an: A note before you read this chapter... If you've read "Murder Mysteries", a Neil Gaiman short story, you'll understand more of this than others will. If you haven't read "Murder Mysteries", no problem. You'll merely be at a disadvantage, but it shouldn't impede your understanding of the story. Also, John uses the word "orgasmic" in this chapter. His RL version has been saying this lately for reasons unknown.

Okay, you can read now.

They stopped in front of a big door.

“Wonder what’s through here?”

“Jen, you aren’t really going to—“

She shoved it. It opened.

Jen found herself in a white room, dressed in a simple white robe. Her hair was lank and unwashed around her face, which was certainly not how she’d had it a moment ago—it was never lank, never unwashed. Jen was a fan of hygiene.

She looked around.

“Random,” she muttered. When a response failed to happen, she realized John was gone.

“John?” Jen’s brow furrowed out of reflex. “Where are you?”

“He’s fine.”

“Well. Random voice from behind me. White room. Last thing I remember, I was in Heaven. I wonder what that means now, eh, God?”

She turned.

God smiled. He was beautiful, she thought, and old, and serene. And, her mind added bitterly, proof. Not that he could get around her by merely existing.

“My child,” said God. “I’m glad you came.”

Huh, Jen thought. Emotion. Bit… human of him.

“Came where? Heaven? Nyah. Thanks for not having your angels kick my ass.”

He smiled, and the lines around his eyes intensified. Jen realized that, despite his age, there really should have been more. He was over six thousand years old, right? According to the Bible. She didn’t really agree with the Bible, being an atheist and all, but at the very least the man could have been consistent.

“Why would I do that?”

“You know, me being the Antichrist and all.”

“Ah. Yes.” God nodded. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken a bit on that point, my child. Come with me. I’d like to show you something.”

Crowley felt Aziraphale move against him, and then there was a sharp pain in his shoulder, and then—

He looked into his angel’s eyes, and they weren’t so angelic anymore. Crowley screamed, loud and breathless and heartbroken, and when he woke up the world was white.

Aziraphale was confused.

What sensible being unchained a prisoner and let him free? Because as angelic as the angel was, he was not an idiot. He was not going to simply go where they’d told him to—

Only the other angels weren’t idiots, either, and they’d probably expect him to think that.

Aziraphale, standing in the centre of the silver city, paused in confusion.

He might as well--

“Aziraphale?”

“John? What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, actually,” said John, looking over his shoulder. “But then Jen sort of—“ He made a ‘pft’ noise with his lips. “And now I’m looking for her.”

“What? You brought the Antichrist to Heaven?”

“She wouldn’t let me rescue you alone,” John said. “You don’t seem to need it, though.”

“I did,” said Aziraphale. “Er. Then they let me go and told me to go talk to Zephkiel.”

“Who is?”

“Senior Manager of Heaven,” said Aziraphale. “One step above the Metatron, actually. God’s advisor, if you will.”

“Ooh, big meeting,” John teased. “Can I come?”

“Oh, why not?”

“Orgasmic,” said John, earning him an incredulous look from the older angel.

“It is wise,” he said, “to not use words relating to one’s enemy, John.”

“Sorry. I’m new at this.”

Crowley paused, unsure whether or not this was a dream. He hadn’t seen this city since—

Well.

He’d be damned if he was redeemed, or if this meant Aziraphale was going to—

But his angel couldn’t fall—the angel, not his angel. Aziraphale, Crowley reminded himself, had done nothing to deserve the possessive.

Here he was, back Up Here again, and Aziraphale was on his mind. Crowley was pretty sure he had other problems.

God led Jen through a door—Random, Jen thought, it’s just standing there. Why the nonsensical attitude?—and into a hall. It had thrones in it. Twelve of them. There were pictures of various saints above ten, which Jen found a tad baroque.

Also, there was, for no apparent reason, a Slurpie machine in one corner of the hall. Jen could not fathom why.

“Mkay,” Jen said. “So Heaven’s Mount Olympus, then?”

“Ideas merge,” said God. “Although I am the sole deity here.”

“Why the other eleven chairs, then?”

