neutral_omens | (no subject)

Date: January 23, 2000
Setting: Michael's Room
Status: John, Raphael, Michael, Adam, Gabriel (Semi-Private, Complete)
Summary: John vents his feelings at Raphael. Mayhem ensues. (Continued from here.)

It was a pretty decent plan, John thought. Find Raphael, get him away from his oaf of a bodyguard by whatever means presented itself, and teach the little rat a lesson he'd never forget. He liked it. It was elegant in its simplicity.

The fact that it included no provisions for ensuring his own safety (or survival) in the event that Michael proved less easily hoodwinked this time than last--or that Raphael unexpectedly grew himself a pair--he considered a minor flaw. He was too hacked off at the moment to think that far ahead.*

He found Raphael's room unoccupied and proceeded to Michael's, ducked momentarily down a side-hall to avoid a frustrated-looking Snob along the way (hadn't that damn fool got things sorted out with Belial yet?) and strode up to the door, knocking sharply before he could think better of what he was doing.

---

*Anyway, his most clever, complicated schemes always seemed to lead him into worse trouble in the long run. If things were going to go pear-shaped, they might just as well go pear-shaped straightaway and get it over with.

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Michael was returning towards their room, assuming that Raphael and Gabriel were now done discussing whatever it was they needed to discuss, when he heard a gunshot. SUddenly his walk turned into a run. A very fast run.

He threw open the door and froze in shock at the sight in front of him. Raphael, his dear beloved Raphael, lying on the ground with a bleeding wound in his abdomen. Why wasn't he healing it? Surely it couldn't be that bad... It couldn't, it couldn't, it couldn't...

Why oh why did he have to be about useless in healing?

Then, however, he saw the human. Holding a gun. Which was still pointed at Raphael.

Now, this was something he knew how to do.

With a roar he attacked the man, punching him hard at the nose.

John's mind registered that the loud report meant the gun had discharged. But it was still working its way past blank incomprehension as he stared at the red stain spreading across Raphael's abdomen, when the door flew open and Michael rushed in, took in the scene, and bore down on him with the velocity and force of an adult bull rhino at full charge.

War hit harder, he noted in some clinical corner of his brain as the punch connected, but Michael had better aim.

The pain, oddly enough, wasn't as bad as the distinct crunch as his nose virtually collapsed under the blow. He reeled back into the wall behind him, the gun flying out of his hand, and slid to the floor with a thud, blinking at the infuriated archangel through a haze of blood and shock.

"Didn't," he croaked, too stunned for a moment to recall what exactly he hadn't done, but that was all right, as he was fairly certain the rhino wasn't going to buy it in any case.

"Oh, sure you didn't," Michael growled, only a tiny part of his mind actually aware of the other's words as uncontrolled rage had completely taken over what little sense he usually had. "You just held the gun when it went off, eh?" He noticed from the corner of his eye that Gabriel had entered the room and was now attending to Raphael, but that didn't make him calm down a bit; rather it just fueled his rage as Raphael's lack of response to the darkhaired archangel made the severeness of his wound clear.

He kicked the human's side as hard as he could, then grasped his throat, lifted him up, and slammed him again at the wall with a thud. "I'll teach you to hurt Raphael," he growled through clenched teeth, starting to tighten his grip around the other's throat.

John gasped as the expertly-placed kick shattered ribs and drove the remaining air from his lungs, flailed for a moment and grabbed uselessly at Michael's arm as he was hoisted up by the throat, his larynx already beginning to crumple under the relentless pressure.

Those blood vessels around his eyes that hadn't exploded from the face shot started to burst, and his vision fuzzed out completely in a uniform bloody pink wash.

No talking his way out of this one. He'd have laughed if he'd had any air left--talk one archangel down from murdering him just in time to be murdered by another. Story of his life. Crowley was going to be incredibly annoyed with him...

He stopped struggling. No point, Michael might as well be made of cast iron and his body didn't want to obey him anymore. Hurt too much. Just give it up and go. Outlived his time anyway, hadn't he?

He did wish, though, as his brain ran out of oxygen and shut itself down, that'd he got to see Kit once more before he went to Hell.

Not even in the extreme of rage could Michael have ignored his dear Raphael's voice. What Raphael said, however, confused him a bit. Stop who? Him, apparently -- who else was there to be stopped? But why? The human had shooted Raphael!

In his confusion he momentarily stopped applying more pressure to the human's throat. He didn't let go, however.