Neutral Omens

Wandering down a corridor, Crowley was lost in thought and not paying much attention to where he was going. Mostly he was thinking of Aziraphale. It had been over a month since they had discovered their mutual attraction and so far they'd done nothing more than kiss at every conceivable opportunity. They both wanted more, but Crowley was still too afraid of the consequences and the act itself, to allow it, though he could hardly even admit that to himself. Wondering about their future, he turned a corner and ran into Michael.

As their last encounter hadn't gone well, what with the insults and the flaming sword and all, Crowley was hardly excited to see the archangel. Especially with that terrible expression on his face. Whatever was going to happen now was probably going to be very painful.

Oh shit, he thought.

But what he said was, "Michael."

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"Demon," growled Michael, definitely not pleased to see the vile creature. At the moment he was using the very last of his willpower not to just lash out at the demon. As he could not do that (or, he still remained in control) he settled on doing just one thing, posing a question. Well. He just might have also taken a grip on the demon's shoulders and shaken him a bit. But just a bit.

"Just what have you been telling to Raphael?!"

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When the shaking stopped, Crowley pulled roughly away from the angel's grasp, eyes wide behind his sunglasses. He took two big steps backward and thought about the off-the-cuff conversation he'd had with the healer a couple of days before.

"Raphael? He asked me why I spent so much time with Aziraphale. I told him it was so I could protect him and not, as all you bloody angels think, because I want to have sex with him. Then he asked how and why two male-shaped immortal beings could or would want to have sex and I told him. He didn't seem to take it well... I think he was more shocked to learn that all of you make efforts to get the anatomy right then what you can do with it afterwards. Why do you ask?"

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Michael was just barely restraining himself at the moment. So it had indeed been all this demon's fault. As usual.

"Because there are things best left untold," he said lowly, almost growling, his eyes flashing with fury. "And especially because that is not all that you told him." Taking a step towards the demon, he continued, "It appears that you also insinuated that somebody around here would like to not only make an effort, but have sex with Raphael himself."

Insinuated, yes, and got Raphael thinking. And that had led to most Raphael realizing certain things. Which had not had good results, at all.

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"I merely told him the truth. I thought that angels encouraged that sort of thing."

Crowley smirked. "And as you well know, if you haven't done anything wrong or shameful, then you have no reason to fear the truth..."

He eyed Michael carefully, deciding what to say next. Fortunately his glasses prevented Michael from seeing where his gaze was momentarily drawn.

"I may have hinted a bit to Raphael that someone was interested in him. I had a hunch."

Crowley raised an eyebrow.

"Seems I was right. It's really amazing how unobservant His servants can be."

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Now, Michael did growl deep in his throat. "As I said, there are things that are best left untold," he said sharply. "Your 'truth' merely caused everybody, especially Raphael, harm and grief. Therefore, it would have been for the better if you had never told that to him. Because, like you should very well know, no one but He is perfect -- but Raphael is maybe to closest to it I've ever seen. He would have been happy to think that everyone else is as good and virtuous as he is, which, sadly, is not the truth."

Then, at the demon's hint at his interest for his fellow archangel, he took another threatening step towards the demon. "And whether or not I have any feelings for Raphael is absolutely none of your business. Also, whether or not I choose to reveal those feelings should be my decision, and mine only. Had it been for me, he would have never known anything. He was happy not knowing. I want him to be happy." With another growl, he added, "Now, the thing that is preventing him from being that... is you."

His hands were curled into fists at his sides. Any moment now his willpower would give up and he would strike out. One inappropriate word from the demon, and that was it. Just one word...

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"What the fuck was I supposed to do?" asked Crowley, angrily, throwing up his hands. "He asked me a direct question. Did you want me to lie and cover your arse? Sorry, but I'm not inclined to do favours for attempted murderers. Nor do I give a shit if you have feelings for him. I never told him who was after him, so if he figured it out and is now unhappy, that's your fault. Don't try to pin it on me if he rejected you. Maybe you shouldn't have been lusting over a friend."

