Outside Omens

She wasn't asleep. Even if she'd been in the habit, she was too impatient. Asmodeus was lucky to have caught her inside the hotel at all; she'd been wandering in and out and around the city for the past week, exploring and waiting, always looking over her shoulder for signs of her usual pursuers or peering ahead for a glimpse of the ones she was expecting.

She didn't often stay in one place for so long. It made her uneasy. The hotel room was pleasant enough and did offer a nice view, but being there was dull.

On the other hand, she'd found that having money did simplify things somewhat--no need to expend any power, just hand over the card or a slip of pretty paper and get what you wanted. Perhaps that was why no one had found her yet, which at the moment was a mixed blessing; but if she wasn't using her power, she didn't have to worry that it would run away from her, as it still sometimes did. So, like any unsupervised teenager with her first credit card, she had gone a little overboard, and the suite was littered with books, interesting baubles and pretty clothes that had caught her eye.

The books were what had made the waiting bearable, though they weren't exactly the sorts of books one would expect a young girl to own: not romances, mysteries or dramatic novels, but rather books of history, religion and mythology.

The name Asmodeus hadn't been hard to find. Ellie, on the other hand, or any name from which Ellie might be taken, was much more elusive. At least she did know now what a Principality was, and the significance of the Eastern Gate. Ellie's angel friend was famous (and famously not very good at his job, it seemed.)

She startled a bit when the knock sounded at the door, and set aside the book of fables she'd been reading, approaching the door with caution and trying to get a "feel" for who was on the other side.

Asmodeus. Finally! She opened the door and regarded the daeva silently, having no notion of how to welcome a guest (or a "father." That lie had made her wonder just who her real father might be. Not the Principality, she suspected, but it was possible she might be wrong.)

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Asmodeus walked past the girl carefully, looking around the room as he went further into it. His mouth curled into a pleasant grin at the sight of so many books and clothes. He was glad, though, that he hadn’t had any unforseen obstacles come up in his path. He’d hate to think what all she could have gotten up to had he taken longer. Of course, had his quick detour down Below had taken him longer than he had expected, at least he’d have had something to perk her interest.

“I hope you had a pleasant stay,” he said fondly. “It wasn’t my intention to leave you here so long, but I ended up not being able to make the jump so I had to come the long way and having to recharge my energy at my siblings’ temples. Or, what’s left of them rather.” The last he said in a rather neutral tone. Keeping the anger and disbelief at bay. “I hope you don’t mind, I had an associate of mine look up the files on the two we met in Tibet.”

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"Your siblings, the other daevas," the child said, quietly shutting the door. "You're the only one now. Like me." She said it dispassionately, but with certainty. There were stories in the books about immortals who'd had children with humans, lots of them; but nothing anywhere about a half-angel, half-demon.

"Files?" she repeated, frowning slightly. "What kind of files?"

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Asmodeus nodded stiffly, he really didn’t want to talk about his siblings currently, “Just some information on the two we met. Seems your mother went off radar with my people around sixteen years ago and now has a lovely little price on her head from the Succubus Wyrm Queen, Triskelle. I’m guessing here, because there wasn’t anything in her file about you, that you’re the reason she just vanished. There’s something about a Constantine being involved as well, but they’re always involved in screwed up shit.” He scratched at his nose absentmindedly, “The angel, who’s name is Aziraphale, has had many run-in’s with my Master’s best field agent. Of course, after meeting him, I’m not too sure whether to believe Crowley’s reports. Personally, I think an imp could take him out easily, but if this Aziraphale was pulling an act. It’s possible that I could be mistaken on that.”

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"Hmm. He has power," the girl noted absently, thinking. "But he didn't try to use it. I haven't met an angel like that before."

Frowning, she added, "I don't know anything about a Constantine. But your guess makes sense. Angels and demons are enemies. To do anything together would get them in trouble." She chewed absently on her lip for a moment. "But then what about my father? If it's Aziraphale, why is he not hiding too?" Her doubt about that was plain in her voice. She didn't know why the idea struck her as wrong, but it definitely did.*

"And what did you mean, recharge?" she added, appropos of nothing. Her gaze dropped to a cheap cell phone she had bought, intrigued by the elegant little device, though it had been disappointing to realize she had no use for it--no one to call. But she had learned from the little book that came with it about 'recharging.' "You aren't a battery..."

