Back in Gabriel's San Francisco condo, Sam stared out of the window. The rain was so heavy he could barely see the Golden Gate Bridge through the misty gray curtain. It seemed appropriate to his mood right now. The world had turned upside down and without Dean's steady support, Sam wasn't sure how he was supposed to keep going.
They'd put Dean in the bedroom, where he'd remained unmoving and only the soft sound of his breathing to tell anyone he was still alive. Sam wasn't sure it wasn't kinder than the raw pain of Dean's loss. But he needed his brother here with him, and a coma would surely only delay the inevitable grieving he would need to do. Sam refused to even contemplate the idea that Dean might never reawaken.
Behind him, he could hear Bobby and Gabriel were sat on the couch drinking steadily and conversing in low voices. He didn't care what they were talking about. What did any of it matter? Lucifer was going to take over Heaven and the world was just as fucked as it was before. He'd managed to dodge his own personal bullet of being Lucifer's vessel, but the outcome was hardly more palatable.
"You know, I think I might be drunk enough now," Bobby announced. "Can someone please run everything past me again? What the Hell just happened?"
"Lucifer tricked us," Sam said dully, not turning away from the view. "He and Lugh were conspiring together and they needed a distraction. We provided it."
"I still don't understand," Bobby admitted. "What did they even achieve?"
There was a knock at the door and Gabriel's head came up. "That will be our answer, I expect." He got up and opened the door to a nervous-looking Crowley with Balthazar stood behind him, his face a mask. Gabriel gestured them both inside and waved the whiskey bottle at them invitingly. Crowley nodded eagerly but Balthazar declined with a wave of his hand.
"Sit, please," Gabriel said. They exchanged a glance and then Crowley perched on the edge of the armchair. Balthazar remained standing, his back rigid and his eyes darting around anxiously.
"Well, this is a pretty tangle," Crowley said after a moment's silent contemplation of his drink.
"It's a monstrous clusterfuck," Balthazar said succinctly. His voice was neutral but his eyes flashed angrily. "Darling." The emphasis on that word made it clear they'd been arguing over what had happened at Bobby's. Sam abandoned his mournful contemplation of the weather and focused on the new arrivals.
Gabriel spread his hands. "I know you're mad, Bal. Hell, we all are. But getting pissed isn't going to help us now."
"Perhaps if my erstwhile lover had let some hint drop about this super-secret plan, we wouldn't be in this mess," Balthazar spat.
"Be reasonable," Crowley said. "What would you have done if you'd known?"
"Warned Michael of course," Balthazar said, scandalized.
Crowley leveled a look at him. "Right. So now, I'd be a scorch mark on the ground, Sam and Gabriel would be locked up and awaiting trial and who the Hell knows what that crazy fucker would have done to Dean. Or you. Then there's Lucifer, neatly handed over to Michael with a bow on his head. Oh yes, that outcome would have been so much better."
Balthazar looked stricken. "You would have made me choose between you?"
"No," Crowley said patiently. "But the plan was going ahead, with or without you. I told you enough to make sure you played along. I'm sorry I didn't tell you the whole plan. Would you believe me if I said I didn't actually know the details?"
"No," Balthazar said bitterly.
"What did you know?" Sam asked.
"Lugh came to see me, wanted my help in orchestrating a distraction while he snuck into Heaven. He told me he wanted to gank Michael. But he worked out the details of the plan with Lucifer, not me. Lucifer had already told me about his weird meeting with Michael and how he was reconsidering his strategy as a result. So I introduced them to each other, and let nature take its course, so to speak." Crowley paused to swallow some whiskey. "Despite what I said, I might have arranged things differently if I had known Lucifer's intentions. It was reckless and put all of us at risk. That's not really my style."
"That's true enough," Balthazar growled. It sounded like an insult and the way Crowley's eyes flared red for a moment told Sam the nuance wasn't lost on him.
"Enough," Gabriel said. "I'm not here to play agony aunt, so stow your crap, Bal." Balthazar bristled indignantly but said nothing. "We need to know what's happening in Heaven. Angel radio, as Sam calls it, is offline."
"That I can tell you, at least a bit," Crowley said. "My demons have been on the lookout for angels on the lam since this whole deal started. Dorian met with Samandriel a few hours ago. Nice kid, bit naive." He waggled his eyebrows expressively and Balthazar huffed his displeasure. Crowley tilted his head back. "You know you're the only angel for me." Balthazar looked away and folded his arms over his chest. It was a very defensive stance and Sam felt bad for him. He was hurting and Crowley was making out like it was just a big joke.
