He doesn't know how to react to this. In some ways, it's like looking in a mirror, the archangel's loneliness and despair almost tangible. Too familiar, and coming from Raphael of all angels--if there was anyone in Heaven Balthazar expected to be steadfast and rock-solid into eternity, it was Raphael. More so even than Michael, who's always been a cipher to him.

Part of him wants to shout out in vindication. The rest of him wants to turn and run and forget this conversation ever happened. Neither part gets its way, though.

"You should come with me. Let Cas deal with Heaven; he thinks he wants to, anyway. I'll destroy the weapons, if you want." The words seem to just spill out, and Balthazar knows he's not thinking through the implications of his suggestion. It's just a rush of kinship and compassion that's temporarily derailed the filter between his mouth and his brain.