Michael glared at Crowley, still hugging Raphael close, his shirt soaked from the other angel's tears only serving to make him more furious. "You heard him, demon," he growled, resisting the urge to simply attack. His sword longed to cut demonic flesh, the dance of the flames like a call to battle, but he couldn't do like his every instinct was telling him to. For one thing, Adam would definitely not like it; for another, a battle, even against a lower demon, would put Raphael at an unnecessary risk.

"Unless you can behave yourself, leave my sight and fast. I will not tolerate you upsetting Raphael any further." He would have demanded the demon to apologize, but figured that the vile creature probably wasn't even capable of such an action.