So... our favorite angel/demon pair are now... human! Michael is in the book shop to help them understand. (I made her sympathetic because her character seemed to me a lot more nuanced than that of Uriel or Sandalphon, and certainly more intelligent than Gabriel. I thought that with her, the potential existed for "wiggle room," as far how her character could turn.)
I hope you enjoy/accept/feel satisfied by the explanation of how all of this happened. Earlier in the story, Uriel mentioned that flesh and blood and bone are standard on all planes of existence, and when they were casting Aziraphale out of Heaven, she said, the "non-standard" features of his corporeal form were "theirs" and they wanted them back.
I think that the above could be true of a soul as well. Certain features are simply "standard" for a sentient being created by God. Crowley and Aziraphale just got caught up panic and details. As we all know, they are fallible, and not always entirely level-headed!
Plus, as Michael points out, this all unprecedented!
I hope you enjoy... and that it makes sense to you, as it does to me!
TWENTY-TWO
Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other with a mixture of surprise and worry.
Michael continued to smile, though oddly, Aziraphale detected nothing of her usual smugness.
"When Heaven and Hell withdrew their forces – took back our powers and supernatural energies – from your corporeal forms, we were as surprised, I reckon, as you are now, to find that you'd become, of all things, human," Michael explained. "Though, once it happened, it made perfect sense."
"We thought we'd become nothing," Crowley commented.
"Indeed," Aziraphale said in response. "We were told our souls would be released. We thought we would cease to exist, because, well, we knew that we hadn't sold ourselves to a third domain, and reckoned that once the Heavenly and Infernal essences were vacated, there would be only bodies left."
Michael cleared her throat uncomfortably. "I'm sorry you thought that. Last night must have been a terrifying time for you."
"We managed," Crowley lilted.
"Why didn't you say?" she asked him.
Crowley looked at her with tedium. "You know why. You lot let fucking Hastur convince you that we survived our executions by becoming part of some other supernatural plane."
"And that is… not true?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"No, it's not."
"And if you told us that, then you'd have to prove it by telling us how you did survive."
"Ding-ding," Crowley half-sang, half spat.
"Which would have given us the answer as to how to actually execute you."
"Again… ding."
"I see," Michael said. "I could see how you might have felt yourselves in a bit of a Catch-22."
"You mean completely and utterly buggered? Yeah," Crowley said. "At least this way, we got to cease to exist together, rather than locked away in our respective dungeons."
"But our souls, Michael," Aziraphale interrupted.
"Well there's no reason to release them now," she told him, calmly. "As I pointed out to Gabriel."
"You did?"
"Yes. You're human now. Once all the Heavenly energies were removed from you, what was left was something like a human soul. You've always been made up of layers, Aziraphale. We simply removed one or two of them. It just, it's the first time we've done anything like it, so it didn't occur to anyone that this would be the outcome."
"Same for me, then?" Crowley asked.
"Basically, the mechanics of Heaven and Hell are the same," she told him. "Barring things like holy water and hellfire. So, yes. The essence that makes up humanity is in all of us, it's just that angels and demons have it all wrapped up in other, supernatural, things. Which is why all of us – angel, demon, human – are so imperfect. The Almighty created a highly imperfect model, and She likes it that way."
"Don't I know it," Aziraphale muttered.
Michael continued, "Frankly, we thought you'd change corporeal forms, or, physically express your Third Domain aspect in some way. We thought it would be an aura, or a flash of light, or some such. But when we did a scan of Crowley's flat for supernatural presences, all we found was human presence. This is what made us realise that the so-called Third Domain has been known to us for always."
"Has it, now?" Aziraphale asked, a bit sarcastically. "Fancy that."
"Of course. It's humanity. A plane of existence that's just as powerful as Heaven or Hell… we were blind not to see it in the first place," Michael shrugged, with a bit of a chuckle. This was the first time Aziraphale could recall seeing her show mirth, without involving the humiliation of another angel.
Again, Crowley and Aziraphale caught one another's eye, this time with disappointment and dread. They had both been very keen for the two "organisations" not to find out the truth about the Third Domain, and together, they had realised that their relationship itself may have kicked it off. Both were feeling the weight of guilt, because what did this mean now for humanity? Of which they were now part?
It was Crowley who asked the question. "So, what's next for us? Us, being… however you'd like to interpret that, I suppose."
"I don't know, exactly," she admitted. "Heaven and Hell are going back to the drawing board now, because there are a few things that need to be rethought."
"Such as?" Aziraphale wondered.