He waved a hand dismissively. "Go talk to someone else about it. I'm not your therapist."

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Now, that was it. Losing his last bit of self-control, Michael lashed out at the demon with all his might. "How dare you," he spat. "How dare you, a vile demon who has turned away from Him, come and preach to me what is wrong and what is right!"

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Michael's punch sent Crowley sprawling back along the corridor, but he rolled to his feet quickly. Tentatively touching his rapidly swelling lip, he pulled his hand back to discover that it was covered in blood.

"You bastard!" he spat. "What the fuck is your problem? It's not my fault that you're hung up on the winner of this year's Frigid Angel competition. I can say whatever the hell I like to whomever I please and if you don't like it then you can fuck off. Or in your case, wank off."

He discretely allowed his claws and fangs to grow as he watched Michael's every move.

In an undertone, he added, "And you shouldn't talk about things you know nothing about. I never turned away from Him. He fucking turned away from me."

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Michael watched with vague interest as the demon bounced back to his feet in a flash. Well, he apparently wasn't entirely pitiful, then.

The demon's next words made him even angrier. His eyes flashing with fury, he watched as the demon allowed his claws and fangs to extend. To respond to that he adjusted his own angelic aura sharper, carefully designed to hurt any demon in a too close a vicinity.

"He doesn't turn away from anybody who regrets and asks for forgiveness," Michael said coolly. "Not that I'd expect somebody like you to know that. You live under a delusion, demon."

By now he was like a coiled wire, ready to strike out at any moment. Still, he forced himself to stay back. "And you're one to speak about attempted murder. For your information, I was acting under direct orders, and no true angel -- or demon, for that matter -- has the free will to disobey such orders. However, I'm well aware that you cannot say the same. Just how many times have you -- willingly, I may add -- tried to hurt or kill an angel? Like, say, Aziraphale?"

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Crowley watched Michael's aura grow and mentally cursed. He hoped Adam was right about no one getting discorporated here, because it was starting to look more and more likely and he'd be damned if he was going back to Hell now.

Then Michael's words registered and he started laughing mirthlessly. "I live under a delusion? You're the one who's the Commander in Chief of Fantasyland. Why should I ask for forgiveness? I didn't do anything wrong. You tell Him, though, that He's always welcome to ask for forgiveness from me."

Crowley checked his lip again. Fortunately it had stopped bleeding. "I have hurt Aziraphale in the past. I even discorporated him on a few memorable occasions. But he's done exactly the same to me. And I never tried to destroy him entirely, so leave him out of this."

He tossed his sunglasses aside to better see what was going on and hissed, "And don't think I've forgotten how it works. An angel can disobey a direct order from his superiors if he has a conscientious objection or doesn't know who issued it. Think about it, idiot. The order didn't come from Him. If He really wanted me dead, I'd be dead. You wouldn't have been able to fuck it up. So I'm guessing the order came from someone else." His eyes blazed a furious yellow. "So who was it, Mikey? Who gave you the damn orders?"

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Michael narrowed his eyes. "Who I get my orders from is none of your business, demon," he said with a clipped tone. It was true, after all. Besides, he didn't really know it himself, even. Oh, he did know who had passed the said orders down to him, but as for who had originally given them... He could only guess.

"Besides, I thought you had already formed your own theories about who exactly had planned all that to get you dead. Why do you still question me about something you think you have figured out already?"

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Nearly crying in frustration, Crowley took a few steps closer to Michael, just avoiding his extended aura, and gestured wildly.

"Something. Is. Wrong. Don't you get it? Aziraphale was attacked and no one knows why. You came after me and you don't know why. The war is starting again and no one fucking knows why. You don't think that bloody well merits some consideration? More so than your pathetic love life?"

