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Her phone rang, the shrill silvery ringtone cutting through the air around her, and Michael yanked it from her pocket, in a way that was far removed from her usual controlled actions. Hastur's voice trickled through the phone's tiny speaker when she answered. "Meet me up there." Hastur growled, the line going dead after his words, giving Michael no chance to answer.
Pressing her lips together in annoyance, Michael slipped phone back into her pocket. She was under no obligation to follow any demand of Hastur's. But she would still go. There was no other choice, really, not when it came to this.
It was raining when Michael materialized on Earth, and the droplets pelted her as soon as her form shimmered into existence. Standing in a veil of rain, only a few feet away, was Hastur. He stared at her with a guarded look, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
"What is it that you want?" Michael said coldly, flicking her fingers and repelling the raindrops before they could sink into the fabric of her suit.
"You told him about Crowley, didn't you?" Hastur growled, unfazed by the ice in Michael's voice. Unfazed, or perhaps past the point of caring. The name Ligur went unspoken, but Michael heard it all the same, her mouth thinning into a severe line.
"If you are alluding to the intel that I relayed to Ligur, then yes, I was the one who informed him that Crowley had his own agenda." Michael's sentence was full of unnecessary prose, a subtle, perhaps unintentional motion to annoy Hastur, who hated being spoken to with more words than were strictly needed.
But intended or not, Hastur took the bait. "Of course I'm alludin' to that! You sent him off to die!"
"Nonsense." Michael cut in sharply, too sharply. " I have no idea how you came to that conclusion."
"Oh, that was easy enough." Hastur scoffed. "If you hadn't told him bout' Crowely, we wouldn't have gone to collect him so soon, and that bastard wouldn't of killed him!"
"You went to collect Crowley of your own volition. Nothing I said made any difference as to the outcome." Michael replied blandly, calmly, shoving down the dark tendril of thought that had wriggled into her mind.
Hastur bared his teeth, barely holding back a feral snarl. Michael could elicit a reaction from others by merely not reacting herself, and at the moment, there was nothing Hastur hated more, in Heaven, Hell or Earth, that Michael's perfectly composed face. "I don't trust you. I never trusted you. But Ligur did, and look where that got im'." Hastur said through his teeth.
"Oh, please." Michael began, allowing contempt to edge her voice. "We shared information. What he decided to with it, or the circumstances it led him into, were not of my making."
"You knew that information might be dangerous!" Hastur shrieked. He might have hoped for a reaction to that accusation, but Michael refused to give it to him.
"I knew. But all the information we shared was dangerous, and this was exception. I'm not responsible for his death, although, I do feel-" And suddenly, Hastur had closed the space between them, grabbing her arms and swinging her around with the force of his momentum, his fingers locked tight, digging into her flesh through the layers of her clothes.
"You don't get to feel anything over him!" Hastur snarled, his face contorted in rage. "You're a bloody angel! You don't feel!"
That ripped a reaction from Michael. She recovered quickly from the shock of being set upon by Hastur, and tensed in his grasp, her clear eyes sparking. "Do not presume to tell me what I do or do not feel." she hissed. Hastur's fingers spasmed, crushing cloth and skin. He would leave bruising behind, if Michael allowed it.
"You were just using him!" Hastur accused. "All this time, all our little meetings, and you just toss him some information that gets him killed!" Michael's hands came up, and she shoved him the chest, accenting the motion with a surge of angelic strength, sending Hastur stumbling back.
"Do you think I wanted him to die?!" she screamed. In the distance, synonymous with her voice, thunder boomed, and Hastur wavered, attempting to regain both his balance and his composure. Michael never screamed. Never. Not once in the years he had...known her, had she ever raised her voice.
It frightened him. She was an angel, an archangel. He hated to admit it, but their long acquaintance might have numbed him to that fact. With Ligur between them, staunching the natural enmity that came from being demon and angel with the mutual interest of himself, Michael and Hastur had fallen into a rhythm of grudging tolerance. At times, it was almost pleasant.