“My children,” said God simply. “The prophets, the saviours. The chosen ones. These are the people who saved your world, slowly and surely. They were great thinkers, brilliant minds, heroes.”

“Lovely,” said Jen. “Can I have a Slurpie?”

“Jesus broke it last Tuesday, I’m afraid,” said God. He sighed. “We’ll get it fixed in a little while, I suppose.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be omnipotent?”

“Hm?”

“Can’t you miracle it fixed?”

God gave her a blank stare. “That’s cheating,” he said blankly.

“Right,” said Jen. “But then you don’t get a Slurpie.”

“No,” said God, “But, my dear, there’s more to life than Slurpies.”

“Like what?”

“Happiness,” said God. “Dreams. Love.”

“Love is overrated,” said Jen. “Dreams are rarely achieved. And, in my opinion, you can find happiness in a Slurpie, so I fail to see your point.” She looked at the table with the Slurpie machine. “Which brings me back to my original question. Actually, no, it brings up a new question. Why the hell do you have a Slurpie machine up here, anyways?”

“Why not?” asked God, shrugging.

“You may sit, if you wish,” Zephkiel said, smiling warmly. “Can I get you something? Tea, perhaps? I know you have been staying in Britain, don’t they like tea there?”

“Uh, tea, yeah. Sure.” He fiddled uncomfortably with his halo. Contrary to popular belief, everyone got one up here. Not only the angels, but demons, too, and a mortal that one time.

Crowley felt odd. He sat, uncomfortable, and wondered why he wasn’t getting court-marshalled.

“Your partner will be arriving in a moment,” said Zephkiel, sitting behind his desk.

Zephkiel looked like Aziraphale, Crowley thought, only not as… Ahem. He wasn’t going to finish that sentence, because demons didn’t use the word “cute”. It just wasn’t respectable.

The senior angel was thin, unlike Aziraphale, but Crowley supposed that they didn’t have chocolate in Heaven. He had the same curling hair, however, and the same fashion sense. Only Heaven could have invented the sweater-vest.

“So,” said Crowley, leaning back in his chair, “are you gonna tell me why I’m here?”

Zephkiel looked up. Aziraphale and John burst in.

“Yes,” said Zephkiel. “Aziraphale, John, you may take a seat, if you wish.”

“Hey, sexy,” said Crowley, winking at Aziraphale. Aziraphale blinked.

“Crowley? What…”

“Take a seat, angel,” said Crowley. “I’m just as confused as you are.”

Jen and God lounged in the chairs, sipping Slurpies.

“You said I was mistaken?” Jen asked.

“Yes,” said God, and he sat up in his throne.

“On me being the Antichrist.”

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

“Mn-hmn.”

“Yes…”

“Yes.”

Jen sighed. “How am I mistaken?”

God smiled. Mild sadism, Jen thought begrudgingly. Another humanoid trait.

“You’ve been called here,” said Zephkiel, stirring his tea, “because we are offering you two a deal.”

“Now,” said John, “when you say ‘you two’…”

“I mean Crowley and Aziraphale, of course,” said Zephkiel. “I’m afraid you weren’t expected today, Johnael.”

“John,” said John automatically.

“Yes.”

“As you were saying?” Aziraphale prompted politely, edging ever closer to Crowley. The angel didn’t even notice. It was instinct by this point.

John was mildly uncomfortable with this. “Can I wait outside?” he asked. The other three immortals nodded—he left hastily.

“Ah, yes,” said Zephkiel. “Aziraphale, Crowley, the two of you have formed a… a relationship over the millennia. Now, in the past, this has not been an issue. The work got done. You carried out the ineffable plan, despite your allegiances.”

“Yeah?” said Crowley defensively. “So what’s the problem, huh?”

“The problem,” said Zephkiel, “is that it’s come to our attention that you’ve become rather too close. Longtime, amiable enemies are perfectly acceptable, even encouraged in some circumstances. However.” He stood. Aziraphale slunk back in his seat. Crowley’s hands transformed smoothly into fists.

“Yeah?” he hissed, and his tongue flicked out, or maybe it didn’t.

