This chapter is a bit shorter than the last few, but it will answer a few questions, and kick us into the next phase of the story.

If you'll recall, at the end of the previous chapter, our favourite pair were summing up their experience and perhaps getting ready to repeat it, when there was an interruption... enjoy!


TEN

It was a heavy, heady, spectacular moment – this morning-after was a success. Aziraphale had been more honest than perhaps he had ever been in his whole long, long life. Now tongues were clashing, and the air in the kitchen was filled with groans and mounting heat.

"Right now, everything is you, Crowley – even my own body," Aziraphale had said. "…its functions of desire belong only to you… The feel of you is on me. All over me. Pressing down on me, wrapped around me, your arms, your mouth, your breath… You're under my skin, and against my skin… maybe you are my skin. And everything I can feel right now is you. And I never want that to go away."

And Crowley was immensely, ferociously grateful for everything Aziraphale had just said. The love, the candor, the willingness to be open, vulnerable, sensual, evocative, and deliciously discreet. Every instinct demanded that he reach out, rekindle the fire, swim in this newfound phenomenon…

When there was an unpleasant scratching sound coming from somewhere in the flat.

Aziraphale broke the kiss. "What the Hell is that?"

"Hello? Crowley? Anyone there?" a familiar voice said.

"Shit," Crowley spat. "It's the TV."

"What?"

"You know… TV, radio, it's how Hell gets in touch these days. It's why I don't have any broadcasting-type electronics in the kitchen."

"Oh," Aziraphale said, with a big, noticeable gulp. "I see."

"I'm sorry, angel."

Crowley stood up, and walked out into the hallway. His body was practically vibrating with want, after hearing what his companion had to say about feeling changed. After waiting for this sort of intimacy for hundreds upon hundreds of years, anticipation had risen in his body so quickly, even he himself couldn't believe it. Just a minute of admittedly very potent snogging had got him more wound-up than anything so benign ever had – than perhaps anything, save for last night's events, ever had. He had to either calm down, or "miracle" his erection into submission before letting himself be seen by whoever was on that screen, and he'd had to get away from Aziraphale in order to make it happen. Just the sight of the grey cashmere, and the sweet, lingering Heavenly scent of him… Crowley shuddered.

"Crowley, you fucking snake!" Beelzebub's voice crackled from the other room. "I know you're there! Show yourself!"

"Well, if ever there was the opposite of an aphrodisiac," he muttered to himself, feeling all excitement ebb away, and dread overtake him. "Thanks, Beelzebub."

Aziraphale appeared in the hallway behind him. "What are we waiting for?"

Crowley looked him over and saw a bulge at the front of the grey robe.

"That," Crowley whispered, indicating it, and quickly averting his eyes. "Get under control before you go in there."

"Oh my!" Aziraphale breathed.

"Just the fact of you wearing that robe…" Crowley hissed.

"I know, I know," Aziraphale said, his face twisting into a sort of panic. "Damn it, why didn't I just put on clothes?"

"Shut up, we both know why," Crowley said. "What's done is done. But you can't get into the bedroom to change without them seeing you, so at the very least, don't go in there while you're… tumescent."

"Tumescent," Aziraphale repeated, as though shocked by it. "Really, Crowley."

"I'm serious!"

"I know!"

With that, Crowley stepped forward, sauntering into his parlour to find Beelzebub on the screen, looking pissed-off, rather than her usual bored. And when he saw what else was on the screen, he found that he could not hide his surprise.

"Lord Beelzebub and… Michael?" he asked, incredulously.

"Hello, Crowley," said the Archangel Michael, sitting beside Beelzebub on what appeared to be the set of Sheldon and Leonard's apartment on The Big Bang Theory. "Where is Aziraphale? We know he must be there, as well."

"He'll be along in a mo'," Crowley answered, flippantly, fighting the urge to cast his eyes over to the hallway where Aziraphale could be seen, eyes closed, calming in progress. "So… a bit odd to see the two of you together. I thought all interdepartmental cooperation had been suspended in the wake of… you know."

"Well, yes, that was the plan," Michael said. "But some information has come to light, and it seemed to behove both sides to become knowledgeable, and to take action."

And that's when Aziraphale wandered in. "Hello, Michael."

She smiled. "Hello, Aziraphale. Nice robe."

"Thank you. Nice hairdo."

"Did you just say, it's a bit odd to see the two of us together?" Beelzebub cut in, loudly, shrilly. "That's rich! You of all demons know the benefits of working with the opposition. You're more aware than anyone that a certain quid pro quo can be achieved."