"Well, I probably shouldn't tell you this, since you're technically out-of-the-loop now," Michael said, a bit sheepishly. "But both sides are trying to work out how the two of you managed to become half-human in order to survive your executions, because they think it's a tool that could be well-used in diverse and sundry ways."
"Ah," Aziraphale grunted. "How wise."
Michael laughed lightly. "Oh, Aziraphale. It's not wise at all! But you already know that." Then, she sighed. "Sometimes I marvel at the ignorance of the average Archangel. Is six thousand years really that long?"
"I don't follow," Aziraphale said to her.
"Unlike you, most of us don't take corporeal form very often, so it's easy for us to forget: our bodies were fashioned in the same way as human bodies were. Or rather, human bodies were fashioned in the same way as ours. At the basic molecular level, angels and demons who take corporeal form are no different from humans."
"Well, that's rather a sobering thought," Crowley pouted.
Michael batted her eyelashes at him. "Oh, come now, Crowley. You wouldn't have been half as good at your job if your body didn't function in the same way as those of the humans you tempted over the millennia."
"Y-w-…" Crowley began. "Eh, point taken."
"What makes us different is quite intangible," Michael said. "It's layers of supernatural infusions from Heaven or Hell that makes an angel or a demon, makes you vulnerable to certain things, and invulnerable to others, such as, again, holy water and hellfire. A touch of magic, and an animus that keeps the flesh fresh, and lets you escape things like sickness and starvation. You know all this, though Aziraphale."
"I suppose I do."
"That's a very down-to-Earth assessment from someone who spends the majority of her time… being intangible," Crowley said to her.
"It's just the truth," Michael said. "I'm sure Aziraphale has mentioned to you over the millennia that I'm a bit of a stickler. I'm pedantic and scrupulous in my way… it's something Aziraphale and I have in common. Gabriel and the others have all but forgotten their origins, and will be on a wild goose chase for a while."
"So how long before you stop them wildly chasing geese, and remind them?" Crowley wondered, sceptically.
"I wasn't actually planning to," Michael replied, folding her hands, and placing them in her lap primly, in a very Aziraphalian manner. She kept her eyes cast down at the coffee table for the moment.
"You weren't planning to?" Crowley asked, incredulity weighing down his voice.
"The Almighty has asked me to keep it to myself for now, and truth be told, I would have anyway," she admitted, still staring at the table. "She wanted us to sort out the two of you for the moment, until things look more stable."
"Sort us out? What does that mean?" Aziraphale asked.
"Well, fortunately, She charged me with that task. Now that you're human, what do we do with you? So, to that end…" She reached into her clutch and pulled out two small items. They were flat, burgundy-coloured, and nearly fit in her hand. She separated the two items, and handed one to Crowley, and one to Aziraphale. "Here are your British passports – we've given you new identities. We think you'll find that they're very similar to your old identities."
Aziraphale opened the cover of his, and found an image of himself, snapped by Uriel's photographic device sometime around 1950. He had been surprised by her, and therefore found the image unflattering.
"Oh, this is a terrible picture," he complained.
"All passport photos are terrible," Crowley told him. "Just makes you that much more human."
Aziraphale looked back down at the document. "Aaron," he mused. "Aaron Zira Fell. I used that name long ago, when I bought the shop."
Michael smiled. "We know." She turned to Crowley. "And you, of course, are Anthony Jay Crowley. However, we don't have a photo of you, especially not one with your new eyes. So, hold still."
She pulled a thing from her pocket that looked like a Smartphone-sized pane of glass. She aimed it at Crowley, who frowned slightly, then puckered her lips and blew on it.
"There, that's done," she said.
Crowley opened the document, and watched an image of himself slowly appear upon it, with a white background, a frown on his face, and still incongruously brown eyes. It was a bit like watching an old-fashioned Polaroid develop, only the picture was infinitely clearer.
As she returned her glass pane to her pocket, she said, "We've given you both birthdates in the mid 1970's – please memorise them."
"21st October, 1975," Aziraphale muttered. "Somehow appropriate. I'm nearly forty-four years old. I look forty-four?"
Michael shrugged. "It's difficult for us to judge."
"18th April, 1976," Crowley read. "What's the significance of that date?"
"I just thought you'd like to be an Aries. You know… horns."
"Ah yes. Very considerate," he agreed, chuckling.
She dipped back into her clutch. "Oh, and here are your National Insurance cards… we're working on the rest of whatever documentation you'll need, in order to survive as Londoners now."
