Disclaimer: Aziraphale, Crowley, and Good Omens are created and copyrighted by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. This is a fanfic, intended only in the spirit of fun. Tons of love and thanks is owed to the amazing and wonderful Daegaer, who provided tons of feedback for the first half of the fic, and then ended upsomehow volunteering herself as a beta-reader and a proofreader, and who helped me correct many of my Americanisms with proper British English. And thanks to y'all for reading!

Ordinary Miracles

by Nenena

Chapter 10

Leyland, Winston, ed. 1977. Orgasms of Light. Gay Sunshine Press, San Francisco. PN6071.H724 O7

A friendly chime, followed by the discrete sound of extraordinarily polite elevator doors opening. Edwards and Aziraphale stepped out. John was waiting for them just outside the door marked with the number 542. He took one look at Edwards' flushed, smiling face, and the way that he laughed heartily when the other man whispered something into his ear, and shook his head in disbelief.

"Paul Edwards," he said, "as I live and breathe."

Edwards walked down towards him, grinning, the other man following him closely. "John!" he exclaimed happily, reaching out to shake John's hand. "Good to see you, man! How you been?"

"Chilly. I think Hell froze over this morning."

The other man - a rather short, unassuming man in a camel-hair coat - laughed at that line, and John raised one eyebrow at him. "You must be - let me see if I can say this right - Aziraphale. Aziraphale, is it?"

The other man gasped with delight. "That's bloody brilliant! Nobody ever gets it right the first time."

John turned toward Edwards, who was looking suddenly somewhat bashful. "I don't believe you, Paul. For twenty years you've been telling me you would never go all the way with another man, and then you have the gall to call me this morning and tell me--"

"I don't know how to explain it, John. You know that's never been my taste, but... There's something special about him, you know?"

"Oh, so now it's L-O-V-E?"

"Give me a break, John," Edwards muttered, obviously uncomfortable. Then he took Aziraphale's hand. "John," he told Aziraphale solemnly, "is the best matchmaker I know. If you want a hot date--"

Aziraphale nodded enthusiastically.

"--Then he's your man. Whatever your pleasure, whatever your fetish. John knows everyone and anyone. I'm going to run out and grab some lunch for us while he talks to you, okay? I'll be right back."

"Thank you," Aziraphale said, standing up on his tiptoes to give Edwards a quick kiss on the cheek. He let go of his hand and said, "Well, then, see you soon. Don't take too long!"

While Edwards turned to leave, John led Aziraphale inside 542 and closed the door behind them. It was a cozy little apartment with a comfortable sitting room immediately near the doorway. Aziraphale took a seat on an upholstered chair and glanced around, drinking in the surroundings with his unsettlingly clear blue eyes. John sat down across from him and coughed, clearing his throat.

"So," he said.

"Hmm?"

"So," he said again, "You're the one who did the impossible."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I've known plenty of men over the years who would have killed for a chance to get into Paul Edwards' trousers. He always insisted that he wouldn't swing that way, though." John sighed and settled back in his seat. "So let's get down to business. What's your pleasure?"

"Huh?"

"What sort of person would you like to try it with? What turns you on?"

"Let's see. I like... Er... I like people who look like desserts. And people with names like the Apostles."

"Okay." John rubbed his temples, as if trying to fend off a building headache. "Right, okay. I've heard weirder. When you say the Apostles, would you still count Judas? 'Cause I know a really fun guy named Judas who'd probably love to go out on a date with you. He's such a friendly guy, and a great dancer."

"Oh," said Aziraphale, with a dismissive wave of his hand, "I'm not interested in dinner or dancing or any of those unnecessary trimmings. I just need them to pull down their trousers so that I can Save their souls."

"You're very forward, aren't you?"

"Mr. Edwards said that to me, too. Er, Paul, I mean."

"Maybe," said John thoughtfully, "You should just take out a swinger's ad."

"A what?"

"It's like a personal ad, but without pretensions."

Aziraphale gave him a funny look.

"What? You know what I mean by 'pretensions,' don't you?"

"Yes, I know, but..." Now Aziraphale was definitely staring at him. "It's just that... It's funny how I never noticed it before... Your nose... It's such a funny, big red shape... Like a strawberry... It must taste very sweet... "

"Hey, uh, I'm just the matchmaker, I don't--"

But it was too late. Aziraphale had stood up and, in two swift steps, crossed the room already and then reached out to pin John down to his seat with his inexplicably powerful hands. When the first set of kisses started raining down upon his face, John gave up completely and thought, What the hell. It's almost just like the good old days, isn't it? This sort of improbable scenario would be right at home in one of Bill's old porno movies.

