"What?" Barachiel asked expressionlessly.
"Come on now, Barachiel," Metatron replied, pointing at him. "I know that there's no way Castiel could've pulled one over on you. He's only managed something like that when he was as close as he's been to God. Don't worry, I'm not mad. Castiel can be...persuasive."
"I was wrong, Metatron. I apologize sincerely. It will not happen again," Barachiel admitted.
"You were wrong?" Metatron prodded.
"Yes, he lied. And I was a fool."
Metatron nodded. "I'm certain you will see how very wrong you were. Castiel is extremely manipulative. But don't worry about it." Metatron waved it off as if it were nothing. "I know you know where your true allegiance lies."
"My allegiance is to Heaven and to you."
"And I am glad to hear it."
Metatron smiled at him. His face turning up in an expression that made it seem that everything was still going exactly as planned.
"I will see you tonight then," Metatron dismissed.
Barachiel nodded and left. He was relieved Metatron had not doubted him. It spoke volumes of the angel's greatness and honor.
***
That night, Gadreel led Metatron and Barachiel through a wide set of double doors into an old fashioned bowling alley. No one greeted them at the door. Instead, they walked in to find a bigger man throw a black bowling ball down a wooden lane covered in various lines and markers. The ball made a large crack as it knocked the ten pins at the end down. They flew up in all directions and the bigger man smiled happily.
Barachiel didn't like the place. Although other angels were stationed at other lanes, it still wreaked of human sweat and filth. The balls were covered in grease and oil and the place was small and confining. Everything looked so...yellow.
Then the man in the ugly striped uniform turned to them and gave them a big cheesy grin.
"Yes! Well done!" Metatron exclaimed at the man's strike.
"It's such a simple game," the man, who Barachiel knew to be Tyrus, said. "And boy, you gotta love the sound of those pins."
"Beautiful," Metatron continued. "A symphony of wood."
Tyrus nodded and looked appreciatively at the lane.
Metatron paused, a bit uncertain of how to continue. "So, you've heard our offer."
"Yeah, I sign on the dotted line, and, well, my people, they get a ticket upstairs," Tyrus replied, nodding his head rather mockingly. Then he stopped. "What if we don't want to go?"
"But it's home," Gadreel cut in. He seemed unable to understand why someone would not wish to return.
"It's boring. I mean, there's nothing like this in Heaven." Tyrus motioned to the bowling alley around him.
"Well, I could whip you up a bowling alley," Metatron insisted.
"But it wouldn't...," Tyrus continued, scratching at his graying hair. "I mean just smell that." Tyrus took an exaggerated sniff of the air.
"Old shoes and...alcoholism?" Metatron asked perplexed.
"Authenticity."
"So, wait. You're turning me down because of...bowling?"
"And I like being an independent operator." Tryus shrugged. "And I hear you're losing. And I hate your face."
Metatron frowned, clearly offended. Barachiel took an angry step forward, but Gadreel put a hand up to stop him.
"Well, I could get a new face," Metatron replied lamely.
"You'd still be you though...a nerd trying to be one of the popular kids."
"Do not speak to him with such disrespect," Barachiel ordered, frowning unhappily at Gadreel who still held him back.
"Oh yeah, the archangel. I heard of you," Tyrus smirked. "And I don't give a rat's ass about it. I don't care if you're friggin' God. I'm not joining any sides."
Barachiel glared at Gadreel, daring him to keep holding him back with his arm. Gadreel didn't move.
"Okay," Metatron said unhappily. "Time for the hard sell."
"Please," Tyrus laughed. "You knife me, and all my guys will go running to Castiel. Even you're not that stupid."
Metatron looked down, embarrassed.
"But I'll tell you what," Tyrus continued. "You out bowl me, and we'll talk?"
Metatron looked up excitedly and smiled. "Okay."