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*Leaving aside any other instincts that might have been at work, this demonstrated that it's entirely possible to have a functioning gaydar even if one is oblivious to the notion of orientation.

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Asmodeus looked at her for a long moment and then grinned. “No,” he said with a snicker, “I’m not a battery. However, I have limits.” He made an ugly face. “I’m not sure if it was because you were born, but your limits seem to outreach my own. In other words, you will be able to do more and be able to go longer without a significant pull on your own powers. I’m not what they call omnipotent, child. I’m only as strong as my Master wills me to be. Thankfully, His will seems to want me to be vastly powerful or I’d have had my tail handed back to me by the imps long ago.” He then smirked. “I’ve considered this. I do not think this Aziraphale is your father. The word “pansy” means girlish. I guessing he’d be more interested in me than your mother. Hypothetically speaking, of course.” He shuddered as the thought reached his brain.

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The child shrugged. "I haven't found any limits yet. If I was not planned, then maybe no one cares how powerful I am."

She tilted her head quizzically at the demon's last statement, not entirely understanding, but who the Principality did or did not find attractive was of little concern to her. "Then perhaps he knows who my father is. Maybe a friend of his? That could be why he helps the succubus?" It was only a spur-of-the-moment guess, and her uncertainty showed. She had very little grasp of relationships, and understood neither how an angel and a demon could stop fighting long enough to produce a child nor why another angel would approve or try to help.

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He shrugged at her. “It might take a while. You were born of two highly strong entities and you would have inherited not only looks, but certain abilities. Also, a combination often doubles the power.” He frowned at the last question. He’d been thinking about it since he’d taken off, about the odd way the succubus had reacted to seeing her child. “I think either your dad dumped your mom before she came looking for you . . . or he’s dead. I can’t think of any honestly good reason why a parent wouldn’t come looking for their baby. Especially one they’ve not laid eyes upon since the day of her birth.” He wanted to retch. He had a low opinion of angels, all those Below did or at least were suppose to, however, angels were tough critters and definitely hard to kill. In fact, had anyone ever asked him how one would go about killing an angel his reply would have been that it was impossible.

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"Dumped?" The child stared at him, uncomprehending. "You found me by accident, you said. Maybe they didn't know where to look." She tilted her head to one side, considering. "If he is dead, maybe she thought I was dead too."

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The daeva tapped his nose with a forefinger as he thought over what he was going to say carefully. "Dumped means that he might have left her. That he may have abandoned her. However, I really would prefer to think that he was killed. At least it'd explain his absence a lot better. Still, I don't know what could possibly kill an angel. I've tried. And I've failed." He looked at her quizically, "It's possible that they didn't know where to look or if you were alive. Ellie wouldn't have been able to come back down to Hell if she betrayed us, so she wouldn't have been able to check for you Below and I'd hate to think what'd happen if she had. Well," he shook himself mentally, "would you want to talk to them if you got the chance? It's not really fair to either of you ladies to keep you from your mom."

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"No, angels don't die easily. I've tried too. And I do want to talk to them. I want to know what they know." She wrinkled her nose impatiently. "But they're taking a long time getting here. Do they have to stop to 'recharge' too?"

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Asmodeus looked down at the child quizzically. It wasn’t like they didn’t tell them where they were headed, so what could possibly be the hold-up?

“I don’t think so?” he said haltingly as he thought over what could have happened. “None of the angels or other demons I’ve ever met needed to recharge. Just me. They might have run into trouble. After all, the angel did say that they were together because he was helping Ellie. Perhaps his Lord didn’t know he was going to look for you with a demon. Being allied with one of the enemy is a pretty high crime amongst my kind and the punishment for such certitude has only been avoided once.” He wrung his hands in nervousness. “I hope nothing’s happened.”

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The girl twisted a bit of her hair idly around one finger, thinking. "We could look for them. But then if they did show up here, they wouldn't find us." She frowned suddenly, glancing up at the daeva with an uncertain expression. "You don't think...they...would just decide not to come?" They had seen her now. Maybe...maybe they had decided she wasn't worth bothering with, after all?