"John, John, John, John," Aziraphale gasped out his name, smothering his face with kisses and then moving down to ravish his neck. "I love you, John. I love you so, so, so very much. Let me take you, John. Let me take you right here. Let me Save your soul."

Across town, another pair of elevator doors opened. These were decidedly less polite doors; they squeaked and groaned as they slid apart. Pauline and Theo stepped out into the hall; they were followed by Evil Incarnate, who was currently wringing his hands in consternation and whining at both of them.

"What if he's still mad at me about trying to kill him? What if he still hasn't forgiven me for the whole, er, barbecue thing last month? What if he doesn't like me? What if--"

"It's this one," Theo said as they stopped in front of a door.

Pauline raised one fist and rapped on the door sharply. "Mr. Crowley? Hello, are you there, Mr. Crowley?"

The door seemed to throw itself open; and the next Theo knew, Crowley had thrown his arms around him and was lifting him up, squeezing him in a big bear hug. "Theo! My favorite little angel in the whole world!" Crowley planted a kiss on Theo's forehead. "How have you been, kiddo?"

Theo looked up in horror and realized that Crowley was wearing a cardigan sweater and no sunglasses. He seemed to have recently gotten a haircut, too.

Crowley beamed down at him. "Why are you giving me such a funny look?" Then he glanced up and saw that he had company. "Pauline, is that you? You look beautiful, as always. And who is that--? Oh!" Crowley put down Theo, rushed over toward Lucifer, and threw his arms around the Devil in a great, big, joyful hug. "Sir, I haven't seen you in AGES! This is SUCH an unexpected honor! Would you like to come in and have a spot of tea? Or a bite to eat? I was just fixing lunch - tell me, do you like muesli?"

Pauline gave Theo a chillingly hateful glare. "No change, huh?" she hissed beneath her breath.

Theo gulped. "Um. Heh-heh. Guess I was wrong."

John couldn't even remember how they'd ever managed to get themselves into the bedroom, or onto the bed. His clothes were strewn all over the various rooms of his apartment - some articles of which were stuffed and strewn in some very, very interesting places. And now here he was, lying naked on his own sweat-soaked bed, staring up at the ceiling, utterly exhausted, sore all over, with the quite amazing Mr. Aziraphale taking a light nap beside him. As he continued staring at the ceiling, John thought, Hmm, this is sort of weird, but... All of a sudden, I've got this insane craving to go read the Bible.

"Bill," John suddenly told the ceiling.

Aziraphale's eyes fluttered open prettily. "Hmm?" he inquired sleepily.

"I know who you should meet. You should meet Bill. You ever been filmed before?"

"Filmed?"

"Yeah. Film and photographs. Bill does very classy stuff. And he's very safe, you know, trustworthy. Totally safe, has a good reputation. And you... Wow. You're a natural. And good-looking, too. And obviously not adverse to adventure. You should try it." Then he frowned to himself and said, "I don't think there was ever an Apostle named Bill, though."

"That's all right." Aziraphale stretched luxuriously and then rolled over to snuggle against John's side. "It's just my preference, but it doesn't matter. I should Save everyone I can."

John turned his head slightly and glanced at the clock propped up on his dresser. "Oh, shit! Paul said he was just going to pick up lunch - he'll be back any minute! Actually, come to think of it... That's not right. He should have been back a while ago--"

"It's all right," Aziraphale said cheerfully. "There was a bit of divine intervention when he was on his way to pick up the food. He decided to take a detour to the nearest bookstore and buy a copy of the Bible instead. And the nearest bookstore is quite a ways away from here."

John stared at him. "How do you know that?"

"I told you. I'm an angel."

"Okay." John folded his hands across his bare stomach. "Prove it."

Without a word, Aziraphale sat up in bed, and paused briefly to pop a joint in his neck. Then there was the sound of glass breaking as he unfurled his enormous white wings, the tip of one of which crashed right through the bedroom window. Aziraphale fluttered apologetically, and only succeeded in knocking over a lamp, which crashed to the carpet. "Er, sorry about that. It is a little cramped in here, but... Is this enough proof for you?"

John was staring up at him, an expression of awe and wonderment on his face.

"Oh, my," he breathed softly. "We have got to get you on film like that."

Aziraphale blushed, obviously flattered. "You think so?"

"Oh yes. I've decided. After lunch, we're taking you straight to see Bill. Right away."

Crowley had redecorated his flat overnight.