Crowley piped up then. "Why are you doing this? You'll forgive me, Michael, but obviously, I don't completely trust you. I mean… it just feels like the Almighty is trying to keep us busy whilst She brews up something."
"That might very well be true," Michael sighed. "All I know for certain is She asked me to sort you gents out. Amicably."
"Why would she do that?" Aziraphale wondered.
"I didn't ask," Michale told him. "However, if I were to guess – and mind you, I am in no way speaking for Her, I'm just philosophising – I would say that She is grappling with some questions at the moment, and She would like to keep the Archangel Network distracted and frankly, under control, whilst She… ruminates. A good way to do keep Gabriel and Uriel docile is to make sure that the two of you are, as they say, out of our hair."
"Whilst She ruminates. Over whether or not to try and destroy us," Crowley said. It was not a question. "Humanity, I mean."
"The Almighty is aware that the Archangels and Hell's ranks will be gathering steam for a war on the same side," Michael said. "This was not part of Her plan. Her plan, as you both well know, was averted."
"Right," Aziraphale said.
"She is, as far as I can tell, undecided on the war against the Third Domain. She's confessed to being disturbed by the idea that humanity has become just as strong as Heaven, but She wonders, then, why bother creating something amazing, if She's just going to try and keep it weak? I reckon She wonders the same thing about Hell itself. But then, how to keep everyone in check in the long-term, including the Archangels… that remains the question."
"So perhaps it's a good thing that we derailed the Apocalypse," Aziraphale said, dryly.
"I wouldn't press my luck if I were you," Michael warned. "But you might not be wrong. Because much to my surprise, the Almighty sent me here today with the gift of Her forgiveness, Aziraphale. And Crowley, She would like to do you a favour, if you so desire."
"So, it does sort of sound like She's a bit glad the whole Armageddon thing went tits-up, if She's willing to bend to us a bit now," Crowley teased. "Tell me, is this a particular favour? Or do I get to pick?"
"It's a particular favour," Michael said, indulgently. "She's giving you – both of you – the choice of whether to remain human, or to return to your former states as angel and demon, indefinitely. Now that all of this withdrawing-of-power chaos and misfire has reached Her, She is taking it in Her own hands. I'm to sort you out for the time being, but ultimately, you'll be given the choice."
"Wow," Aziraphale exclaimed, with eyes open wide, looking at Crowley. He found Crowley's brown, human eyes, staring back. They would take some getting-used-to.
"Being human, of course, would allow you to be together, which seems to be very important to you," Michael said, with no mocking, no irony, no judgement whatsoever. "And we deal in love, at the end of the day… at least, that's how it's supposed to be. You'd be free to live your lives unfettered, unwatched, as human as can be. You would no longer be on opposite sides of anything, and in the twenty-first century in London, people have finally realised for the most part, the Almighty doesn't care who you love, as long as you do love."
"Amen," Crowley commented.
"You'd have to get proper jobs – well, at least, you would, Crowley – and you'd have to start paying for your flat, and putting petrol in your car, et cetera, et cetera. But being supernatural beings again would allow you to fight in the coming war, if you so desire, should a war come. And you'd have powers, and a line to Heaven and Hell, and you'd be stronger, and more invulnerable."
"Ugh," Crowley groaned, pulling his hand down over his face. "Fighting. Against the end of the World as we know it. Again. That sounds utterly exhausting."
"Mind you," Michael went on. "Who's to say which side you'd fight on? I mean, I, personally have learned that neither Heaven nor Hell should expect to have any success whatsoever in dictating to the two of you where your loyalties ought to lie, but that's just my own observation." She cleared her throat primly, and stifled a smile.
"Okay, next question… amid a veritable hurricane of insanity…" Crowley said, his thoughts and words disjointed. "Why are you being so nice?"
Michael sighed, and then looked Aziraphale in the eyes. "Aziraphale, I have something to confess."
"Yes?"
"I'm the one who brought your friendship with Crowley to light. In the midst of all the Armageddon business, I went through the Earth surveillance files – which no-one ever looks at – and found evidence of the two of you fraternising. I showed it to Gabriel, then, I'm ashamed to say, I alerted Ligur to it, and put Hell onto you."
"Michael!" Aziraphale breathed. "Is all of that true?"
"I'm afraid so," she told him. She showed some genuine sadness as she spoke. "Without that little bug in their ears, no-one would have put either of you on the radar for actual treachery, and no-one would have realised that you were working against the Plan, and ultimately it almost got you killed. Destroyed."
