God's Favorite Sons: Lucifer, Gabriel, Morningstar The bottom of the fucking ocean.
Lucifer should have seen it coming. No, he had seen it coming, but he didn't think Crowley would be that fast, or that he'd spring the trap now. He didn't know Crowley knew such powerful sigils — or were the sigils more powerful because they were using Castiel's grace-blessed blood? That little shit.
Of course Crowley was going to turn on him. Crowley was in it for Crowley, even if control of Hell wasn't on the table, and Lucifer was never going to find a way to beat him down enough to actually gain submission from his puppy. He'd been waiting for this day, but he had to admit — Crowley had gotten the drop on him.
And Crowley had sent him to the bottom of the fucking ocean.
When Lucifer was back on dry land, he shed his water-logged jacket as he stalked toward the mountain. The ground crackled and grass frosted over beneath his feet.
He was going to smite Crowley and grind his vessel to dust. Then he was going to make sure that Dean was there when he snuffed out Castiel's light once and for all. And then he was going to make sure that Sam was there when he eviscerated Dean. And then he and Sam were going to have a little time to themselves.