The floor was covered in colorful throw rugs, and the walls were wallpapered with the most atrociously charming motifs of country farmhouses and hand-stitched bunnies and teddy bears sitting next to buckets full of shiny apples; the leather furniture had been replaced with second-hand upholstered sofas and chairs, far too many of which were crammed into the room. The lighting had gotten dimmer, the air had gotten mustier, and the whole place smelled of tea and freshly-baked biscuits. The impressive home entertainment system and the shelves full of CDs and DVDs seemed to have disappeared completely. Theo asked about this right away, and Crowley shrugged and said, "Oh, those things. I never needed those things to keep myself entertained, anyway. I have my knitting and my gardening to attend to. I donated all those old things to the children's hospital down the way."

Pauline was staring at him as he said this, positively aghast with horror. Lucifer, for his part, merely looked pale and ill. "I need to sit down," he said faintly, and then he did, nearly swooning back into an upholstered chair. He proceeded to bury his face in his hands and moan. "I only have one field agent left up here, and he's taken up knitting. NOW what are we going to do?"

"Chin up there, sir," Crowley said cheerfully as he puttered around the kitchen area. "Would a nice cup of chai make you feel better?"

Theo sat down on a sofa carefully and watched the demon's every move. Even his normally menacing yellow eyes somehow looked warm, friendly, and cheerful today. And his new haircut and outfit made him look like a total square.

"Crowley," said Lucifer carefully, obviously struggling to keep himself from crying again, "Could you please explain to me, right now, just exactly what you've been up to since yesterday afternoon?"

Crowley re-emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel with a pair of hens wearing checkered dresses embroidered on the bottom, and sat down on the sofa next to Theo. "Well, sir, if I must be honest with you, not very much. I was mostly just, you know, thinking. I suddenly felt like thinking, all of a sudden, and I can't for the life of me explain why. And I was thinking, sir," Crowley continued pleasantly, "that with all those nice open fires we always have burning Down There, wouldn't it be lovely if one of these days we could, you know, have a great big barbecue party? And we could barbecue some real delicious tofu and vegetables, instead of the souls of the damned like we normally do, and then, this is the best part, then we could invite all of those damned souls to a big picnic, and we could all sit together and eat and laugh and have a lovely bonding experience--"

Lucifer was weeping again. He suddenly stood up, crossed the room, threw himself down on the couch beside Crowley, and wrapped his arms around him, embracing the demon in a tight hug, running his clawed fingers gently and tenderly through Crowley's hair. "Oh, you poor, poor, poor thing! Look at what this curse has done to you!" He sniffled, and then declared with resolve, "Don't you worry, Crowley. We're going to destroy that awful miracle and find a cure for you. For you and all my demons! I won't let you suffer like this any longer!"

"But I'm not suffering," came Crowley's muffled reply from somewhere deep within the Devil's embrace.

Lucifer glanced up and around and took in the decorating in Crowley's apartment, one more time. "No," he insisted, "you must be suffering. Suffering so much that you're deep in denial. You can't like being good. I don't like being good. This is an intolerable state of affairs. And, curse it all, I keep blubbering like a baby every five minutes!"

"But I do like being good," Crowley insisted, finally managing to wriggle somewhat free of Lucifer's embrace. He favored Lucifer with the particular big, beaming, insistently happy smile that usually only showed up on the faces of lobotomy victims. "I've discovered the joys of vegan cuisine. And of helping out my fellow man. And of world peace. We should really do more work to promote world peace, sir."

"I can't take this any more!" Lucifer threw up his hands in frustration and stood up off the couch. "Pauline, don't we have ANY other field agents left on this planet?"

"Yes, I thought that Tajo was still doing work in South America," Crowley jumped in helpfully. "He's really a charming demon, when you get right down to it, but still, if you want someone evil, he might be your man."

Pauline shook her head sadly. "I checked the records sir. Most of our field agents, including the one who answers to the name Tajo, were on vacation in the upper circles last night, and were not able to escape the miracle's path. We have one agent currently unaccounted for in China; it is assumed that he has been eaten by a rogue panda."

"Panda bears are vegetarians," Theo pointed out.

"Not when it comes to demons," Pauline sighed.

Crowley nodded knowingly. "Amen to that."

"Please don't say 'amen,' " Lucifer said faintly.

"I'm sorry, sir. Really, terribly sorry. Would you like some nice tea to drink?" Crowley offered for the third time. "Some chai would get the healthy red color back in your cheeks."

"Actually," Lucifer said as he sat down heavily on his chair again, "I could use some beer."

"Er, I'm sorry sir, but... I've sworn off alcohol. There's none left in the house." He lowered his voice and whispered conspiratorially, "Liquor is the root of most of humanity's evils."

"You CAN'T be happy without alcohol!" Pauline gasped, looking positively affronted. "How can you even THINK straight without five martinis a day?! You couldn't possibly be happy, living like this!"