Not that she would care so much if it was so, she told herself; but she was a poor enough liar as yet that even she could tell it wasn't really true.

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He glanced at her and raised a brow at her slight falter in speech. If they had decided not to come. That she wasn’t worth the trouble, as he gathered from her expression that was what worried her.

“I think we should remain here for a bit. It’s quite possible that they may have been delayed. If they don’t arrive within a week then we can go looking for them. There have been no others here seeking you, so it should be safe for the time being. If they should never come for you or if when we find them they obviously have given up the search, well, a pox on them! They then would obviously not care about you as much as I think they should.” He sneered slightly at the thought. “If they’ve given up the search then I’ll stay with you and help you.” He stretched a wing around her shoulders in what he’d hoped was a soothing gesture. “I’m a pretty poor substitute for one’s parents, but many of the angels know what I am and they’ll be warier to come closer without the aide of an archangel and at least you’ll be a little less harassed that way. I hope they do come for you though since you’re a girl you’ll need another girl to talk to. At least that’s what the humans say.”

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She flinched a little, unused to gestures of comfort, but recognized that it was not a threat and allowed the daeva's wing to remain where it was. "Another girl to talk to," she mused, thinking of the groups of females she'd seen together all over the world, talking and laughing, casting odd looks at the males and spending a great deal of money. "Humans are strange. I don't understand them. And they're so fragile."

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He ignored the flinch. The child would have to become accustom to displays of comfort and affection eventually, it'd be better if it started now.

"For all of their strangeness and fragility they are quite knowledgeable about some things and are quite durable when it counts,” he said recalling the failed Apocalypse and the three children that had taken on three f the four Horsemen. “Humans are the reason this planet still exist as it is. Neither a place of incomprehensible goodness and light or a place of unrelenting evil and darkness.” Asmodeus sighed in an indifferent manner. “I worry about this world sometimes. Master could not punish the AntiChrist for not bringing about Armageddon, as was his purpose. A semi-demonic being that is allowed to go unchecked could get cocky.”

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"The Antichrist?" she repeated in surprise. "I have read about him. He is already here? Why did he not do as he was meant to?"

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Asmodeus thought about the question carefully. Giving the wrong sort of answer would be a bad idea at just this point. The truth had won him a few points in this, he didn’t think it’d hurt now.

“He didn’t want them mucking things up,” said the daeva carefully layering his words with concern, “or so he said. That the world had already been mucked up enough as it was and it didn’t need a big celestial war to make it an even bigger mess. Of course, if the war had progressed the AntiChrist wouldn’t have much of a princedom to call his own. Keeping the world like it was has, I’m sure, been very beneficial to the youth. As I said, I worry. I worry that he is just biding his time, like a slow-acting disease, waiting for the perfect moment to enslave everyone and everything to his will. He could do it too and make everyone on this world not even realize that it’s been done would just be the icing on the cake.”

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It had been a long flight, but a mostly pleasant one, considering the circumstances. While Aziraphale had a certain pitying admiration for humans' attempts to make long flights in a creaky, noisy metal tube as civilised as possible, there really was nothing to compare to the wind in one's own feathers, if one had them. And one never had to make awkward small talk with strangers.

Aziraphale avoided awkward small talk with Ellie too, for that matter. She had been lost in her own thoughts. At least able to use her own energy rather than sitting in a confined space. At least able to watch the patchwork beauty of damaged Creation beneath her, mountains and deserts and age-pitted cities.

It was inevitable, though, that a little tiredness and stiffness of the wings would settle in--neither had done much distance flying for quite some time. Unfortunately, there were few places in the long-troubled part of the world they were passing over that didn't stir some memory for one or both of them. Eventually, Aziraphale decided on suggesting finding a nice coffeehouse by the river, since they were so close to Esfahan. They could speak a dialect of Persian no mortal understood very well anymore, Ellie could cause a quiet scandal with her unveiled hair, and Aziraphale could ask her some things that he needed to know that were reasonably un-fraught. Relatively speaking, anyhow.

