One of the more unfortunate side effects of the Cage had been the touch aversion it had inspired in Michael. He'd been open with his own touch before he'd been locked up. It could be a reward or the beginnings of punishment when it came to his siblings and for his vessels, Dean especially, it had been a reminder of ownership. When they had been allowed the time, the archangels spent hours in something like a cuddle pile, but once Lucifer and Gabriel were gone Raphael seemed to think anything more than a pat on the shoulder was too much. At the time, Michael assumed he was just being sensitive, but he knew better now. He lived that discomfort now. Lately, Gabriel had been working hard to get him to a point where he didn't shy away immediately, Michael had appreciated having help mending his wings and having the confirmation that his brother was indeed real. Michael hadn't sought out his touch yet but he didn't fight it anymore.
That was Gabriel though, not some demon who had made himself King of Hell. A demon that had actively fought against him and his Father's plan, the same demon that had been involved in his brother's death. Michael should have jerked his arm away, or smote him, or a thousand other things. But Michael didn't do anything.
Crowley's hand on his arm hadn't really registered under the weight of everything that he'd dropped on him.
Knowing intellectually that his brother was dead was one thing, having it explained to him in this way was different. This hurt. It started in the center of his vessel's chest and burned through him, leaving him feeling raw. There were no flames though, nothing melted, no one in the bar inexplicably dropped dead, even Crowley was unscathed. For the moment all of Michael's pain and loss were contained within him, only ensuring that later it would boil over and consume him. It would consume Castiel too, if he had anything to say about it.
His jaw tightened and he stared down at the bar though he really wasn't seeing it. It was hard to continue sensing the world around him through his vessel so he let go of trying to stay in the moment. Eventually, his eyes closed and a sigh came from somewhere inside him, so did words but he wasn't really paying attention to what came out of his mouth. "Foolish. All of you. Blindingly, monumentally stupid. I cannot even begin to comprehend what level of ego- Even the Winchesters should have known better. Even Lucifer knew better than to try that. How are all of you still alive when you're this breathtakingly stupid? He should have known better. There were other ways. Better ways."