"But I am happy," Crowley repeated again, calmly, firmly, robotically. "I am perfectly happy living a good life like this. Peace, love, virtuousness, and righteousness are the path to true happiness."

Lobotomized, Theo thought again, and shuddered. Suddenly he didn't want to be sitting so close to Crowley; he tried to scoot away on the couch, as inconspicuously as possible.

Pauline wandered over to one of the wooden shelves filled with kitschy knickknacks that Crowley had lined one wall with. She picked up a glass snow globe with an apple-cheeked little tow-headed cherub strumming a harp inside it. "This, Crowley - may I take this?"

"Of course. It's charming, isn't it? But you can certainly take it if you'd like. Material possessions are meaningless to me now."

Theo shuddered again.

Pauline crossed back across the flat, her heels making muffled clicking sounds against the colorful throw-rugs, and stuffed the snow globe into the teeth-lined mouth on top of her leather briefcase, which she had left sitting on a table beside the Devil's currently occupied chair. "This will be Exhibit B in your future lawsuit, Theo," she told the boy coldly.

Theo gulped.

"Who's suing Theo?" Crowley asked conversationally.

"Hell is. Unless he can find the miracle, destroy it, and reverse all the damage that it's done within the next forty-eight hours."

"Damage? But I don't feel like I've been damaged. I feel improved."

"Well, I feel defective," the Devil grumbled darkly. "I think the only reason I have enough of my right mind left to KNOW I'm supposed to be evil is because Pauline here pulled me out of the miracle's coding matrix before it had ingested me completely. And I don't like having my demons all losing their minds on me, either."

"But I haven't lost my mind," Crowley insisted further, still smiling broadly.

And then, Theo had had enough. Seeing Crowley like this was like living out his worst nightmares; it only confirmed everything that he had refused to believe about the miracle's powers when he had been talking to Pauline and the Devil earlier that morning. And then, all of a sudden, Theo was worried about Aziraphale. And, at the same time, he realized that he knew a way to get Crowley to want to change back to the way things were. Theo reached up and tapped his shoulder. "Hey, Crowley. I have to tell you something."

"What is it?"

"If you ended up being all improved like this, then..." Theo took a deep breath. "What do you think would have happened to Aziraphale?" Theo felt a sudden sharp stab of satisfaction as he watched Crowley's smile falter. "The miracle touched him, too, you know," Theo went on further. Now Crowley's smile was definitely slipping. "It would be terrible, wouldn't it, if something bad happened to him, wouldn't it?"

"Something... bad?" Crowley asked, hesitantly. "Er... You don't know?"

"I haven't seen him for a while," Theo admitted. "And I didn't want to believe this before, but I'm thinking that, seeing what happened to you, there's a good chance that the miracle had the exact opposite effect on him."

Now Crowley really looked afraid.

"Serial killer," Pauline said solemnly.

Crowley buried his face in his hands. "Oh, no," he moaned. "If that blessed angel goes and does something really evil, he'll Fall."

"You wouldn't want that, would you?" Theo asked softly.

"No," Crowley admitted, sounding perfectly miserable. "Aziraphale doesn't deserve that. He's a good angel." Crowley dropped his hands into his lap. He turned to Theo, and the expression of helpless grief on his face almost broke Theo's heart. "What should we do?!"

"We have to find and destroy that miracle," Theo declared somberly. "And we have to change everything back to the way it was."

"But..." Crowley's voice trailed off, and he stared down at his hands, folded neatly in his lap. "But I don't want to go back to the way things were..."

"You'd do this for Aziraphale's sake, wouldn't you?"

Crowley studied his hands again. "Yes," he finally admitted with a painful, grieving sigh, "I suppose I must." He lifted his head up again and said more resolutely, "Fine, then. I'll help you destroy that miracle."

Theo turned to the other two and said smugly, "See? If he's suddenly so determined to do the right thing, one might as well take advantage of that."

"Wonderful," said Pauline with a clap of her hands. "Now we just have to start looking for it--"

"No," Crowley cut in firmly. "FIRST we have to check up on that angel. To make sure he hasn't gone out and murdered anyone yet." He stood up and walked over to the nearest telephone.

Lucifer put his feet - still clad in slush-coated black boots - up on an upholstered footrest. Then he suddenly looked embarrassed and flustered, and put them back down again. He turned to Crowley and asked, "What are you going to do if that angel's decided to go stab-happy with a butcher knife?"

"It doesn't matter whether he's good or evil anymore," Crowley said as he dialed. "We have to find him and get him to help us anyway."

"Why?"

