Reborn as Sam Winchester in Supernatural TV

Heaven -- 1998

Balthazar's Pov:

Another garrison meeting about preventing the apocalypse, though we're still under orders not to directly interfere.

Father's will, they say - we must watch, wait, guide subtly when absolutely necessary.

"The vessels must be protected," Zachariah reminds us, as if any angel could forget such a crucial duty. "But remember, direct intervention is forbidden unless circumstances become truly dire."

I stand among my siblings, all of us feeling the weight of our responsibility.

Somewhere on Earth, Michael's true vessel demonstrates his worthiness through that blessed sword, while Lucifer's vessel... well, better not to think too deeply about that one.

The mere thought of our fallen brother breaking free, of the apocalypse actually happening, sends ripples of fear through the Host.

That's why we maintain our vigilance, after all. To prevent such a catastrophe.

Though lately, something feels... off. Patterns shifting in ways that don't quite make sense. But questioning Heaven's higher orders? With archangels like Raphael overseeing our duties?

I enjoy having my grace intact, thank you very much.

"The Coalition has been dealt with," another angel reports, though none of us lower ranks were involved. "Their threat to the vessels has been... neutralized."

Neutralized. Such a clean word for what must have been wholesale destruction. When archangels move, even indirectly, nothing survives their will.

I shift uncomfortably, remembering the rumors - ancient beings destroyed in moments, others fleeing into shadow.

All to protect the vessels, to prevent them from being contained, to stop them from starting the very apocalypse we're supposedly preventing.

Wait.

Something about that doesn't quite...

"Balthazar," Zachariah's voice cuts through my dangerous line of thought. "You seem troubled."

"Not at all," I respond smoothly, centuries of practice keeping my grace steady. "Simply contemplating the efficiency of Heaven's response."

He studies me for a moment, and I feel the weight of higher authority behind his gaze. One wrong word, one hint of doubt, and...

"Remember," he addresses us all, but his eyes linger on me. "Our duty is to watch, to protect from afar. Father's plan requires subtle guidance, not direct intervention."

Father's plan. Always Father's plan. Though none of us have heard directly from Him in... well, best not to dwell on that either.

The meeting continues, but my mind keeps catching on these little inconsistencies. Why protect vessels so fiercely if we're trying to prevent the apocalypse? Why not just...

No. Better to focus on my duties. After all, who am I to question the will of archangels?

But maybe... maybe it's time to prepare some contingencies.

Just in case.

After the meeting, I fly to my assigned watch post - a quiet corner of Heaven where I can observe certain patterns on Earth.

It's mind-numbingly dull work, but it keeps me away from Zachariah's suspicious gaze.

The Winchester vessels move below, tiny specks of destiny that we're all ordered to protect. To guide. To prepare...

No, not prepare. We're preventing the apocalypse, not preparing for it. Though the way Heaven responds to certain threats...

"Contemplating the ineffable again, brother?"

I contain my startlement as Castiel appears beside me. Always so serious, that one. Completely devoted to Heaven's mission.

"Simply ensuring no threats approach the vessels," I reply carefully. "Though that blessed sword is doing quite a job of protection on its own."

"A sign of Michael's vessel's worthiness," Castiel nods solemnly. "Though we must remain vigilant. The apocalypse cannot be allowed to begin."

Cannot be allowed to begin. Yet we protect both vessels with equal fervor. We eliminate threats that might contain them. We...

"Of course," I agree, keeping my grace carefully neutral. "Though I do wonder..."

"Yes?"

"Nothing of import." I wave it off. "Just considering taking a more... active role in Earth's affairs."

Castiel's grace ripples with concern. "That would go against our orders."

"Just a thought, brother. Nothing more."

But as I watch the patterns below, as I consider Heaven's actions versus its stated goals, a plan begins to form.

Perhaps it's time for a strategic reassignment. One that involves appearing to no longer exist.

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The armory isn't exactly forbidden to angels of my rank, but certain sections... well, let's just say dropping by for a casual look would raise unwanted attention.

So I wait. Watch. Plan.

Heaven's weapons - powerful tools that we're told must be preserved to prevent the apocalypse. Yet each one could potentially stop it before it begins. Curious, that we keep them locked away instead.

"Just doing inventory," I tell the guardian angel, my grace projecting perfect innocence. "Zachariah's orders."

Another piece that doesn't quite fit. If we're truly trying to prevent Lucifer's rise, why not use every weapon at our disposal?

Unless...

No. Even thinking such thoughts is dangerous. Raphael's power thrums through Heaven itself, a constant reminder of what happens to angels who question too deeply.

But as I catalog these weapons, as I note their locations and properties, I can't help but consider how useful they might be to someone who wanted to actually prevent the apocalypse.

Someone who wasn't bound by Heaven's... contradictory orders.

"Everything in order?" the guardian asks.

"Perfect," I lie, already calculating how many weapons I could relocate before anyone noticed. "Just as Father intended."

Father's plan. Heaven's mission. Preventing the apocalypse.

Right.

Perhaps it's time for this particular angel to have an unfortunate accident. One that leaves me presumed dead, but very much alive.

And very well armed.

Planning an angelic death isn't simple, but Heaven's periodic sieges of Hell provide... opportunities.

We've lost brothers and sisters to those battles before - to Azazel's yellow-eyed fury, to Pride's corrupting touch, to the Ifrits' ancient flames.

All part of keeping Hell's forces in check, they tell us. Can't let their armies grow too powerful.

"Another siege is planned," Castiel mentions during his rounds. "The eastern gates of Hell have been too quiet lately."

Perfect timing. Bodies are rarely recovered from those battles - too dangerous, too deep in enemy territory. Even archangels don't question losses during sieges against Hell's elite.

"I've volunteered for the forward guard," I tell him casually. "Someone needs to keep those demons in check."

He accepts this, because of course he does. Dear, devoted Castiel, never questioning why we launch these attacks yet never press our advantage fully.

Never wondering why we maintain this careful balance of power.

My grace chills at the implications. But better to focus on the plan. A convincing "death" during battle - perhaps by one of those Ifrits whose flames leave no trace. A strategic "theft" of certain weapons beforehand. A quiet disappearance in the chaos.

After all, angels lost to Hell's forces don't draw attention. Can't be questioned about their doubts.

And most importantly, can't be destroyed by archangels who might not be following Father's will at all.

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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!

I just wished to clarify for those who haven't already realised it. This fanfic isn't in a world exactly as canon, it has Au elements, such as this one, where Balthazar plans faking his death far earlier than canon.

So yeah, just wanted to let you guys know that,

I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)