Michael continued to stare at Aziraphale with a smug, beatific smile. "Oh, from the looks of things, I'd say there's a lot more being achieved here than just quid pro quo. At least of the sort that we're used to."

"Jealous?" asked Crowley.

"Look, can we just get to the point?" Aziraphale asked. "What are the two of you doing together, and on Crowley's television, and on a day like today?'

"Yes, quite," Michael said, wiping away the smirk, and sitting up straight. "I suppose you've been wondering, Aziraphale, why the change was not made."

"The… change. Erm…"

"As I recall, you were told you had until midnight, but clearly, you've been given an extension," she continued.

"Y-yes," Aziraphale stuttered. He and Crowley briefly looked at each other, trying to hide their surprise. "I had been wondering. We both had."

"Well, late last night, Gabriel was contacted by Beelzebub, and she passed along some intelligence that we found to be quite interesting," Michael explained. "She informed us of The Third Domain."

"I see," Aziraphale said, gulping hard.

"I don't need to tell you, Gabriel was flummoxed."

"I wish I could have been there."

"The revelation of a third supernatural domain, having been kept hidden for six thousand years without the knowledge of Heaven nor Hell, is, to say the least, distressing. For the moment, we don't know what it means."

"Nor do we, we admit," Beelzebub sighed.

"There is good, and there is evil. What could the interests be of a third domain?" Michael asked.

There was a heavy silence. Crowley looked back and forth between a frowning Aziraphale, and the TV. "You're… y-you're not asking us, are you?"

"Perhaps," said Beelzebub. "What would you be willing to share?"

"Erm… how about nothing?" Crowley said.

"We thought as much," Michael said, evenly. "It will take quite a bit of investigation and cooperation in order for the ranks of Heaven and Hell to work out what the Third Domain might want."

"Might want?" Aziraphale asked.

"Might want with us. Or with you," Michael told him. After a pause, she added, "Really… no ideas on that front?"

"None," Aziraphale said, speaking as evenly as the Archangel.

"We will need to find out its motivations, its makeup, more about its... personnel," Michael said, pointedly.

"And then, we'll need to work out how to attack it," Beelzebub added, her voice, going splat across the conversation like red paint. "A third domain that lies in wait, as powerful as Heaven or Hell, it cannot stand."

"Well, on that we disagree," Michael qualified. "At least, on principle. This has happened all rather quickly, and the Almighty has been thus far silent on the topic. It would be a grave sin to speak for Her without more knowledge, so for the moment, we're operating under the assumption of benevolence."

Crowley laughed. "Assumption of benevolence. Right. Because She'd never try to take down another domain for no good bloody reason!"

"Silence, demon," Michael said, authoritatively, though with no malice in her voice.

"I second that," Beelzebub said.

Crowley continued to laugh. "Right, right."

"And so, until more is known, I have advised Gabriel that all changes in celestial personnel should be suspended," Michael continued. "And he has agreed."

"Which means?" Crowley wondered.

"Which means that Aziraphale remains as he is until further notice," said Michael.

Both Crowley and Aziraphale noticed the fact that Michael was careful to say Aziraphale remains as he is, rather than Aziraphale remains an angel. She now was unsure of what he was. They had suspended "changes in celestial personnel" because they were no longer sure whether Aziraphale was still a celestial being or not, whether he was, in fact, still theirs to cast out. Perhaps they were afraid to find out what sort of retaliatory action Aziraphale could exact, should they try, and fail, to make him "fall."

"Well, should I say thank you?" Aziraphale asked Michael, a bit bitterly.

"I rather think you should," she said.

Aziraphale's eyes narrowed, as he and the Archangel studied each other for a long moment. "Michael, you're the one who voted not to cast me out, aren't you?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," Michael said, breaking eye-contact.

"And you're the one keeping me in stasis for the moment," he said.

"All in the capacity of official business," she told him. "For Heaven's sake."

"Well, then… thank you."

"Don't mention it," she said. "Honestly. Don't."

He nodded.

"So, what kind of quid pro quo did you two crazy gals find?" Crowley asked. "Beelzebub gave you intel about the Third Domain, such as it is, but what did the dark Lord of the Flies get in return?"

Both Michael and Beelzebub were silent, staring out from the brown leather sofa on the screen.

"Oh, let me guess," Crowley continued. "Access to the Nutter prophecies!"

