It's still dark outside. Crowley's miracle would last until morning, he tells himself, so he doesn't have to move yet. Doesn't have to leave the comfort of this place, of not being part of the War and what it means. It's just him and Aziraphale. How it might have been, really, if they'd left together. If they'd run off, away from the War, without any regard for the world they left behind. They might have been in a place like this, lying together. But Aziraphale would not have been the same. He'd have given up too much for it. No, staying, fighting for what is right, that was the right thing for Aziraphale. Maybe the right thing for them both.

"You made my car fly in your dream," he says. "That's fairly angelic, and a bit miraculous. If you could do that in real life, I think we'd already have the War well past won. The demons would be terrified. They barely know how to handle the fact that I have a car, let alone what to do with it."