Work Text:
There was a tranquil stillness in the garden that Crowley had so meticulously created, so meticulously carved out for himself. Carved out of the earth. Of the water, of the air. The weight of eternity hung heavy within it, though. A testament to beginnings, and a testament to endings. He remembered how the story went: “It will start, as it will end, in a garden.” Apparently, the word of God. Crowley wasn’t sure how much he believed in that, though. God would never make things so peaceful in the end. He’d seen the Ark, he’d seen Job, he’d seen all of Her “ineffable plan” before She decided to give nothing but radio static. How was he supposed to believe in a peaceful end after She destroyed so much in Her wake? It was a shock that he was even allowed his garden. In the fateful end, it was all he had been left with. That, and Aziraphale. But he had been given silence from him as well.
Crowley often found himself lost in thought amidst the serenity of what he had remaining, seeking solace in its quiet embrace. He couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of it all – how this small corner of his own Eden was the only refuge left, granted by the same entity that had unleashed destruction upon the world more times than he could count. And as he strolled through the garden's lush, vibrant foliage, his mind drifted back to Aziraphale, his one and only constant companion through the many millennia. No longer could Crowley even remember the amount of years it had been. He had lost count after ten or so. In the stillness of the garden, Crowley couldn’t deny the longing for Aziraphale’s company, for someone to share that lonely eternity of his with.
Walking deeper into the lush greenery, he allowed it to consume his little world for just a moment. He closed his eyes, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of his meticulously tended plants. The sun cast dappled shadows, and the fragrance of flowers filled the air. Until, a familiar voice broke the silence.
“Crowley, my dear, have you been enjoying your solitude?” A soft, melodic voice came from behind, making Crowley jump like a spooked feline. But he calmed at the realization that it was Aziraphale. It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other recently, but each and every second away from the angel was like torture to him.
“Shit, Angel… You could ‘a discorporated me. Give a demon some warning, would ya?”
Aziraphale smiled, a hint of mischief in his eyes as he stepped closer to Crowley. “Well, my dear, where’s the fun in that? Besides, I do enjoy seeing you flustered.”
Crowley huffed, a playful glint in his golden eyes. “You always did have a strange sense of humor, Angel. You’d think you’d be the demon between the two of us…”
They stood there for a moment, the tension between them palpable yet unspoken. Their meeting that day was somewhat planned. It was more that Crowley had been waiting for Aziraphale, for when the angel was finally ready to go.
Aziraphale broke the silence first, his voice tinged with sadness. “Crowley, I’ve been thinking about the end. It’s not fair, you know. We've been through so much, I’m not ready to say goodbye.”
Crowley looked away, his heart aching. “Aziraphale, you know as well as I do that it has to end someday. It’s just… the way things are. But at least we’ll be together, right here, in our garden.”
Aziraphale’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but managed to smile as he picked up on the word “our” in Crowley’s sentence. He would never get over the fact that they finally were together, even though they had been for so long then. “I suppose you’re right, my dear. But I… I wish it didn't have to be this way. I don’t want to let go. Not yet. It’s been such a short amount of time, hasn’t it…?”
Although they had reached the end of the line, it felt something like the beginning. Crowley always assumed that when the finale did finally come, they would be destroyed in fire and flames, something like Armageddon, albeit much worse. And yet, it wasn’t like that at all. It was like being reborn. They wore the same clothes as that day in Eden, as if going backwards in time. Again, it was as the prophecy had been written: “It will start, as it will end, in a garden.” He thought it wouldn’t be so peaceful or so simple. But it really was. It really was that simple. And God hated simple things most often, didn’t She?
But that simplicity was the sweetest surprise of all.
A subtle change then began to take place. Crowley could feel it, a quiet shift in the very fabric of their existence. It was as if the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable. The ineffable , rather. And he glanced at Aziraphale with a stabbing plaguing within the center of his chest, his eyes widening as he sensed the truth of what was happening.
“Angel, it’s time, isn’t it?” Crowley asked, his voice tinged with both resignation and acceptance.
Aziraphale nodded, tears then streaming down his face. It was so sudden, but he couldn’t help it. The fear, the sadness, the longing… it overwhelmed him. “Yes, my dear. It’s time for us to let go.”