"Because that angel," Crowley answered, "is the best sharpshooter we've got. If we have a mutant miracle to kill, there's almost no way that we can do it without him."

Pauline sat down in another chair and sighed wearily. "I find myself hoping that the angel actually has gone bad," she said as Crowley listened to the phone ringing, frowning. "It would be nice not to be the only evil one in the group anymore."

"Pauline," said the Devil helplessly, "you know I'm trying."

"I know, sir. I appreciate the effort, sir."

Crowley shook his head and hung up the phone. "I got the ansaphone. I don't think he's home." He turned to Theo. "Do you have any guesses as to where he could have gone?"

"He's probably out looking for me," Theo said, shooting a pointed glare at Pauline and Lucifer. "I WAS abducted this morning, after all."

"Then we have to find him. Right away." Crowley reached for his coat and hat.

Lunch was take-out Chinese. They ate in John's apartment. John made several frantic phone calls, and then all three of them piled into Edwards' car, and they were off.

Bill was decidedly unimpressed when he first laid eyes on Aziraphale.

"Is this really the guy?" he asked, giving John the evil eye. "He doesn't look like much to me."

"Just wait until he gets his shirt off," Edwards sighed dreamily.

"Look here, I'll show you," Aziraphale said, already taking off his clothes.

"Is this really your car?" Pauline asked. She sounded genuinely impressed.

Crowley blushed, almost bashfully. "Well, it's not much, but it--"

"Get in," Lucifer ordered curtly. "We've wasted enough time this morning as it is."

They were in the lower levels of the parking garage beneath Crowley's apartment building. It was cold and dark and damp all around, but the Bentley seemed to glow with its own infernal black light. Miracle or no miracle, it still looked - and felt - like a properly demonic car. Theo was just grateful that the car hadn't managed to transform itself into a bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle, which he had almost been halfway expecting, considering what had happened to Crowley overnight.

"All right," said Crowley, suddenly all business again. He may be disgustingly good, Theo thought, but at least he still seemed to have a head on his shoulders. "I'll drive, and Theo takes shotgun. I need him up close to me, because he might be able to sense the angel's presence before any of us can see him. Would you two mind riding in back?"

"Only if I get to pick the music," Lucifer grumbled as he slid in after Pauline and her briefcase. "Hey... You wouldn't happen to have any, er, Vivaldi, would you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"Oh, Jesus!! Oh, Jesus!!! OH, JESUS!!!! OH, JESUS!!!!!" cried out nice Mr. Brown who liked to wear the policeman's cap. Aziraphale thought that was a charming little quirk of his, but a bit eccentric, in his personal opinion. Aziraphale had recently come to the understanding that Mr. Brown seemed to operate in these circumstances while assuming the nickname "Big Ben," and Aziraphale was just as puzzled and quaintly amused by this charming little quirk of his as he was by the cap.

"Oh, I love you, Jesus," Mr. Brown sobbed with joy as he clutched at a bedpost, trembling with exhaustion. Aziraphale finished with his end of it, and gave Mr. Brown a last kiss on the back of his neck. Then, smiling broadly, wings fluttering lightly, he turned toward the blinking red light on top of the video camera and asked innocently, "Was that good?" The feathery tips of his enormous wings brushed against the walls on either side of the otherwise very large set.

Bill was staring at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Then he seemed to recover himself, shook his head lightly as if to clear his thoughts, and finally answered, "Yeah, uh, that was... That was... That was beautiful. Really. Where are you hiding the wires on those things?"

"Wires?" Aziraphale stretched out his wings luxuriously - or at least, as far as the confines of the walls around him would allow. "I told you, these are real."

"All right. Okay. Sure." Bill shrugged. "Whatever you say. Hey, Marcus - can you do a scene with him for me?"

Marcus stepped forward, pulling off his shirt. "What did you have in mind?"

"Excuse me," Aziraphale cut in politely, "But I'm afraid that I can't do this with him. You see, Mr. Marcus is such a good man, that he's already set to be going up to Heaven."

Marcus and Bill exchanged glances with each other. "Do as he says," Bill mouthed silently, and Marcus nodded, stepping back, pulling back on his shirt with an expression of embarrassed chagrin on his face.

"Who do you want to do next, then?" Bill asked the angel, gesturing behind him and toward the sitting room around the corner, where several men were lounging.

"Let's see..." Aziraphale tapped his lower lip thoughtfully. "Hmm. I'm not sure. Who do you know that needs to be Saved?"

Bill sighed. "Would you do a pair of twins for me?"

Aziraphale seemed to brighten up at the idea. "Both at once?"

"Yes, that's the idea."

