(no subject)

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

Date: April 2, 2000
Setting: Crowley and Azi's room
Status: Private - Raphael, Crowley (Complete)
Summary: Raph comes to beg a favor



Raphael had cleaned up as best he could, but that didn't stop him from shaking. Going to see the demon, given all that had happened, was practically asking for a confrontation. But he could think of no other way to resolve his anxiety, no other being to approach before resorting to last ditch methods.

He'd tried to wait, truly he had, but nothing had happened. He'd heard nothing from Mictain and each time he woke, his fear grew worse. Unbidden, his mind conjured up images of the tortures that Lucifer was sure to have in store for the one who cast him down, now that he could sink his claws into him.

There were other demons, but Raphael knew them even less. And so he turned to the only one, other than what he felt would be an unrelenting Adam, who might be able to help him. He needed to know. Needed.

Timidly, he lifted his hand and knocked.

Comments

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley was sitting on his bed and performing his monthly wing grooming when he heard the knock. He narrowed his eyes. Very little good had come of anyone knocking on his door at the Manor. Still, he folded his wings, slipped on his sunglasses, and, bare-chested, opened the door to find Raphael standing there looking nervous.

"What the hell do you want?"

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

When Raphael realized that Crowley had no shirt on, he quickly averted his eyes and looked at the floor. He forced himself to take a deep breath and speak even though he wanted to pass out.

'Just say it and be done with it,' he told himself.

"I came to ask a favor. And before you laugh, please listen. I'll do anything for you, just..." He kept looking down. "I want to know how Mictain is. I thought you might have a way of finding out. How to send a message quietly down there or something. Or visit, unnoticed. Just to see. That's all.

"And I don't know what you might want from me. But anything, and if nothing now I'll owe you a favor. Anything you like at all that's within my power!" He promised, sincerely and perhaps somewhat carelessly, for 'anything' was an inclusive word.

"Please?" He asked, looking up quickly in a last plea.

Nothing that he expected anything except to get turned down flat. But he had to try.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley raised an eyebrow as he sized up the angel in front of him. "Anything?"

A demon never turns down an offer of anything, but there was serious risk involved here as well. He smiled a hard little smile that never reached his eyes, not that Raphael could see them, and waved the angel into the room, possibilities whirling in his mind. "Come in, take a seat. Let's talk."

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

When the demon assented, Raphael made a small noise of surprise. He'd expected to have the door slammed in his face. And while walking into the metaphorical web of the spider wasn't an ideal situation, it made him slightly hopeful.

"OK," he agreed and stepped nervously into the room.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Following the angel back into his room, Crowley closed the door and moved towards the bed where his discarded clothes were draped. Pulling his shirt back on mostly to stall for time, he said, "Have a seat, Raphael. Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink?"

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

"Thank you," he said, sitting in a nearby chair. "Drink? Water is fine. Anything stronger would be pleasant. If you have it."

The politeness had caught him off guard and he knew in the back of his mind that he shouldn't be drinking while taking medication so often. It probably wasn't a good idea to have too much either, but a relaxant would be welcome.

"Whatever you have is fine. Don't trouble yourself on my account," he told Crowley, fidgeting nervously.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Moving to the small black drinks refrigerator that was suddenly surprised to find itself in Crowley's room, the demon pulled out an unopened bottle of tonic water, and from the shelf above the fridge, a sealed bottle of gin and a glass. He handed it all to Raphael so that the healer could make his own drink. Adam forbid Raphael should go around telling people he'd slipped him a roofie or something.

Standing above the angel, Crowley looked down, eying him intently and thinking quickly. "Anything, huh?" he repeated softly. "I presume you realize what a dangerous thing that is to say." Crowley brought his hand up and ran it through Raphael's red hair. "I could ask you for sexual favours. To make yourself available to me in any way and at any time. I could utterly humiliate you by fucking you like a dog in the lobby in the middle of the afternoon while you sang Go- the Star Spangled Banner and begged me for more." Tightening his grip, but not painfully so, he pulled Raphael's hair down so that the angel had to look up at him. His voice when he spoke again was low, melodious, and enthralling. "Are you certain you mean anything, little bird?"

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

When he uttered his request, Raphael's eyes grew wide and his hand went slack so that the bottle of gin fell to the floor with a crash. He didn't notice, didn't even stoop to pick up the shard; a tremor ran through him and he looked at Crowley, terrified and unblinking.

"Mictain should be terribly angry if he found out," he whispered. "And I don't sing very well." He quivered again then stilled himself. "But I've nothing else to bargain with and I did say anything." A humiliated blush spread across his cheeks. "I meant it.

