neutral_omens | (no subject)

Date: December 26, 1999
Setting: The Lobby
Status: Public (Complete)
Summary: Raphael brings home a slightly odd pet.

For having met with a man who experimented with the demonic, was constantly on morphine and tended to smell like death in general, Raphael felt that their meeting hadn't gone too badly. There had been tea and cookies and a tree even. Faust VIII was a strange doctor, but a doctor at heart who (though extremely unorthodox) did tend to work towards a somewhat mutual goal. And deep down, Raphael felt that he was, at his core, a rather decent man whom he'd missed more than he cared to admit.

Dr. Strange had been right to suggest patching things up.

He had not anticipated, however, Faust's insistence upon giving him a 'Christmas gift' beyond his hospitality - no pun intended. When Raphael intimated his concerns about the tensions surrounding him, Faust insisted upon giving him a 'companion' to help look after the ward, deliver messages, guard what needed watching and serve as a supernatural companion.

Raphael looked down at the necromanced bone dog in his arms and sighed. He really couldn't have refused...

Then the dog began barking.

"Be quiet Frankensteiny," Raphael said, shushing him and walking towards his quarters as quickly as possible. "I don't want anyone knowing you're here before they have to..."

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Now Uriel too? Raphael gritted his teeth. Things were just getting worse.

"He was a gift!" He snapped. "Named Frankie. Any more questions?" He demanded, getting defensive in the face of the two other beings.

Uriel raised an eyebrow. Raphael being hostile? Now this was certainly something unusual. He wondered just what had the other archangel so tightly wrung. Maybe it was just the fact that he was carrying a rather lively skeleton around. If there was anything else to it, Uriel was sure to find out sooner or later. And he had patience.

"My dear Raphael," he said mildly, "I certainly didn't mean to offend you in any way. I merely asked the name of your dog. If I said something that made you feel offended, I apologize; that was definitely not my intention."

He reached out a hand towards the skeletal thing. Even though unusual, the dog sure was intriguing, like he noticed after his initial surprise. Certainly not something like this wandered by every day; he might just as well use the opportunity to further satisfy his curiosity about the odd creature. "Pleased to make your acquitance, Frankie," he thus said, nodding at the dog. Might just as well call it a dog in absence of any other obvious name possiblities. "Might I be allowed to pet you, or would your owner take offense at that, too?"

Raphael frowned; for some reason, the idea of Uriel touching a necromancer's dog was disturbing to him. He didn't want any other angel petting those bones.

"He would take offense," said Raphael cooly. "And you may nto touch him either," he said to Crowley.

He was vaguely aware that after such a lengthy visit he smelled like a cemetery and so did the dog; he really wanted to shower and hide in his room but there seemed to be no easy way of getting the two to leave without attracting more attention.

Crowley raised an eyebrow.

"Believe me. I have no interest in petting your 'Frankie'. I just heard some barking and thought it might have been Adam's dog."

He smirked.

"It's a little cowardly, don't you think?"

"Good. I'm glad. And not, he's obviously not so there's no need for you to concern yourself with him."

When he heard Crowley's second comment, he frowned and glared.

"Cowardly?" He demanded. "Just what do you mean by that, demon?"

"It's Crowley," he said automatically. "And I mean that you getting a pet is cowardly."

Crowley glanced at Uriel, acknowledging his presence, as he tried to figure out the best way of turning his thoughts into words. He waved his hands slightly as if he could physically shape the right words out of the air.

"Pets give unconditional love. It doesn't matter if you're stubborn, or ugly, or cruel, they love you regardless. They don't challenge you or require you to change in any way. Pets are safe," he sneered.

Raphael glared more fiercely and red spots of anger appeared on his cheeks. He held Frankie so tightly the dog nearly whimpered.

"First of all," he said, his voice growing louder, "I said he was a gift. I did not take him out of any need to have some kind of source of love. I took him because a friend thought it best to give him to me."

He could feel himself growing angrier as he stared at the sneering being.

"And futhermore, just because I have never felt romantic passion does not mean I have never loved or ever been challenged by love.

You have no idea what you're talking about Crowley so I suggest you shut your mouth right now. Don't deign to speak on that which you know nothing about."

Crowley raised a cool eyebrow.

"I do happen to know what I'm talking about, thank you very much. And exactly when were you challenged by love, pray tell?"

The demon was vaguely embarrassed to learn that the animal had been a gift. That information rather reduced his argument, which would have been solid otherwise. Regardless, he pressed on, not entirely sure why he was doing so but that his curiosity was peaked.

Raphael's voice dropped to a whisper as he thought of people and places long ago.

"Do you think it's easy, watching humans you've come to care for get carried off? I've been at the side of a good and gentle doctor when he passed and told that I cannot take him to Heaven because his affections lead to adultery. I have seen the desire to heal mutate into hideous fascinations and mortifying experiments. I have seen the worst of the results left in the wake of three of those damned horsepersons, so bad that only the fourth can soothe.

And it's nothing that can be shared. Because beings like you and Michael and War and Pestilence and Pollution and everybody else - you only tear things up. The fight happens and the doctors and physicians must stay behind, not able to stop the suffering, not able to keep it from happening.

All we can do is whatever we can to sew things back up. I've seen honest doctors suffer with the frustration of not being able to do more. I've seen patients everywhere suffering from disease and injury and cannot always interfere. I've seen medicine devolve into a quest for profit and I cannot stop it.

My job is saving; but I cannot save everything. I love life and the living. And each loss hurts. I have made dear friends and seen them scarred or torn away and once again, I'm useless."

He stopped suddenly embarrased by his lengthy outburst.

"But why should you care? I'm sure destruction does nothing but please your kind."