Lucifer was watching Crowley from the corner of his eye. The demon was crouching down in one second, and then – in the very next one – he was pulling a miracle straight out of the Pit, making the time itself stop as he threw his arms up with a snap of his fingers. Every soul in Hell froze mid-movement, and it was up to Lucifer now to make them be drawn to hell loops again. He only needed to touch the ground. Close his eyes. Feel the rolling wave of thrumming force under the stone, and then strengthen It, show It that he was fine and not dying. It connected with him again, slowly but surely.

When Lucifer looked up again, though, Crowley was standing right in front of him with the flaming sword in his hand. It certainly wasn't flaming anymore, but that didn't really stop the serpent from tilting Lucifer's chin up with the point while grinning like a lunatic.

Lucifer pressed forward, challenging as always, and the sword was taken away before it could cut the Devil's skin.

"Eager to die again, are we, huh?"

"You certainly are."

"What are you, children? Are you done?" Maze was staring at them with impatience and exasperation practically emanating from her. She pointed at the sky with one of the daggers. "I thought you had some big war to fight in on Earth. Let's go."

Right. The war. Honestly, it wasn't like they could forget about it.

"Fight against." Crowley corrected her before glancing back at Lucifer and offering him a hand to help get up. Well, okay, after the Devil's little confession – or rather, fucking info dump – Crowley was more inclined to actually be… he wasn't exactly sure what, but maybe just be there. For him. It wasn't like he was in any way equipped to deal with that kind of history, but at least he knew where he stood with Lucifer now. And it certainly explained a lot of Lucifer's earlier behavior – it was pretty nice not to be left in dark and to have the whole picture for a change.

"In, against, what's the difference?" Eh, in Crowley's opinion, the difference was pretty clear, but fine. No biggie. "The point is, if we want to keep Linda and Charlie safe, we need to get back, now."

Right, right, that kid… Mazikeen hadn't been there for Lucifer's little battle in the Silver City, nor for him snapping while confronting Gabriel and Michael. This wasn't about the Child anymore, or at least Crowley didn't think so. It was personal now. It was about Lucifer, and it somehow made everything worse, because – just like Lucifer had said – there was no way to stop the war without Lucifer dying. Gabriel wouldn't let him win and stay alive, not anymore.

If that had even been an option in the first place.

"First things first, we need to go and see our little fly on the wall. I promised them a trial, didn't I?" Lucifer tried to take the sword from Crowley, but the demon only narrowed his eyes at the Devil, and moved the weapon out of his reach. It didn't stop Lucifer from reaching for it again. And again. Maze even threw her hands up at one point and just stormed off.

After which - again.

Honestly, Crowley was starting to understand why Aziraphale had stabbed the bastard (no, no, he was kidding, he was kidding… but was he?).

"Calm down, will you?" Crowley hissed at him, but – when that didn't work, what a surprise – he snapped his fingers, miracling a pair of handcuffs around Lucifer's wrists. In retrospect, he should have had expected that not to bother Lucifer in the slightest.

"Handcuffs! Kinky, tell me, is this leading somewhere?" Lucifer held his hands up, amused, causing the poor serpent to roll his eyes. "Bedroom? Over a table? To a sex swing? Mmph!"

Crowley took a page out of Lucifer's own book and gave him a mocking salute while looking both pretty smug and self-congratulatory.

"Gagged and bound. That's a great look on you. Very silent."

Lucifer flipped him the bird, resulting only in making Crowley snicker before sauntering off in the general direction of Beelzebub's cell.

At some point along the way, Lucifer got rid both of the handcuffs and the gag, spitting it out and— was that— bloody hell, why on Earth was that a ball?! Before he could react properly, though – and by react properly he meant throw it at the serpent's head – they already got to their destination goal. Just his luck, lovely.

The offended face Beelzebub made at the sight of Crowley walking first with Lucifer behind him, throwing up and catching the ball gag absentmindedly, caused Crowley to give the other demon an open mouthed grin full of pure, undulated joy. After all those years of being looked down at, it actually felt pretty good to show off his new relationship with Satan himself.