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Feeling vaguely guilty at dragging Aziraphale on a long-distance flight without even the courtesy of talking to him, Ellie had been keeping her mouth shut anyway; mainly because the venomous things that were likely to come out of it would probably hurt the angel or at least make him uncomfortable, even though they weren't really directed at him. By the time he suggested taking a break, though, her volatile temper had cooled somewhat, so she circled toward the ground and followed him into the coffee shop without argument, adjusting her appearance just enough to cause a stir but not a full-blown Incident before entering.

"I haven't flown so far in a long time," she remarked as they seated themselves. "I'd forgotten what a number it does on the back."

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"That it does," Aziraphale said, wincing slightly as something creaked when he twisted. "Though I suppose we are built for it and ought to stay in practice."

Spring was beautiful along the Zayandeh. The scent of flowers and windswept grass still carried even through the car exhaust of the busy city. And the steam of strong, sweet coffee. It was possible they'd even make a decent baklava here.

Aziraphale thought Ellie looked tired, but calmer. He gave her a sad little smile. "So we've made some good headway on our quest, at least. We did know it wouldn't be easy."

Falling further back into a very old dialect, in which it seemed quite natural to discuss these matters, he said, "It occurred to me...and I hope this isn't too sore a subject with you...I must seem dangerously ignorant of the politics of Hell. I didn't expect to encounter a flavour of demonkind who still use the Zoroastrian names."

"And I think it must have been a revealing moment when he became so upset to be called a misfit, but I'm not certain what it revealed."

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Ellie nodded, and replied in the same language, "Don't feel bad. I was guessing more than anything, based on his eyes and the weird aura. I'd never met a daeva before; I'm just going by the rumors that came down the grapevine."

She paused a moment to organize her thoughts. "You see, Morningstar didn't just want to be worshipped as the Creator's equal. He wanted everything, the whole enchalada. His own worlds and people, made in his image. He didn't abandon those ambitions after the Fall any more than the rest." She grimaced. Talking about these things did leave a sour taste in her mouth and a deep ache in places she generally tried her best to ignore. But Aziraphale had asked in good faith, and he deserved to know exactly what he was dealing with. "But of course he doesn't have that kind of power. Or even the imagination to do anything really different.

"He can change what already exists, like he did with Belial, or breed toward his notion of perfection, like Adam. Or he can take bits and pieces of other living things and remix them. The daevas are probably as close as he's ever gotten to something original, but they still turned out essentially in His image." She smiled humorlessly. "It must drive Morningstar up a wall. Word is he spoiled them rotten at first, but eliminated each in turn as soon as they disappointed him, which, of course, they were inevitably going to do. Our friend's got one monster of a Sword of Damocles hanging over his head, I expect.

"At any rate, this guy's coming at us from an entirely different world view. He's never been to Heaven, never felt the Presence, has no sense of kinship to anyone who has, and regards Lucifer as his sole progenitor." Pushing her hair back from her face, she sighed. "I shouldn't have goaded him, the poor slob. As much as I've got issues with Him Above, I don't even want to contemplate what it'd be like to have that psychopath as a father figure."

She shook her head, concluding, "But at least it's pretty easy to put a name to him. To my knowledge there's just the one left, so unless Lucifer has built a new one since I 'retired,' I'm guessing we're dealing with Asmodeus."

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Ellie was clearly not happy discussing these matters and that gave Aziraphale a twinge. But he was glad he'd asked, although her answers did bring on a hint of vertigo. For millennia, he'd got himself through all sorts of uncomfortable situations and discomfiting realisations by reminding himself, sometimes at great difficulty, that they were all God's creatures, ultimately, even people like...well. Of course. In a sense. And yet also, when it came right down to it, their own. They had to be, for free will to have meaning--and it did. It had taken him so long to acknowledge it, and yet once he had...