Metatron walked over to Tyrus near the lane. He retrieved a bowling ball from the machine that appeared to produce balls from somewhere in the ground. Barachiel wasn't really sure how it worked. While Metatron prepared to bowl with some awkward little steps, Barachiel and Gadreel took a seat in the booth-like observance chairs. They were hard and an ugly shade of white plastic.
Metatron bowled first. The ball spun and wobbled halfway down the lane before it veered quickly into the gutter.
Metatron frowned. "Just warming up."
The hooded machine with the arm-like projection where the balls rolled out onto made a noise. Metatron glanced at it to see his ball roll out and tap the other balls on the line. Metatron picked up his ball once again and Tyrus watched, amused, as he waddled awkwardly up to the lane. He adjusted his grip on the ball and swung his arm back like a pendulum. It swung forward just the same and the ball dropped hard onto the wood, rolled aways, and then once again veered into the gutter.
Barachiel could tell Metatron was angry by the way his jaw tensed up. He didn't speak as Tyrus picked up his much heavier ball from the magic ball machine. He bowled it down the lane with fluid-like grace and all ten pins were struck down with a large crash. Tyrus smiled as Metatron's expression soured.
The game went on like that for ten sets. Metatron occasionally got lucky and knocked a few pins down. He had even managed one strike and one spare. Barachiel was shocked enough at that. However, it was no match for Tyrus, who had only missed one strike. The one he missed had been a spare.
Barachiel knew they would not be getting Tyrus to join them anytime soon. Especially when violence was not allowed.
Metatron sulked away from the lane and onto the gray carpeted portion of the bowling alley. Barachiel and Gadreel followed him.
Tyrus walked after him and called humorously, "Better luck next time."
"Thanks," Metatron replied sarcastically.
While they were talking, Barachiel's eyes narrowed at an oncoming angel. He looked wild eyed and determined at the same time. His blonde hair was unusually messy for an angel and his light shirt had specks of blood on it.
"Metatron!" the blonde haired angel called out.
Metatron turned to him as he ripped his shirt open to reveal the origin of the blood specks. His chest was covered in deep gashes arranged to form a kind of symbol. Barachiel wasn't sure what it meant. Regardless, his first reaction was to tackle this unknown threat. The angel took his blade and placed it over his chest as Barachiel ran at him. Tyrus looked over at the newcomer wide eyed.
"I do this for Castiel!" the angel screamed as he plunged the blade into his heart.
Barachiel saw Gadreel cover Metatron with his body out of the corner of his eye. Then time slowed down. An enormous blast of energy shot out of the angel in a burst of white light. Tyrus was in the way of the angel and Metatron and he was hit first. Barachiel saw as he was atomized. He saw the tiny flecks explode and scatter like sand in a dust storm. Tyrus himself was gone completely. Barachiel was nicked by the blast as he ran at the unknown angel. The force of it flung him to the ground halfway across the room.
He rolled into one of the bowling machines with a loud indenting of metal. He flipped over quickly to see part of the blast hit Gadreel and send both him and Metatron flying to the floor. Then the blast was over and the angel himself exploded into a million little chunks.
When the blood settled, Metatron rose tentatively to his feet, unharmed. Gadreel remained on the ground, motionless. Barachiel himself was rather beat up and swayed on his feet upon standing.
"What was that?" Barachiel asked a surprised looking Metatron.
"I think it was an assassin," Metatron replied, eyeing the spot where Tyrus had stood only moments ago.
"Castiel's?"
"Who else?"
Barachiel's hatred for the little snake only increased. It was war.
The other angels still in the bowling alley stared, slack jawed, at the events that had unfolded right before their eyes. They were all Tyrus's followers, and they had just witnessed their leader get vaporized by Castiel's man.
The closest bowler approached Metatron, still stunned, and said firmly, "I will join you."
Barachiel watched as the rest did likewise. Metatron unsuccessfully tried to hide his smile.