"Samandriel?" Gabriel said. "He was barely a fledgling when I left."
"Yeah, well, he's smart, that one," Crowley said. "Read the writing on the wall much earlier than many of his fellows."
"What does that mean?" Sam wondered.
"If you keep interrupting, I can't very easily tell the story, can I?" Crowley said. Sam glowered at him. "OK, so according to Samandriel, he was in the library when it all kicked off. Michael's office is apparently close by. He heard shouting and loud bangs and went to investigate. What he saw shocked him so much he fled, as fast as his wings could carry him, to earth." He paused and took a long swallow of whiskey.
"Don't keep us in suspense, boy," Bobby growled.
"Michael was having a tantrum, a serious one. He was yelling incoherently about Lucifer plotting against him and Raphael was there, trying to calm the whole situation down. But he suddenly announced that he had a location on Lucifer and the Winchester boys, that for some reason Lucifer was broadcasting not only his location but the identities of the people with him." Crowley frowned at this, tugging on his suit jacket and then looking up to meet Balthazar's eyes. "Lucifer must have been doing that deliberately because Samandriel had no idea Gabriel, you or I were there."
"So this was the distraction plot?" Sam clarified.
Crowley nodded. "Raphael flapped off to come and investigate, and we all know what happened there. Back in Heaven, Samandriel met an entity he didn't recognize, but I think her meatsuit will ring a bell. A woman in her forties, dark-haired and with violet eyes."
"Zurvan."
Crowley beamed at Sam. "On the nose. Yes, everyone's favorite homicidal time goddess had somehow made her way into Heaven. She didn't even bother to banter with Michael, just walked in there and stabbed him. Samandriel ran away at that point."
"But that's the explosion we heard," Gabriel said. "And yet she didn't kill him. I wonder if that was by accident or design."
"Did anyone see Lugh?" Sam asked.
"Samandriel didn't mention him," Crowley said. "He must have been there, to let Zurvan enter. But he must have had another goal in mind if he didn't go with her to attack Michael."
"Great," Sam said sarcastically. "Just what we need, Lugh running around Heaven unfettered." He cast a look at the assembled faces and sighed. "I'm going to check on Dean."
Lucifer walked slowly through the corridors of Heaven, the sea of panicked Host moving around him almost as if they were barely aware he was there. Not one of the angels seemed to recognize him, they were all too intent on streaming out of the Great Hall and heading who knew where. He should have attracted attention simply by walking against the flow, even if nobody knew who he was. That they all kept their heads down and simply moved around him told him things were bad.
Finally, he reached his destination and couldn't contain the almost human-like gasp of shock at the damage that had been caused to the massive ornate doors that had previously hung at the entrance. One door was little more than splinters. The other was broken in two and lay on the steps. Frowning, Lucifer picked his way through the pieces and was startled by the appearance of Bartholomew, who staggered forward and leaned against the doorframe.
"Brother," he said, inclining his head politely.
"You!" Bartholomew declared, pointing one shaking finger at him. "All of this destruction is your fault."
"Not this time," Lucifer said smoothly.
"Lying about it won't help your case," Bartholomew sneered.
"Spare me," Lucifer drawled. "Take me to Michael."
"Take yourself," Bartholomew spat, but his eyes were shadowed in fear. Lucifer peered at him and could see that the angel's Grace had taken a severe blow.
He frowned in puzzlement and grabbed Bartholomew's arm. "What happened to you?"
Bartholomew yanked himself away. "That's none of your concern," he said and then took off at a limping run before Lucifer could question him further. Disquieted now, Lucifer began to pay more attention to the stream of angels, which had thinned considerably since he'd entered the Hall. Bartholomew wasn't the only one sporting a significant wound in his Grace, many angels who moved past him were severely depleted and some had been rendered almost mortal. His lips thinned in concern, something was very wrong here.
He found Michael's office, or rather he found a smoking ruin where Michael's office had previously stood. There was no sign of his brother, or anyone else.
"Lucifer." A hand came down firmly on his shoulder and he spun around, teeth bared, to see the face of Naomi looking at him in surprise.
"Naomi," he snarled. "Where is Michael? Why is everyone running away like their ass is on fire?"
She pursed her lips disapprovingly at him. "Michael is… indisposed. You shouldn't be here."
