The cemetery was quiet. The wind was still so that not even the rustle of the grass or the whisper of the leaves broke the eerie silence. All the people from the nearby village had gone to bed for the night, leaving the moon to cast the only light over the graveyard. And even her glow was muted by the dreary fog draped across the skyline.

A flurry of wings whirled through the air, invading the quiet of the cemetery for a brief moment. A man had appeared at the gate, standing rigidly as he peered out over the tombstones. His face was mottled with scars and lacerations as if his body was eating away at itself from the inside out. With a flick of his wrist, he flung the gate open and strode into the graveyard, his footsteps making no noise on the dewy ground. He paused in front of one and knelt down to stroke the cold marble and trace the grooves where the name of the deceased had been etched in.

"Richard Brook," the man crooned, cocking his head to one side and tutting to himself. "Now that's not right, is it?" He stood up and took a few steps back. Raising a hand over the ground, he muttered a stream of Latin and a small burst of energy pulsated from his outstretched arm. The earth over the grave shuddered and split, leaving a chasm six foot deep, allowing the man to catch a glimpse of an ornate, mahogany casket.

"Hellooo?" the Devil called. "Anyone alive down there?" A dull thump came from the inside of the casket and the hint of a smile edged its way onto Lucifer's face. The clamor within the coffin increased, the thuds getting progressively louder and more frustrated, followed by a steady stream of cursing. Finally, the lid burst open and and a man flopped out, gasping for air.

Lucifer looked on, watching the man catch his breath and take in his surroundings before settling his gaze on his savior. The two stared at each other for a moment, waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally, the man stood up in his grave and brushed himself off. "Well aren't you going to help me out?" he said, a tone of over-exaggerated distress and a look to match.

Lucifer's eyebrow quirked up despite himself and he hesitated before rolling his eyes and leaning down to haul Jim Moriarty out of his grave. Back on level ground, Moriarty tugged on the hem of his suit jacket and attempted to smooth out the wrinkles. "They buried me in Westwood, how considerate." The corners of his mouth turned down in distaste as he took in the Devil's jeans, t-shirt, and long sleeves. Lucifer caught him staring and glanced down at his shoddy wardrobe and shrugged. "It's just a temporary vessel," he offered in explanation.

"Doesn't mean you can't be temporarily stylish. What sort of impression do you give by wearing that?"

"I think I have a big enough reputation as it is." There was silence between them for a moment as they each tried to stare down the other. Moriarty began to pace around the cemetery, lazily circling the Devil.

"So what'd you pull me back up for? It's a shame, I really felt like I was starting to fit in down there." His eyes lit up as he spoke and Lucifer could almost see the hellfire burning behind his irises.

"I'm planning a little surprise party and I hear you like to play games."

Moriarty's smile spread wide, his white teeth shining in the darkness and the hungry glint in his eyes was unmistakable now. He stopped pacing and fiddled with low hanging branch. "So what is this, then?" he said, gesturing between the two of them. "Some sort of Faustian pact?"

Lucifer adjusted his stance and crossed his arms. "Not exactly. You could say I resurrected you out of the goodness of my own heart, which means you owe me. There's no bargaining here on your half. I do something for you and you repay me."

Moriarty wrinkled his nose. "Do I still have to kiss you?" Lucifer blinked, the sneer in Moriarty's voice was undeniable.

"Don't flatter yourself."

Moriarty's smile didn't falter; he resumed his meandering around Lucifer, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked. "So what favor do you expect me to return then?"

Lucifer turned his head slightly, following Moriarty with his eyes. "That's for me to know and me to tell you as I see fit. But you could say it involves a certain consulting detective."

Moriarty's steps stuttered ever so slightly at the reference before he stopped walking and looked Lucifer directly in the eyes.

"Well, then. I suppose the game is on."