Thirteen

Life

Crowley's ears were ringing.

He lay on his back, arms and legs spread out in uncomfortable angles. Cold concrete pressed into his left cheek. His head hurt where it had hit the ground, and he was gasping for air.

He groaned and opened his eyes.

A sharp pain flared behind his skull when the light hit him. For a moment he was blinded, then slowly his surroundings took shape.

The top storey of the car park was empty. The angels and demons were gone. So was God.

I'm alive, Crowley realised numbly. I saw Her face, and I'm still alive.

He tried to remember what had happened. The last thing he recalled was God's face, then the explosion throwing him off his feet, then the impact.

Then – nothing.

His mind was blank when he tried to think beyond that point. Yet it felt like there ought to be a memory there. Something had happened, time had passed... He closed his eyes and had a brief vision of distant lights, swimming behind his eyelids, but it was gone before he could focus on it. He was grasping empty air.

He opened his eyes again. His gaze fell on something in front of him. It was one of the temples of his sunglasses, broken, and lightly smouldering. Shards of dark glass around it reflected the overcast sky. His sunglasses had exploded.

That was my last pair, he thought, still numb.

He tried to move and became acutely aware of all the wrong ways in which his limbs were positioned. And then of something heavy pressing on his right arm. He sucked in a breath and slowly turned his head to look.

Aziraphale lay beside him.

Crowley's heart rushed up to his throat.

Here he was. Really. Physically. No doubt about that, from the way his weight was crushing Crowley's arm.

Aziraphale opened his eyes. A moment of dazed wonder, then he said: 'Crowley...'

It was his voice. Only Aziraphale could say his name in that way. Crowley stared at him, unable to speak, unable to breathe. He felt tears well up in his eyes.

The word miracle had never held much power to him. It had been an everyday word, like car or toothbrush. Now he suddenly understood, for the first time, what humans really meant with it.

Aziraphale smiled. It was his quiet smile, his we're-safe-smile, his all-is-well-smile. Crowley began to smile back, though it was half sob. For a moment they just lay there, quietly looking at each other, the Universe having condensed to just the two of them.

Then there was a gasp behind them. 'Oh no!'

Crowley looked up.

Amina had reappeared on the stairs and came running towards them. She was followed by none other than Muriel.

'Oh my God, you're alive,' Amina said when she reached Crowley and Aziraphale. 'I thought you'd be dead.'

Crowley struggled upright. Pain pulsed through his battered limbs. 'Yeah, no, perfectly... beating heart, and all that.' He looked curiously at the blood on his wrist. It was dry. How long ago had he collided with the ground?

Aziraphale also worked himself up to a sitting position, then immediately reached for his head. 'Oof,' he said, reaching for the ground for support. He sat for a moment with eyes closed, face pale.

'Are you all right?' Muriel had reached them too. She looked pale and was panting. Her hair had now completely come loose and looked like she had put her fingers in a socket.

'Yes, perfectly nifty,' Aziraphale said quickly, but his voice and smile were shaky.

'What happened?' Amina asked. 'I heard shooting, and then the building shook like an upside-down earthquake – and then she appeared in the car next to me, saying you'd be dead –'

'I'm so glad you aren't,' Muriel cut in. Her voice was a croak, but she was still beaming, if a little more dimly. It dawned on Crowley how she – and Aziraphale – must be feeling. They'd both just been Stripped. Even the memory of the utter physical wretchedness of the after-effects made Crowley's bones ache all over again. The fact that Muriel was even still standing on her feet...

'And where are they all gone?' Amina said, gesturing round.

Crowley shrugged.

'On opposite ends of the Earth, I think,' Muriel put in helpfully. 'That's what She said, isn't it?'

Crowley barked a laugh. 'Right.' He pitied the part of the world that would have to deal with Michael. As for Astaroth, he hoped he had been dropped above a volcano.

'But what happened?' Amina asked again.

Everyone looked at Crowley. 'I'd actually like to know that too,' Aziraphale said weakly.

So Crowley quickly related everything that had happened, from Amina's departure to God's unveiling. At that point, he fell silent.

After a moment, Muriel asked the question everyone was thinking. 'But how come you're not... dead?'

Crowley shook his head. Again he felt like something had happened... He tried to return to that memory that he felt should be there, but it was like blindly groping in a void. He couldn't even recall the memory of the memory.

He shrugged helplessly.

'Well I don't understand anything about any of this,' Amina said emphatically.

