I don't want to die. That's what he'd said to Raguel, years and years ago, after the light; the first person ever to survive it.

That's the last piece.

They'll come back, himself and Aziraphael, after the world is saved.

He's going to bring them back here, where his thoughts are sea-foam and sand.

(And to Vienna, when it's a good season for the Staatsoper.)

The cliché is 'seeing stars'. Inside his eyelids, all Crowley can see is light. Slowly, the cathedral of his wings sinks down against the sheets.

In the beginning, it was a nice day.

Come come commala.