(no subject)

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

Date: Dec. 30, 1999
Setting: Crowley's Room
Status: Private - Raphael and Crowley (Complete)
Summary: Raphael wants to know what happened.



Raphael awoke nearly a full day later, no longer tired but still making an effort. He blushed, crawled out of the sheets and resumed his standard sexless form with a sigh. It feel dull and almost too tight, but it was better than repeating his shameful performance of the last few days. The angel couldn't completely recall what had happened - at least not at the moment - but he did remember who'd gotten him into the pajamas and most of what had come afterward. He sighed again and went to take a long hot shower, hoping it would wash off the feeling of uncleanliness he had.

As the water pounded on him, his thoughts drifting to Falling and what it would take to go that far. He couldn't see, however, how anything that he was doing was wrong. After toweling himself dry, he stepped into his room, brushed his hair and put on a clean robe, tossing the pajamas aside. It had been ages since he'd gone to the hospital wing, or so it seemed to him, and it would probably be best to go there and make sure things were in order. Not that many people got sick - but it seemed to be his duty.

When he reached the wing, however, he found a rather unpleasant surprise waiting for him.

Somebody had performed a major operation without his permission!

Incesnsed, he stormed off to the room of the one known trouble-maker in the mansion whose lingering aura he'd sensed. Frankie followed close at his heels until they came to the appropriate door. Raphael banged on with all the fury of a righteous archangel about to do some serious smiting.

"CRAWLY!" He screamed at the wood. "OPEN UP! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE AND I DEMAND TO KNOW WHAT YOU DID IN MY INFIRMARY!"

His fist slammed against in a few more times, waiting for the demon to open it up.

Comments

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Startled at the surprise attack upon his door, Crowley deliberately placed the book he'd been reading in the drawer of his nightstand, stood up from his armchair, stretched, rolled his sleeves down, buttoned them, put his jacket on, walked to the door and opened it.

"My name is Crowley," he said without a pretense of a greeting. "It has been Crowley for five thousand years. I'm getting really tired of being called Crawly, especially since I have done everyone in this house the courtesy of using their proper names, Raphael. Now, what the fuck do you want?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Ignoring Frankie, and not entirely sure what he was planning to do until it was done, Crowley bent to wrap an arm around Raphael's thigh and picked up the smaller being. He carried him, squirming and kicking, across the room to his bed and dropped him on it. Clambering on top of him, Crowley pinned Raphael's arms and legs and dematerialized his sunglasses so that he could look the angel directly in the eyes.

"You will not slap me again because I am not going to get up until you come to your fucking senses."

The demon was so angry that he could hardly see straight, but some unknown sense was telling him that losing his temper would be a very bad idea right now, especially since he was physically intimidating a creature who could take him out easily should he remember that he could. A couple of things the angel had said were worrying him as well. He sounded petulant and unappreciated and it was disturbingly familiar. He'd known several dissatisfied angels before the Fall and now they were all demons. Crowley eyed the angel beneath him suspiciously.

"Do you want to know why we didn't tell you about this surgery? Why nobody tells you anything? It's because they are sick and tired of your judgmental attitude - your holier-than-thou, snotty, condescending manner that you use on everyone. There is only One who is allowed to judge and you are not Him. You are rapidly losing friends, and if you continue, you're going to be on the fast track to the Ninth Circle. The first step is a doozy and it's the only warning you get."

This was getting too close to a topic that Crowley didn't want to address, so taking a heaving breath and trying to control his emotions, he redirected the subject.

"You say that you serve and help people. Your role is to heal and you do - on a sad little scale. You're as bad as Hastur and Ligur working one human at a time. It's not possible anymore, angel. There's too many of them and too few of us. Do you know what Pestilence does?"

Raphael's eyes flashed and he looked ready to say something, but Crowley tightened his grip and spoke first.

"Forget your stupid vendetta for a second and listen to me. He works with scientists. He coordinates epidemics. How can you counter that healing one person at a time? You need to do the same as him. Guide the humans towards a cure for cancer or something. You could save millions at a stroke and guide them back towards your side in thanks for a miracle cure. If you focus on your own fucking job and stop telling other people how to do theirs then maybe they'd share information with you again."