***
Barachiel dumped Gadreel's weakened body down in a chair in Metatron's office. He would likely be fine in a few hours. Metatron strolled happily in after them, a grin plastered permanently on his face. Gadreel glowered at him upset. They had been out all night talking and making arrangements with Tyrus's people. They were all onboard with Metatron.
"I think now would be a good time to go say hi to Jen, Barachiel," Metatron insisted. "I have to get a little conference set up. I trust you'll be back in time."
Barachiel nodded, though he couldn't help feeling Metatron just wanted him out of the room for a minute, and snapped quickly to Earth. He and Metatron were the only angels still capable of doing so.
He sent out a call over the angel communication waves that only Jen could hear, telling her to meet him in a specific cafe a few miles from Castiel's base of operations. He had landed just outside it on a moderately busy sidewalk near the city's suburbs. It had an intricately designed, wrought iron gate bordering its front, inside which were maybe a dozen small umbrella tables to allow for outdoor dining. Considering the warm weather of the day, it would not be uncomfortable.
Barachiel, however, had upgraded his wardrobe to include a heavy brown jacket made out of some kind of rough material. The jacket was merely for concealment purposes. Carrying his blade around on his belt loop had turned out to be counterproductive.
The waitress eyed his overly warm attire as he walked through the metal gate to a small podium where the "Please Wait to be Seated" sign hung. The waitress walked out from behind the podium carrying a couple menus and smiled pleasantly at Barachiel.
"Hello, sir. Just you today?" she asked politely.
"Two," Barachiel replied.
"M'kay, and indoor or outdoor?"
"Out."
She nodded happily and lead Barachiel over to a small circular table. It was iron like the gate as were the chairs. The only good thing was that there were white cushions placed on each seat. The little umbrella served to block out some of the sun.
Barachiel took a seat in one of the two chairs and wiggled around a bit uncomfortably at the proximity of the other tables. Various types of people sat chatting obliviously around him, all crowded into the small outdoor veranda. By the looks of it, the inside was just as full.
The waitress set out two menus on the table and asked what Barachiel wanted to drink. He ordered a coffee and sat back to wait for Jen.
She arrived roughly fifteen minutes later, after Barachiel had already finished his coffee. She weaved anxiously through the maze of tables and took a seat across from Barachiel. She seemed preoccupied.
"Problem?" Barachiel asked her.
She fidgeted with a strand of her blonde hair and tugged at her sleeve. "Why are we meeting here? It's so open. Someone could spot me any second."
He smirked. "Relax Jen. Now, what do you have to report?"
"Ah, not much," Jen replied. "Castiel has been a bit secretive lately. The Winchesters are there. How've you been? Anything to report?" She smirked at him as she mirrored his question.
"No."
She sighed, "Really, Tabbris? We're reverting back to this?"
"I have nothing to 'report.' What do you want me to say?" he asked puzzled.
She put a hand up. "I don't know. Anyway, we done here?"
"Not quite. Know anything about Castiel's suicide bombers?"
"What?" she balked, completely off put. "No. No, Castiel wouldn't do something like that."
Barachiel's easy demeanor vanished and his eyes narrowed.
"He has done exactly that. One was just sent after Metatron. We barely escaped," he snapped.
"Tabbris, I'm serious. He wouldn't do that."
"Are you siding with him?"
"He's not trying to destroy Heaven. He's trying to help the angels. To help Heaven get back to the way it's supposed to be. He wouldn't hurt them."
"You didn't answer my question."
"You know what? Maybe I am," she replied spitefully. "Maybe you should too. He's a good leader. Metatron cares only for himself."
Barachiel frowned unhappily. "Please don't say that, Jen. I do not want to mark you a traitor."
"Castiel will win, you know. The angels trust him."
He shook his head. "He will lose. And you are willing to go down with him?"
"It would be better to go down with Castiel, than live under Metatron forever," she said quietly.
"I am warning you not to do this. As a friend, I ask you to reconsider."
"And I am asking you to reconsider. Metatron is not who you should follow."
Barachiel stood up angrily. "Enough."
With that he was gone.