"Of course. That sounds absolutely delightful."

They drove through the streets of London, the soothing strains of Vivaldi washing out from the Bentley's speakers. Crowley was obeying the speed limit. Crowley was even stopping for red lights - and for pedestrians. Crowley was driving slowly and cautiously enough to begin to drive even Theo mad with impatience.

They would have made it to the bookshop a lot sooner if Crowley hadn't insisted on stopping so that a flock of ducks could take their time waddling across the road. Theo was amazed. He hadn't even known that there were ducks this far north in the middle of winter.

Halfway through it, one of the twins started babbling in tongues.

"Uh, Jim?" the other one asked, actually trying to wriggle away from Aziraphale for a moment. "Jim, are you all right?"

"He's better than all right," Aziraphale gasped between his delicious little moans of pleasure. "He's got the Holy Spirit."

By that time, Big Ben Brown had been carried off to a corner of the adjacent sitting room, where he sat on the floor with his knees hugged to his chest, rocking back and forth and sobbing about how much he loved Jesus.

"This is it," Crowley said, pulling the Bentley up to the curb in front of Aziraphale's bookshop. "Oh, wait a minute. Yellow lines mean I can't park here--"

Pauline snapped her fingers, and the yellow lines vanished. "Really, Crowley," she muttered.

The four of them piled out of the car, but Theo knew that it was too late already. The angel wasn't there. He could fee it - a pervasive sense of emptiness, and a strange heavy darkness about the place, as if the source of bright light that usually illuminated the dim little bookshop had vanished.

Crowley tried the door, and found it locked. The 'Closed' sign was hung in the front window; he ignored it, knocking loudly. "Aziraphale! Aziraphale, are you there?"

From somewhere within the bookshop, Margie barked out his cheerful greeting. The door, however, remained closed, and no angel's voice answered from within.

When he was finished with the twins, Aziraphale sat up patiently on the bed and asked eagerly, "Who next? Who shall I Save next?"

"Are you sure that you're feeling up to more? You aren't getting tired at all, are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine, really. Perfectly fine. I'd very much love to do this some more, if you please. So who shall it be next?"

"Listen, uh..." Bill paused, unsure of what to say next. The twins had been led off to the sitting room, Jim still babbling nonsensically in some long-dead language, and Bill could hear Big Ben still sobbing away in the room next door. Bill could sense that something was deeply wrong, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what. Part of him was growing afraid of the beautiful, eager, kind-looking winged man sitting on the bed in front of him. And part of him was thinking, Goddamn, these are some of the best images I ever have and ever will film in my entire life.

Well, if you had a beautiful man with wings fucking right in front of you, you might as well make the most of it.

With the mental equivalent of a shrug, Bill turned off the video camera. "I'd like to take some photographs of you," he said.

"Pictures? As in, with a camera? Of me?"

"Exactly."

Aziraphale's face fell. "But that's not going to help me Save any more souls..."

"These aren't going to be solo pictures. We can do that later, but right now, if you're still feeling up to it, I'd like to shoot a series of action shots. Get my drift?"

"Oh, all right. I see. Very well, then."

Bill called out to the sitting room, "I want McPherson, Padwittle, and Drollings in here!" He turned back to Aziraphale and asked casually, "So... Ever been tied up before?"

Aziraphale laughed, delighted. "No, not that way!"

"Ever tied anyone else up before?"

"That sounds like fun!"

"Fun indeed," Bill agreed, as he began to assemble his camera equipment. We have to tire him out, he was already plotting inside his head. We have to tire him out soon, so that he'll agree to pose for some solo shots. And what's with this 'saving souls' business?

"Hey!" said Padwittle, sauntering into the room and giving a friendly wave to Aziraphale. "So you're the new guy, huh? Well, I'm Matthew, and this is Mark McPherson, and Luke Drollings."

Aziraphale threw back his head and moaned with ecstasy. He hadn't even been touched yet.

Crowley paused in front of the locked door, a bewildered expression on his face. "Now what?" he asked nobody in particular.

"We go in," Pauline answered curtly.

Crowley looked horrified. "But we can't break into his home--!"

Lucifer snapped his fingers, and then there was no door anymore. "See that? Problem solved."

"Sir," Crowley protested angrily, "I don't see how that's any better than--" He cut himself off as one hundred and fifty pound of drooling fur and blubber jumped up and placed his filthy front paws up on Crowley's cardigan. "Oh, hello Margie."

"Look at that!" Theo cried out, pushing past Crowley and the dog and rushing into the bookshop. He held out an empty dog food dish to the crowd gathered in the doorway. "Wherever he went, he didn't even bother to feed Margie before he left. That's not like him. Something's wrong."