"Yes, it did!"
"Well, you managed to survive your executions, and we still don't know how, and I have to admit, I was a bit relieved, even though I was the one who delivered the holy water to hell… following orders.
"And then, Aziraphale, you were cast out! And I felt terrible about that because… well, again, the Almighty created all of us imperfect, and I'd been in contact with Ligur for half a millennium or so, so who was I to judge you?"
"You had?"
"Well, not like you two," she said. "We weren't what you'd call close. But I found him… entertaining, at times. We just commiserated now and then. Never in-person, and we didn't, say, get drunk together, or go to the theatre together. But I'll admit to finding reasons to ring him, once a decade or so, just so I could complain about Gabriel. And if we happened to cross paths, we'd have a chat. It could be a laugh, under the right circumstances."
Crowley laughed out loud. "That might be the best news I've heard all year!" And he cackled with delight.
"Honestly, apart from the Armageddon thing, Aziraphale, you've done a stellar job. You may have thought I wasn't impressed with your work, but I was. And your relationship with Crowley, as far as we can tell, has never hurt your performance. In fact, if the two of you have been in love for as long as the surveillance suggests, I daresay it may have helped you understand humanity better, and bless them more deeply. And Crowley, I can't say I understand you at all, but then, I don't think I was meant to."
"I think you're probably right," he whispered.
She sighed heavily. "And yet, Aziraphale, suddenly there I was, responsible for your downfall. I tried to keep it from happening, but I was overruled. So then, when we were contacted by Beelzebub about this Third Domain business, and I saw a way to buy you some time…"
"You talked Gabriel into suspending all changes in personnel," Aziraphale said.
"Yes. And then this happened, and the Almighty put me in charge, so here we are. Passports, identities… Crowley's brown eyes," she said.
There was a heavy silence in the bookshop, whilst the three of them looked from one to the other, and back again.
"How long before we have to decide?" Aziraphale asked, breaking the silence.
"Why don't I come back in a year?" she suggested. "Three hundred sixty-five days for the two of you to live. Just live your lives. Be together. Talk it over. Consult the prophecies…"
"The prophecies?" Aziraphale chirped, uneasily. "Why ever would you…"
"You must have kept a copy, Aziraphale," she smirked. "Gabriel might have been fooled when you handed over the manuscript, but I was not. You do have a way to access Agnes Nutter's second volume, do you not?"
"I do," he admitted, quietly.
"Good. Do your research. Work out what might happen. Decide where you want to be when that time comes. Human or supernatural? Dead or alive? Just know that if you come back into the fold, Crowley, you're still a demon, and Aziraphale, you're still with us. You will be watched. I can keep surveillance out of the bookshop and out of Crowley's flat, but that's it. No promises on St. James' Park, or the Ritz, or any other public spaces."
"Fair enough," Aziraphale conceded.
"Incredible," Crowley said, looking at Michael with disbelief.
"Yes?" she asked, a bit nonplussed by the attention.
"You're an Archangel," he said. "And yet, you're bringing forgiveness. You're actually trying to help. You're seeing grey area, seeing beyond the dogma and the protocol."
"Yes, this is how it's supposed to be," she told him, with a smile.
"I know, but… well, until today, I wasn't sure if any actual Archangel knew that."
"I've spent enough time being prickly," she told him. "I found that when the idea of casting out Aziraphale arose, it flared up something in me that I guess had been dormant. I felt sick and appalled. I felt, dare I say it? Empathy, and regret over, as they say, screwing over a colleague."
"Well, we thank you, Michael," said Aziraphale.
"You're welcome. Just keep in mind, if Gabriel finds out, he'll kill all three of us."
"Right," said Crowley.
"Right," echoed Aziraphale.
"That's one of the great disadvantages to having a boss who's a moron. So lay low," she advised. "I'll see you in a year."
That, my friends, is the penultimate chapter - weird as it is. All that remains is a short, sweet epilogue.
I do have an idea or two jotted down, should I choose to address "the big one," when Heaven and Hell go after Humanity and Crowly and Aziraphale have to intercede. But the idea is underdeveloped, and would very likely be anticlimactic. I'm not sure if I'll go there.
I also have a couple of OTHER Good Omens fanfic ideas to toy with (related to this story and the previous), and I'm fully planning on returning to the Doctor Whoverse, so... well, the future looks scattered.
Please let me know your thoughts. About the Chapter, about "the big one," about further ideas - whatever strikes your fancy! Thank you for reading - one more to go!