Inside the cab of a lorry traveling to London. Ammun is driving this time. He glances briefly at Uriel as he speaks.
What do you suppose those two got up to in the hall after the vicar left?
What worries me is the kid on the bike. DeeDee. The little demon. You saw her stick out her tongue at us, right?
She seems to share your talent for walking through walls.
And according to Adam, she put it to good use when the humans were trying to get into Aziraphale's bookshop.
Helping rescue an angel. Not exactly something you'd expect a demon to do, now is it?
No. I can't figure it out. What side is she on?
Hell's, of course. Think about it. You're a menial demon and you find yourself outside of Hell – maybe for the first time – and in the company of a powerful seraph. Must be intoxicating.
Crowley? Powerful?
You remember what I told you about Beelzebub warning me off Adam and Crowley? She considers Crowley to be our young Antichrist's protector. You wouldn't assign some schmo to that sort of task.
Beelzebub certainly made that point clear to the Heavenly Host. Gabriel in particular.
I think Crowley has the stuff, he just doesn't use it. Not the way Beelzebub would like him to, at least. Has his own notions. Seraphim are proud bastards, right down to their celestial marrow.
Something has been bothering Uriel.
Were Crowley and Anubis lovers?
No. He's more like Anubis's sidekick, his wing man. Literally. You've seen Crowley's demonic wings, right?
Just a sort of shadowy outline.
Saw the claws?
Oh lord.
Yeah. Aziraphale's demon lover.
I continue to think we underestimated Aziraphale, as well as his boyfriend in dark glasses.
The two angels are silent for a long while.
Do you suppose they're holding hands back there?
We could check the trailer cam and find out.
No way. Absolutely not.
Right.
In the lorry trailer. Crowley and Aziraphale are sitting alongside one another in the center of the padded wall closest the cab, holding hands. Aziraphale is looking a bit peaky after encountering Gabriel as a statue, fresh from doing time in such a terrible prison himself. Crowley is stowing his phone, having completed a terse call to Evgeny. He regards the angel.
The demon snaps his fingers to set his and Aziraphale's sporrans aside. Morphs into his frightening snake demoness form. Swings a leg over, kneels astride the angel's lap. Pulls both their kilts up so their bare flesh is touching.
Do me, Aziraphale. I need you. Now.
She runs ruby claws through the angel's fluffy white hair. Extends a thick black forked serpent's tongue and flicks it over his lips and face and ears. Horned sidewinder eyes lock with Aziraphale's.
Aziraphale slips his hands under the demon's sinfully soft pullover and silk undershirt, caresses her breasts. As she raises herself and mounts his erection, his head falls back and his face assumes his St. Teresa in Ecstasy expression; his hands slide around to clutch her body close to him.
Crowley arches her back, red hair spilling down over her shoulders. She emits a hissing sigh as powerful contractions send her, too, into Divine Ecstasy.
About an hour later.
The lorry parks, the engine idling. Uriel and Ammun debark and go around the back to open the freight doors. The lovers disengage. Crowley morphs to male, and they adjust their kilts and sporrans. Aziraphale regards Crowley, murmurs:
Thank you, my dear. I needed that.
[chapter continues at The Big One]