"HALLELUJAH!!!!" Padwittle screamed as his muscles twisted in a rictus of ecstasy. "PRAISE JESUS!!! I FE-E-E-EL THE HOLY SPIRIT!!!"

"Um," said Drollings nervously, "Um, I'm not so sure I want to do this anymore--"

"You're next," growled Aziraphale, low in his throat, as he practically threw Padwittle aside and grabbed Drollings, wrapping his arms around him.

"Look, see," Drollings tried to explain frantically, "the point of us tying you up is that you're supposed to stay tied up--"

"You were going too slow," Aziraphale sighed. "All of that teasing and taunting, but nothing nice like

kissing or touching at all--"

"Lead-up, man, it's all about lead-up! And that-- oh --- oh, God --- oh, that, oh, hmm, yes, that's very nice, you doing that right there--"

"Ow," said Mr. McPherson suddenly. He'd gotten a feather in his eye.

Bill snapped away furiously with his camera. Granted, Aziraphale's behavior was certainly somewhat unprofessional at the moment, but, hey, he was an amateur. And you just couldn't get images like those majestic white wings snapping free of their bindings, outside of lunatic dreams and extremely creative computer-simulation porn games... And yet, here Bill was, snapping pictures of it happening in real life.

"Beautiful," he breathed as he zoomed in close with the camera. "Just beautiful."

"Hello, what's this?"

All four of them turned around slowly. Margie jumped down off Crowley and barked, eagerly wagging his tail back and forth.

Paul Edwards was standing in the doorway. "I say," he exclaimed, "There's no more door here! Are you chaps breaking in?"

Crowley suddenly pointed at him. "Hey, I know you! You're that neighbor who dumped his cat off here!"

Edwards suddenly looked extremely befuddled. "Cat...? Do I have a cat now?"

"That's your cat," Theo said, pointing at the dog.

Margie barked, as if in affirmation.

Edwards shook his head. "You're all a bunch of loonies, that's what you are. I'd suggest that you leave the premises right now, or I shall have to call the police, on Mr. Phale's behalf."

"Hold on a second," said Crowley suddenly. He stepped over and stood right in front of Edwards, and flicked his tongue out once, very quickly. "You smell like cinnamon toast and tea. That's angel-scent. And it's all over you. Did you see him today?"

"Who, Mr. Phale? I saw him this morning."

"You DID?!" Theo squeaked. "Do you know where he went?!"

"Well, he went out with me and John, that's where he went."

"Out?" asked Crowley, incredulously. "With you and who now?"

"Me and my friend John. We dropped him off at Bill's place not too long ago; John said he'd swing by and pick him up this afternoon."

"Who is Bill?" asked Crowley, as politely as he possibly could.

"A friend," Edwards answered, though slightly guarded now. "What business is it of yours anyway?" Then he blinked and added, "Say, haven't I seen you around here before?" He squinted suspiciously at Crowley. "I usually don't forget a face, but you seem somehow different today--"

"We're not getting anywhere as long as you keep being polite with him," Lucifer suddenly berated Crowley. He stepped toward Edwards, momentarily managing to look menacing. "Why don't you tell us, you idiot man, just exactly where this 'Bill' is and how we can get to him and the idiot angel?"

Edwards stepped back, his eyes widening. Then he took a deep breath, gathered up his courage, and answered quite calmly, "No. I sense that you have ill intentions about you, sir, and I feel no particular reason to inform you of Mr. Phale's whereabouts. That's his private business."

"No particular reason, huh? Well, then, I'll give you a particular reason..." But then, the Devil seemed to suddenly deflate, going in one instant from threatening and dangerous to chagrined and fretful. "Oh, I can't. He just looks so cute and sweet and innocent... Pauline, be a dear and do something nasty to this man, would you?"

Pauline cracked her knuckles. "My pleasure, sir."

"Oh my," Aziraphale sighed contentedly, lounging back on the bed, the bases of his wings crushed beneath him. "This is exhausting work. I could use a quick breather, if you don't mind."

McPherson fumbled with his clothes, struggling to dress himself again. He felt all funny in his head, like his fingers were suddenly too big for his hands, which meant that he was having a great deal of difficulty with his belt. He also seemed to be thinking in Hebrew, too, which was slightly disconcerting. He had been the last one that the angel had taken; the other two had run off to go buy Bibles before the scene was even finished.

"That's fine, just fine," Bill said, grinning a greedy, maniacal grin. "You just lay back like that, Mr. Phale. Would you mind stretching your arm over your head? Like this? Just like that. Try to look relaxed and sated. Not that you need to be acting for that part. Would you mind me taking just a few more photos? You don't have to do anything, just rest. Mark, where are you going?"

