Yes Demon

Disclaimer: Good Omens and all its characters belong to Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. The apocalypse belongs to the planet as a whole.

Good and evil. Angel and demon. Heaven and hell. All convenient labels to distract from individual cases and people.

Aziraphale was confused. For quite some time said labels had seemed to encompass everything and he had been quite clear on which side he belonged. Sides, however, seemed rather petty when faced with the wealth of human experience. That was the problem-after thousands of years with humans boundaries got blurred and morals unfocused. Crowley was suffering from the same wretched syndrome.

As he thought that a figure in sunglasses entered the bookshop. Talk about speak of the devil...

As usual there were no customers in the shop; Aziraphale saw no reason to encourage them. Crowley found this amazing. Only an angel could open a shop with no intention of selling anything under any circumstances.

'Hey angel.'

Aziraphale frowned at this term of address but was too used to Crowley to be truly exasperated.

'Hello Crowley. I trust the post-apocalyptic world is treating you well.'

Crowley rolled his eyes. The angel had never been able to master the evolution of the English language. Mind you, heaven didn't approve of evolution.

'It's not the world I'm worried about. It's Above and Below. The Sides. They're upset. It seems that one of the only things they have in common is a desire to win.'

'But they had their chance. It's over now, surely? Everyone agreed. One game, one ultimate conclusion. It's not our fault no one considered humanity might triumph in the chaos.

Crowley, for possibly the first time in his existence had to pause to consider how to break his news with the least distress for the angel.

'It's not about the Earth. It's not even about humanity. It's about us.'

'What do you mean "It's about us"?'

'Apparently Heaven and Hell were seeing how far they could push our acquaintance. They were entertained by trying to...break ties. I guess even they have to have their amusements.'

'But...'

'Oh, they didn't know everything. They just knew we worked together-they wanted our allegiances to Them proved.'

'Well?' Aziraphale was beginning to believe Crowley was purposefully extending the suspense.

'Oh they're satisfied with us. For the time being. But they are both on edge-after spending millennia building towards an outcome they lost the initiative. Just telling you to be careful.'

'Trying to prevent another fallen angel? I'm touched.' Aziraphale smiled.

'Just didn't want you down in Hell with me. You wouldn't like the music. Or the lack of Regency snuffboxes.'

It was Crowley's turn to smile as Aziraphale paled. Aziraphale was just too easy to tease...

'Time for lunch angel. Your turn to pay. The Bentley's outside. Or would you rather stay here?'

'Actually...'

'Come on.'

'It's just your driving...'

'Fine we'll just go and feed the ducks and discuss ineffable plans shall we?'

'I guess...'

'It's still your turn to pay.'

'How ineffable of you.'

'I'm getting the hang of it aren't I?'

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. 'Yes demon. Yes you are.'

Crowley raised an eyebrow. He wondered if the angel realised he had just called him 'demon'. It wasn't as polite as the angel preferred to be. He must have been really irritating.

Crowley smiled. 'Bentley. Now.'

***

The Bentley cornered on fewer wheels than should be physically possible. However, physics had seen the Bentley and quickly decided it was not being paid enough to deal with that kind of thing. If we knew what physics was paid in we would understand a lot more about the universe.

Aziraphale had his eyes screwed shut. Whilst he was technically immortal being discorporated was inconvenient, painful and embarrassing in the extreme.

'Crowley?'

'Mmm?'

'Um...Did you actually, well, learn to drive?'

'You don't need to. You just pick it up as you go along.'

'What with the rest of the things you've hit?'

Crowley switched his gaze from the road to his angelic companion.

'What's wrong with you?'

Aziraphale had opened his eyes. After a brief mental debate he had concluded that he would prefer to see what the Bentley finally and fatally collided with, out of sheer curiosity.

'Look at the road,' he shrieked.

'Why? It knows what it's there for.'