"Don't blame me for that, Daniel Jackson," he says, and he sends out a little pulse towards the light and starstuff that Daniel's made of; a small chastisement, like he would have done to a little brother who's behaving poorly.

"Remember what I've told you before about angels and free will. There were angels stationed on Earth to watch over it, but in the absence of our Father and Michael's apathy, they were given no orders until the Apocalypse. They did as they were last commanded-- to watch. They take no actions other than what they've been told, and Heaven-- that is to say, Michael-- cares little for anything other than our war. I've no impact on what the angels do."

They are not his to command; he has been locked away in Hell for almost the whole of human history, since the mess that he'd made of Eden.

"And, to be frank, you could say that I've been very hands-on when it comes to my dealings with your kind."

You want angelic interference? There's no guarantee that it'll be nice.