(no subject)

[archangel-mike.livejournal.com]

Date: December 14, 1999
Status: Public?
Setting: Somewhere in the Manor
Summary: Michael runs into Crowley.

Michael was definitely not happy.

In fact, he was anything but happy. He'd spent the entire previous day (and much of the one before that) closed up in his room, using all his willpower on not either breaking down or starting to destroy the Manor. (Not that Adam'd really let him, of course.) Now, however, he had finally got enough of seeing just the same room all the time, and had decided to go out for a while, if only to let out some steam.

He sincerely hoped he wouldn't run into Raphael on his little stroll. He wasn't sure whether he could handle seeing him yet. Probably not.

That thought made him subconsciously raise his hand. He managed to stop it just before it reached his hair. He really should get rid of that habit. Really, he should. It made him entirely too easy to read.

Of course, it was nothing new that his thoughts were directed towards Raphael. The red-haired archangel was pretty much the only thing he had been thinking about ever since their conversation -- or, at least near to the end of it, their fight. Well, he had occasionally thought about Crowley, too -- and about how much he would have liked to strangle the vile demon. Only the knowledge that Adam would be very displeased had kept him from going to look for the demon and beat the existing daylights out of him. However, if he accidentally did run into Crowley, he wasn't sure whether he could hold himself back.

Of course, as his luck would have it, he then walked around a corner. And ran right into Crowley. Literally.

Comments

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

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."

[archangel-mike.livejournal.com]

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?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

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?"

[archangel-mike.livejournal.com]

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?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

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?"

[archangel-mike.livejournal.com]

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."