"Anything you ask; anything at all."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

With deliberate slowness, Crowley moved closer to Raphael until their lips were a mere inch apart. "Very well, little bird," he whispered, breath ghosting across the angel's mouth. "You will get what you want. And in return, I want..." He brought his hand around to caress Raphael's jaw, "... a favour. A big favour. So that at some point in the future, you will have to do whatever I ask of you or you will leave this place and never return."

Having said his piece, Crowley withdrew, bending to retrieve the now miraculously repaired bottle and handing it again to the stunned looking angel. He then moved to the bed and sat casually on it, though his eyes would have betrayed his intensity, as he waited for an answer.

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

Raphael jerked away from the demon, panicked, when he felt his breath. His eyes dilated and for a moment he feared that memories would resurface, but he supressed them.

"Don't call me that," he mumbled. "And you promise you'll keep your end too? Help me contact Mictain, check on him?" He was still frightened but he wanted to be sure he got something out of the deal.

Demons had a way of cheating, or at least some of them. And while a nebulous 'favor' would probably be demanding, he felt he ought to at least get what he asked in return, even if the deal was unbalanced.

He shakily poured the gin into the tumbler. Not knowing what to do with the tonic water, he set it aside and drank the spirit straight, downing it swiftly. Once the glass was empty he clutched it in both hands and looked down into it.

"I mean, if you do, that seems fair, I guess."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"All right," said Crowley, now all business. "A contract, then, signed by both of us, each with a copy, detailing our agreement, and consequences if we don't follow through."

He called one to hand. It had been a while since he'd done an individual contract, but it was like riding a velocipede. "Much like this one, in fact."

Crowley handed both copies to Raphael to look them over, confirm that they were identical, and that neither had any fine print. "It says basically that I will help you check on Mictain's welfare in Hell. Should I not, you are not bound to your part of the agreement and you've lost nothing. In return, you will owe me a favour to be called in whenever I wish. Should you not fulfill it exactly as I request, you will voluntarily leave the Manor and Adam's protection, never to return. Do you have anything you wish to add? If not, sign them both and we'll have a deal."

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

Raphael bit his lip and examined the forms with an inexperienced, slightly confused look.

"Well. It looks OK. Does check on mean give a message? I mean, not just look at him. Contact. Does it mean that? And what about confidentiality? I really don't want anybody to know about this... And - never? I mean, not that I would refuse, but what if I can't do it?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley eyed him shrewdly. "Good questions. I can probably get him a coded message, though I don't know if he'll be able to respond. As for confidentiality, I can give you that, too, but I'd ask for a clause to exclude Aziraphale, because if I just up and disappear with no notice, he's going to start asking questions that you won't want asked. And we can add an addendum that says that if I ask something of you that simply isn't possible, not that I would, you have the right of refusal on those grounds but I have the right to ask for another favour."

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

The angel nodded.

"OK. You can tell Aziraphale. Just ask him not to tell anybody, OK?"

He miracled a pen and his hand hovered over the revised contract.

"Crowley?" He asked quietly. "Would you really make a demand like... like that?"

As much as he wanted to know about Mic, he was afraid of what he would have to do, uncertain if he could keep up his end of the bargain when the time came, despite the heavy consequences.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"No one else will know," he assured him.

Then there was a long, heavy, tense pause as he looked at Raphael; just looked at him, unblinkingly, wondering just what the hell the angel thought of him, before finally answering the healer's question.

"No. I wouldn't."

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

Even though he knew that Crowley could be lying, Raphael slumped just slightly in relief and scribbled his signature on both contracts before he had time to reconsider or get nervous again.

He picked up one and handed it to Crowley.

"Thank you."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley rolled his eyes at Raphael's inexperience and took both copies of the contract back. Signing them with his favourite pen, he returned one fully ratified version to the angel.

"Hang on to that," he said, "and don't thank me until it's done. When will I get the message you want to pass on?"

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

"I know I interrupted you earlier, but if it's not too much to ask - could I write it down for you now? I don't want to wait long.

I don't know what's happening to him, and that scares me."

He hoped Crowley didn't mind; it wouldn't take long and the sooner it was sent, the sooner he would know.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley raised an eyebrow, remembering what Aziraphale had told him about his conversation with the healer, but said nothing. He did however, nod, and recline on his bed as if he could wait there all day.

"Be careful how you word it, Raphael," he warned. "In Hell, nothing is private."

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

Raphael miracled paper and lifted the pen he used to sign the contract. He was about to start writing when he heard Crowley's warning, hesitated and frowned.

