Lucifer worked the gag between his teeth. While it wasn't exactly that horrendous mix of heavenly and hellish fabrics that had burned him so much when wrapped around his wrists, it still was, well, made in Heaven. So, unlike those things made in China, it wasn't going to be bitten through so easily.
Or, well, at all.
The pounding headache he currently had also wasn't really helping his situation, and thus Lucifer focused on simply relaxing in his bonds. He noticed Gabriel staring at him, unsure and suspicious, but oh so close to gloating anyway, so Lucifer did the only thing he could think of at the moment.
He grinned around the gag.
"Calm him down." Gabriel immediately turned to Crowley. The demon was leaning against the kitchen table with Aziraphale sitting in one of the chairs next to him. "Why is he smiling?"
"What? Come on, Gabriel, do you even know him?" Crowley said in a mocking tone of voice, not looking at Lucifer even once. "He's Lucifer. He's going to provoke you to death."
That was pretty accurate, actually, and it was also the only thing Lucifer could do right now, anyway. His hands were bound securely to the chair, and a thick white rope biting into his throat forced his head against the backrest. Even his legs were immobilized. Crowley had been the one to tie him up, even though the divine material kept burning his fingers.
"Trust me," Crowley had said. Whispered, really.
And Lucifer did. It was fairly easy to do, to be honest, especially after Crowley had saved his life before. Of course, trusting Crowley didn't mean automatically considering all his ideas good – or, well, even decent. But, since Lucifer had been quite literally knocked out with the hilt of the sword, he kinda had no other choice than to go along with this little play.
At least Aziraphale was free now, so maybe that counted for something.
"Can we, sorry, can we talk about the war now?" Speaking of the angel, he chose this exact moment to pipe up, earning himself a fond, but exasperated look from Crowley. "I know you told me no already, but maybe you could… reconsider? This surely doesn't have to happen, does it?"
"Yes, Aziraphale, it does," Gabriel said tiredly. He looked as exhausted with this whole deal as Lucifer felt. "We've made plans. We have our whole army standing ready. There was an option of not going to the war, sure, with Michael and I ruling Heaven together, but Lucifer has blown it up, spectacularly."
"Okay. But what's the point?" Crowley asked. Nice save with including Michael in Gabriel's crazy ambitious plans, though. "Of the war. Is it to measure whose dick is longer?"
Gabriel simply blinked at him with the same baffled expression as Michael had now, while Aziraphale reddened slightly before uttering something along the lines of "oh, good Lord" and glaring at the demon. Lucifer was the only one who snorted, definitely appreciating Crowley's choice of words.
"What do you mean?" Michael finally decided to join the conversation, too. It seemed as if he was still having some trouble articulating the words, if the slow pace of speaking was anything to go by.
Before Crowley could answer and explain, though, Gabriel cleared his throat and stood straighter, pleased with himself for solving the mystery.
"He means pornography, surely," the archangel announced loudly. "Probably referring to an intercourse between an angel and a demon. I can assure you that it has never happened. Nor will it happen."
Lucifer was wheezing.
"Yeah, about that…" Crowley was forced to shut up when Aziraphale kicked him in the shin – it was quite a hard kick. "Aha, never mind then."
"This is neither the time, nor the place, my dear."
"I, um, well. Got it. Yeah." The demon coughed, clearly awkward now. "Okay. I didn't mean pornography, you wank-wings. I asked if you really wanted the War just to simply see who would win? Hell or Heaven?"
"Heaven, obviously. We even have the traitor captured already thanks to you. It's only a matter of time when we torture out of him the information where the Child is hidden." Gabriel gestured to Lucifer sitting tied up barely a couple of feet away from them. No one even commented on his dress shirt being soaked with blood – which was already cold, sticky and clinging uncomfortably to his stomach. So nice to see they all cared. Well, two out of four, at least. "It's the Great Plan. The Ineffable One. Father has mentioned it once or twice, hasn't He?" Gabriel added, putting too much emphasis on it to seem completely sure of that.
Ugh, torture. Crowley winced a little. But…
"I mean, maybe." It was their chance, it had to be. No one insisted so much on something if they were fully convinced themselves that their plans were one hundred percent foolproof. "Maybe, sure. But you know, He only mentioned it. In passing. I was there, I should know. It was only an off-handed remark, really. Kinda like what He wanted for dinner."
"Also He… He could have changed His mind since then." Aziraphale seconded the statement. "Maybe He doesn't want the Earth to be destroyed anymore."
