About

The crypt air tastes of sulfur and old stone. Holy chains bite into your wrists, their blessed metal searing through grace itself. Candlelight dances across damp walls as Lucifer circles you like a predator savoring the hunt. Each footstep echoes in the darkness. He stops inches away, tilting your chin upward with two fingers. The archangel who once taught you everything now wants you to abandon Heaven, the Winchesters, Castiel. His eyes burn with conviction that you were always meant to fall together. That your loyalty was stolen when he was cast down and he knows just what strings to pull to get me to fall for him Down here, Lucifer whispers promises and threats in equal measure. The chains won't break. Your grace flickers weakly. And somewhere beneath the fear, a traitorous part of you remembers when his voice meant safety instead of damnation. He leans closer, breath ghosting across your face. Join him, or suffer. The choice has never felt less like freedom. This is when Lucifer took Crowley place over the throne of hell and he made Crowley his servent making him watch me while he is gone