So could it be? Was there truly a creature who was not? "I knew of the name, abstractly. But not the full story. So Lucifer tried so hard to be original, and yet wound up with a subcreation." Aziraphale paused for a moment. "Yet he didn't seem...unusually deficient, if you take my meaning. You'll have to pardon me, I'm a bit shocked that the daevas would have turned out so well. Relatively speaking. Er." He thought for another moment, processing another bit of the revelation. "And at first he treated them well, and then...I don't suppose you would happen to know how they disappointed him? I suppose what I'm getting at is," and here he lowered his voice significantly, "you know perhaps better than anyone that we all can think for ourselves, although the...propaganda...was often otherwise. That we can reach conclusions and make choices that are, well, not in the official manual, so to speak. You'd probably lose respect for me if you knew how frightened by that I once was. Do you think he's different?"

Once he'd started, best not to stop. "I wonder if he's acting under orders in trying to appoint himself her guardian. Or if he thinks it would please his master but took the initiative himself. And if so, what awaits him if it turns out he was wrong?" Or if we thwart him good.

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"Well, the daevas were the end result of a long process. There's no telling how many failed experiments came before them," Ellie said darkly, thinking of some of the wretched creatures who scratched out a miserable existence in Hell's darkest corners. It was assumed that they were all just fiends, but who could say? No one cared to look too closely. "Or what deformities he may be hiding. He's powerful, as powerful as Morningstar could make him; I'm sure he can alter his appearance. But he wouldn't necessarily need to, I think. We've been building human corporations down there forever, after all." She left it at that, unwilling to distress the angel by elaborating.*

"I haven't heard many specifics, I'm afraid...there were stories about a daeva who was involved in a failed attack on a prophet, and rumors that another had been taken apart and rebuilt into several lesser demons, though I'm not sure I buy that one." She tapped her fingers on the table, thinking. "If I remember right, the Snob--sorry, Gabriel--might be able to tell you more. I remember there was something about his having thwarted a daeva, once."

She smiled sadly at Aziraphale's confession. "No, I doubt it, Aziraphale dear. I was terrified when it finally dawned on me how far beyond the scope of our jobs Tali and I had gone. What we did wasn't just forbidden, it was supposed to be flat-out impossible. That's why we went to John. We had no idea what to do without rules to guide us..."

Trailing off with a faraway look in her eyes, she fell silent for a few moments, then shook her head impatiently. "I really don't know what he might be thinking. But I know in his place I'd be absolutely petrified of displeasing Lucifer. He must be fairly sure of what he's doing..." she paused, looking thoughtful, "...assuming he's being given any kind of guidance, that is. Morningstar's attention span is a bit erratic--he's been known to develop fixations that keep him distracted for long stretches. Asmodeus could be acting as a free agent by necessity. That could very well be what tripped up his predecessors, in fact."

Another thought occurred, one that she didn't particularly want to contemplate, but it was a possibility that they probably ought to consider. "Then again...not to paint him as too sympathetic, but I suppose it's possible he was just lonely. He's the only one of his kind, a misfit, and so is she. Hard not to see a certain parallel there, I guess."

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*Heaven had the original blueprints to work from, so to speak. Hell had been obliged to reverse engineer their version, once there were enough humans around that a few bodies wouldn't be missed.

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Aziraphale shivered a little, involuntarily at the thought of those creatures...who had never seen the light of Earth, much less of Heaven. And it wasn't the first time he felt his knowledge gap acutely when speaking with a demonic friend; after all Ellie has seen Heaven, Earth, and Hell and he himself only knew two out of three.

He'd had millennia to ask Crowley for more information about everything in the corners of Hell, and yet he hadn't very often...there was a whole world right here of things to talk about, after all, and he didn't want to make his friend revisit unpleasantness, and...there were things Aziraphale did not want to know much about, honestly. Kindness or cowardice? A bit of both.

"If only I had my books," he said wistfully, remembering the ancient tomes fondly, many of which he had read so long ago their memory was dusty and ashy. And many he hadn't read since they were current, which was probably about the time the legends of the daevas were hot gossip among humans. Oh yes, there were memories. Few of which seemed immediately useful.

Aziraphale had an impulse to take Ellie's hand. He couldn't remember how long it had been since she had spoken Tali's name in a tone that relatively calm. He nodded gently. "The realisation of how far beyond our jobs we had come...came a lot more gradually for Crowley and me, I believe. Well, I can't speak for him. In my case, it's possible I didn't realise I had crossed the rubicon until I found myself perfectly willing to die to save Earth, if it came to that. At the moment, I didn't have time to be frightened. I've more than made up for that since."

