Uriel's companion is a man about 1.75m tall and muscular. Copper skin, thick black curly hair and beard, and very hairy all over generally. High bridged nose in a handsome face with amused warm brown eyes.

Seeing Adam and Crowley, he transforms. An angel with the head and neck of a black karakul ram. Curled horns. Chest hair like a curly bearskin rug. Egyptian wrapped linen shendyt and gold sandals. Wings tipped with gold. Opens his arms and bows.

Prince. Antichrist. I am the Principality Ammun. Hello, Aziraphale.

-Chapter 12, The Big One


The lounge in Crowley's Mayfair flat. He and Aziraphale are seated on the couch, sipping their way through a bottle of Talisker. They've just finished watching one of Aziraphale's favorite movies, Singin' in the Rain.

I've always loved Gene Kelly's suits in that movie.

Even the plus fours?

Especially the plus fours.

I rather fancy Cyd Charisse's green dress, myself. I think we should practice that dance routine, in fact.

I thought you'd never ask, Crowley.

You know, we didn't meet during the 1930s, but after I saw Fred Astaire in the movie Top Hat, I swanked around London in a tuxedo made by his same Savile Row tailor. He was so trim. Perfect waist. Resisted that damned English drape cut.

You don't still have it, do you?

Yep. Wanna see it?

Dying to, Crowley.

Crowley gets up, snaps his fingers, and he's in 30's full fig, complete with patent pumps, exquisite Deco pearl and platinum studs and links in an immaculate boiled shirt, winged collar and white bow tie, bespoke tailcoat with devilish peaked lapels, galon striped trousers, low cut white evening backless waistcoat of the perfect length, platinum pocket watch, scarlet boutonniere.

Had my hair short and slicked back, of course. Left the silk top hat, walking stick, topcoat and gloves in storage. And I can't tap dance, of course.

Oh. Crowley. What I missed! Next time we tango, you lead.

Nah. Let's just get your white tie tailored better. I shudder to think what it looks like.

I don't own a white tie ensemble, Crowley. Bookshop owners lead a different life.

I think we need to fix that. I trust you'll look very handsome.

But Crowley, no one wears white tie much anymore, do they? I don't expect we'll be called to present ourselves to the Queen.

Then it will just be the two of us having fun with vintage clothing. By the way, speaking of vintage clothing, that reminds me. When Ammun appeared the other day in heavenly dress, why were you reluctant to show yours? Let it get a bit scruffy, have you?

No. It's just . . . well, I haven't actually been called to The Presence since I was posted to Eden. Probably is a bit dusty.

C'mon, just between you and me, then. I'll show you my Hellish court costume if you'll show me your Heavenly dress.

Aziraphale takes a large swig of scotch, sets down his glass. Stands, flicks a hand down his front.

And becomes a startling apparition. Tawny urial ram's head and neck. Massive ivory horns spiraling outward to complete a full circle. Dark gray eyes with horizontal pupils. Long white silky beard and chest ruff combination that stretches to his waist. Wings tipped with gold. Egyptian wrapped linen shendyt and gold sandals.

Crowley transforms into an enormous python, black iridescent scales banded with slim fiery stripes that seem to be lit from within. Coppery gold eyes. Unlike pythons, however, his brows are the horns of desert vipers, and shining red gold like a crown. Wings are raven black, except they're not feathered. They're pterosaur wings, with giant amber claws.

Principalities are rams of God?

Yes. We all wear horns.

That's a pretty impressive rack, Aziraphale. Way bigger than Ammun's.

It does seem to have grown a bit since I last wore it. Why did Ammun call you "Prince," by the way. Only Seraphim are called by that title.

That's what I was. I remember that. Can't remember my heavenly name, though. I never did have arms and legs, was just a face, six wings, and a tail. Looked pretty much like a piece of burned hawser when Lucifer and Beelzebub fished me out of the lake of fire. Could only slide around on my belly. Crawly.

The giant winged snake slithers to the angel's feet, raises itself and slowly coils about the angel's body, looping over his shoulders and staring him in the face. Smiles a snaky smile, revealing needle sharp backward-pointing teeth.

Pythons can eat sheep, you know.

Not with these horns, you won't.

The snake flicks out a forked tongue over the ram's nostrils.

Crowley, that tickles. You're going to make me sneeze.

Why don't you nuzzle me with that fuzzy muzzle.

The python's tail slips under the angel's skirt.

Same human plumbing. Way more impressive balls, though. And they're really, really hairy? Hard to feel through these scales.

Aziraphale can't stand it another second and laughs as he morphs back into his human form. Finds himself collapsed to the floor beneath one very heavy snake.

Whoops. (Crowley morphs back to human). You all right?

The angel takes a deep breath.

Yes. No cracked ribs. You are a monster. I mean, very large. Not at all monstrous. Extremely beautiful, in fact . . . Mmmf!

While he gabbles, Crowley has been doing a slow wriggle atop the angel's belly, running hands along the angel's ribs and through his chest hair, long tongue licking his shoulder, neck, and then open mouth.

Mmmmmmm . . . mutton . . .

Crowley twines his legs around Aziraphale's as he moves his hips to accommodate the angel's growing erection. Once his own penis has spiraled around the angel's, he continues with a slow grind . . . and they're off into Divine Ecstasy.