lt_safe_house | Raphael is drawn to the Safe House

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Raphael is drawn to the Safe House

Time: April 27, around two AM
Place: on the front lawn of the Manor
Status: PUBLIC (anyone up at 2AM who wants to find him catching his discorporation out there)
Summary: A tired and weary Archangel discovers the Manor

Thunder cracked above him, splitting the night in two as the sky wept its cold tears on a dark world. His wings dragged pathetically behind him in jagged streams, the firey feathers jutted in irregular directions. The steady rain had long since washed away the blood smudged on his skin and face, but it still stained his torn clothes in cruel hash marks. His braid was partially undone, the wind catching the crimson strands and whipping it across his face like blood sliced across pale skin; a cruel reminder of what he had escaped from.

Raphael closed his arms around the bunny held protectively against his chest, its dark grey fur touched with blood that was not its own. The Archangel had taken off his labcoat and wrapped it around the miserable creature in an attempt to keep it warm, but the rain had soaked through the once-white fabric rather quickly. By the time Archangel and bunny reached Lower Tadfield it was about two in the morning and both were soaked all the way through, cold and shivering. Still, Raphael kept on, feeling drawn by an unknown force that seemed to tug at his weakened aura.

That force seemed to grow in intensity the further into town he moved. The moment he stepped down a pathway that lead to the front of a large beautifully-designed building it was as if he had stepped through an invisible wall... The rain still fell steadily but he had this strong surge of safe safe safe thrumming through his wrangled body. The relief was so overwhelming it dropped him to his knees, the wet ground shifting beneath his weight. You're safe... You're safe now...

He let out a sigh he hadn't realized he had been holding, curling heavy wet wings around him. The manor looked very elegant, perhaps a resort for the financially well-off. He wondered if he could stay here for awhile, or perhaps maybe just for the night so he could rest his aching body after trudging in the rain for eight hours.

If nothing else, maybe someone would be willing to take the poor bunny from him, perhaps give it a nice meal and a dry blanket.

He closed his eyes, tightening his hold as he surpressed another bout of shivering, and just enjoyed the feeling of being truly safe for the first time since he left Heaven.

((•))

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"Get some water from the bar," Duncan said. "We oughta try and get some fluids into him again."

He hardly knew where he could touch without hurting the demon worse. He didn't even want to think about another pair of hands messing around. Hell, why didn't they have a doctor in the hotel?

Raphael was only blearily aware of what was going on. He felt his body sink into soft cushion, wings awkwardly draped on either side of them. They were so large that they draped to the floor, smudging blood onto the carpet.

His mind latched onto what he understood... Bleeding in the lungs, stomach and intestinal damage... Heart pumping harder to make up for blood loss... Why were human bodies so fragile?

He let out a wimper and flinched beneath the touch.

"Don't die on me, okay?" Duncan told him, not sure if he was even heard. "I know you're hurting, but these must be cleaned and bandaged properly. I'll try to be quick about it, okay? You just concentrate on staying alive."

He had been sleeping fitfully to begin with and now he found it impossible to ignore the noise outside in the hallway. Now someone was trampling up the stairs even...

How was a man supposed to sleep like that?

Resolved to find out what was going on, he got up, slipped on a dressing gown and left his room.

A door across the hall was open and someone was talking in there.

Not just talking his extra-sense reminded him.

Indeed not. He heard a suppressed moan coming from that direction.

He moved over to that door, just as a man came in sight at the stairs, struggling up the steps with a death-grip on the railing and a cane. His mouth twitched at the sight, and he entered room 110.

A man was kneeling besides the bed, on which there lay a being with large, red wings.

Tiredness and anger were quickly forgotten. This must be one of the beings he had come here to find! But it was bleeding, hardly stirring anymore. If the man kneeling besides it was killing it, he would--

"What are you doing there?" he asked, his voice calm, controlled but with an icy edge to it. "Are you butchering him? Whatever he is?"

He was quite well aware of the impression he had to make, standing there in the open door, shoulder-length white hair tangled from his unrestful sleep, a set of angry scars visible over his stomach because he had not bothered to tie the dressing gown.

"That," Duncan said, "is an injured demon."

Considering the facts of the case, what with the wings clearly visible and all, it would've been difficult to deny it.

"He walked in on us like that. I'm trying to save his life here."

Rose stared at the stranger for a moment. In her opinion that being needed more blood, not water. But she couldn't think of any way of getting more blood into its system.

Before she could leave Mr von Arcon entered the room. And obviously misunderstood the situation, thinking the stranger wanted to kill the other stranger. You really need their names soon. Or you'll have to number them. Stanger 1 and stranger 2...

