Archive of Our Own ^beta

Every person in the world has thier own version of its end.
Some believe the world will go up in flames, and according to others the earth will cover in ice. They will blame global warming, war, mass extinction, or a super-volcano.

There's Rangarok in Norse mitology - the great battle between gods and giants, while Christianity tells about Second Advent and the return of Christ. How many people, so many ends. Some even claims that it's already happened, that now we all live in hell.

Crowley used to make fun of the last ones. They have no idea what awaits them in hell.
But now, sitting alone in a dark room, listening only to the raindrops bouncing off the windows, he started to understand some of the poets. Maybe they were right, maybe everyone had their own little apocalypse. The demon's world decay and died the moment Aziraphale left his bookstore, leaving everything behind.

Maybe that's why he didn't notice all the discreet signs at first. He didn't think about it, as he lay on Nina's couch mourning his broken heart. He didn't even know why he ended up there, but those two human women brought him solace in some way.

"Listen, Crowley, I get it, you feel broken and so on. But lying here and drinking wine for two weeks is too much even for me."
Nina said one day, when she found him in her apartment again, after returning from work. The demon gave only a tired glance at her, then directed his gaze to the TV that had
just been turned on.

The reporter was standing in front of the rubble of the shopping center, which collapsed due to the earthquake.

Nina changed the channel.

The latest news from the war in the east.

She has changed the channel again.

A cyclone in Florida, a drop in temperatures in Detroit and a fire in Los Angeles.

Another channel change.

St. Mary's Church was attacked during Mass.

Change.

This time, instead of another horrifying news, the screen showed a man claiming to be the Lord's prophet, proclaiming the imminent arrival of the kingdom of heaven.

Nina turned off the TV.

"This world is getting so much worse." She muttered, getting up from the back of the couch. "I feel like this guy might be right, we are nearing the end."

Crowley continued to stare at the extinguished TV screen.

"I don't know if I care what happens to this world anymore." He muttered, more to himself than to her.

The woman sighed, patting the demon on the shoulder and walked away towards her kitchen. She was starting to worry about him, they might not have known each other for a few thousand years, but she thought they could call themselves friends after all. She knew the redhead wasn't okay, but she had no idea how she could help him. It's hard to find a therapist for a literal demon.

"How is Maggie? How's the café?" He asked casually, more out of politeness than actual curiosity.

"It's fine." She replied, smiling at the mention of the blonde woman. ''You know, you could pop in there? Maybe show Muriel a few things? Teach them a bit about being on earth."

"Nah." He frown at the thought of going back to the book shop. "Gotta go. See ya."

Nina didn't even have time to reply, when she turned to him, she only saw the door closing behind the demon. She shaked her head, worried. She felt a strange, unsettling tension spreading around her. It was as if the air around the world was becoming more morose by the day.

Asked, he wouldn't know the answer, whether he really didn't notice the signs or whether he deliberately ignored them all. He told himself that it was no longer his business, not his war. He was beginning to think that he had never loved just being on earth, that he had loved being here with Aziraphale all along.
He wondered if he could help somehow, protect people, at least those close to him, but it was all tedious and meaningless.

Shax showed up at his doorstep after less than a year of ignoring the increasingly visible omens of the inexorably approaching Parusia.

"Will you let me in?" She asked, tilting her head with a confidence.

"No." He replied firmly. "What do you want?"

"You've lost, it's over." She crossed her arms, and a kind of satisfaction was now painted on her face. "Personally, I think it's stupid, but I was outvoted. They want you to come back to us. He fought along with us in the great battle."

"Yeah, no." He rolled his eyes behind his glasses.

Her eyebrows furrowed in incomprehension. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, unsure how to convince the demon to join them. Crowley was already about to close the door in front of her face, but she put her foot out, putting it between the door and the frame.

"Don't you understand anything?"

"No, I guess you're the one who doesn't understand." He kicked her foot, trying to push her away from his doorstep.