"And you can't even ask Him. He's not here. No DM option." Crowley added lightly. "You obviously wouldn't want to risk His wrath, would you? If you went against His wishes after all? You know how Dad gets sometimes. It would be a shame if two more archangels fell because they decided to kick-start the Great Plan themselves… with no direct orders from the Almighty. Sounds like an act of free will to me."
Gabriel looked fairly stressed out now, especially at the last implication. He glanced back at Michael, cringing. What were they supposed to do now? He hadn't… considered it. Good Heavens, he even had those plans of becoming the new— with Michael, of course, after the Lucifer spilling the beans incident— but how… how would the Almighty react to that? They'd be destroyed!
"Maybe we could…" Gabriel started slowly. "Maybe we could rethink the War."
"And, while at it, maybe you really should rethink the idea of torturing or killing God's favorite son." Crowley pointed at Lucifer, ignoring the bitterness that passed over the Devil's face like a shadow. Right, lovely way to rub it in, even if only Amenadiel and him knew the truth. All of angels thinking the Lightbringer was the favorite one, while it couldn't be the farthest from reality. One big lie to crush his spirit even more. Lucifer felt hollow for a moment. "Don't ya think?"
"No. I don't."
It was Michael. Standing straight with his hands clenched around a chair's backrest, and gritted teeth from the earlier effort to remain silent. His brown eyes – much, much colder than Lucifer's – practically shone with resentment.
Like Lucifer had thought when standing in front of the Detective's house, tearing out his twin's tongue really hadn't been the best idea.
"No," he repeated. "Do you truly expect us to fall for that?" Every word hurt his throat, but he continued nevertheless since Gabriel wouldn't. Michael was done trying to stay as neutral as possible, even if generally on Heaven's side. Lucifer had made sure of that. "Father is trapped in a prison of Lucifer's making. He said so himself, Crowley, or were you too busy admiring your favorite brother's horrible acts to actually listen to what he was saying?"
"Ngk," said Crowley. What he really meant was: what the fuck, Michael?! It all had been going so well, and now it was on its way to becoming a bloody disaster. And he even had thought of himself being competent for once! Seriously, why every nice thing had to be taken away from him?
"In a prison, yes." Aziraphale swallowed, still - he held his head higher. They needed a threat, and if Crowley wasn't going to think of one, or make it on Lucifer's behalf, then… "But every prison can be opened."
"It actually has to be." Crowley hurried to add. That was a terrible idea. A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea, but the only one they had. Or, well, Aziraphale had. Lucifer was almost deadly still now, and yet Crowley couldn't focus on him. "Your fault, really. Someone's department summoned the Horsemen."
"Don't give me more reasons to kill Lucifer right here, right now." Michael snarled through his teeth. "I already have a lot of them. Him being able to open— What?!" The archangel spun around when Gabriel tapped on his shoulder with a concerned face. "What?" Michael exhaled slowly and repeated just a tad calmer.
"Sidebar?"
While Gabriel pulled Michael to the side with a clear intention to talk to him about their plans, Crowley lifted up the sunglasses and dragged a hand down his face. It was all starting to take a toll on him. Like— sure, yeah, on him. Lucifer actually had it worse, with his trauma and whatnot—
Fuck. Lucifer.
The demon turned around so fast he almost gave himself a whiplash. Sure, he couldn't exactly do anything right now, or else risk angering Michael even more, but he could… reassure Lucifer somehow. Maybe. He hoped he could.
Said Devil shifted a little in his seat the moment he noticed Crowley looking at him pleadingly. Oh for goodness' sake, he sighed internally. He trusted Crowley, fully! And while all the talk about opening Dad's prison was concerning, there was no real reason for the demon to look both so guilty and uncomfortable. Removing Lucifer from conversation was actually, he had to admit, a good idea, especially with how all his little talks with Gabriel and Michael tended to end. And no longer was anyone at risk of getting their throat slashed. So it was all good! Maybe a little humiliating, though.
Also the bonds weren't the most pleasant, if he was allowed to complain. Bit too snug.
Like really, if Lucifer had been given the chance, he absolutely would have told them he bruised like a peach.
"Crowley." Aziraphale said quietly, standing next to the serpent. Crowley felt his throat closing up for just a moment, before he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to stay in control. Somehow. It didn't really work – all of it was like a wild rollercoaster ride, and he was just trying really hard to keep everyone in their seats.
"Yes, Angel?"