Both figures on the screen stiffened, betraying the fact that Crowley was correct.

Aziraphale gasped softly and seemed to come alive all of a sudden, and he stood up deadly straight.

Crowley felt the change and turned to look at him. Aziraphale's eyes were as wide as saucers, and he could see that the angel had come to some sort of realisation, and that it was not necessarily good.

"Michael, Beelzebub," Aziraphale said, with a polite smile that Crowley could tell, nevertheless, was masking some sort of driving nervousness. "Just as a point of interest, what time was it when Hell first made contact with Gabriel?"

"Why the Hell should that matter?" Beelzebub asked him.

"Oh, well," Aziraphale feigned to chuckle. "It doesn't. It's just, well, I'm a bit pedantic, or so I'm told, and… I'd like to know."

"You're not pedantic, you're an idiot," she shot back.

"Zing! You've got me! Good one, Lord Beelzebub!" he said, uncomfortably. "But… indulge me, would you?"

Michael and Beelzebub looked at each other with confusion, and the latter shrugged.

Michael held up her hand, and a rectangular device appeared in it. It looked like a clear panel of glass. She looked at it, and poked it as though it were a Smartphone.

"According the Gabriel's official schedule," Michael said. "Beelzebub made contact with the Archangel Network at eleven fifty-eight last night, GMT. Just in the nick of time for you, Aziraphale."

"Why, yes it was. You're quite right, there, Michael! Thank God for small favours, eh?" Aziraphale said, nervously, machine-gunning his words. "Or thank Someone, anyway."

"What's wrong with you? Calm down," Crowley growled at him, barely audibly, teeth gritted.

"Well, if there's nothing else," the angel said. "I should be getting about my day. Good grief, I'm not even dressed!"

"There's nothing else," Michael said.

"You'll be in touch, I trust," Aziraphale said, with a tight smile.

"The two of you are on a need-to-know basis," Beelzebub said.

"Fair enough," Aziraphale chirped. "Nice to see you both. Bye, now!"

Crowley turned toward the sofa and found the remote, and switched off the TV. With that, the two figures on the screen, and the Big Bang Theory set disappeared, and the TV was off.

"What's got into you?" Crowley asked the very agitated angel.

"Crowley… the prophecy."

"What? What prophecy?"

"The Tinkerbell prophecy," Aziraphale said, pushing his voice out harshly. "The one you read to me in Tadfield, at the inn, and I said I was certain it was about Tinkerbell, but clearly I was..."

"...clearly you were hammered. What of it?"

"I need to see it."

With that, Aziraphale turned and hurried down the hall toward Crowley's office, where Agnes Nutter's second volume was stored in a laptop computer.

Ordinarily, he had quite the sizeable disdain for modern instruments such as this one, and he might even pretend not to remember how to use it, though it had only been about twenty-four hours since he'd been shown. But now, apparently, was not the time to be precious and play games. He sat down in the throne-like chair, threw the screen up, and effortlessly pulled up the file containing the prophecies in question.

"Blimey," Crowley muttered, following him. "You must have a bee in your bonnet."

Aziraphale had an idea that finding the prophecy in question would not be too difficult – somehow his angelic prowess would allow him to scroll right to it. And something in Mistress Nutter's abilities that seemed to reach across time…

…and he was correct. He pressed the forward key, and held it for about five seconds before letting go. And there, on the screen, clear as day, was a photograph of Agnes Nutter's nice and accurate penmanship.

Aziraphale read aloud the prophecy at the top of the page. "When a Liberator of Mankind, a dispassionate Being of Heofon, becomes at last grounded with his Essential, and takes leave of his ascetic Qualms, the Probing of the Tertiary Territory will commence."

A silence hung in the air for a few moments, before Crowley said, "Yeah, angel, I'm going to need a little help here. Why are you losing your mind over this?"

The angel stared at the screen. "Quiet for a minute, Crowley. I need to think. Something about this, obviously, is cloying at me… I don't fully understand why… although…"

Crowley leaned over him, and stared at the words on the screen. "The Tertiary Territory," he said. "Whoa, that's… that's…"

"The Third Domain," said Aziraphale. "Ask any thesaurus – the terms are interchangeable."

"Okay, now I'm interested," the demon said.


1. Please forgive the little nod to Doctor Who. ;-) It was too obvious to resist!

2. Uh-oh... prophecy alert!

3. Please leave a review! I would love that!

4. Thank you for reading! :-)