Everyone had to know.
Hell was legion. They might not like or trust each other, they might even dis-corporate one another if things went south. But at the end of the day, they looked out for their own. If they didn't, who in the blessed world would?
Crowley had willingly, knowingly, callously murdered another demon (with Holy Water, of all things!). That would have been enough to warrant public punishment, of course, but that he'd done it to cover up ruining their one and only chance to get out of the damned pit...
They needed to let everyone see what happened to the demon who'd destroyed the only scrap of hope they'd ever had, and would ever have, because he felt that his motives were more important than the salvation of his brethren.
So they dug through the files to make sure they had every scrap of evidence. So they constructed a courtroom that could be viewed by every creature who dared to watch. So they performed the fairest trial anyone who'd done what Crowley had done could ever hope to receive.
They'd done everything right, and that should have finally gotten them some catharsis and justice as they watched him die the same way he'd done to Ligur.
Except that's never how it worked in Hell.
He didn't die. Crowley didn't even have the decency to wince.
After the bastard got redressed, he flashed them a big smile and primly walked out. The four that were left could only look, dumbfounded, at one another.
Hastur was the first to find his voice. "So that's it, then? He murders Ligur in cold blood and... and he just gets to walk off...?!"
Beelzebub sunk in zir seat. "Yez."
"You can't just let him-!"
"You forget yourzelf, Haztur," ze said, voice slow and dangerous. "This izn't about perzonal grudgezzzz." Ze spoke over the blustering that started. "Thiz haz been horrible for everyone, Haztur. We've lozt our purpoze, and that'z all mozt of uz had. Deteztable as Crowley iz, much as Ligur will be mizzed, the bezt thing we can do iz to return to normalzzzy while thingz are figured out. That meanz the zame routine we've been following for the lazt zix thouzand years. Tempting, paperwork, everything. Am I clear?"
"Yes," Dagon said.
Hastur grunted. He glared down the hall Crowley had left through.
"We have eternity to plot our next move. Let'z not rush it."
Hastur nodded a bit more enthusiastically. "Right. Back to work, then."
"Good. Az for you, Michael." Beelzebub jerked zir thumb towards the tub. "Don't you dare leave a drop." After a moment of thought, ze added, "And tell your bozz we need to meet."
Michael looked up from the refilling pitcher with her brows pulled down slightly. These demons had incredible nerve. The insults, the suggestion she didn't finish her tasks, the orders, and now acting like she was their personal messenger... Gabriel had told her to play nice, but this was reaching the limit. But orders were orders so she collected herself and asked, "Where and when?"
"He'll find me."
Nobody could know.
Heaven was a collective. Every angel worked towards the same glorious goals, and nobody stepped out of line for their own selfish needs. That's what made them angels, after all. The very idea that there might be rebellious angels, ones that disobeyed and yet stayed within God's grace, was... dangerous. It could spread like a virus, as the first fall had, and then where would they be?
Aziraphale was an anomaly, an already serious problem that could easily spiral into something far worse if these ideas were to circulate. The best thing to do was to quickly and discretely dispose of him.
That had been the plan, anyway. Very unfortunately, Gabriel was beginning to get used to them not working the way he intended.
Aziraphale smiled, cheerfully, from the fire. "Is there anything else, then?"
"What do we do?" Uriel asked, softly. Her eyes darted as she slid a bit more behind Gabriel.
"We could always just part ways, peacefully," Aziraphale suggested in a way that seemed disappointed to leave the pyre (which had to be the angels hearing things). "And I think, for the greater good, we should agree to keep it that way."
Gabriel refused to look at the other angels when he nodded stiffly. "Fine."
Aziraphale, who had clearly given up being an angel for... whatever he was now, stepped out of the flames. His shoes left scorch marks on the otherwise immaculate stone. "Lovely seeing you for the last time." He sauntered off towards the exit.
The demon who'd come to collect the fire frowned as he was passed. There was an odd feeling of familiarity in that walk, and the way he was smirked and winked at as he was passed. But the demon supposed that angels were always weird, certainly the ones who had now collected themselves enough to order him to collect the fire and get out were, so it was probably nothing to think too much about.
Gabriel moved to the window and, while he pretended to admire the view, rubbed his eyes. He hadn't had any sort of pain since the first war. It would have been safe to assume he wouldn't have been in any with this war being canceled, but that didn't seem to be the case at all.
This new affliction wasn't helped by how the other Archangels refused to give him any privacy and instead insisted he give them instructions. As if there was any plan to follow anymore, much less one where he already knew the steps! God wasn't talking to anyone now, much less him, and he couldn't just make this sort of thing up! That's not what an angel was supposed to be!
When a flustered Michael strode out of the elevator, Gabriel rushed across the room. "Michael!" He greeted, professionally managing to hide how much he appreciated changing the subject. "How was your ordeal in the basement?"
She motioned to the water with a tilt of her head. "It had no effect."
His mouth twitched. "None?"
Michael shook her head almost imperceptibly. "Beelzebub is insisting on meeting. They insisted," she said, with emphasis for the audacity, "That you would figure out where and when for yourself."
Finding demons put Gabriel back into his wheelhouse, and he brightened up considerably. "Of course I do. It's my job to know, isn't it?" He straightened his posture even more, "Now, demons are impatient, so the time is always 'now'. And as to where..."
He made a motion to follow as he headed towards the globe. "They're a cancerous lot. And Beelzebub, well, ze-"
Michael hesitated, then made a guess and repeated the 'ze'.
Gabriel nodded. "Ze is the most cancerous of all of them. So we just look for... There."
He pointed to a scaly black growth that had formed on one of the landmasses. It pulsed, slightly, as if impatient to spread and infect more of the planet. Which, given this was the Prince of Hell they were talking about, it almost certainly did.
"Make sure everything is kept orderly and quiet while I'm gone. And get rid of that stain. The last thing we need is anyone seeing that."
"Of course," Michael agreed, hands clenched tightly around the pitcher.
With slight hesitation about touching the dirty thing, Gabriel tapped the growth and began his descent.