Invalid (Supernatural)

18. Double Agent

"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.