'Perhaps it's not for us to understand...?' Aziraphale muttered.

Crowley snorted. 'You don't have to say that stuff anymore, Aziraphale. You're no longer bound to Heaven.'

Aziraphale was silent for a moment. A look of dismay passed on his face, before melting into a sort of resignment. At length he said quietly: 'No, I suppose I'm not anymore.'

'Well,' Amina said, 'I don't think we're going to get any more revelations up here. She's gone. Let's leave this place.'

Aziraphale seemed to return to himself. He nodded. 'Yes,' he said quietly. 'Let's go home.'

.

They walked down the stairs – or rather, Amina walked. Crowley, Aziraphale and Muriel were closer to staggering. Crowley's head throbbed with every step down. Aziraphale clung to the handrail and took three steps per step, and Muriel had to sit down for a minute halfway, but eventually they reached the ground floor.

When they reached the Bentley, which was was still standing faithfully outside the car park, Amina insisted she drive the car.

'I've seen the way you drive,' she told Crowley. 'And as I understand it, there will be no more miraculously narrow escapes if you drive into a passing freight train.'

Crowley scowled. She was probably right, but this was his car. 'Can you even drive?' he spluttered.

Amina hesitated. 'I don't have a licence, but...'

'A – a licence,' Crowley repeated. 'Yeah – well – you can't drive without one of those. Can you?'

Amina's eyes narrowed. 'You don't have one either, do you?'

Crowley scowled even deeper. Truth was, this was the first time he heard about driving licences, but he was not going to admit that. For a moment he and Amina stood glaring at each other.

'Well, if no one has a licence...' Amina said.

'I have a licence,' Aziraphale said weakly.

Crowley and Amina turned to him. 'Well, you're not going to drive,' Crowley said immediately.

Aziraphale looked even paler than before; he and Muriel were leaning on each other and looked like they could keel over at any moment. They wouldn't make it out of Nazareth before crashing into someone else. Crowley was very quickly learning to value his life and the dangers that could threaten it.

He turned to Amina again. 'Fine, then,' he said. 'But if you so much as scratch my car...'

'Oh, shut up.' Amina opened the door and took the driver's seat. 'I'll be more careful than you.'

And so they left Nazareth, Amina behind the steering wheel and Muriel in the passenger seat. Muriel still looked wretched, but apparently felt perky enough to chat away with Amina. Both of them were immensely enjoying all the sights they were driving past.

Crowley and Aziraphale were sat in the back. 'You have a driving licence?' Crowley asked Aziraphale as Amina drove onto the motorway leading south.

Aziraphale nodded. 'Of course.'

'Really? When did you get that?'

'1904.'

'Why?'

'Because you need one to drive, Crowley,' Aziraphale said, half patiently, half appalled.

'First time I hear of it,' Crowley muttered. The corners of Aziraphale's mouth curled up.

They sat in silence for a time.

Crowley kept glancing at Aziraphale. He looked pale and miserable, but there was something else different about him. It took Crowley a while to realise what it was.

The divine sheen was gone. Aziraphale's skin had dulled, as if a stage light had gone out above him. But his eyes... his eyes were still as bright as ever.

Angel or human, that twinkle was Aziraphale's own.

What he still didn't understand was how.

After a while he could no longer hold in his curiosity. 'So, what happened to you?' he asked.

Aziraphale made a tortured face. After a few seconds he shook his head. 'No, I can't remember.'

'Me neither,' Crowley muttered. They shared a glance.

'But something must have happened,' he continued. 'Both of us should be dead.'

Aziraphale nodded slowly. 'Well,' he said at last. 'The Lord moves in mysterious ways.'

Crowley could only agree with that.

.

By nightfall they were nearing the border. Muriel and Aziraphale had long fallen asleep, Aziraphale snoring lightly.

Amina yawned. 'You want to take over?'

'Oh, I'm allowed now?' Crowley said.

'There's no freight trains to be seen,' Amina said sleepily. No one else either, by the way.

So she stopped the car and they changed places. Amina had drifted off to sleep before Crowley had even started the motor.

For a moment he sat and let his hands go lovingly over the steering wheel. The world had shifted and he'd almost died, but now he was here again. All would be well.

He drove onto the empty road. Passing a speed sign, he pushed the gas pedal down a little further. The Bentley sped up. Crowley let out a whoop – a small one, so as not to wake anyone – and drove into the night.