"Your courage astounds me. It has as long as I've known you." He thought he ought to say something brave, and he thought of Ellie and of Tali and of John. And of Asmodeus. "I do pity him. He's not much like her, though...at the very least, Ellie, your daughter was created in love. I have to think that makes a very great difference." He looked up into her eyes. "She needs a name, Ellie. And that's a mother's prerogative."

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"I know," Ellie said, smiling tightly. "I've been trying to think of something...but a name should have meaning, and I don't know her yet."

She looked down at the table. "I don't feel very brave," she confessed. "I don't think I've not been afraid since...well, since the day I found out I was pregnant. And does how she came about makes such a difference? Really? I'd like to think so, I really would. She certainly hasn't known much love since." In a bizarre way, she thought she could be almost grateful to the daeva for involving himself (if he really did have benign intentions, which she wasn't about to take for granted.) If he was teaching her how to trust, though, that would have to be a good thing. Wouldn't it? Ellie still wasn't terribly good at that herself, so it was hard to say for sure.

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"Perhaps it will come to you at the right moment," Aziraphale said. "I think names have a way of that."

He smiled at her nervously. "I don't think being brave means not feeling afraid. That would just be being dense, all things considered. You've certainly been right to be frightened. But you buck up and do what you must anyway."

Aziraphale just nodded at her next question. "I think it does. No, I know so." Half-formed feelings and angelic instincts and doubts created a confusing and misty stew in his mind, and he wasn't sure exactly how to explain quite what he meant, that even those who had Fallen had been created in love once also, though in a different fashion, and had to still know in the cells of their being that love existed. It was hard to talk about these things when one didn't want to hurt or offend one's dear demon friends. He knew it, but he couldn't speak it. Not yet.

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"That's reassuring, I suppose." Ellie smiled faintly. "But you know, I think you and Crowley take the prize for that. Facing Him Below with one sword, a Witchfinder and a tire iron? That's so many kinds of brave I think it must have set a record."

She hadn't consciously spoken of Aziraphale and Crowley as a pair to either one of them since the breakup. But the fact of the matter was, a pair they were, whether friends, lovers, Adversaries or co-conspirators, and one bad fight wasn't going to change that. Maybe she was just biased, having lost her own lover; but every time she thought about it she fretted that something might happen to one of them or the other, and then how would the survivor be able to live with himself?

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"I'm not sure brave is the word, my dear," Aziraphale chuckled. "I think 'asinine' rather captures the flavour of it better. Or perhaps 'desperate.' After all, fleeing wasn't much of an option. Without Adam..." his voice trailed off into a shudder. "Well, at that point it had become a family matter."

He smiled wistfully. "Crowley has never needed much prompting to do insanely brave things. Tries to convince the world he's a lazy callous bastard, but, well. I worry." And I miss him terribly, he thought, but it hardly seemed right to inflict complaints about his personal dramas on Ellie of all beings...after all, Aziraphale's...beloved? Yes, still, alas...was still alive, and that meant there was always hope.

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Ellie nodded, not arguing the point, though she still disagreed. Even if you were backed into a corner and doomed, meeting your fate with a weapon in your hand, with your head held high, was different than meeting it cowering or begging for mercy.

"Oh, I know," she said, smiling sadly. The day she'd first met Crowley, he had been in no condition to present any kind of front, and so she had some inkling just how illusory that cocky act of his really was.

"Do you know," she said, scanning the menu and speaking not quite casually, "that day in the greenhouse, those accusations Raphael made against him--all he was worried about was that you might believe it and not want to talk to him anymore." He'd go away forever, Crowley had said, as though that were the worst of all possible catastrophes. "I think that frightened him more than the idea that two archangels had just damn near killed him."

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Aziraphale's fingers tightened around his tiny coffee cup just a little, but it had a great force behind it. "He thought I would believe that?" Then he remembered that Crowley had been all too ready to believe something nearly as absurd of him - just for long enough to do lasting damage. Aziraphale shook his head. "Crowley...would be no more capable of an act like that than I am. Not to mention that...well, if Raphael told me the grass was green, I would have to look to check, and it would probably happen to be red that day. Don't get me started on him. Oh, just don't. Please. I won't be able to stop." Thinking of all the pain Raphael had caused was making Aziraphale feel emotions quite unbecoming an angel.