"You don't think the Up will take you back, do you?" She sneered. "Your beloved angel no longer cares about you. Rumors spread fast, it is said that thanks to Metatron it now runs like clockwork."

Something icy surged through Crowley's veins at the mere mention of his friend (can he still call him that?), his heart began to beat faster, and his hand involuntarily tightened on the doorknob. He clenched his teeth, jerking the door open and slamming it shut, completely ignoring the other demon's foot, which she managed to take at the last moment.
He leaned his back against the door and slid down it to the floor itself. He heard Shax still saying something to him, but her words sounded like she was trying to talk to him while his head was underwater. It was only at that moment, like a speeding train, that the thought struck him that all this was really happening. He had spent the last few months feeling like it was all just a bad dream, but it was true. Aziraphale has abandoned him, he's working with heaven again, the earth is facing imminent disaster, and the angel, his angel, is letting it happen. No. Not only does he allow it, he himself pursues it.

He covered his face with his hands, slowly wiping his face with them, while grabbing his glasses and removing them from his eyes. He stared at them for a moment, and then, in a fit of anger, hurled them in front of him, not caring about the possible damage. He sat there, looking into the distance, and then, completely disregarding whether his former co-worker was still standing outside the door, he began to cry. His quiet cry quickly turned into a helpless sob that lasted until dawn. Sunrise found him lying helplessly on the ground, with his cheeks still wet.

That same day, a little before noon, he got into his Bentley. He was wearing slightly crooked glasses, completely unphased by any demonic miracle that could fix them. Driven by a sudden surge of something he couldn't name himself, he drove straight to Tadfield.
He spent several hours talking to Anathema, trying to find any solution. Then he begged Adam to at least try to do something, trying to bribe him with candy and "anything a kid your age would want" , but it was still no use. Adam lost his powers a few months after the failed apocalypse. Now he was just an ordinary kid, and Dog was the most ordinary dog.

He spent the next week desperately trying to find a solution. He visited priests, sorcerers, exorcists, minor deities forgotten by all, and even the damn Vatican. It was all for nothing, it was all over. Attempts to get holy water as a last resort, now only for himself, also proved a failure.

Crowley felt like a rodent glued to a trap slowly realizing that the only thing awaiting him was a slow death. He felt like he was locked in a room with no windows or doors, with a fire spreading sluggishly. He couldn't do anything. He couldn't save himself or the earth. He couldn't protect Aziraphale. He had failed everyone and everything, losing a game he didn't even know he was playing. He lay in his bed, wondering how he could have been so stupid to even think he could live up to Her plans.
He just gave up. He went to sleep, hoping never to wake up again, and knowing that he would wake up at a moment when everything he once loved would be completely destroyed.

So he slept for three years.
Most of humanity had already been exterminated, the rest still awaited the same fate. London was now a pile of ash, and it took Crowley a long while to get out of the rubble he once called home. It must be said that the old, expensive car without a single scratch looked ridiculous against the backdrop of the ruins of the big city. He didn't look around, there was nothing to look for. He simply got into the car and drove away, knowing in his heart that this was their last ride.

It didn't take him long to realize the truth. Actually, he already felt it when he woke up, but there was still a tiny spark of treacherous hope smoldering in him. However, he finally had to face it - Nina and Maggie were dead. So were Adam and his parents, Anathema, or Mrs. Sandwitch. Each of them was already dead.

When he went Down, Hell was almost empty. Only a few survivors, cowardly hiding from their inevitable fate. Among them, of course, was Shax. She looked different, tired and battered, and one of her eyes was now covered by a black band.

She didn't say anything when she noticed him, and Crowley just looked at her with a "Didn't I tell you?" expression on his face. While he knew this was how it would end, he didn't know it would only take four years. Seven would have been more their style, but everything pointed to the finale being one step away.

