The Animating Contest of Freedom

Rating: PG-13/T

Genre: Drama/Angst/Family

Summary: Fill for a prompt on spn_balthazar: "Balthazar's faith and devotion to heaven took their first hit when Castiel was being "re-educated" (S4, angst \o/)". Sequel to The Tranquility of Servitude.

Author's Note: YESH, I was tempted by that long list of unfilled prompts on spn_balthazar, and here we are. I HAVE NOT YET BEGUN TO FILL!

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural; it belongs to Eric Kripke. The title comes from a quote from Samuel Adams.

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"I'm going to kill him."

"Balthazar!"

Rachel is aghast, scandalized. Unlike humans, who often engaged in hollow, overblown rhetoric, angels did not often make idle threats. Balthazar's only regret is that he spoke the sentiment out loud; Rachel is too honest and more automatically subservient than he is. If a superior asks her what Balthazar's just said, she'll tell the truth. He doesn't begrudge her that.

Balthazar's always been slightly different. Some angels just have minute things that set them apart from their fellows, and Balthazar's happens to be a sense of independence. It's not a big one, of course not, because if it was the kind of thing he flashed around on the regular basis it would have been beaten out of him centuries ago. No, he is just slightly more inclined to question, slightly more inclined to doubt.

He's also inclined to think it's not such a bad thing.

The way Balthazar sees it, he is a servant of God, and happy to be: His father is perfect. His father does not make mistakes. Balthazar comforts himself with the fact that his father would not do him wrong.

Michael and Raphael, however, are a different story.

Balthazar knows that he is not perfect, that angels are not flawless beings. They compliment chaotic humanity with their orderliness. This is why they bow to humanity and love them.

He has managed to work out, and now wonders how he is the only one who seems to have done so, that God's plan is flawless; Michael's is not. Michael is the leader under God, and all of God's orders come through Michael and on occasion Raphael. Michael is capable of erring in his decisions, in his choices. As their leader, he is able- is required- to have more free will than the rest, and with choice comes the ability to make an incorrect decision.

When Balthazar had first thought of that, he hit a snag: If Michael was following God's plan, then he could not make mistakes. God's plan was perfect and Michael would be following it.

But what if he isn't?

The idea actually made Balthazar feel sick, horrified not only at the concept but that he could even conceive such a possibility. Michael was their leader. He above all others had to be faithful and loyal to God. They were relying on him to relay their father's orders and His love. The idea that Michael was disobeying was a dizzying one.

Calling into question his integrity had only one precedent, and the person who had done it had ended up in a cage in Hell.

Balthazar's mind wars with itself ferociously on the regular basis. He wants to be a good son. He wants to be loyal, faithful; he wants the tranquility that comes with total faith and belief, like Rachel and Castiel have. They have all been warned, on numerous occasions, what can happen when a seed of doubt takes root in the mind, and there are times when Balthazar fears that he's been poisoned like others before him, and that this is all the start of the road that leads to Hell.

But something isn't right.

Their orders aren't right.

Somehow, Lilith continues to evade them. She continues to duck and dodge and hide from them everywhere they look, and the seals just keep on breaking.

If they really try, if they really muster their forces and hunt like Balthazar knows they are capable of doing, they can find her. They can kill her. But they haven't, resting their weight on the back of that human Dean Winchester and his demon-blood-binging brother Sam.

But they're not.

And Balthazar is starting to grow suspicious, starting to wonder, starting to poke and prod for some solutions.

And then this.

"This is my fault." Rachel whispers. Balthazar's preferred heaven belongs to a thirty year-old photographer who committed suicide in 1973. The site of his death was also the basis for his heaven, the Nubble Lighthouse in Maine. It was typically cloudy, stormy, the way the man had liked it. Rachel is sitting on a rock overlooking the water, Balthazar standing beside her.

"Don't start off on yourself."

"It is. I told Zachariah that Castiel was expressing heightened emotions."

"Should you not have?"

"I-" Balthazar knows with that one inquiry he's thrown her for a complete loop. Rachel is Castiel's friend, and she has loyalty for him, does not and did not want to do anything to bring him trouble. But she is also a good soldier, submissive, following every order given to her to the best of her ability. Rachel does not, to his knowledge, question. If Zachariah asked her something, she would have told the truth. But for once, her loyalty to her friend is coming into conflict with her loyalty to the Host.

The automatic reaction any angel has is 'doing what I'm told is right'. It's only when they're being told to do something that they can't distance themselves from and look at objectively that the little glimmers of doubt start to show.

"Rachel, Zachariah is on the warpath. If he hadn't heard something from you it would have been someone else. If it wasn't now, it would be later; He was waiting for the opportunity to screw one of us over, and it just happened to be Cas. No use in getting your feathers ruffled over it."

Balthazar doesn't blame Rachel. He can't. She's too kind and currently too morose over her role in these events to be angry with her. And he's right: If she hadn't said something, someone else would have, and someone else might have been one of the members in their garrison less inclined to soften whatever it was Castiel had said.

Last night, he found out that Castiel had been seized from earth and brought up to heaven for re-education some time ago.

