Beat The Devils Tattoo

Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Something Wicked

Dean was elbows deep in a sad little Geo Metro when Sam and Benny walked up. He caught the sight of their jumpsuits out of the corner of his eye and sighed. "It's never good news when you two decide to gang up on me."

The legs shuffled as Dean wrestled with a very tight bolt. It was true. Benny and Sam didn't much care for each other, rarely cooperating unless it was to try and convince Dean to do something. He wondered what it was this time.

"Dean, there's an emissary here."

Dean straightened up, the bolt in his hand. "From Garrison?"

Benny nodded, looking like it was taking every ounce of his self control not to go berserk. Dean wiped his hand off on a rag before pulling Benny in to kiss his forehead.

"Fierce little watchdog," he said, fond. "Finish up the Metro for me, I'll go have a little chat with our guest."

Benny seemed to deflate as Dean rubbed at an oil spot on his neck. Sam hid his smile, and for once in his life obediently went to finish up the Metro with Benny. Dean nodded approvingly and headed out, humming as he walked to the waiting room.

"Balthazar, good to see you," he said with a smile as he walked in. Balthazar Roche, while slightly annoying, wasn't too terrible to deal with, and got along well with the younger club members, shamelessly flirting with them all and making them laugh. Max and Andy adored him, soaking in the attention and basking in his presence whenever he was there. Dean liked him well enough. They weren't friends by any means, but they got along enough to chat.

Balthazar smiled back. He wasn't in his jacket, not a surprise given the brutal heat, and was in the standard jeans, gray v-neck, and Italian leather books that so epitomized him. He'd added a long necklace with feathers and golden charms, as well as a set of elaborate leather bracelets to complete the look. Dean tried not to feel too out of place at his easy style. "You're looking as fashionable as always," the other man drawled, looking him over in a way that made Dean feel like he should maybe covered more. The jumpsuit had been a joke for years, as they always met while Dean was working.

"I know, right?" Dean laughed, and Balthazar settled in, the ice broken.

They sat on the most comfortable set of chairs once Dean had come back with his gift from the other room. A sleek bottle of wine, it had a label that made Balthazar whistle in appreciation.

"If you poisoned that, I will be very sad for wine lovers everywhere," he said fervently, eyes fixed on it.

"It's a gift," Dean said, holding it out. "Well, kind of. I found it in the cellar after Dad died with your name on a tag. So unless you know another Balthazar Roche with a taste for Chateau Petrus, this is for you."

Balthazar carefully took the bottle, looking it over with a gleeful grin. "Were he not dead, I'd kiss him." He looked like he was going to start giggling hysterically. Dean just shook his head, amused.

Once Balthazar had recovered, he looked at him seriously.

"Dean, I know that Winchester and Garrison have their differences. Our history is different, our style is different, our very rules are different. Raphael doesn't want to even think about it, let alone take it into consideration. He wants Prosperity, Dean, and he's not interested in playing nice." There was no laughter in Balthazar's face now. "I don't like it. He's been meeting with people and talking about factories of all things."

"Factories?" Dean's eyebrows rose. "I thought Raphael had that thing about handmade crafts and artisan beers or whatever."

"He does. The man owns his own vineyard, he's a bit obsessed. He's vegan, he believes in the sanctity of forests, he donates to South African charities for homeless animals. Factories offend his very soul, but you know what doesn't?"