He didn't bother to help Shax or the other demons, he just left and returned to earth. Saving anything didn't matter much anymore, the Up would come for them sooner or later anyway, and Crowley had no desire to spend his last moments in Hell. Driven by some strange feeling, maybe nostalgia, maybe intuition, he set off for the Middle East. It was there that this whole misunderstanding called his life began. Well, life in general began there.
At least he hoped it was there, it had been a while and a lot had changed.

When he reached the place where the gates of Eden stood just six thousand years ago, he felt a tightening in his stomach. The whole place was nothing but a burned-out area; it was hard to tell if a city had stood here before, or if it had been a forest, because now the whole land looked like an endless desert of ash and rubble. Particles floated in the air along with the smell of burning and decay making it difficult for any living being to breathe here. He was looking around, unsure of what exactly he was looking for, when he felt a presence behind him. It was familiar, but at the same time so foreign and ominous. He turned around, unsure of what he would see.

He looked different.

His always white curly hair was now straight and slicked down, with a parting slightly to the left, and his beige coat and bow tie had been replaced by a gray suit with a white turtleneck. His once good blue eyes now glowed purple, and his face, which had always seemed kind and friendly, now had a serious expression showing no emotion. In his hand he wielded a sword, it was huge and shiny, but not flaming like the previous one.

"What- what happened?" The demon stammered, dazed. "Aziraphale, what have you done?"

He wanted to approach him, catch his face, shake his shoulders and convince him that it's not over, that he can still let go, that they can still fix this. The angel extended his blade toward him as soon as he took a step.

"I've done what was right." He replied dryly.

"What was right? Can you hear yourself?" He burst out. "Killing these people was right?"

"They were saved."

"No, they were fucking killed! Do you know how many of them will be saved? None, because none of the eight billion people qualify for your salvation program. They will be condemned all eternity. They will- they will- I don't know, actually you slaughtered all hell, I don't know where these souls will go."

Aziraphale did not respond, he continued to look at the demon with a stoic face and a sword blade pointed in his direction. Crowley took off his glasses and threw them into the ashes. No need to cover his eyes anymore anyway.

"Angel, what did they do to you?"

"They fixed me." He replied, coming closer. "They fixed what you corrupted."

These words pierced Crowley's heart. The rest of the will to fight that was still in him evaporated. He fell to his knees, looking at his former friend like a deer into a headlight, wordlessly conveying his surrender.
A downpour began to fall from the sky, mixing with the ash to form a pitch-black mud that began to soak through the redhead's pants. They were both soaked now, but they still stood there motionless, just looking at each other. The rain had made the angel's hair curl again, and Crowley was more than happy that it would be just like that when he looked at the love of his life for the last time.

Minutes passed, maybe hours, neither of them knew. The angel seemed to hesitate, if he was conducting some kind of internal battle with himself, but finally he came closer and thrust his sword directly at Crowley. Pain pierced his entire body, and his eyes involuntarily wanted to close, but he held them back, still staring at the angel's face. He felt himself weakening and very slowly the life escaping from him.

Aziraphale's hair was now falling on his forehead in slightly twisted pods, and rain dripped from the ends, flooding his face, he could cry now and no one would notice. Crowley couldn't resist, he was dying anyway, he embraced his best friend's cheek and gently stroked it with his thumb.

"Look at you, you're gorgeous." He whispered, no longer able to keep his eyes open.

The last thing he saw were Aziraphale's eyes, which again took on the gorgeous blue color they always had.

"Crowley..." he heard a whisper near his ear and felt someone embrace him, clenching their fists on his jacket. "Crowley..."

He passed away in the arms of his best friend, and that was all that mattered. He could not imagine a better end.

The demon no longer heard the angel's sobs and apologies. He didn't hear the angel's tearful scream or see his tears. He didn't know that a moment after his death, the angel would return to Heaven to dispatch Metatron with the exact same sword with which he had killed his beloved, and then be exterminated with it himself.

But for a split second, before his eyes closed for good, in the expression on his Angel's face, he saw that his love was reciprocated.

Aziraphale was somewhat right. Nothing lasts forever. Their story had to end, too; so did this world.

It was only the end.

It was just a world.