Life's Betrayals / Book Five / Supernatural / The Life Series

The French Mistake

It had been long enough to where I had healed without a problem.

There was a raging thunder storm outside.

I sat in the apartment's living room, at the table, still trying to translate the book.

Dean walked in, sitting down across from me. "How long have you been at that?" I looked up. "How many nights of sleep you lose over it." I smirked, looking down. "Uh-huh."

Dean pulled the book away.

I looked up in complaint. "Hey. You want to find out more about this next big bad or not?"

"Yeah, sure I do," Dean answered. "But you want to help? You're gonna have to be--"

"Well-rested and bushy tailed?" I finished.

Dean shrugged, nodding. "In a manner of speaking."

I smirked. "All right. Where's Sam?"

"He went out to town, supply run," Dean answered.

I looked toward the balcony sliding door to look out to the storm outside. "In this?"

"Yeah," Dean answered. "Man's a hero. We were officially out of hunter's helper."

Dean gestured to the empty liquor bottle on the desk.

We heard the door opening, looking toward it to see a soaking Sam with a bag in his hand walking in.

Sam was gasping quietly from the freezing rain, closing the door behind him.

I smirked. "You look like  drowned rat."

Sam walked closer. "You want gifts or not?"

I smiled, taking the bag, looking through it, pulling out a few bottles, placing them down on the desk.

Thunder crashed from outside, lightning flashing.

The electricity crackled.

Balthazar appeared. "Hello." Dean and I stood in confusion. Balthazar walked past Sam and Dean, standing next to me at the desk. "You've seen the 'The Godfather', right?"

"Balthazar..." I trailed off.

"You know, the end, where Michael Corleone sends his men to kill his enemies in one big, bloody swoop?" Balthazar asked, putting a bowl down on the desk, picking up a box of salt.

"Hey!" Dean told him.

Balthazar looked at the box. "'Dead sea brine'. Good, good, good." He poured the salt into the bowl on the desk. "You know, Moe Greene gets it in the eye, and Don Cuneo gets it in the revolving door?"

"I said, 'Hey!'" Dean told him.

"You did," Balthazar told him. "Twice. Good for you." He smiled patronizingly, patting Dean on the shoulder, looking around. "Blood of lamb. Blood of lamb." He disappeared from next to us, reappearing in the kitchen, looking through the fridge contents. "Beer, cold pizza." Sam and Dean turned to face him in the kitchen in confusion. Balthazar pulled out a jar of blood. "Blood of lamb. Yes! Blood of lamb!"

"Why are you talking about 'The Godfather'?" Sam asked.

Balthazar appeared next to me at the desk again. "Because we're in it." Sam and Dean turned to face us. "Right now, tonight. And in the role of Michael Corleone? The Archangel Raphael."

Balthazar poured the blood of lamb into the bowl of salt.

"You mind telling us what you mean?" I asked.

Balthazar sighed, putting the jar down, looking around. "No, no, no, no. No, no, no, no." He pulled out one of my desk drawers, emptying the contents onto the chair I had been sitting in, finding what he was looking for, holding up a baggie with a bone inside. "Yes. Bone of a lesser saint. This vertebra will do very nicely." He looked at me. "You really do keep a beautiful pantry."