Chapter Text
Balthazar’s office door slammed open loudly as an irate Dean Winchester stormed in.
“Dean?” said Balthazar calmly, well used to Dean’s dramatic entrances after five years.
“Adam’s leaving? When were you going to tell me?” Dean yelled loudly, pacing back and fore in front of Balthazar’s desk.
“Dean, you’re supposed to be resting your voice before the performance tonight,” Balthazar said quietly, as he sat back in his chair.
Dean glared at him, his green eyes dark with anger as he ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head.
“You knew that Adam wanted to leave over a year ago Dean. I spoke to you about it,” Balthazar said.
“Well, I didn’t think he’d actually go through with it, I mean, he is family,” Dean said grumpily as he threw himself down on the chair opposite the desk. He vaguely remembered that conversation but had put in into his “bury it and ignore it” section of his mind.
“Adam wants to spend more time with his son, the last tour was over five months long and he doesn’t want to be the father that only sees his child over a Skype connection for half the year,” Balthazar said softly.
Dean sighed as he looked at him, he knew how painful it was for Adam not to see his son Michael every day. “I know, I was just hoping that he’d change his mind. So, what are we going to do?” Dean said resigned to the news.
“I could arrange auditions for next Monday, you’re free that day.” Balthazar said, checking through his schedule.
Dean shrugged his shoulders, pouting a little, “Do I have to be there?” he whined, looking and sounding like a sulky teenager.
Balthazar rolled his eyes, “No Dean, of course you don’t have to attend auditions for a new guitar player for your band,” he said sarcastically.
“Alright! But can you at least screen them first, I don’t want to sit there for hours while they massacre my songs,” Dean complained, “Oh and no….” he was cut off by Balthazar who knew what he was going to say.
“No Nickelback fans, I know Dean. Now, anything else for my little diva before I throw you out of my office?” he said with a large smirk.
Dean burst out laughing, “You’re the diva Balthy! And I’d like to see you try and throw me out,” he grinned as he got up to leave.
“Do I have to remind you what happened on your birthday last year when you challenged me to throw you in the pool?” Balthazar grinned as Dean scowled at him.
“That was a fluke! You sneaked up on me!” Dean said quickly.
“Keep telling yourself that diva, now get the hell out!” Balthazar said laughing, as Dean strolled out of the office. He opened his laptop and brought up a list of contacts, he had to do the impossible this week, find a guitar player that was up to Dean’s standards and could fit in with the weird “we’re family even though we’re not blood” attitude of Roadhouse. Balthazar settled into his chair, this could take a while.
A few hours later Balthazar slammed his laptop shut and threw his cellphone down on the desk. He had emailed and phoned almost every contact he had, trying to find guitar players available for an audition on Monday. Unfortunately, Roadhouse’s reputation preceded them in the music world. They were well known for being a close-knit group who shunned other groups and musicians, and as for Dean…Balthazar shook his head as he smiled.
He had grown up in the same street as Dean and Sam Winchester, their families had been good friends. He was used to Dean’s sarcasm and his ability to annoy someone to the point of anger in 0.1 seconds, an ability of which he was inordinately proud. Dean would never admit it to anyone but Balthazar knew that he had very little self-confidence despite his success with Roadhouse.
Sighing, Balthazar threw open his laptop and checked his email once more before giving in. There was one new reply from a studio manager in New York that he had worked with on the last album. He scanned it quickly, then re-read it, a faint glimmer of hope growing as he read the details.
“He’s an excellent musician, a classically trained guitar player. He’s been doing session work at the studio for several years, very reliable. I’m not sure how he’d fit in with Roadhouse but you should call him in for an audition, plays like an angel. His name is Castiel Novak.”
Balthazar checked the contact details at the end of the email and grabbed his cell phone, quickly dialling the number. “Castiel Novak, can I help you?” a deep gravelly voice answered the phone, almost coldly polite in tone.
“Mr Novak? My name is Balthazar Milton, I’m the manager for a group called Roadhouse, they’re looking for a new lead guitar player. Would you be interested in auditioning for them?” Balthazar asked eagerly.
There was a prolonged silence, “I don’t really like rock music Mr Milton,” Castiel replied politely. “I prefer to play classical pieces.”
Balthazar frowned, “But you have played on rock albums Mr Novak, perhaps you could make an exception?” he said hopefully.
“I don’t think so Mr Milton, thank you for your interest,” Castiel said calmly before ending the call.
Balthazar sat and looked at his cell phone in surprise as he realised that Castiel had hung up on him. He called back and waited, “Castiel Novak, can I help you?” that deep voice answered again.
“Mr Novak, it’s Balthazar Milton, please don’t hang up,” Balthazar said quickly.
There was an impatient sigh on the other end of the line, “I said I wasn’t interested Mr Milton,” Castiel said coldly.
“Could you please give me five minutes to talk?” Balthazar asked politely.
“I doubt it will change my mind but I suppose I can listen for five minutes,” Castiel said quietly.
“Thanks. Like I said I’m the manager for a group called Roadhouse, have you heard of them?” Balthazar asked quickly.
“Yes,” Castiel said.
“Ok, our lead guitar player is leaving the group, we need someone who can learn the set list as quickly as possible as we’re off on tour in four weeks. The manager of Sound City Studios gave me your contact details, he said that you’re an excellent musician and that’s what the group needs. It will be a lot to learn in a short time but everyone in the group will help in any way they can. Is there any way that you could come and audition for us?” Balthazar stopped talking, holding his breath a little.
Castiel sighed again, “How many other guitar players will be at the audition?” he asked calmly.
Balthazar breathed again, “To be honest Mr Novak, including you, one,” he said quietly, “I’ve spent all afternoon on this and I’m getting desperate,” he said, biting at his lip a little.
“I don’t see how you could call it an audition,” Castiel said sarcastically, “I suppose I could attend and meet the group, although I am not a fan of their music,” he said firmly.
“That would be wonderful, I’ll email you the details right now,” Balthazar said, relaxing a little for the first time in hours.
“As you wish Mr Milton, goodbye,” Castiel said, as he ended the call abruptly.
Balthazar sat and looked at his cell phone in surprise, before shaking his head. He quickly typed out an email with the details and a map of the rehearsal rooms to Castiel, keeping his fingers crossed that he would attend. On a whim he opened Google and typed in Castiel’s name, he wasn’t even sure what he looked like. Clicking on a link to Sound City Studios, he read through some reviews of Castiel’s work quickly, all very positive. Finally finding a link to a picture he opened it, his eyes widening as he looked at it. In a group shot of musicians, standing to one side was a tall dark haired man with cerulean blue eyes, almost scowling at the camera. Damn, Dean was going to kill him for this…….