A horse farm and stable somewhere in the Cotswolds. Disposable Demon Eric and Angel Hekla have taken the old Irish draught stallion Boris and the little Icelandic stallion Angel out for a spring evening bareback ride. They're now heading homeward, exiting a spinney and crossing a rolling field splashed by golden setting sunlight. Leading the animals by their reins (one doesn't always have to ride a horse).

Tut! Angel, no more nibbling today. You don't want to get grass sick.

Angel shakes his mane and smacks his lips and tongue around the bit as if savoring that last little taste of his quick nip of a tall shoot.

Gosh, isn't this pretty? And so peaceful. Sometimes I can't believe I'm actually here.

I've been wondering. Do you think Earth is the real Heaven?

Well, it sure is for me. I go upstairs every chance I get. But are you saying Heaven isn't a wonderful place?

Depends who you are. Right now, I could be at a dusty desk in Metatron's library, bored almost to extinction.

Angels can be extinguished by boredom?

Hekla laughs.

No, silly. Just by Hell Fire.

Still can't believe Lord Beelzebub let me and DeeDee out of Hell. Was sure we were going to be tormented into discorporation.

She'd discorporate one of her own demons?

Well, actually, probably not. Lord Lucifer and Lord Beelzebub never discorporate Disposable Demons. Nor does Demon Crowley, although sometimes he gets testy and gives us a zap. But the rest of The Fallen enjoy discorporating us all the time.

Have you ever been discorporated?

Countless times.

And you always come back the same?

No. We lose a lot of our memory when we're reincorporated. I suppose if I remembered all the awful stuff that's happened to me, I wouldn't have room to think any new thoughts. Or maybe treating us like leaves on a tree keeps us fresh and up to date or something. Legion thinks very deep, ancient thoughts.

Legion?

We're clones of the Seraph, Lord Legion. She possessed me when Lord Beelzebub was interrogating DeeDee and me. Told Lord B to back off. And Lord B did. Legion is very powerful.

She possessed you? Demons can do that?

Well, I imagine Legion can possess us because we're actually part of her.

Just how many of you are there?

I don't know. Lots. We're all over the place. We don't all look like me, of course. You saw the rest of the Baepsae Platoon. There are many other incorporations as well.

How did you get the name Eric? Your incorporation seems like the brown African humans. But Eric is a northern name, from where the bleached humans live.

I forget when I got the name Eric. I've been dispatched on Earth missions to this island for a long time.

I like it. It is a regal name in the parts of Earth that I have been sent to.

Eric strikes a haughty kingly pose.

Suits me, you think? Eric, the Regal Rag?

Tch. Don't call yourself a rag. You are strong and brave.

She stops. Steps close to Eric and hugs him tightly, pulling his head atop her shoulder.

Don't get discorporated, Eric. I don't know what I'd do without you.

After some time, Eric pulls away and regards her.

I'd never forget you, Hekla. But I think we're safe here. Safe for awhile, at least.

Let's get these beasts comfortable for the night. Then have some aquavit and-

Divine Ecstasy?

Hekla kisses him. Then they leap to remount and canter back to the stable.


Tadfield. The bookshop is closed, but Aziraphale is at the sales desk, awaiting Crowley's arrival from London. Just as Crowley enters, the angel's phone chimes. He takes it out and swipes.

Hello, Janet. . . .

Looks up to see a pair of yellow eyes worriedly regarding him.

Oh no, we must beg off. Thank you for the invitation. But Crowley and I have already made plans for this evening. . . . Goodbye.

He disconnects, stows his phone, walks around the desk, slips his arms beneath Crowley's jacket and hugs him. The demon's arms wrap around him, lips nuzzling the angel's wooly hair.

We've made plans, Aziraphale?

Not precisely. I just thought we should be alone together tonight. What would you like to do?

You're not going to like this.

Oh?

I think we need to drive to the Cotswolds and extract Eric and Hekla.

And take them where? I thought they were already in the safest place we could find.

Let's go to Cornwall.

Hm. Still good oysters there this month.

Crowley grins.

I can always count on you to note the culinary delights.

Let us be off, then!

Magicking on their overcoats and gloves, they trot out the door and into the Bentley.


An hour later, at a stable in the Cotswolds. The Bentley pulls up with a spray of gravel. Crowley vaults out, pounds on the door of the little farm outbuilding that's been converted into a small cabin for Hekla and Eric.

Open up, dammit. I know you're in there.

After a long minute, the door opens. Crowley shoves it wide, strides across the room. Grabs Hekla by the arm, scoops up Eric on the return pass, drags them outside. Aziraphale jumps out and holds the passenger door open as they climb into the back seats. He murmurs:

Probably best to magic on some clothing.

Hekla and Eric flick their hands to take care of that as Aziraphale resumes his seat and the Bentley rumbles off into the night.


Early morning at the Cotswolds stable. Two security angels appear on the doorstep to the office. They're clad like London MP's.

We're supposed to knock, right?

Dunno. Door's not locked.

They walk in. Alexis rises from her desk.

Can I help you?

We are here for Ang- . . . the woman Hekla.

Do you have a warrant?

The angels regard one another as if they don't know what that means.

Alexis gives them a keen look.

I must ask you to leave. Now. There is no woman Hekla here.

But we were told . . .

You were told wrongly.

Alexis rises from her chair, walks over and holds the door open. Notices that there is no police car parked and waiting.

Leave.

Not knowing exactly what to do in such a situation, the angels exit. Then walk off up the drive. Once they're out of sight, they vanish.

Alexis gets out her phone.

Mr. Crowley. Something very odd just happened . . .