There was some sort of sick satisfaction that ran through Crowley when he got to witness first hand getting to bring the great and mighty Lucifer to his knees. Metaphorically of course, seeing as he was strapped down on a metal table ankles and wrists, IV leading into his arm.
He was screaming harsh and gut wrenching as the IV line fed an Isoniazid cocktail of holy oil mixtures, the blood that had been gathered under the cage, and other internal temperature raising drugs. Finally at the palm of his mercy and Crowley intended to use that to his every whim.
"That's it darling, scream, scream loud."
Lucifer can only focus on the fact that it hurts, it hurts so bad, and it burns. It burns so horridly and he just wants it to stop. No more, please, no more.
"Feel the burn? Feel it under your skin? A person so cold burning from the inside out."
His screams block out all other sounds bouncing off the walls so beautifully that its as if nothing else is as privilaged to be heard. It's only when Lucifer stops jumping in his restraints and the screams are replaced with panting and soft weak whimpers.
Crowley turns but even he knows he's not a position to argue with Him.
Chuck's pulling the IV line out as He speaks, "I'm here for my son. He's coming with me.", His thumb pressed to the little spot of blood where the needle had been removed from.
Bloody Hell... Crowley can feel the spark of all powerful Power, that omnipotent power and pure presence Spark of Creation, and he'd know it anywhere. "Take him," he waves a hand at his panting play thing, "Losing my interest in him anyway."
He says it like he has a choice in the matter and he knows that when it really comes down to it Crowley really has no way to tell God how it's going to go. He watches as Chuck leans over Lucifer's sweating beet red face and whispers something softly to him.
Lucifer responds in an airy reply and sags completely into the cool metal.
Chuck touches a hand to his forehead so tenderly that something akin to jealousy spreads through Crowley at the sight of it.
"I know son, I know."
His hands don't shake in the slightest as He reaches up to undo the straps around his wrists, "Crowley I want you to listen carefully to me, alright bud?" Though he has no choice in the matter he makes it appear he truly is listening because he wants to and not because that calm and collected bastard told him to in that soft 'I will smite you if you piss me off' voice of His.
"If you ever, and I mean ever, touch any more of My children I will personally show you what true Hell is, do you understand Me?"
He swallows and bites down his nervousness at having such a threat thrown at him by someone who could most certainly keep His promise of such events to come, "Of course."
"Good."
With the same sort of ease He pulls the straps keeping Lucifer's feet bound to the table free and moves to lift him in what is an amazing deception of strength, cradling the larger man in His arms as if he weighs nothing more then a feather. The fallen archangel moves to press his flushed face to His neck.
Chuck turns, with Lucifer cradled in His arms like a child, and His gaze falls evenly over the proclaimed king of Hell.
"I know how you work Crowley, and should you think to test My warning, know that I am always watching. I know where every single one of My angels is placed on this Earth. Do not think I won't notice if one should go missing."
And then He was gone. Just as silently as He had come.
Lucifer doesn't recognize the place he's brought to, only focused on the fact that his insides feel like they're on fire, and he's fading in and out ever so slowly. There's a presence here different then his Father's but it keeps itself at a safe distance and he slowly lets his radar let it go.
Everything's coming in fuzzy, his head still pressed to the cool evenness of his Father's neck, and he can just vaguely make out what's being said above him. Not that he cares enough to pay super close attention to it either. All he can focus on is 'hot hot hot hot' running through his mind over and over again.
'He's unstable, his core is too hot, it needs to be cooled again.'
'Is soaking him in room temperature water the best remedy then?'
'If he cools too quickly it could shift and that would be even more dangerous then the problem we face right now.'
He can feel someone prying his clothes off his sweaty body, his shoes and socks, then his flannel and under shirt, his pants. Those arms are back and lifting him gently and he can feel the nature cool that floats over a body of water no matter how small in volume and he itches to get closer.
Lowered, the water curls around him as if in an embrace, its not cold but it's not hot either and it's a perfect medium between the two extremes. It covers him in a cool blanket and surrounds him entirely and it feels so amazing. But he's so tired that he can't voice these opinions and it annoys him.
"I know kiddo, I know."
There's a hand that's slowly pouring water over his head and it wets his hair, dripping down his face in a cool sort of slow shower, it slowly streams down his cheeks and chin like little tear drops.
"You're safe here, I promise, I know you're hot."
Another glorious handful of water sprinkled over his head.
"We'll get you cooled again."
Lucifer doesn't know how long he sits in that tub of cool, not cold or hot, but cool water and he doesn't care in the slightest. It feels so good against his burning skin. A cool wet washcloth is pressed to his temple some time later and he closes his eyes on contact.
When he comes to next he's been moved from the cool wet tub and into a soft plush bed. The room is cool, the wind feels nice as it blows agaisnt him, and theres the faint humming of a fan somewhere around there.
Lucifer feel's the palm of a well-worked but gentle hand press against his forehead, "Open up son, let me take your temperature." He does as told and something small and thin is slipped under his tongue. He doesn't understand why He's checking that, Lucifer is more then capable of feeling just how hot he feels and he can most certainly tell that he's currantly roasting still.
He hears a light tutting sound as the metal is slipped out from under his tongue and someone reads the degree on it.
"125. Still too high, not as bad as it was, but still much too high for you."
There's rustling beside him and the hand returns again, cold to the touch, and he nearly sighs in relief at it. It smoothes back his hair and the voice whispers down at him, "Let Me see your eyes kiddo, let Me soo those icey blue orbs, come on open up."
Lucifer struggles for a moment but after a breath of time he is able to do as asked of him. He gazes up into the eyes of his Father after so long and so many words come to the tip of his dry tongue but he can't find himself the strength to spit them.
Not when He looks down at him like that, like He loves him so completely and so deeply that it shines from within Him, not when they look like the eyes that used to shine when he was but a small fledgling playing with Michael in the Garden and He'd come out to join them.
So he submits to the touches and soft murmurs.
Watching his Father as He does what He pleases.
"Your eyes are returning to normal, not so bloodshot either, which is most definitely a good thing."
The blankets are being pulled back, "Let's get you another cool bath. With your core starting to finally freeze back down it couldn't hurt."
This bath is cold, its freezing, and he loves it.
He sighs in contentment as that hand returns to scoop the water up and sprinkle it over his head. It feels so utterly amazing.
"Open up, lets check again," is what interrupts his silent moments of complete comfort and the thermometer is placed back under his tongue, "59.2. Better, much better."
Fingers scratch at his scalp, "Why don't you go back to sleep? I'll move you when you're nice and ready."
Lucifer nudges into his Father's gentle scratches, "Thanks Dad."
"Don't mention it kiddo."