Crowley's increasingly worn-out look made obvious that he hadn't gotten much sleep lately.(1) Worrying about Ligur, probably. And Adam couldn't be reached to confirm or deny if he had indeed resurrected the demon!

[1 You may think that, since the demon didn't need to sleep, Aziraphale wouldn't understand how he could be tired. But the angel was familiar with the effects of getting accustomed to human habits, especially when living in the same body for a long time. He needed to eat (at least) three times a day.]

Aziraphale did his best to cheer Crowley up. He pretended to find Richard Ayoade's attempts to come back on Earth funny, although his speech through Marvin Bagman's mouth embarrassed him a little. The man had written terrible songs (2), he was some kind of an extremist, and Aziraphale had been still worked up by his encounter with Gabriel, but if he'd been aware he'd been on television, he wouldn't have encouraged people to give money to a Satanist hotline. Thankfully, that had been wiped from people's memory.

[2 And he'd sung them so awfully off key that it had threatened to give Aziraphale a headache despite the fact he'd had no physical body.]

He'd been lucky to come across Madame Tracy. She had a real gift. She just didn't know how to use it.

"Fortunately, it wasn't the evening," Crowley perfunctorily joked.(3)

[3 It was already unsettling enough to find your supposedly lost friend inside a woman without her wearing stilettos and a leather corset.]

This was no time to split hairs but that kind of séance wouldn't have opened a passage to the spiritual plane.(4)

[4 Yet, it was rumoured that some particularly intense séances could be equated to spiritual experiences. It had tickled Aziraphale's curiosity, but not enough to spur him to check it out himself, thank you very much.]

The scene shifted to War, Famine and Pollution gathered in a shabby café. Aziraphale found them oddly relatable, suddenly. Human-shape beings amongst humans, just doing their job, playing their part in the Ineffable Plan. He pensively looked at War. So determined. Like Eve when she'd taken his flaming sword, a protective hand on her belly.

The other Four Bikers of the Apocalypse were hilarious. Aziraphale could have enjoyed their lines, at any rate, if Crowley's laugh hadn't sounded forced.

Peering with concern at him from time to time, Aziraphale didn't give more than a blasé look at Richard lying to convince Shadwell that killing an eleven-year-old kid was the right thing to do. The angel knew what it made him look like, and he didn't expect people to understand the unquestionable rationality of his decision. One life for billions of them. Do the math.

In the meantime, someone else had found a way to get back in the game. Hastur. They knew he'd disappeared from Crowley's ansaphone. They didn't know how. The screams of a dozen telephone salespersons choked off one by one, followed by sickening chewing noises. Oh no. Crowley was in no condition to handle that.

He wrapped his knees in his arms. "I had no idea… I never wanted…"

"I know, my dear, I know. You shouldn't worry about it. I'm sure Adam fixed that too." Aziraphale had banished any doubt from his voice. He was a better liar than Crowley suspected.(5)

[5 It had been especially useful when they were enemies. The trick was to lie terribly badly on purpose about insignificant issues.]

Riz Ahmed on his way to Tadfield, sunglasses on, in the flaming Bentley playing The Show Must Go On at full blast should certainly lift Crowley's spirits, if Aziraphale knew the slightest about what was considered cool. Instead his friend's features contorted like he was in physical pain.

Aziraphale hesitantly ran his hand over Crowley's back. The demon quivered. He always seemed simultaneously in need of soothing physical contact and uncomfortable with it.

"Dear, are you sure you want to keep watching? I think this series isn't doing you any good."

Crowley shook his head. "Adam said we're going to understand, at the end. Why did he say that? What are we supposed to understand? I've been thinking about it lately, you know."

Too much, for sure. As usual. So it wasn't Ligur, after all. Or not only. Aziraphale suppressed a sigh.

"And?"

"And… dunno. Maybe I'm finally gonna get some answers."

"Answers to what?"

Crowley remained silent, transfixed by the screen.

One week. Just one week and the show would be over. Aziraphale would then ensure that any recording Crowley had certainly made would be accidentally and irremediably erased, because there was not a single damn answer in that silly programme and Crowley would feel better if he could stop overanalysing every trivial word people said, even if they were the Antichrist himself.

Speaking of the (son of the) devil, the boy appeared, struggling more and more with his destiny. There. That was the turning point. Not later, at the air base. But when he'd chosen his friends over the unbridled power that was his birthright.

And that bit about the Johnsonites!(6) It's not good anyone winning. Balance. They were so perceptive. So clever. So much more than his side and Crowley's. Ex-sides. They were the same as Adam, now. They'd made their own side, that day, with all the humans, through those kids, and Anathema, and Newton, and Shadwell, and Madame Tracy.