"Mr von Arcon, please, we're trying to help him. None of us knows where he got those injuries..."

And to stranger 1 she said: "I'll get the water, sir."

The next moment she was out the door and on her way downstairs.

Demon... He heard demon and felt panic through his body, though it was a numbing throb. He couldn't feel the pain anymore and he knew from his time in the medical field that when a human stopped feeling pain it was not a good thing. He vaguely sensed another being, but he was too dim to make out anything specific.

His senses were fuzzy and dull, but he tried to focus on his injuries. The powers he had were almost non-existant but he had to... he had to try...

Concentrating hard he forced healing energy into the worse parts of his body, trying to seal his internal bleeding. He felt the familiar tingling, but it was slow. Too slow. And not enough. At the most he had managed to stop the internal bleeding to where he was no longer teetering on the edge of discorporation, but it could still be potentially fatal.

Michael would be quite upset if I came here and got discorporated before getting to say hello... he thought dimly. And he didn't get to see Gabriel or Aziraphale. And his bunny was still lost somewhere!

His wing twitched in response to what was spoken, hoping it would be taken as an affirmative that yes, he was holding on with everything he had.

Atlan stepped aside to let the girl through.

His best chance at getting home was just bleeding to death in front of his eyes! He had to do something... anything.

But the barbarians in the room would certainly -- well, never mind that. He had some gadgets with him. Altering their memories would be easy. They were sure to be susceptible.

He took off the egg-shaped pendant he was wearing on a chain around his neck, quickly covered the distance to the bed and placed it carefully on the injured being's chest.

"Don't ask," he told the man kneeling by the bed. "You wouldn't understnad anyway. It'll help him."

He stood back, keeping a close eye on the watch he wore on his wrist that, in addition to telling the time, concealed a few little extras. He'd have a few minutes before he had to take it back. The small device would greatly speed up the healing process, helping the injured body seal wounds that otherwise would take weeks to heal within hours. However, it was attuned to his own genetic code and would kill anyone else if it was attached to them for too long. He assumed an hour or so would be safe, but he'd try for less than that. He hoped it would be enough to help the being to pull through.

Raphael stiffened abruptly, feeling the source of something of special powers slowly moving through his body. He gasped sharply and began violently coughing, the blood in his lungs trying to expel itself as if by some unknown force. He contorted in pain, coughing intk his palms, wings rustling from the force.

Something was healing him... He could feel it slowly travelling through his injured body like ink covering carpeting. "Can't... Can't... breathe..." he gasped, gripping at the collar of his scrub top as if it were too tight. Blood sprinkled on his mouth and cheek.

Something... Something was healing him...

"Whatever it is, it's hurting him!" Duncan exclaimed, trying to push the egg-pendant the other man had just placed on his patient away.

Who was that stranger anyway, barging in here and trying to take charge? And telling him not to ask questions!

He quickly put his hand over the other man's, keeping the cell activator in contact with the injured being, while he slid his free arm below it's shoulders just above where the wings attached to help him sit up a little.

"Easy there," he told him as comfortingly as he could manage. "You'll be better in a moment."

For good measure and to drive home that he was not one of these barbarians, he repeated his words in his native tongue. If this being was from another world, it was likely to understnad and recognised the language of the empire.

Inside, he rejoiced. This being would owe him its life. That was certainly something to start from.

Realising that there was no space for yet another person by the bed, Joe remained near the door and watched. The white-haired man had an air to him that he had come to associate with immortals of the oldest kind.

He would have to ask Duncan about it later.

Raphael lifted his head, eyes shining with recognition at what was being spoken. He would have responded in the same language but his throat was blocked with blood and thus kept the grateful words trapped unspoken. What remained of his braid tumbled over his shoulder and he clenched his eyes shut, trying to keep from crying out in agony.

"Can't you see he's suffering?" Duncan asked the other man as he once more tried to push his hand and the device aside. "Hasn't he been through enough already today?"

Atlan found it hard to keep elation from his voice. He permitted himself a smile at the being's reaction, which he deemed to be recognition. He was close. So close.

The cell activator seemed to be working faster than usual. He feared that that also meant he had less time than usual before it started to do damage.

He took it away.

"I'm sorry, my friend," he told the being in English. "More might kill you after all. It's keyed to me. But with rest and some care you should be alright now."

Rose had gone to the bar, carefully opening the door to make sure the bunny wouldn't escape. When she left the bar again as carefully as she'd entered she carried three bottles of water, assuming that would be enough for the moment.

She ran back to room 110 as fast as she could and went in. The scene had changed again from what she'd seen when she left. Mr Dawson was there, and Mr von Arcon was next to the bed, lifting the injured being a bit and pressing something to its chest.