Speaking of.

"Hi," Crowley said lightly. "Lord Beelzebub. What an honor."

"Izz it?" Despite the fact that Beelzebub was trapped in a small, closed space, they stood as straight and proud as they could. They also certainly hated the fact that it wasn't Lucifer who was addressing them directly, and it showed. Beelzebub was known as the Lord of the Flies, Crowley wasn't even a local councilor, so why would he dare to speak to them? "It'zz not to me."

"Well, uhh, yeah." Crowley could agree with that. He also decided it was better for him to do the talking than to let Lucifer get angry again. He just had calmed the Devil down. "Long story short, Lucifer here is not happy with how you— you know what? That doesn't even matter now. There was a misunderstanding, surely, because yours and Lucifer's idea of running Hell are so vastly different from each other it's not even funny."

"I don't underzztand. Wazz it zzuupozzed to be funny?"

"What? No, it's just a, a figure of speech." Crowley gave Beelzebub a bewildered look. "Where have you been all this time?"

Before Beelzebub could actually answer Crowley's rhetorical question, Lucifer cleared his throat and moved closer, undoubtedly wanting to insert himself into the conversation. He even opened his mouth, as charming as always.

"Ah, but why were—"

"Finish that sentence and the gag is going back into your mouth." Crowley warned, all relaxed and nonchalant. It was for Lucifer's own good, even if he got an indignant scoff for an answer. No, no. After learning about Lucifer's past, Crowley wasn't going to let him do anything that could trigger him right back into snapping again. "Good. Now, what was I saying…"

If Beelzebub was capable of looking both profoundly disturbed and appalled, they would be right now. Since that wasn't possible, the demon was just appearing to be disgusted. Deeply.

Lucifer grinned at them. There were way too many teeth bared in that smile.

"Anyway." Crowley snapped his fingers to make everyone focus back on him. "Lucifer had a great question. Why were you accompanying Gabriel and Michael earlier?"

"Why won't the King azzk me himzzelf?" Beelzebub challenged. Crowley sighed, shaking his head as if in disappointment. That just wouldn't do, would it?

"He doesn't need to explain himself to you. He can, however, make you talk. We wouldn't want it to come to that point, eh, would we?" The demon explained patiently enough while Lucifer leaned against the nearest column and almost casually unfurled his wings. Their glow illuminated his face, showing the burning eyes that were boring into Beelzebub's. The corners of his mouth turned up.

Lucifer never had to do much to be terrifying.

It turned out to be very efficient since Beelzebub staggered a few steps back, pale and uncomfortable. The words couldn't get fast enough out of their mouth.

"The Archangelzz want the Great War to happen becauzze the Horzzemen of the Apocalypzze have already been zzumoned."

"By whom?" Lucifer asked sharply. The urgency in his voice startled Crowley who – well, who agreed that maybe, probably this wasn't good news. Judging from the suddenly grim look on Lucifer's face, it wasn't for sure.

"Not Gabriel'zz department."

Well, that wasn't helpful at all.

XXX

"That means Gabriel can't, uh, call them off, can he? Not that he would have, I guess." Crowley shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. Lucifer had told Maze that he needed her to stay in Hell for now and just… make sure no one would even think about joining the War. And because, well, demons still required someone to be in charge of them since neither Lucifer, nor Beelzebub were available now. That's why there were only the two of them standing, once again, in front of the Detective's house.

"He can't. I can't either," confirmed Lucifer, not even deigning the demon with a glance. There was something… wrong with the house, and Lucifer decided to focus on it instead of focusing on the fact that the whole situation suddenly had gotten so much bigger than him, and he that felt… hopeless. Fighting his siblings was, after all, a little different from fighting the Horsemen, beings older and more powerful than all angels grouped together. So that… was what Michael had been trying to warn him about.

Maybe ripping out his twin's tongue hadn't been the best idea.