“Sodomy,” said Zephkiel. “Love. Lust. The abandoning of heavenly-slash-infernal duties to spend time with your enemy. These matters are most unbecoming of both demon and angel.”

“Screw it,” said Crowley. Aziraphale elbowed him.

“What are you saying?” the bookkeeper whispered.

“I have a proposal for you,” said Zephkiel. He smiled. “Aziraphale, you have committed sin. The usual punishment for this is to Fall.”

Aziraphale only winced. It was Crowley who cried out.

“What?” he said. “You can’t—“

“And you, Crowley, have spent years doing good deeds,” Zephkiel continued. “While this is unprecedented, a demon can Rise for such behaviour.”

“What?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley nodded. He'd expected that, actually, although he wasn't sure why.

“Those are our terms,” said Zephkiel. “If you choose to accept them, you shall be allowed to continue your relationship. Both sides believe this will even the playing field. If not, however…” He didn’t finish. Aziraphale and Crowley had imagination enough to figure out what he’d say.

Zephkiel left, and the angel and demon were alone in the room.

Their eyes met.

“When’s it due?”

“When’s what due?”

“Your child?”

Jen paused mid-slurp. The Slurpie splashed on the ground and absorbed itself into the carpet.

“My what?”

“So we accept their terms,” said Aziraphale softly. “You return to Heaven, and the Name’s light, and we can be together. It’s a simple enough—“

“I can’t let you Fall.”

“I’ll be fine. You’re fine, and you Fell.”

“No, I Sauntered Vaguely Downwards. You’ve read the book. You aren’t me, angel.”

The nickname held a lot of weight, suddenly. Aziraphale brushed a hand through his halo self-consciously. He took a deep breath.

“I’d Fall for you any day,” he said. Their eyes met.

Then, despite the seriousness of the situation, despite both their souls being at risk and all, they burst into uncontrollable laughter.

It was a few moments before they recovered.

“Angel, that was terrible.”

“I couldn’t resist,” Aziraphale said, giggling. “My apologies.”

“That was a pickup line.”

“And a rather nice one, at that,” said Aziraphale. “See, no other being in the universe would have understood that. That’s why we have to take this deal, Crowley.”

“Hmn,” said Crowley.

“I can Save you,” Aziraphale whispered, “and we can still be together, and nothing has to change…”

The dreams slithered through Crowley’s mind. He shivered, although Heaven had no real air temperature to speak of.

“Everything would change,” he said softly. “I can’t do it, angel. I’m not that strong.”

“Anyone can be saved, Crowley!” Aziraphale stomped his foot on the floor, furious. “What strength does that take?”

Crowley hissed slightly. What was he supposed to say? That he couldn’t bear to see the angel—his angel, Aziraphale—Fall? Change? He couldn’t imagine Aziraphale kicking puppies or super-gluing valuable coins to the sidewalk. Or having a sense of fashion.

It was an unbearable thought.

There was a knock at the door.

“Crowley, please. I want to save you. I want to be with you forever,” said Aziraphale. Sure, he said that now. No demon in their right mind would say that. Only angels. He didn’t want that to change.

Zephkiel knocked again.

“Come in,” said Crowley.

“Crowley, please.”

“I’m sorry,” said Crowley, and kissed Aziraphale dead on the mouth.

Zephkiel opened the door, saw the kiss, and a slight smile flashed across his face.

“Have you made your choice, then?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Crowley, just as Aziraphale said, “No.”

“Need more time, then?”

“Yes,” said Aziraphale. “Please.”

“You have a week,” said Zephkiel, and then they were back on Earth.

Jen brushed her hand across her stomach.

“Are you sure?”

God raised an eyebrow—human, she thought, but only in passing—and Jen closed her eyes.

“You don’t want to know the father?”

“I’ve only ever had sex once,” Jen said. “I’m pretty sure I know the dad.”

God shrugged.

“Can I… Alright, I need to leave now,” Jen said. “I gotta think on this. I’d show myself out, but I don’t even know what dimension I’m in…”

“Of course, how silly of me.” God waved a hand. Another random door appeared.

Jen looked at it for a moment, wondered if it was trustworthy, and then decided she didn’t care.

She walked back into relative normalcy.