Demons' greatest, and most dangerous, ability was seeding doubt in the mind. Beelzebub had done it millions of times, enough to become rather incredible at it. Ze could make the impossible thing asked of him seem somehow… rather reasonable. Wanting him to personally choose zem, if he wanted to continue on this thing they'd been doing, wasn't much to ask. It certainly wasn't rejecting God to suggest that it was his decision, and his alone, to spend time...
He was at the dangerous tipping point where thoughts moved into actions.
Thankfully, just before the silence had lingered too long, Gabriel's phone rang. He looked down at the message he'd been sent in relief.
"I've got to get back to Heaven," Gabriel explained. "The Archangels are gathering for a meeting."
Beelzebub glanced over at him, face professionally blank. "The tranzition iz going that badly?"
"I don't think I would say badly. We expected a lot of transfer requests."
"What'z the problem, then?"
"We'd all known demons would start trying to transfer up as soon as the elevator was running." He ignored the twitch of an eyebrow he received. "But who would have thought angels would want to transfer down?"
Beelzebub was quiet for a long while, before ze finally muttered, "Fair enough."
"We'll pick this up again later, then?"
His tone cursed work because he so wanted to continue their conversation. Ze didn't buy it for a second, of course, but ze also couldn't disagree that the princes of Hell would demand to meet soon if not immediately.
"Have an anzwer," Beelzebub said before ze descended.
It'd been easier back in the day when people were less spread out. Yes they were understaffed, but at least they were together to make delegation easy.
As humans spread out, the forces of Heaven and Hell divied up the continents to cover everything. Gabriel and Haniel had taken to North America to keep Mammon in check. It had worked out very well for several centuries, with the concession of a few gambling towns here and there to secure non-interference elsewhere.
Gabriel had gotten so used to only having to worry about the three of them that he practically tripped over his own feet when Beelzebub appeared on a bench along his jogging path.
Almost, but of course not quite.
"Didn't expect to see you all the way out here!" Gabriel looked zem up and down. "And after such a long time away from the surface."
Beelzebub brow pulled down slightly. Ze changed the way zir legs were crossed as if that might distract from the frock coat and pinstripe trousers. It wasn't zir fault that humans had the audacity to change things like fashion every decade or so.
Not that it mattered. They wouldn't be around much longer.
"It haz begun."
"Oh, right on schedule," he said, with a satisfied nod. "Who'd you put on it?"
"Crowley," Beelzebub said, voice flat and certainly not bitter.
"Quite the choice."
"Wazn't mine," ze admitted. "But he waz good enough for the Garden zo there'z no conzern."
"Of course not," Gabriel agreed. "Well, thank you for coming all this way to tell me."
"I'm on my way to Mammon," Beelzebub said, sharply. "You were a coinzidenzzze."
He smiled, understandingly. "Of course. See you on the battlefield."
Beelzebub nodded and was gone.
Gabriel continued on his jog. After all, with 11 years to go after thousands of years of anticipation, there wasn't any harm in another hour of delay. He'd inform Haniel to begin to get the archers ready before he reported to head office. He was fairly sure that Michael already knew, though, because she somehow always-
Gabriel stopped short as Beelzebub appeared in front of him again.
He skidded to a halt, and frowned uncomfortably under zir hard stare. "Did you forget some-"
Beelzebub tilted zir head slightly as ze examined him. "You changed your eyez."
Gabriel perked up, "Oh, yes. I found a wonderful set. Do you like them?"
Zir eyebrows rose ever so slightly, let out a "mm" and was gone again.
He couldn't quite figure out which was more important, that ze liked his new accessory or that zir eyes were still exactly the same. And why either one felt so good…
He finally decided there were important and easier things to think about. There was a man on the ground, for example, who should be notified to look into things.
Gabriel snapped to miracle a change of clothes and went off to London.
Hastur passed a crumpled pack of cigarettes over, and who had been Ligur took one very eagerly.
"Been forever since I had on'a these. None of these angels appreciate a good smoke." The angel tried, and failed, to summon hellfire before he sheepishly leaned over for a light. "Keep forgetting I can't do that anymore," he muttered. "And there's no use in making water."
"None," Hastur grunted. He exhaled roughly. "So, how's it like up top?"
"Oh, you know," he shrugged. "'T's Heaven. Nice, bright, tons of space..."
"So why do you sound so miserable? You wanted to get back up there worse than anyone."
He sneered, a look which seemed terribly out of place next to the grace on his skin. "Too bright, too much space, no music."
Hastur gagged on the smoke. "What do you mean no music?"
"Nothin!" he insisted. "Thought I heard one whistling once but it was a bird from the Garden. 'Mean, I like no more leaks, but that's not a fair trade."
"Its not, but a dry ceiling... I'd kill for that," Hastur said, voice gruff but more than a bit wistful.
"Used to think that, too."
"Since when do you give up that easy? Make some blessed noise."
He tapped off the ash in thought. "How much pull you got?"
"Mine and almost all'a yours. I'll have to tell you about the brawl to get it," Hastur said with a smirk. "What do you need?"
It'd been centuries since all of the archangels had gathered, and it felt significantly longer than that. And this time it was in Michael's territory, which practically obligated her to make sure it was perfect.
Of course, that also applied to Uriel who had disappeared quite a while ago. She had not only given no indication about where she was off to, but she'd also made it very clear nobody was meant to find out.
Michael had never once considered herself to be subject to those sorts of rules, of course, so she took to the side to call and demand Uriel get back up. She hadn't participated in any of the prep, and Michael was not about to let her miss-
She's busy.
Michael felt a jolt go through her entire essence. She stood, slack jawed, and managed to eek out "of course".
The line went dead.
Michael turned back to the group, which looked at her expectantly. She gave them a tight lipped, professional smile.
"Uriel is on official assignment right now. She'll be back when it's done."
The others nodded, reverently, and moved on with their meeting.