"Everybody would know?" He asked nervously. "Would he get in trouble? Would they know it was from an angel? What would happen to him? Aziraphale warned me..." He dropped the pen.

"Maybe I shouldn't even send it," he sighed.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley sighed. "Did I tell you to freak out? No, I told you to be careful. Not everyone would know, but it might go through a few hands before it gets to him, so as long as you don't say, 'Hi, Mictain, this is the archangel Raphael, your fuck buddy, and I'm worried about you', you should be fine. And I'll rewrite it so they don't get an angelic whiff off it. Do you know anything about codes or subtlety? Is there a private nickname you could use?"

Really, angels were embarrassingly stupid sometimes.

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

The comments drew another blush but he kept his gaze on the blank sheet in front of him.

"We didn't have nicknames for each other. And little use for subtlety. I don't know how to say something so that he understands it other than being straightforward. No codes or anything."

He picked up the pen again and wrote out a short message in a rather lengthy period of time.

Mictain,

What happened last time was my fault. The next time I will be ready and I won't run. Your absence is felt. Please reply.

- R.

He handed it to Crowley.

"Is that good enough? Or should I just use an initial for him too? Can you see that it gets to him directly? Or as close to that as possible?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley looked it over critically. Raphael was blaming himself for what happened? Interesting.

"No, it's a piece of crap. It sounds like an angel wrote it. Demons never accept reponsibility for anything. Here..."

He flipped over the paper and began writing on the other side.

Mic,

Remember that time wot we was lurkin' and that brat interrupted us before we could get to the good bit? Wanna go again? Send an imp.

-R

Crowley handed it back. "No one will think twice about that, even if they do see it."

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

"Oh. OK. And he'll know it's me?" He looked over the paper. "I mean, the grammar is awful. I would never speak that way. And you don't either, not really. Is the lack of proper spelling really so 'demonic?'

"Also, Adam didn't interrupt; that was my fault for calling him. I should own up to it; that and leaving Mic the time before. He might not care to respond or acknowledge me if I do not. Other than that, I guess it's fine," he shrugged. "When can you take it? Soon, I hope."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"Who the hell else would he be getting mail from?" asked Crowley. "You could call yourself Rap or Doc if you're worried, though. And yeah, demons as a whole aren't that well educated. If you don't want it to be noticed, you have to sound like a moron. Like Ligur, really."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Crowley glared at Raphael. "Are you seriously suggesting that you think you're the one at fault for asking for help when someone was attacking you? What the fuck? You're a doctor. Ever heard of Stockholm syndrome? Why are you really sending this?"

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

For a moment, Raphael looked taken aback. Then he shrugged his shoulders and looked away for a moment.

"Stockholm syndrome deals with captives," he stated. "This is just my responsibility. I drove him into demonhood and then got him kicked out of the manor - where, I'm sure, Adam's father was more than happy to take over."

He looked back at Crowley calmly.

"Why shouldn't he have attacked me? Don't think for a moment that I didn't deserve it. I pushed him worse than anything; ordered him around like a dog, told him I didn't love him as a demon, ignored his warnings, his statements that it was an effort to keep his nature from overwhelming him. I mocked him and called him stupid when he was affectionate and then left before he even woke up on our first night. Took a shower to wipe him off me when I was feeling self-righteous again and blamed him for my actions.

"Who does that? Honestly, who does?

"I believe his words were 'worst little slut.' After that he warned me that he was the one in charge, that he would come to me. I stayed away, which really wasn't fair to him either. He had expectations. And when he came to me I resisted, cried and called Adam - and got him cast out.

"Each step of the way, I was to blame. Making him a demon, shunning the demon, making him angry, refusing to comply. And now I can't cease imagining what terrible things are happening to him, all because I was too immature to take the punishment I deserved without running to Adam."

He poured himself another tumbler of gin, drank it and then laughed humorlously.

"I thought that's why you were in my room. After I lied about you in the greenhouse and because my words ended up getting Aziraphale killed. Thought you'd find it... poetic justice. The lie comes true. The punishment fits the crime." He fiddled with the glass. "I'm sorry about John too. He tried to help, got me a trainer and everything. But it was too little, too late, and in the end it didn't make a difference. It was rather nice of him to try, though."

With a twist he took the cap off the tonic water and tasted it, making a slight face. He finally poured an uneven mixture of tonic and gin in the cup then sipped gradually.

"Anyway. I suppose at the end of it, it's that I screwed up - yet again - but even worse. It landed him in the hands of the one whom, I think, it's fair to say hates him the most. It's my responsibility to help him." He hung his head. "And despite what anybody might say - he cares, I know he does, and I care as well.