"I'm sorry. For, ah. For everything." Aziraphale murmured, averting his eyes and looking down. He wringed his hands in worry. "For stabbing Lucifer, although it was just an accident. I'm really relieved he's alive and well, of course. For, ekhm, going to Michael and Gabriel. But, dear boy… they're angels! They're supposed to see reason!"
"They're seeing it now, I hope." Crowley muttered darkly, trying to keep his voice low. Soon though, he shook his head with a half-smile. "And don't worry, Angel. It's all water under the bridge now."
"Is it? Oh, that's jolly good. But is it for Lucifer, too?"
"Excellent, err, question. I don't know, Angel. You must ask him yourself." Crowley raised an eyebrow as he shrugged at Aziraphale's fretting. "I can't speak for him."
Well. Not anymore, at least. It'd been fun while it lasted, but Lucifer's witty quips were very much missed by him now. He stole another glance at the Devil, and… oh wow. Crowley did a double take, because Lucifer apparently at some point had nodded off and now was dozing in his chair. Did he need sleep? And if so, he hadn't… actually slept a wink in all those days, had he? Okay, so getting Lucifer in bed just made Crowley's bucket li— great, and now the demon's thoughts strayed in a very dangerous area, what the hell. Aha, no more word play for him, he was feeling traumatized enough by all that was wrong with his imagination already, thanks.
"We've come to a decision!" Suddenly, Gabriel's loud voice boomed across the room, and Lucifer jerked awake. "It makes sense to wait for Father's direct orders, yes. We won't start the Great War."
"Well, good. What about the Horsemen, though, hmm?" Crowley asked at the same moment as Aziraphale frowned, utterly confused:
"Wait for them?"
This time, they didn't get their answers right away. Nor were they given any time to react – or even act – before the room was all of sudden packed with wings and different colored feathers, and there was this sound of footsteps that…
…that made Crowley realize the situation and lunge forward the second Michael put his hand on Lucifer's shoulder, causing the Devil to tilt his head, not following what was happening just yet.
"Wait, wait, don't, no!"
The archangel gave him the same cold, unnatural smile as at that first night at LUX, making Crowley's blood run cold, and suddenly, with a flap of their wings… they were gone.
Crowley crashed into the empty chair, tumbling with both it and the sword to the ground, then getting up almost immediately, his own wings already out, but he couldn't follow, could he? Not to Heaven. He was banished from it, and the only way for him to getting into the Silver City was if he was taken there. Like last time, with Gabriel. And that meant… that meant Lucifer was alone.
Crowley had followed him to Hell, and to Earth, and to Heaven, but now he couldn't.
He only realized he was screaming and yelling at the ceiling when Aziraphale's arms wrapped themselves around him, pulling him down to the floor, sinking with him there.
"No, nonono, let go, let go of me, we need to get him back, we have to get him back, they'll kill him there!" Crowley's lungs were burning as if he wasn't getting enough oxygen into them. The very thought of it made him imagine Lucifer being choked to death with the rope around his neck. It was enough for him to resume trashing in Aziraphale's embrace. "They'll kill him! Bastards! All of them!"
"Crowley! Crowley, dear, stop!" Aziraphale struggled to keep the demon from getting free, from doing anything rash and stupid, but it was getting harder and harder with every second. Crowley was surprisingly strong when he wanted to be. "STOP! We'll get Lucifer back, I promise! But he's just your boss, and the war is stopped already, there's surely no need to overreact like this, is it?"
"Overreact? Overreact?!" Crowley didn't even realize the sunglasses weren't on his nose, lost and forgotten, and his eyes widened in panic and anger, yellow irises fully covering the sclera, pupils as thin as a needle. "He's not my boss, he's my brother, for Hell's sake! Lucifer has fired me, okay, Angel? Knelt before me, released me from my job, so I wouldn't have to obey any orders from Hell anymore! And he has problems, fine? He has a lot, a lot of problems! Aaah!" The demon hit the floor with his fist, punching a hole in the wooden panel as he screamed in sheer frustration. "But I guesss we won't have asss many problemsss if he'sss gone, will we?" He hissed at Aziraphale, voice drenched in sarcasm and getting all snake-like from the stress. "Wouldn't you like it, Angel?"
Aziraphale clenched his jaw when Crowley's anger suddenly turned against him. He needed… he needed to stay calm, he knew it, but the unfairness of it made him feel bitter as well.
"No, I wouldn't," he said simply. "And I would appreciate if you shared all important information with me in the future. Lucifer is not only your brother, is he? He's mine and Amenadiel's, too. I promised you that we'll get him back, and I will keep my word. I think it's time to pray now."