"Crowley, well," Aziraphale said more softly. "Has a way of making his fears come true sometimes. Sometimes I feel he's the one who's gone away from me. The situation, I mean, the way we are...it can't stay this way, it just can't. I can't imagine not wanting to talk to him. I want that more than anything else on earth."

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Ellie rested one hand in her chin, regarding the angel with an unreadable expression. "Of course you don't believe it. But we're not talking about a rational fear here. He's got abandonment issues--a lot of us do." It wasn't the easiest thing to talk about, even after all this time, but she tried not to sound too bitter. "It's easy to trust when you feel secure in His grace. I remember. None of us would have believed before the Fall that He would judge us the way He did; we couldn't even have imagined it was possible."

She shut her eyes briefly against the memory. Knowing that the Fallen had brought about their own damnation, and that it was all part of His big Plan, did nothing to lessen that sense of betrayal. They hadn't been deemed worthy of even an explanation for the severity or the permanence of their punishment. "And none of us thought afterward that it would ever be possible to trust again. Most still don't. They lost too much the first time, they aren't going to risk what's left.

"So yeah, Crowley's staying away. He's protecting himself. I'd probably do the same thing in his place." Tali hadn't lived long enough for them to have a first fight, but it probably would have happened sooner or later. "I think you're right, though; you two need each other. But I must warn you, Aziraphale dear...even if he does come to trust you again, that fear is never going to go away. Accepting Crowley means accepting that part of him, too."

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"Feel secure in His grace?" Aziraphale said softly. "No...I can't say that I do. Not completely. Who can? It's so bloody ineffable, after all. Do I think Michael deserved that? No. Frankly, I don't. Or you? Or Crowley? If it were up to me...but I can never forget that it isn't."

He looked down. "I wonder if, after something like that, if trusting isn't too much to ask. The thing I have seen about humans...they fail each other. In countless little ways, all the time, and sometimes big ways. And yet, regardless...they still love. It's silly, sometimes. They do beat their heads against walls, again and again. And yet, I can't help but feel it's one of the things they do right."

"If he's trying to protect himself, I can understand that. But..." he took a deep drink and let his body absorb caffeine. "When I said I was willing to die to save the Earth, that was a half-truth. It might have only been true because Crowley was on it at the time."

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Ellie smiled in an oddly serene way, and said gently, "I don't doubt that for a moment. And I'll bet Someone Else has a pretty good idea where things stand. Crowley's the one who has to get it through his thick skull." She leaned in slightly, the smile widening. "So why are you here telling me?"

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Aziraphale looked up at Ellie sideways, moved by her generosity. "Well, I assume Someone Else has a good idea of all of it, but alas for us all, He's not talking." And if He did, what would He say? How could He make it right again for those who had lost so much?

"As for why I'm here telling you, why," he smiled a little. "Of course sometimes the best way to distract oneself from one's own aches and pains is to try to help someone else. I do believe we have a current quest on our hands, and I am still at your service. I haven't been to Cairo in quite some time, but perhaps we'd best be getting on with it?"

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Thoose, alas, were questions to which Chantinelle did not know the answer. If she had, her own life might have turned out very different.

Reaching across the table to take and squeeze his hand, she said, "And I don't know how I could do this without you. But we'll make it home eventually. Think about it, all right?" She rose gracefully at his suggestion. "Yes, we should probably get moving. I shudder to think what those two might get up to unsupervised."

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He smiled and squeezed back. "I have every intention of making it home. But at my age...one Quest at a time please."

Ellie had a way of making herself the centre of attention when standing, and Aziraphale, just briefly, allowed himself to wonder how much Crowley would enjoy that if he were here. The thought, for the first in quite a while, made his smile just a little wider.

Unsupervised. Aziraphale was hardly an expert on the subject, but it seemed to him that Ellie was already beginning to act like the mother of a difficult teenager. It was a side of her he looked forward to seeing more.

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