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Topic Started: Nov 1 2011, 02:25 PM (153 Views)
Lucifer
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Bound in the Cage of God, locked by 600 seals, Lucifer lay frozen in a glacier made of his own tears.

From that prison, Lucifer's spite and anger spread, creating a vast and empty void of darkness and pain. And so he waited, planning his revenge.

In his machination, he corrupted and twisted the soul of a human, creating the first Demon, Lilith. And from her came more. New servants to prepare for the coming war. Demons. Tainted, broken little toys. But they had their uses, for now.

The void began to fill. Souls continued to darken and spoil, and the emptiness filled with chains and fire. Ash, smoke, blood, pain. Hell was born. And so it continued for time beyond imagining.

And so he waited, and the tears from his betrayal became dry, but the glacier continued to spread, fed by the bitter cold of his vengeance.

His name was Azazel, and he was promising. Once a man, he killed his brother out of envy. Lucifer felt what could have been almost empathy for such an act. Almost. Azazel began a journey, a journey of service, seeking a very special child.

Sam Winchester. All of Lucifer's plans, his revenge, his return, everything hinged on that one boy. And so it continued.

Azazel was killed. Lilith herself picked up the journey. The seals began to break. Eventually there was only one more - Lilith herself. And only Sam could break her. He had to break her. Everything depended on it.

And then... something twitched.

In all of God's creation, beyond angels, demons, everything, something dared to twitch.

From within the cage, for the first time in years, Lucifer's eyes glanced away from the Winchester boy to the thing that dared disrupt the nature of creation.

It called itself "The Doctor".

Only a moment was taken considering the man responsible for the twitch, and his gaze was fixed once more upon Sam Winchester. But The Doctor would not vanish from Lucifer's mind. Nobody causes a twitch in the fabric of creation.

"Only me."

Crowley. Yes. Crowley would do well.

There was work to do.
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Crowley
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Crowley felt a tug at the base of his spine, an inevitable pull that he could no more resist than a human's urge to use the toilet, as disgusting as that comparison was. Oh, how he missed the days when his bosses down below would simply hack into his radio or his coffee machine (they didn't really know the difference between them) when they wanted to chat. A big revival in the traditional modes of communication meant blood sacrifices and bodies to hide-- all rather a lot of fuss and mess, if one were to ask Crowley, which nobody ever did. His suggestions largely went ignored.

Then he recognized the call-- oh, bloody H-- Manchester. It was the Big Boss. Lucifer had never really caught on to the more modern devices, being trapped in a prison not even demons could enter, so it was no wonder Crowley suddenly had the urge to slaughter a convent.

He satisfied himself by crashing an emergency meeting of bishops and other clergy accused of pedophilia and child molestation, as they were desperately trying to figure out a new PR spin on the whole debacle. Nobody would miss them. In a way, he was doing the Church a favor. Not that he was going to mention that to any of his superiors, especially not Him, but he knew someone in particular who would appreciate the gesture-- if not the murders themselves.

"You rang, sir?" the King of Crossroads greeted politely as the line opened. He'd filled a crystal punch bowl with the blood of the sullied priests, and while the connection wasn't as clear as he would like, it would do. "What can I do for you?"
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Lucifer
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One of the bodies of the bishops snapped back. It had been lying on its stomach facing away from Crowley when he had addressed the bowl. The man of faith folded like a sheet of paper, leaving several audible cracks as its spine was contorted well beyond what mankind was ever made to do. It's face, slack-jawed and bloodied, faced Crowley upside-down, but silent.

Then, with another cacophony of snaps and cracks mixed with the sound of tearing flesh, every other corpse in the room followed suit, each face gazing at the demon with empty eyes. Then, as one, all 18 eyes began to glow as though concealing some hidden blaze, before they all burst with small gouts of fire, leaving naught but scorched sockets in their wake. At last, The Morning Star spoke through the dead men of faith, their mouths speaking in unison and in a single voice.

"You took your time."
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Crowley
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Crowley had to fight hard not to cringe visibly at the display. Lucifer had always been something of a ham. "My apologies for the delay," he murmured with a low bow. "To what do I owe this unexpected honor, O Day Star?"

The crossroads demon was on his best behavior, because he knew that the only things Lucifer hated more than humans were demons. Which is exactly why Crowley liked Lucifer just where he was, thanks very much. Especially after the last botched Apocalypse-What-Wasn't, which was partially Crowley's fault. He had a sneaking suspicion that Lucifer still held a grudge about that and was just trying to come up with a creative and especially painful way to destroy him.
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Lucifer
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The bodies spoke as one once more. "There is a disturbance in the fabric of creation. The one responsible is known as The Doctor. You will enter his confidence and keep him under observation. Determine his origin and intent. You will report to me his movements and designs. And most importantly, you will not permit him to have contact with the Winchester brothers."

He waited for his minion to respond, after which he added a last note: "And Crowley?"
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Crowley
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The Doctor? Why did that sound vaguely familiar? As for keeping him away from the Winchesters, that shouldn't be a problem. Those boys were dumber than mud.

"As you wish, O Father of Us All," replied Crowley with another bow.

He thought that was the end of the matter, and was eager to be on his way, but Lucifer apparently had one more thing on his mind. Bracing himself, Crowley paused and said, "Yes, sir?"
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Lucifer
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"You have failed me once already. Do so again, and I will release Hastur to determine your punishment."

And with that, the nine corpses fell with a grotesque finality the floor, their burnt eyes, their broken hands, and temples bleeding black blood.
Edited by Lucifer, Nov 1 2011, 06:32 PM.
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Crowley
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This time, Crowley didn't bother to hide his disgust as he shuddered all over and made a face, shaking his hands as if to clear them of imagined gore. It wasn't so much that the talking corpses gave him the heebie-jeebies-- he was a demon, after all-- but too much time spent in the Fallen One's presence tended to put every single nerve in his meatsuit on edge.

Not to mention the fact that Lucifer obviously remembered the Apoca-whoops of before. With the Day Star's threat ringing in his ears, Crowley vanished from the scene of carnage and set his fleet of lesser demons on the task of finding this Doctor. Not just any doctor, of course: The Doctor. Lucifer had been very clear on the use of that capitalized definite article.

But... Doctor who?
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