"Kneisiya," Mark said, as he finished buckling his belt and stumbled out the room.

"Hmmm." Aziraphale placed one exquisitely manicured hand on his stomach and adopted the most effortlessly sexy, dreamy, gazing expression on his face. He was humming quietly to himself - Bill was surprised when he realized that the tune was Amazing Grace.

Still, Bill snapped more photographs.

Aziraphale turned his head and stretched his arms lazily up towards the ceiling. "William, is it?" he asked, his voice low and breathy.

"Just call me Bill."

"Bill, it's just you and me now. We're all alone."

"Excuse me?" But then Bill paused and looked around. They really were alone. The bedroom was empty, and a quick poke of his head into the adjacent sitting room confirmed for Bill that none of his men were left in there, either.

Bill froze, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling.

"Where did everybody go?" he asked in a very, very small voice.

"I sent them a-wa-ay," Aziraphale answered in a sing-song voice. "They went somewhere nice. They'll be back when I bring them back."

Bill gulped. "Why'd you do that?"

"Because I sensed that you are impeded by a strong personal inhibition, that you vowed never to engage in this activity with one of your 'actors' you used in a film, and especially not when there was a whole cast and crew present." The angel sighed. "But unfortunately, I'm here now and so are you; and all I needed to do was get rid of your crew."

Bill's hands trembled as he clutched tightly at his camera. "W-W-Who are you?!"

"Bill..." Aziraphale gazed at him with his unspeakably beautiful, clear blue eyes - eyes so lovely and entrancing that a person could just drown in them. "I love you, Bill. Come here, let me share that love with you."

"Um... I'm not quite sure if I should, er... "

"Bill, has anybody ever told you that your hair is the color of the flaky crust in the custard pies they make at Patisserie Valerie?"

"Er, no. I've never heard that one before."

"You didn't have to make him scream, did you?" Crowley grumbled petulantly as the Bentley roared through the streets again. He was driving fast, this time - a visible testament to how worried he had suddenly become, given the very, very interesting information about Bill that Pauline had extracted from Paul Edwards.

Theo rocked back and forth in the shotgun seat, hands clasped between his legs, worrying. In fact, he was practically dithering - doing a near perfect imitation of some of Aziraphale's better dithers over the years, although he was completely unaware of it. He did feel badly about the way that Edwards had screamed. Fortunately, before they had left, Crowley had snapped his fingers and returned Edwards back to perfect health, and had also convinced the man that he had a pet male St. Bernard named Margie that he needed to be taking back from Aziraphale's bookshop. Edwards had wanted to know why he had named his male dog Margie and also why the dog was handed back to him along with a used litter box. Crowley hadn't bothered to answer those questions; he'd just restored the door to the bookshop and left.

It was all very bad, really. Messing with Edwards' mind was a very, very bad thing to be doing. And even Crowley had been doing it, and he was supposed to be good now. But still, at the same time, Theo was profoundly glad that they had done it. He needed to find that angel right away. If something awful happened to him, it would be all Theo's fault...

"He didn't scream all that much," Pauline was insisting from somewhere behind Theo, in the back seat. "And I cleaned up all the blood. You know I hate messes. And he's fine, now. I think."

Even Lucifer shuddered and tried to discretely scoot himself further away from Pauline.

When Aziraphale was quite finished Saving Bill, he simply slid off the bed and started gathering up his clothes again.

Bill moaned and rolled over on the bed, watching the angel as his wings disappeared into his back and he slipped back on his shirt, fumbling for a moment with the buttons. "Wait," Bill said thickly, "Wait. Whuh are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, William," Aziraphale said, only sounding halfway sincere in his apology, "But I've Saved all the souls that can be Saved in this basement of yours. When John comes by, tell him that I thank him cordially for showing me such a lovely time. But now I know that I must strike out on my own, if I expect to Save any more souls today."

"Whuh do you mean, 'on your own'?"

"I'm going back to Soho, William, and I know where all the right bars and clubs are. I'm not a fool. And I'm going to go do some more good deeds with such fine, lovely gentlemen as yourself."

"But my crew--"

Aziraphale snapped his fingers and, like magic, there were people in the room again. "Hello everyone," he said cheerfully, as he finished dressing himself by putting on his coat and cap. "And thank you for the lovely afternoon. Cheerio!"

He left. Nobody even tried to stop him.

Bill lay naked on the bed, and felt his camera crew staring at him.

"Yes," he finally said, "I found Jesus. Now let's clean up, get this film developed, and we shall never speak of that man again."

Continued.