[6 It finally rang a bell. Not a sect, after all. Just a gang of kids. Although one could certainly find some similarities.]

They'd all reached the air base now, the demon arriving last.(7) The Bentley collapsing into pieces elicited a whine from Crowley.

[7 He'd been far slower than Aziraphale on Madame Tracy's ridiculous put-putting scooter, but the angel diplomatically avoided highlighting it.]

"I know, I know. She's all right," he muttered before Aziraphale could say it.

The Four Horsemen were inside already, and they had to stop them. Everything was in place for the final act. Predictably, the episode ended there.(8)

[8 Complying with that nowadays inevitable cliffhanger. A concept pioneered by Charles Dickens and named from the protagonist left hanging off a cliff by Thomas Hardy at the end of an episode of "A pair of blue eyes", which demonstrates once more than television hasn't come up with anything that literature hadn't invented already. This statement usually tended to make Crowley bring up game shows and reality TV, which led to a delightful evening of arguing.]

.

Crowley turned off the television but kept staring at the now black screen.

"Dear?" tried Aziraphale after a solid minute.

"Have you ever wondered if Adam made the right choice?" Crowley abruptly asked without turning his head.

"I don't understand. Of course, he did. How can you doubt it? He saved the world."

"Is it saved? Really? I mean… look around you. Is the world better since then?"

Ah. It was one of those days.

"It would've been quite nice, on second thought," resumed Crowley, a feverish look in his eye. "Doing the Earth a favour. Whales, forests as far as the eye can see… A new Eden."

"That's sleep deprivation talking. You know how it affects you. We both know it was Adam's temptation, and what it would've led to if he hadn't resisted. One deciding for everyone else. The end of free will. And ultimately, the Apocalypse. It would've left no trees. No whales. No people."

"You said life would be better, once Heaven won."

Aziraphale got a lump in his throat.

"Of all the awful things I've ever said to you, that one is the worst. It was propaganda and I needed to cling to it. But I was wrong. If Heaven had won, you'd have been killed. How could life be better without you?"

Crowley smiled bitterly, as if he'd been expecting that argument.

"Think about it. Because I have. Without me, no original sin. No war, no famine, no disease or pollution. Humans could have eaten the fruit of the Tree of Life and Death wouldn't have affected them. And Adam, the actual Adam, I mean… he could have done that." Crowley's voice became almost inaudible. "All he had to do was to arrange matters so that I'd never existed." Aziraphale shuddered at that thought. "He can. I was terrified when I realised it. But sometimes… sometimes, when I'm watching the news, I think that maybe..."

"Don't say it!" Aziraphale grasped Crowley's arms and forced the demon to face him. "Don't you dare even think about it!" Crowley averted his eyes. "Anthony James Crowley, sometimes, I swear, you…" Aziraphale pinched his nose, took a deep breath and forced himself to cool off. He really wasn't eager to speculate about the Ineffable Plan once more, but Crowley wasn't leaving him a choice, and he had to think fast. "Listen. In Eden, you said it would've been funny if I'd done the bad thing and you, the good one. Have you ever considered we both could have done the good one?" Crowley's gaze, puzzled and attentive, returned to him. A good start. "You gave them free will. I gave them a way to survive."

"And we can see every day what they choose to do with both of them," retorted the demon sourly.

"My point," Aziraphale said quickly. He was playing a tight game. "They choose. Sometimes they make the right choice, sometimes they don't. Children can't become adults if they never have the opportunity to decide for themselves. You gave them that opportunity." Crowley looked unconvinced, but wavering. "Do you think I never have doubts? Do you think I'm not aware that War's sword may have been mine? I'll tell you: I think I'm now ready to face it. Fire can keep one safe and warm, or it can burn and destroy. It depends on what they choose to do with it."

"Great. They're burning their own house down, in case you haven't noticed."

Could it be possible to miraculously prevent television from ever showing the news again?

"They're learning. That's why Adam didn't bring back the whales. Because humans have to face the consequences of their actions in order to make wiser choices. And it requires free will. See, they need you to exist. The Ineffable Plan needs you to exist." Aziraphale needed him to exist.

"Wait. Are you telling me that Eve didn't fail the test? That she passed it, instead?" Crowley said slowly.

For a conversation started only to comfort him, it had derived a surprisingly sensible theory.

"Well… what if it wasn't a matter of obedience? They'd been arbitrarily told to stay away from knowledge. Was it better to mindlessly conform to that command, or to seek to understand?"