"I want to be with him again, is all."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"If you believed that crap about him being unable to control his demonic nature, then you're even more of an idiot than I thought. I've been a demon a hell of a lot longer than he has and have never been inclined to rape anyone regardless of how desirable I found them."

His sunglasses were trained directly on Raphael's eyes.

"And I'm not saying that you haven't done some really fucking stupid things, because you have and so has he. For my part, I'd much rather have a public apology than to take you against your will. That's not my thing and you're not my type.

"Honestly, it sounds like you weren't ready and had no defenses against the slightest temptation. And that comes from an expert. But it's none of my business. If you want to be fucked up for the rest of your existence, that's your problem. I just need to get him your note and collect my favour later." Crowley gestured to the note in the angel's hand. "So, are you going to rewrite that or what?"

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

"Maybe he was a different kind of demon," Raphael rationalized softly. "He was always very... militant. Used to acting by force, not by words. That was always his nature, it just got twisted.

"As for what he did - what else worked? Gabriel tried to talk sense, you tried yelling sense, John tried beating some sense into me - and none of it stuck. I needed to be taught, be hurt by the one I took such willing advantage of; otherwise, I'd never learn."

When Crowley talked of temptation, he blushed.

"It wasn't my fault that I'd never made any sort of effort, didn't know how it felt until then. And he paid me attention, cared even when nobody else did, perhaps too much. He was tall and strong - I couldn't help how my body felt. It was the other stuff that complicated things, the emotions that messed things up.

"But what he attempted didn't 'fuck me up.' It straightened me out," he insisted, though he trembled. "I learned a lesson the hard way, but that was the only way. I should thank him. I should apologize to him."

His hand shook as he held out the note.

"Please take it. And don't criticize me. Maybe I am an idiot. But I'm trying hard to behave, to get along. That's all I want. I don't want to be selfish, am trying not to be. If you deliver it maybe he'll understand, maybe things will go back to the way things were before I ruined what little I had.

"It's more than I should ask for, more than I deserve. It's all I want. Please don't disdain me for that."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"You know what?" said Crowley, "I don't care. I really don't give a damn. Forget I said anything. You're always so fucking sure that you know just how the world works - the naive little prince looking down from above, watching the goings on with disdain, not even bothering to understand the people you're trying to help - but nothing's as black and white as you think. There's no such clear cut cause and effect. That's why one little set-back in your life, and you just collapse. You want to play the martyr, the helpless but noble beaten wife, fine. It's not like there's no precedent. Just spare me the details, all right?"

He snatched the note out of Raphael's hand.

"I'll take this to him, you'll do what I ask, and we'll be done, got it?"

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

There was a beat as Raphael looked at his empty hand, dumbfounded.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, mostly amazed and slightly hurt. "Sure? I'm not sure of anything. Call me naive - I don't deny it. But you've had six thousand years to figure things out. I lived in Heaven; I didn't make an effort; I didn't act human, even when I tried to help them or answer them. I'm trying to catch up as best I can when I'm actually feeling things that I've never experienced... What more do you want from me? I'm trying. OK? I've know things were hard for humans; I don't disdain them. And I know things are shaded for them. But it's harder to feel it and I've had months to your millennia.

"As for Mictain, I know what it sounds like, but I don't think he'll do it again. He didn't at first and if I get things back to what they used to be, then it will be OK. I won't be beaten - I have to believe that. Because if I don't, if I can't trust him, then I'll lose him. I'm not prepared to be in this islated house, to face whatever comes alone. You're always going to have Aziraphale to stand by you. What I want isn't that different."

He frowned and took another drink.

"Anyway, thank you for taking the message." He stood and straightened his robe. "If he replies, I'll be in my room."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"No, you never tried to make any kind of effort, did you? All those years," muttered Crowley quietly so that Raphael wouldn't hear him. He wasn't talking about getting the anatomy right. "And now you're prepared to spread your legs for him anytime he wants it just so he won't leave you. If you were remotely aware of real life you'd know how well that usually turns out." He shook his head.

"Fine," he called to the angel's retreating back. "If I learn anything, I'll come find you."

Crowley looked at the note and sighed. Now all he had to do was figure out a safe way to deliver it to Mictain.

[winged-healer.livejournal.com]

Once he'd given the demon the message there wasn't anything to do except wait. Raphael didn't know how long he'd have to, but it already seemed interminable. So, though he knew it was a bad idea given that he'd just consumed enough gin to make him stumble on the way back, he drugged himeslf again and smiled as he slept, thinking of the day when Mictain would understand and take him back, when his bed wouldn't be so empty or the nights so solitary.