A/N: So! This was inspired by someone on tumblr (I forgot who, sorry!~) who commented that it would be amusing to see child!Cas during the fight with Lucifer and Michael all those centuries ago in Heaven, and that he was probably hiding while Balthazar comforted him. Hence, this fic was inspired! It's just a drabble and very short, but I needed to let this muse out. So here we go. Set just before Lucifer was thrown into Hell and Cas had barely been created.

Balthazar watches the fight with an outward show of indifference and even boredom, because that's always been his way. He's an excellent soldier and obedient as one could be on the battlefield, but he's hardly ever been the most conventional and while the fight of the archangels (as Michael and Lucifer argue and Michael prepares to cast his brother into Hell) is generally looked upon with reverance, awe and far, he appears as if he doesn't quite care.

He does, of course. They're his brothers, and while neither have taken much notice of him in the past, it still makes his stomach twist into uncomfortable knots to see them fight. He waits for his father to silently intervene and stop it, but of course, He never does. He never presents himself to the angels and if what Michael is bellowing at Lucifer is correct, He ordered this to happen in the first place. Nice one, Dad, Balthazar comments inwardly, glancing up sceptically - because he always imagine his father to be hold up somewhere above them.

Michael and Lucifer's shouting becomes hellish, and Balthazar catches sight of Gabriel. He's watching in a rare show of despair, because he has no idea what to do. Raphael has distanced himself and is watching with an indifference that rivals Balthazar's - although Balthazar rather fears that that's a genuine indifference. Raphael always was a dick.

He sensibly begins to back away. Lucifer and Michael are getting caught up in the heat of the moment and their voices, shouting away in the Enochian that all angels speak, is becoming close to deafeaning. Balthazar spreads his wings and floats backwards, passing angels that are also watching, some chanting for Michael to cast Lucifer into the pit. Balthazar briefly wonders that if he ever disobeyed, would his brothers chant for that too? Probably. Loyalty is very subjective in Heaven.

As he backs away, a whimpering noise reaches his ears - and he turns curiously. One of the newly created angels, he assumes, unused to the conflict. It doesn't take him long to find the source.

Curled up and sitting down is, indeed, one of the younger angels. Castiel, Balthazar remembers him as. He's rather generic looking, certainly nothing special in terms of power or appearance. His white wings are folded inwards as if for protection and none of the other angels are paying him much attention. So Balthazar approaches him and squats beside him, his own wings flapping behind him.

"Castiel, isn't it?" he asks, and the young angel nods, curious. He's not used to being noticed, it seems, and this saddens Balthazar. "Don't you worry yourself," he assures him with cheer. "It'll be over soon. Lucy will be cast into the pit and Michael will go back to being the big guy on top." Castiel just stares, and Balthazar sighs. "You can talk, can't you?" he prods with characteristic impatience.

Castiel nods slowly. "Yes. It's just -" He breaks off, uncomfortable.

"Yes?" Balthazar prods.

"No-one's ever given me reason to before," he admits, wide-eyed.