But now...Ligur was gone. And Hastur, for all his obliviousness in many matters, held no illusions about the situation at hand. She would kill him.
She glared at him, her pale eyes illuminated from within. " I never intended for him to die." she began, then paused, her eyes dimming, and her shoulders slumping. A single raindrop splattered onto her jacket, a testament to her weakening composure. "I will admit that what I told him could have played a part in his death, but I never, never wished it upon him."
They were empty words, at least to Hastur's ears, and his eyes narrowed, unsatisfied, which put Michael back on the defensive. She raised her chin, eyes hardening. "I cared for him." she said firmly. "You know I did."
Oh, Hastur did know. And he hated it. Hated the way Michael would smile at Ligur, just a small turn of the lips, but Ligur would notice, and smile back. Hated the way Michael would sit close to Ligur, and Ligur would move closer her, away from Hastur...
"It wasn't enough." Hastur sneered back. "You're supposed to protect who you care for, isn't that what all the goody-goody's say?"
"Then why didn't you protect him?!" Michael exploded, releasing the rage she had just contained. "You cared for him too, in your own sick way!"
"I'm a demon!" Hastur roared, immediately throwing himself into the fight. How dare she, how dare she! "I didn't care-"
"Liar!" Michael cut in. " I could see it, I could sense it, every time I was around I could feel it!" which was nothing but the truth, but Hastur refused to hear it. That she knew, that he she would dare to say such a secret of his so freely, was beyond standing. He went for her again, anger throwing all sense of caution the the wind.
In the back of his mind, he'd expected her to simply smite him down to thwart his attack, but instead she turned away, as if she was preparing to take flight. And in a jarring moment, that shifted Hastur intentions.
Michael's wings had began to extend, ready to lift her into the air, when Hastur barreled into her. The grass, wet and slippery from the rain, took his feet from under him, and he crashed to the ground, bringing Michael along with him.
She struggled to rise, but he held her, locking her to the ground with his weight. He didn't want her to leave, not yet. He wasn't done berating her, that was the reason he gave to himself. The real reason, buried deep beneath the surface, was that it would be much much worse for her to leave, than it would be for her to stay.
So he clung to her, arms going around her body. Ligur had been fond of putting his arms around her, for some reason or the other. Hastur never quite understood why. Michael stiffened, going so rigid Hastur fancied he was holding a block of stone.
"Let me go." she said, her tone so flat it was almost humorous.
"I don't have to do a damn thing you say." Hastur mumbled. Michael went silent, stilling ever more, if it were possible. They stayed that way for sometime, laying on the ground with the rain pattering down around them, until Michael broke the silence.
"You were jealous of me." she said softly.
"Not true." Hastur grunted.
Jealousy had never been in the books, at least not for long. He might not have trusted her, but how could he begrudge the way Ligur's face would brighten when he saw her? And in his own time, he had come to look forward to her as well, although he would deny it to himself.
He could not explain this to her though, so he simply settled for saying what he could, even though it was not wholly true. He was a demon, after all. "I didn't like the way you were. You came in, all high and mighty, taking up his time, taking him from me."
This only served to awaken Michael's anger again. "You had him! He was down there with you, you could see him, talk to him whenever you pleased, and I couldn't!" Hastur latched onto that idea eagerly.
"True." he agreed. "Poor angel," he went on mockingly, whispering the words into her ear. "Stuck all the way up there in the clouds with no-" Michael twisted around, driving her elbow into his side and rolling away when his grip on her slackened. But she didn't stand or attempt to flee, only sat hunched on the muddy grass.
"Go to hell." she spat towards Hastur, and his mouth quirked in a thin smile.
"I'm already there." he muttered. Michael turned her head away, and Hastur, with some consternation, noticed her shoulders were shaking. Hastur reached out, his fingers closing around her wrist. Michael allowed herself to be pulled back towards him, and his arms encased her again, not to restrain, but with another intent, one that was foreign to them both.
It was a mockery of comfort, an embrace from a demon, but for Michael, it was enough.