The Dirty Donkey was unusually empty. Something to do with the rain maybe? Least thats all the barmaid could think. It was as miserable outside, as dreary as the guy at the corner table. The woman from the coffee shop had been apologising with her eyes and trying to extract him from the seat for 10 minutes.

"And he said. He actually said, second in command" he downed the last of the whiskey in his glass

"There, there" Nina patted his arm, again. She moved the glass to the next table

"He didn't even think, not nary a thought towards. what it would be like for me? Would Crowley like to sit on a cloud, playing a harp? No he sodding wouldn't"

"There, there. I know" Nina shifted position, to stand him up. "Maybe we can get you a coffee? Six shots of expresso. Won't make a dent, but we can stop the rain. Its getting so the drains won't cope. You have to stop" she put her weight into moving him up.

"And all the years we spent together? Did they mean nothing" Crowley peeked over his sunglasses, his eyes flicked across the bar.

"Maybe we can get a tea? Eccles cake?" Nina helped him to his feet. He slide back to the chair.

Crowley grasped her hand and...

They weren't in the pub any more. They were in her coffee shop, but not. It was brighter and flatter and the tables were wrong.

"What?" She looked over to Crowley. He was smiling, his mood blown away like webs in the wind.

"Where? Is better question. We don't have long. Will have to skip some of the yadda yadda. But you are a smart coffee sales person. You'll catch on"

"Still not a plaything for you" she crossed her arms. "Put me back" Nina got up and headed for the door.

"Wait. Wait." She kept walking. "Please. Wait." He took a second. "I never say please. So, when I do, I mean it. So. Please?"

She stopped.

" Look, I'll explain, Weeellll, I'll try. But you can't speak about this. Not where people, and other erm, things, are listening. Which isn't to say they understand what they are hearing. Never underestimate the thickness of things"

"What. Is. Going. On" Nina moved the chair and sat down opposite again.

"I snogged an angel" Crowley grinned and crossed his legs. Clicked his fingers and a coffee cup appeared.

"I'm pleased for you, but still leaving" Standing.

"Pocket universe"

"Less cryptic" She sighed. "Pretend I am not getting half of what you are saying. Then stop pretendin"

"We are in a pocket universe. I can create them for about three minutes, when I can have contact with a person"

"Hands only. I'm definitely not for kissing you"

"Right back at you sista"

"Good"

"Good"

"Can we get on? This is more complicated than you can imagine and we only have one minute before I blow chunks on your shoes"

"Good?" she had a double take "I like these shoes"

"Metatron, high up god botherer, bought a coffee, from you by the way, walked over to the bookshop, dropped in some heavenly Benzodiazepines. Handed it to my best friend. Mr Fell, being a polite sort of chap, drank it? Drunk it? Partook in the warming feeling of Heaven's first lie. "

"Leaving you driving round the block for three weeks and Mr Fell? Where does that leave him?"

"Spotted me did you?"

"Hard not to"

"Upstairs" he pointed up

"What? The stock room?"

"Very funny." Crowley didn't smile. "He is Upstairs, alone. And I. Erm. I need your help. So, please?"

"Ok. What do you need?"

"That simple?"

"He messed with my coffee. He came to my shop. Does any one ever asked for death? No, I sell coffee.

"Therefore you are?" he downed the coffee in his hand.

"Knew there was something wrong with his order. I should have..."

"Should have nothing." Crowley got up and paced, swinging his arms, across to the counter. "He is a very very dangerous being and if you ever see him again" he was behind the counter now "You will smile and tell him what he expects to see and hear." He opened the cash till "Feel free to charge him double. They don't use money upstairs, they wont notice"

"Not my style. If I don't like you, you don't get served"

"You ever seen ''Allo 'Allo! ?" he closed the cash drawer. Picked up the mobile card payment box.

"The sitcom?" Nina watched as he walked quickly across to her again.

Crowley nodded, put the electronic box down on her table.

"No. Tell me your plan is not a 1980s comedy sitcom?"

"Yes. And sorry"

Her shoes where covered in cheap whiskey and Crowley was out cold, face down on table. On the plus side, the rain had stopped.

"You are probably wondering what I am doing..." ~Rene