Balthazar almost shoved a sword through Zachariah's throat.

He despises that sycophant, that brown-nosing managerial tyrant that enjoys screwing with them. Their garrison has been under scrutiny for the last twenty-five or so years since Anna fell, their superiors trying to make sure that no one followed in her stead. Zachariah is usually hard on them, Castiel in particular because of his curious mannerisms, because of how difficult it is to tell what Castiel's thinking. What's more, Castiel is too honest, too innocently minded to properly defend himself from Zachariah who, unfortunately, is quite clever.

There is something wrong here.

Castiel is empathizing with his charges, which is why he was apprehended. But so what? Becoming a little more emotional than usual isn't uncommon when you take a vessel and walk amongst humans. Castiel is particularly susceptible since the humans he's been interacting with are very aware of what he is, and they've been able to speak more honestly than they would have if Castiel had kept his true species a secret.

If any angel was going to get re-educated, Balthazar would think it would be himself: He mouths off, particularly to Zachariah. He sometimes slips up and says things that could be called Troubling. He's very good at questioning orders without actually posing the thought in the form of an inquiry. All in all, he seems like a much more likely candidate for re-education, or at the very least a punch in the mouth.

But Castiel- Sweet, innocent little Cas who had trouble wrapping his mind around the concept of lying, even on a small scale- he was getting dragged back to heaven for boot-camp?

The only logic Balthazar can see is that maybe they want to catch him early. Totally unquestioning loyalty on the level Cas displays is precious, and the slippery slope of questioning is a steep one, and maybe they want to catch him before he goes completely off track.

The phrase 're-education' is a lot more sinister than it sounds. It's more or less physical torture combined with a healthy reinforcement of 'You're wrong and we're right' until the angel in question is so broken that they never have the balls to doubt again; and if they do, they squash the thought down like a human crushes a spider.

Balthazar is scared. Castiel is strong, but he doesn't know just how strong, or if his strength is the kind that can endure against the likes of Jophiel, who learned under Raphael and knows angelic anatomy in and out and knows exactly how to work someone over in the worse kind of way. He's scared that his little brother is going to come back a shell of his former self, which would be a travesty on so many levels, never mind that Castiel hasn't even done anything.

This is wrong.

Balthazar has to swallow back a wave of chilling fear and uncertainty at that sentiment. That one idea calls so many things into question, and the severe lack of stability it proposes is enough to make him feel small and weak. If Zachariah is wrong then Michael is wrong. And if Michael is wrong he's disobeying God, and disobedience is a high crime in the Host.

But now his fury simmers. How dare Michael disobey? How dare he sit on his high horse and pass judgment on lesser angels that were punished for much less? How dare he subject Castiel to the kind of torment demons inflict on wretched souls in Hell simply because he dares to care about the humans in his charge-?

Balthazar is astonished at his own wrath. If anyone finds out, there will be trouble for him. Big trouble.

What would happen if he spoke up for Castiel? What would happen if he tried to help him? There is, of course, that ever-popular chance that he'll be thrown to the wolves right along with him, but is it worth it for the knowledge that he's standing up for his brother, when he knows he's right?

Balthazar's head is starting to hurt. He's doing the worst thing he can do, contemplating rebellion. Aside from the joy he derived from making Zachariah miserable, Balthazar did not like getting himself into messes, particularly big ones with no foreseeable resolution that didn't end with his death.

He sinks down beside Rachel, who still looks appropriately forlorn.

"How long have they had him there?"

Rachel thinks for a moment. "A week… Perhaps two?" They're not visible right now, but he can sense her wings drooping. She's probably imagining all of the things they're doing to Castiel right then, and Balthazar would be lying if he said the thought didn't bring his mood down a notch or a two. Or a hundred.

"Well, it's not the worst thing in the world." Balthazar sighs, picking up a pebble and focusing on twirling it between his fingers. He's afraid that if he looks Rachel in the eye she'll sense his rebellious thoughts. "Others have been re-educated and turned out just fine. Look at Haniel."

Rachel stares at Balthazar in something like horrified disbelief, and as Balthazar thinks about Haniel's alarmingly blank and often cold disposition (all arising after he'd had a stint in re-education), he wishes he hadn't used that example.

"He'll be fine! He's Cas, isn't he? He's resilient. Faithful. He'll be just like he was before, just…"

Just not as emotional.

Balthazar finds that in his attempt to comfort his sister he thinks he may have just made them both feel worse again.

"He'll be back, we'll all go and kill Lilith, and then everything will be back to normal. Just like before." Balthazar watches Rachel's face, and all he sees is resigned endurance. It was a relatively common expression on members of the Host who allowed God's will to rule over their personal heartaches.

"You're right." Rachel mutters. "He'll be fine. I'm being silly."

Balthazar nods, smiling weakly, tightly. "Yes you are. Don't you have an assignment you should be gearing up for?" Rachel's solemnity turns to alarm, and she bids Balthazar a hasty farewell before flying off.

He's left silently wishing that she hadn't believed that he was being silly, and that maybe there was someone else who was willing to ask a question or two.

-End