He was breathing heavily, trying to encapsulate the huge thoughts in his head into words too inadequate for the purpose. "If the war happens, no matter who wins, at least half the people in this house are going to die. If the war happens... we all lose."

If the war happens, he thought, I lose Aziraphale forever. His throat clenched, as did his fists.

In a low, dangerous voice he said, "Tell me who gave you the orders. It was Gabriel, wasn't it?"

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Michael was seriously tempted to take a step forward, just to see how the demon would react to his aura. However, Crowley's words made him freeze. As much as he hated to admit it, the demon was right. Well, mostly, at least.

When he thought about the war to come, a very heavy weight settled into his stomach. Raphael was no warrior, he knew that. Sure, he could hold a sword and fight like any other angel, but he was a healer first and foremost, and would never become anything else. If any of them were going to be killed in the war -- like surely would happen, as unfortunate as it was -- Raphael would be one of the first to go, no matter what. The mere thought was absolutely horrifying. Even if Raphael hated him now, he simply couldn't find it in himself to hate Raphael. Not now, not ever.

For a long time, Michael remained silent. Finally he looked down to the floor and said, very quietly, "Yes... it was Gabriel." Then he raised his eyes back to the demon, a challenging expression on his face. Even if he wasn't actively trying to kill the demon at the moment, he was still anything but happy to even be around him, leave alone talk with him relatively civilly. "And what are you going to do with that knowledge, demon? After all, it is obvious that you had come to the same conclusion by yourself. Hearing me confirm it hardly helps you any."

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Though his eyes were flashing in victory, Crowley was actually deeply relieved.

Finally...

He straightened his stance and let his claws and fangs recede to show that he didn't intend any further fighting.

"I am going to go talk to Gabriel. I suspect he got the orders from someone else, and I intend to find out who. I'll trace this thing back as far as it goes."

There was an awkward pause while he tried to figure out what else to say.

Oh, screw it.

"Look, Michael. About Raphael... I didn't know he'd take it so badly. I was just trying to take the mickey out of him a little." He looked at the unhappy archangel. "So... Right then." It was as much apology as he was going to offer.

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Michael sighed. The demon's words did not comfort him one bit, but he knew that it was the closest to an apology he was ever going to get from the demon.

Somehow, all will to fight left him. "Sure you didn't," he muttered, allowing his aura to return to its normal levels. "I suppose you can't help being what you are, demon."

With another sigh, he shook his head. "It's hopeless," he said. "I think I've always known it, just not admitted. Let's just hope that Gabriel doesn't take a conversation with you too badly, either... Crowley."

And, with that, he turned around to leave. Somehow, the thought of returning to his room was becoming more and more appealing at every passing moment. Actually he should have never even left it at the first place.

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Standing just around the corner (in the direction opposite that Michael was going, luckily,) John breathed an almost inaudible sigh of relief. Things had sounded pretty hairy for a few moments there, and he was fresh out of nonlethal* ways to distract a smite-happy archangel. He'd already seen that Crowley was no slouch when it came to defending himself, but there weren't many beings in Creation who could stand against Michael one-on-one and walk away to tell about it.

He lit a cigarette and came around the corner, schooling his own features against a fresh burst of anger when he got a look at Crowley's severely bruised face. And not solely at Michael, who, though he had just earned himself a prominent spot in John's bad books on more than one count, was at least guilty of nothing worse than bloody-minded stupidity. Fucking Gabriel. Stood there and made me that promise knowing full well what he'd already done, the sanctimonious bastard. That's right, you just keep on piling 'em up, Hornblower, you'll get yours one of these days...

"Well, who'd have thought," he said by way of greeting. "There is another prick on Heaven's payroll to match the Snob." His eyes narrowed slightly as he noted a trace of smeared blood on Crowley's chin. "Christ...popped you a good one, didn't he? Think there's an ice machine down the hall a bit."

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* To himself, that is.

