment he apparently owned.]

[trickntreats]

And then it came back to bite you in the ass.

[Gabriel watches for a minute or two longer to make sure the other angel is actually eating, then turns toward the door.]

Right. You finish that, while I find our way out of this maze you've brought us into to take you--back to Alex's apartment.

[delightme]

Yes, mother. [For once, Balthazar does what he's told, too exhausted to put up a fight.] I like his home. Sometimes I think I would prefer I was him. Life would be...easier.

[trickntreats]

[The archangel pauses and glances without meaning to toward the wardrobe, where Sylvester's photo album has been hidden since the night Re-l got him drunk. And because Balthazar's being honest, Gabriel is too.]

I don't. From what I've seen and heard Sylvester's life was just about as shitty as mine. At least I could snap up some fun for myself.

[But Sylvester has a home, even if it is a moveable one. A purpose, other than to wallow in bitterness. And if Gabriel's being honest ...]

Kind of wish I had my own caravan, though.

[delightme]

I'm sure Alexander's wasn't much better, if they were from the same family. [That's what had always gotten him in the beginning: the frightening similarities. The eccentic, yet absent father, the loyal, militant son, the big family feud. If Balthazar really was more of the questioning type, he might confuse himself and Alexander. But he knew better; knew that those memories were made similar to his to get to stay in line.]

We all wish a lot of things. [Him particularly.]

[trickntreats]

They are.

[He says it wearily but without hesitation, still staring at the wardrobe. It takes a couple of seconds before he explains why, though.]

Sylvester ... has a picture album. Of us. Of all of us.

[delightme]

[Well, THAT was odd. How could they possibly have fabricated pictures of his brothers and sisters who technically didn't have human bodies. Or faces.] How? We're the only ones here.

[trickntreats]

[Gabriel throws up his hands.]

How should I know? Some of them are pretty obviously their meatsuits, but not all of us took vessels.

[He could still, eventually, tell who was who just by how they acted through a series of photographs. After a moment's hesitation he opened the wardrobe and felt for the hidden compartment, withdrawing the beautifully-made book and putting it on the counter. Not that he's going to blame Balthazar if he didn't want to look, but this was apparently a night for sharing.

[He's just going to avoid looking at that very first picture, himself. The one of the archangels and their Father.]