"The Gates were reopened to me. That means either Michael lifted the geas that prevented my return or something happened to him that means he can no longer maintain the spell." Lucifer noticed her twitch as he said this. "I believe that is what the humans call a tell. So he's lost his power then?"
She dismissed him with an imperious gesture. "Why are you here? And what part did you have to play in this little melodrama?"
"Melodrama? You never did like emotion, did you Naomi?" Lucifer remembered. "I'm here to see Michael and negotiate the smooth transitioning of power."
She glared at him in outrage. "You, rule here? Never!"
"I did once, long ago. Have you forgotten?" Lucifer graced her with a smile that made her falter and back away.
"That was a long time ago," she said faintly. "When you were still loyal."
"I never stopped loving Dad," Lucifer said, wagging a finger in her face. "More than I can say for some of you sorry lot."
Her face closed, taking on a pinched expression. "I think you should leave before Michael finds out you're here."
"But I want Michael to know I'm here," Lucifer said, his patience beginning to wear as thin as his vessel.
"I've told you, he's indisposed," she said with a toss of her head. Lucifer's hand shot out and he plunged elbow deep into her chest, finding the center of her Grace and ripped it out in one smooth movement, crushing it into darkness in his fist. She shrieked with terror and loss and then began to fall towards the floor. But when she reached it, she didn't stop. Instead she passed through it and vanished from sight.
"You know how much I dislike waste," Michael said. Lucifer turned his head to see his brother leaning against a door frame, his body thin and wasted and his face was gray.
"Brother," Lucifer exclaimed, feigning shock. "What happened to you?"
"Zurvan broke in here and stabbed me in the heart with the Shadow Blade," Michael said. "She poisoned my entire Grace with it. I had no idea it would act so rapidly."
Lucifer paused as he remembered their last encounter with the Blade, millennia ago. "As I recall, the Blade's danger scaled with the power of the angel. Cherub's die a slow lingering death over centuries, but archangels have a far more rapid decline. In fact, you should already be dead. Why are you still alive?"
"Like to see that would you? Me dead?" Michael took a wheezing breath and wrapped his arms around his body. "I've managed to stave off the inevitable for now."
Lucifer studied him, the mystery of his survival was bugging him somehow. He just couldn't put his finger on what it was. The memories of the angels with damaged Grace in the Hall struck him and a terrible suspicion began to form in his mind. "You said you dislike waste." The idea was too dreadful to contemplate and yet it was the only way Lucifer could think of to counter the taint of the Blade. His face must have reflected his thoughts as Michael gave him a half-smile.
"Figured it out, have you? Yes, I've been using the Grace of other members of the Host to sustain myself."
Lucifer stepped back, appalled. "You… cannibalized our brothers and sisters Grace?" This was it then, Michael had stepped off the cliff-edge into true madness and Lucifer was suddenly at a loss. He'd expected to come here to fight a weakened Michael and return to the Throne of Heaven in glorious victory. But this… He could fight Michael like this and he'd probably win. But conquest under these circumstances would be hollow indeed.
"They consented to donate," Michael corrected. His eyes were strange, one pupil larger than the other. Lucifer had heard of this effect in humans with concussion. What was causing Michael's vessel to behave this way he couldn't imagine.
"Why do I find that hard to believe?" Lucifer asked. The terror on his siblings face as they fled was too fresh, too stark to believe anyone was happily handing over their Grace to Michael. He was ripping it out of them, leaving the stark wounds he'd observed in Bartholomew and others.
"I asked, they said yes. What more is there to say? I started with the traitors in prison of course. Offered them release if they would provide me with what I needed." Michael's voice was casual, as if they were discussing something trivial, not the utter breakdown of God's Law.
"That's not consent, you bastard," Lucifer gasped. He had to try and get Michael to see how monstrous this was. Even if Lucifer did hold many of his fellow angels in contempt for their slow-wittedness, their inability to adapt and their complete lack of desire for any autonomy, they did not deserve to be reduced to cattle by a crazed leader.
"Oh, because you're the poster boy for informed consent now, are you?" Michael mocked. Michael never mocked, and he'd never had a sense of humor. Whatever this poisoning or the temporary cure he'd found was doing, he was beginning to lose himself.
Lucifer shook his head at him. "What's wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me?" Michael shrieked. "What's wrong with all of you?"
"All of me?" Lucifer blinked in confusion.