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"They're all pricks, John," said Crowley wearily. "That's part of the reason I'm not an angel anymore. I still get to be a bastard, but at least now I come by it honestly enough."

He felt his swollen lip again. "Ice? Nah. There are a couple of perks to this job." As he spoke, the cut on his lip healed, the swelling reduced and the blood disappeared. He summoned his glasses and replaced them on his nose. Straightening his coat, he said, "It's still a little sore, but it'll be fine in the morning. If that's the idiot who cast out Him Below, then he's gotten rusty over the last six thousand years."

Rubbing his jaw delicately, Crowley looked at John. "I should have known you'd be around. Guess you heard all that then?"

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"I heard enough." John crossed his arms, leaning up against the nearby wall and scowling. On this particular occasion, it truly had been a coincidence that he'd happened by when he had, but you didn't get a reputation as a man of mystery by admitting these things. "So he's the one sabotaged your flat, is he? And Gabriel brought him his orders." He snorted, and shook his head. "No surprise there. You know, sometimes I think shooting the messenger is a highly underrated practice..."

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"Yeah. It was him. He left a fucking receipt in my flat while he was flooding it. My intern found it and we traced it back. I just don't understand it, though. He's Heaven's greatest swordsman. Why try to take me out with holy water?"

Crowley growled. "I don't like this, John. I get three more questions for every one I get answered. I suspected that Gabriel had given Michael the orders and now I've got it confirmed, but I don't think it ends there. Like you said, he's just the messenger. But he wouldn't have passed it along unless it came from a trusted source. Who could possibly give orders to archangels besides Him? And how the hell am I going to talk Gabriel into telling me?"

He sighed and sank against the nearest wall. "I think maybe it can wait until tomorrow..."

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John shook his head grimly. "I dunno, mate, you've got more first-hand experience with Heaven's operations than I do, but the more I deal with these clowns the more I get to thinking Himself can't be actively holding the reins." He sighed. "You know, Tali never actually Fell. Far as I could tell, not that I'm any kind of expert, mind you, the Presence was with him right up til the moment he got a flaming sword in his throat." He shrugged. "Aren't there a couple more choirs that outrank the Archangels? Cherubim, Seraphim...?"

He trailed off. "Gabriel's already got his doubts, I think," he added after a moment. "He hasn't forgotten Tali either, and I don't think he much likes the memory. I guilted him into promising he wouldn't report on you and Aziraphale while you're here, if his word's worth anything. You might be able to play on that. I don't know..."

He smiled wryly at his friend. "You know, every time I say that, something always comes along to remind me I said the same bleedin' thing yesterday..."

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the more I deal with these clowns the more I get to thinking Himself can't be actively holding the reins

That was the single most terrifying thing that Crowley had ever heard and for a moment all he could do was stare at John. Sometimes he really didn't understand the ideas that humans came up with. The thought had never crossed his mind before and he pushed it out of there now. If that were truly the case, they were all doomed and dwelling on it wouldn't help anyone. Swallowing, he tried to follow what else John had said. Why was he telling him that Tali hadn't Fallen?

"What? Uh, yeah," he said wearily. "Seraphim technically outrank Archangels, but all they do is float around and sing His praise all day. Modest, huh? They don't give orders of any kind. Archangels are second in the First Sphere. They have ultimate responsibility over the Earth and in general only answer to Him. Aren't we lucky to have three-quarters of them right here? And distracted with lust, apparently?" Crowley rolled his eyes, the effect of which was lost behind his dark glasses. Then he raised an eyebrow, which could be seen.

"You talked Gabriel into not reporting on us? Cheers, mate. No guarantees, of course, but every little bit helps. If what you say is true, maybe Gabriel is mellowing a bit. Hah. Pull the other one, right? But perhaps it means there is a chance I can get some information from him. Eventually."

Crowley smirked. "Hey. At least it means you still have a today in which to remember what you said yesterday."

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