(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

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"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..."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"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..."

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

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..."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

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."

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Well. I talked Gabriel into not reporting on you before you aired your dirty laundry in public and then went around snogging like a couple of lovestruck teenagers," John said bemusedly. "So I dunno how much good it is anymore, but make whatever use of it you can." Actually, Gabriel hadn't just given his word not to tell: his exact words had been if anything happens to either of them, it will not be because of me, which was a considerably broader statement. It occurred to John that that had been a very foolish thing for Gabriel to promise, considering what he now knew. He filed that away for future consideration.

He also had the feeling Crowley was missing his larger point, or else that the demon thought he was quite simply out of his mind, but that was all right; it was admittedly one of his more cracked theories. Still, the scenario raised more questions than answers: if Tali had committed such a terrible crime, why hadn't he Fallen? If he was still in a state of grace, why was he killed? If killing him had been counter to the will of the Almighty, why weren't his executioners punished? The only conclusion John could draw was that God was letting the angelic hierarchy look after itself, and had his own agenda which didn't mesh with the Rules as they were generally understood, and which he hadn't bothered to explain even to his most trusted servants.

Which, it occurred to him (even as he winced slightly at such a stupidly sentimental idea coming out of his own brain,) might mean Crowley wasn't quite as abandoned as he thought he was. Aziraphale hadn't Fallen either, after all. It also opened up the possibility that John's own situation wasn't quite as hopeless as he was inclined to believe.

He wasn't about to bring any of that up in so many words, though; even if it were true, he wasn't at all certain he trusted the old bastard not to screw them all over for His own amusement in the end.

He smiled half-heartedly at Crowley's attempt at humor. It did get a little annoying sometimes, being reminded every time he talked to the bloke that his own days were numbered. But Crowley looked tired and battered and was probably feeling less assured of his own immortality than usual right now, so he could let it pass. "True enough. I s'pose I should be grateful every morning I don't wake up dead. Anyway, I was just on my way out to town, Chas is probably waiting on me...I'll see you later, yeah?"

He started to turn away, then paused, grinning suddenly. "Oh. And take my advice...spend some time with your angel before the swelling goes down. Nothing cries out for sympathy like a split lip." Snickering at the expression on Crowley's face, he beat a hasty retreat around the corner and down the stairs.