"Okay, so… basically, we're fucked." Crowley nodded to himself. If Lucifer couldn't call off the Horsemen… Then Crowley might just as well go back to that not-so-little, not-so-nice nightclub and get completely and utterly pissed out of his mind while he waited for the world to end, couldn't he? It sounded like a reasonable plan, surely.

But he hadn't done so much just to simply give up now. There had to be a way, and fuck all of them if they weren't going to find it. They were. There was no other option, because that's how the world worked for Crowley. If he had managed to heal Lucifer without dying himself while at it, simply by imagining that his own power wasn't burning him alive… Well, he was going to imagine being fine some more.

Crowley's resolve lasted right until he opened the door and entered the house. Then it crumbled in a truly spectacular way, reminding him that no, nothing ever simply worked out for him just because he wanted to imagine it so.

Aziraphale was sitting in a chair. Of course, there wasn't anything wrong with sitting in a chair, Crowley noted. There was, however, everything wrong with being tied to the said chair, white ropes biting into the skin of Aziraphale's wrists and ankles, and a white gag stuffed unceremoniously into his mouth.

There was everything wrong with it.

The angel made a muffled, hurried sound when he noticed Crowley and Lucifer standing in the doorway. The gag reduced his words to some utterly incomprehensible noise, so – when Aziraphale realized that himself as well – he yanked at the bonds, almost toppling the chair over. He still kept trying his best to gesture with his whole body to the left, though.

To where Gabriel and Michael were standing, next to the table, in their pristine clothes.

To Crowley's credit, he didn't react at first. It could be shock, it could be the mere fact that his blood pressure had been through the roof so many times already that he's gotten used to it. Or, maybe, it was the familiarity of the situation. How many times now he'd played the hero to Aziraphale's unwilling damsel in distress?

Although in every of those times Aziraphale had been in control, anyway, and it was just a centuries-long game between them. Had been, not was. Because it certainly wasn't now.

"So nice of you to finally come back to this… human property," Gabriel stated in that overly-formal-but-not-really voice of his. The Archangel had his hands clasped in front of him, and Crowley simply stared at him, motionless like a coiled snake right before striking. He was vaguely aware of the sword being held in his hand, and of Lucifer standing at his side, gripping his own gag so hard that the plastic ball cracked.

"Yeah, well. Hi, guys. Better late than never, right?"

Instead of panicking, Crowley felt oddly hollow. Maybe because it was that one time too many of getting stressed out.

Maybe it was how Lucifer had been feeling all this time, and that's why he'd snapped back then.

Or maybe because now Aziraphale was involved, too.

"Ohh, an ambush!" Lucifer sounded way too cheery, and that made Crowley stare at him for a change, disbelieving. "Surely you heard that gags and ropes are better if used in bed? Michael, how's your tongue?"

"Not flapping like Aziraphale's," Michael looked at Lucifer with disdain, "or like yours."

"Would you believe that he came to us to talk about not going to War?" Gabriel scoffed with fake amusement that sounded almost like disappointment. Crowley related to this on a personal level, though – hadn't he specifically told Aziraphale not to do anything stupid? First stabbing Lucifer, then, what? His Angel had been trying to— fix it? Redeem himself? Earn Crowley's forgiveness? "After all we've been through, after how Lucifer attacked Michael, how he disrespected me… I mean, this simply isn't an option anymore!"

So Crowley had been right. This part was about Lucifer now. And Aziraphale was— caught in the middle of it. Well, great. Fuck. Interesting, however, that Gabriel hadn't mentioned the Horsemen.

Lucifer snarled, taking a step forward, but at the same moment Gabriel grabbed Aziraphale's hair, forcing his head back, and pressing a silver blade against the newly bared throat. Lucifer didn't make another move.

"Try anything, and this one dies," Gabriel tsked, completely ignoring the way Aziraphale's eyes went wide and shocked. "After all, for Heaven's sake, we are meant to make examples out of traitors. So, either him or you, and we both what you're going to choose."

Crowley knew what he was going to choose, though. He rammed the hilt of the sword straight into Lucifer's temple.