"All of my enemies. You, Castiel, the mole, the numerous treacherous angels the UAC found. Even my vessel refuses to behave in an appropriately grateful and respectful manner!" Michael winced in evident pain and gripped the doorjamb tightly. "Hael!"
Frantic footsteps revealed a very flustered Hael, her face lined with stress and fright. "M-m-michael," she stammered.
"I need more," Michael said through gritted teeth. His eyes were savage and too bright, like a fever.
"But…" Hael objected, her pretty face crumpling with distress.
"MORE!"
Hael fled. Lucifer watched her as she ran away as fast as she could and then returned his attention to his brother. "Do you think she'll come back?"
Michael grimaced at him. "Probably not. Help me."
"What do you need?" Lucifer sighed. Definitely no fighting today it would seem. He was getting soft.
"Grace," Michael said, rolling his eyes. Lucifer's sense of wrongness only increased. Sarcasm now?
"Well you can't have mine," he said tartly.
Michael looked sick and shook his head. "I'd rather die than touch your tainted Grace. Find me someone."
"No," Lucifer said, shaking his head. The awfulness of what Michael was asking him to do made him want to vomit. He'd never experienced the sensation before and he wasn't enjoying it. "No way. You can't ask this of me."
"I just did," Michael said tightly. "Don't defy me, Lucifer. I'm warning you."
Lucifer shoved his brother backwards with a roar. Michael tumbled to the ground and glared up at him. "You dare to threaten me? I should kill you now."
"Do it then. Finish me off, if you can." Michael leaped to his feet with surprising nimbleness given his current disability.
Lucifer inhaled sharply and then lunged at Michael, grabbing him around the waist and wrestling him back onto the floor. Michael bucked underneath him and his blade appeared in his hand. He brought it up in a sweeping motion and Lucifer blocked it before rolling away and springing back onto his feet. He grinned at Michael, the heat of battle was singing in his blood and any thoughts of trying to right the chaos were lost in the fever.
Michael darted forwards once more and Lucifer danced easily out of the way. But he'd gotten too cocky and the blade sliced into his left cheek. He snarled and lunged at Michael, thrusting them both backwards and crashing into one wall. As he leaned forward to snarl in Michael's face, his brother surprised him by craning his neck and licking at the cut on his cheek. He jerked his head back in disgust and Michael kicked him solidly in the stomach before following up with a glancing blow off his ribs that made Lucifer wince in pain. Angrily, he slammed Michael's head back against the brickwork and then swept his feet out from under him and watched as he collapsed to the floor in a heap. Pinning his brother down, he began to dangle his sword over Michael's face.
"Beg," he told him. "Beg for mercy. Beg me for your life."
"Never," Michael spat. He wriggled under Lucifer's body and managed to wrestle his sword-arm free, cutting deeply into the tendons behind his right knee. Lucifer roared in agony and fury and straightened, raising his blade high and intending to make the killing blow. To his dismay he felt another blade at his throat. He didn't need to see it's wielder to recognize Raphael's Grace as it hummed against his skin.
"Stand down," Raphael hissed in his ear. "Or I will finish this." Lucifer let his sword fall to the floor with a clang and dropped his head. Raphael grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and yanked him upright and pressed him face first against the wall.
"Raphael," Michael said as he clambered to his feet. "Your timing is impeccable as always."
"What should I do with him?"
"Chain him and put him in my quarters for now. The prison is on the verge of a riot already, we can't put him in there." Michael wiped his brow and slumped, almost falling back onto the ground. "Where is Hael?"
"Right here," she said in a thin, cold voice, dragging Amendiel with her. He struggled against her hold, but the Grace-binding shackles he wore limited his options.
"Amendiel," Michael said, his voice weak. "Come here. I need you to donate your Grace to me while I recover from this injury."
"No," Amendiel said, fear and revulsion painting his features white. "You can't ask this of me."
Hael cuffed him across the back of the head and then kicked the back of his knees. He fell to the floor with a cry. Michael shuffled over to him, his eyes febrile and bright and his blade raised. He sliced neatly into the soft flesh at the base of Amendiel's throat and then tilted his head back in ecstasy as he drew out his brother's Grace and swallowed it whole. The shackles fell to the ground with a clatter. Lucifer gasped as he realized what that meant. Michael had ripped out all of Amendiel's Grace and the shackles automatically detached as they were designed only to bind angels, not mortals.
"Michael," he whispered. "What have you done?"