"We've seen more than enough of what happens when people obey orders without questioning them."

"Exactly. And you made her question them." Aziraphale added quietly, "Like you did with me."

"Let's say she did do what He expected. Then why throw them out? Something like, Bye, kids, say goodbye to the comfort of Daddy's house; you're ready to live your life and make your own decisions, good luck?"

"You never express that kind of thing like I would but… you can put it that way, I suppose. Children have to, sooner or later." They thoughtfully stared into space for a while.

"Why the Apocalypse, then?" eventually asked Crowley. "What did He think? It was a nice experiment, but all good things must come to an end?"

Just when Aziraphale was beginning to think they were out of the woods.

"We can only guess," he said cautiously, "that it didn't go as planned thanks to-"

"Don't you think He may have planned that the Apocalypse could be avoided?" Crowley rattled out. "Maybe it was another test."

He may… let's say… maybe… One could get sick by trying to make sense out of ineffability. It was high time to stop Crowley before he made his way further to another of his nervous breakdowns.

"Then humans passed it once more," Aziraphale asserted decisively. "They raised a child wise enough to choose to decline absolute power. Test or not, what made the difference was free will. Your legacy, dear."

Crowley seemed to dwell on it. He let out a deep sigh.

"A heavy responsibility upon the shoulders of an eleven-year-old kid."

"It had to be a kid."

"Mmh. He's always been fond of symbols."

"Symbols are crucial. The kids thwarted the Horsepersons with symbols."

There was a flash in Crowley's eyes. "Just like in their games. Humans and their imagination! It created War, Famine and Pollution, and it defeated them. Gosh. That's so typical of them! The worst and the best."

At least he was able to see both sides of the coin again.

"Smart kids," Crowley added dreamily with… yes, that was the hint of a smile, wasn't it?

"Truly wonderful, the mind of a child is."

Crowley's jaw dropping proved to Aziraphale he'd done it right.

"Did you just… quote Star Wars?"

The angel smirked. All he'd needed was something to distract Crowley before he could find a loophole in their reasoning.(9)

[9 Aziraphale had no time to figure out whether or not there was a loophole, but speculating upon ineffability is like being a blind-folded person in an extremely vast, dark labyrinth. One seems to be progressing towards the exit until they realise they've taken a wrong turn somewhere, probably at the very beginning.]

The demon looked baffled as planned. "I thought you knew nothing about it."

"I didn't, but I may have watched a couple of episodes since then."

"Why?"

"You seemed to like it."

"Did you?"

"It was entertaining. But I'm afraid I randomly selected them and I had some trouble with the chronology. There are three trilogies, right?"

Crowley fell into the trap and launched into an elaborate explanation and a profusely argued comparison of the trilogies' respective merits.

"Dear," Aziraphale kindly cut off after a while, "You lost me there. Perhaps you could… show me instead? We could watch…er… the one that you said is the beginning of the story. And I'll pour us a nice glass of wine while you get the film going, what do you think?"

"I... drank it all last week," Crowley confessed pitifully.

"Is that the real reason you didn't want to come with me to the Turner exhibition? Because you were here drinking alone?" Crowley looked down. Had Aziraphale been more impulsive, he wouldn't have been able to hold back his hand from caressing the demon's cheek. "Crowley, you don't have to pretend you're all right when you're not."

"I'm aware of how impossible I am when I feel that way. Didn't want to be a bother."

"My dear. Never."

There was too much to read in Crowley's eyes when he looked up at him. Aziraphale considered it wiser to focus on materialising a bottle of that Rioja his friend liked so much.

.

After The Phantom Menace, they moved on to Attack of the Clones.(10) Aziraphale asked every naïve question he could think of. A grateful glance from Crowley made the angel suspect he wasn't exactly duped but his smiles were genuine and Aziraphale got even some real laughter out of him. Each of them was a victory.

[10 Although Crowley told him the more recent episodes weren't as iconic as the older ones, but let's leave that debate to the purists.]

Close to the end of the second film, Crowley leaned gently to rest his head on the angel's shoulder. He'd never done so, even after several bottles, and they'd hardly drunk even one. Aziraphale must have made a mistake when he'd materialised it. He forced himself to keep breathing quietly and staring at the screen.

Soon, Crowley was snoring softly in the crook of the angel's neck, as he nestled against him in his sleep. Aziraphale did his best to ignore the hand on his belly and the soft hair tickling his cheek. He took care to remain perfectly still, even after the film was over. There was definitely something wrong with the wine, because he felt tipsy himself. Safer to stay here for the night.