Rose just stood there, barely inside the room, still carrying the bottles.

He felt the source of the power being pulled away from him, deeply gasping as if he had been drowning. As his senses slowly returned to him he felt pain but not to the degree it had been. The lingering power echoed softly through him like a weak heartbeat.

Minor cuts and lacerations... A few deep, but easily stitched... He had been healed. Mostly, anyway. Turning he looked through strands of damp hair over at the white-haired creature, sensing the egg-shaped device as the source. He smiled and thanked him in his native tongue. Then turned to the others in the room. Joe. Duncan. The werewolf. His smile broadened gratefully.

"Thank you." His voice was hoarse and raspy and it hurt to speak but he was filled with such gratitude for these people he couldn't not thank them. "I am Raphael, Patron of Science and Knowledge." He intentionally left out the bit about being the Archangel of Healing, because in all honestly, he didn't think he was anymore. "Please let me know how I can repay your kindness." He was sitting up on his own now, still bloody, weary and rumpled-looking, but certainly in much better shape. He readjusted his wings into a more comfortable position and winced when sharp pain stung him. Well, the recovery would take awhile but maybe he could stay here...? He wanted to, oh how he wanted to, but he couldn't bring himself to speak his desire out loud.

Atlan got to his feet, pulled the chain with his cell activator over his head in one fluid motion and stood, arms folded loosely in front of his chest.

Patron of science and knowledge, eh?

Oh, he'd bet he was!

"Take me home," he said, again speaking the empire's language.

Raphael looked at him curiously. He wasn't sure if he had enough energy for such a task but maybe if he concentrated...

Closing his eyes he focused all his power to the man, feeling it drain from his own weakened one as if it were being sucked away. Come on... Focus! He chewed on his lip, not breathing, not moving, not speaking, only forcing everything into that being.

A bright light erupted and enveloped the man and the Archangel focused the last of his powers on completing what was asked of him. It shoukd have worked, but before Raphael could tell if he had managed to teleport him home the last of his energy left him and his body dropped bonelessly to the bed, crushing his throbbing wings and yanking him into a deep unconsciousness.

"What did you do to him now?" Duncan snarled at the white-haired man.

His hand shot to Raphael's throad, feeling for a pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief as he found it.

"Nothing," Atlan shot back. "I think the idiot tried to do something would've gone well beyond his strength if he hadn't been injured."

He knelt down by the bed again. "Let's get him out of those torn things and bind his wounds properly, berfore he wakes up and tries something else."

He was feeling better than he had in millennia. Finally, after all this time, he knew that it was only a matter of a very short time before he was going to go home.

Joe wondered idly what exactly he had come the stairs up for. He was obviously not needed here.

"I'll try and straighten up the bar," he announced as he left.

Rose could only watch, not understanding what was being said. She'd understood the beings name and thought angel was more probable than demon, considering this 'Patron of Science and Knowledge' thing. But she didn't know what Mr von Arcon had said or what Raphael tried to do afterwards.

She put the water bottles on the nightstand and took a closer look at the injured Raphael.

"Mr. von Arcon? Is there anything I can do to help?"

The girl had probably seen nothing he had to remove from her memory. Better not to let her see anything like that either...

"Why don't you go help with the bar?" he asked, hoping it looked bad enough to warrant two people setting it in order."

Raphael stirred a bit, trying to slide his crunched wings out from beneath his back. He could slightly sense that someone -Joe?- had left and felt a pang of sadness. I didn't get to thank him! He also sensed the man that asked to be taken home, which meant despite channelling every bit of energy he had, the teleport hadn't worked. He would have apologized if he'd had the strength to speak.

In a dimly-conscious part of his mind still desperately trying to stay afloat in the muck within his mind, he was still reliving the events of the previous day. There was still a bitter young man waving a gun, there was a Hellbeast nearly fatally wounding him. There was a shot fired and blood and death... He whimpered weakly, his chest aching for that poor boy that lost his sister and felt he had nothing else to live for.

"She was all I had!"

"I'm through listening to what you have to say!"

...There is blood... So much blood and death and he took his own life...!

He's dead he's dead he's dead...

"Doctor?"

"...Archangel of Healing..."

"...of Healing..."

"Healing..."

He abruptly turned over and vomitted over the side of the bed, his whole insides feeling as if it tried to squeeze through his raw throat. Nothing really came out (how long had it been since he'd eaten?) but it left him gasping for air that soon lead to tears and finally wracking sobs that seemed to tear through his weakened form.

He took his own life!

He destroyed himself!

He...

What could he do now? What good could he be to anyone?

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roseheerkens.livejournal.com - 2010-06-10 15:09 (UTC) - Expand

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