Crowley reached out and gently cupped Aziraphale’s cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Don't be afraid, Angel. I’ll be waiting for you on the other side, wherever that may be. Whatever isn’t… Heaven, or Hell, or Earth. Whatever is our freedom, right?”
Aziraphale managed a weak smile, his hand covering Crowley’s. “I know, my dear. But before we go, there’s something I need to do.”
With a determined look in his eyes, Aziraphale closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Crowley’s in a sweet, lingering kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the love they had shared over the millennia, a kiss that spoke of their eternity together.
As their lips parted one another’s, Crowley whispered, “What was that for?”
Aziraphale smiled, his voice barely more than a whisper as well. “For love, my dear. For always. For forever, right…?”
Crowley teared up, and he grabbed Aziraphale’s hand, kissing it feather-light, hardly there at all, really. “For forever, Angel.”
There was a soft sound, the sound of a miracle, and Aziraphale was suddenly holding a small vial. He pulled his hand from Crowley’s and held the other out.
“You needn’t much. It’s… very potent, dear.”
There was a tremble that came with the outreach as Aziraphale’s fear couldn’t be contained, especially not as the vial was taken from his grasp. He didn’t hide his emotions around Crowley anyways. They had learned over the years that it only hurt the both of them to not know what one another was feeling at all times.
“I know. Don’t worry, Angel. I remember how it went for Ligur, clearer than I’d like to…”
In return, Crowley looked to the side. They had been stood beside a small table in the very center of his garden. All that sat upon it was a candle. Reaching out, Crowley then snapped his fingers and the wick sprung to life with flame. Hellfire, of course. Their agreement had been to end together, just as they had begun together, back in Eden. At least, that was what they considered to be their “beginning.” The beginning of Them .
The beginning of Us, Angel. That was what Crowley had said to him. It felt like forever ago then.
Crowley’s lips curled into a sad smile as he watched the candle’s hellfire dance before them. “The beginning of Us , Angel,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of nostalgia and sorrow. It felt like a lifetime ago when they had made their choices in Eden, and then, there they were, making their final choice together. At last, they were making their final choice together just the same, reaffirming that which had defined their existence for countless millennia.
“We’ve faced the end of the world together, my dear,” Aziraphale said, his voice quivering but resolute. “And now, we’ll face the end of our world together. Just as it should be. Just as we both have wanted it to be.”
Of course, Aziraphale was right. They both wanted the end to be on their own terms. The end of Earth would come in mere days, and Earth was their world. So their world had to come to its final gasping breath. But Crowley did not want to end it on his own. He looked down to the glass vial between his fingers, small but potent enough to destroy a whole army of Hell’s. And he knew Aziraphale could sense what he was thinking, as the angel reached out and took the Holy Water back, giving Crowley’s cheek a delicate kiss.
“Do you want me to do it, Crowley…?”
There was a pause, and then, a hesitant nod.
“I’m sorry, I- I didn’t want to ask that of you, ya know I wouldn’t want to put you… through, well, destroying me…”
Aziraphale hushed him, and it began with such a suddenness it couldn’t be explained. It was not because either of them wanted the end to be rushed, but sitting there with the understanding of what would be happening hanging over them, weighing on their shoulders, was an unbearable, unfair ache. The end was to be peaceful. Not agonizing, physically nor mentally.
Uncorking the vial, Aziraphale’s hand shook with the movement, although he made it unreasonably gentle, slow. A single drop glistened at its lip, taunting with its shine. Too bright, too holy for its own good. Too unmistakably alluring for what it would destroy that night.
“I love you, Angel.”
“I know. Adieu, my dearest…”
Adieu. A word with a direct translation of “until God.” The most final goodbye to be given.
With that, Aziraphale raised his hand, and tilted the vial, letting the Holy Water drip onto Crowley. The moment it made contact, Crowley convulsed, his body wracked with unimaginable pain. But Aziraphale was there still, terrified, grabbing his hand with a heart wrenched sob.
The love of all his existence melted before Aziraphale, gone like he was never there at all. And the ground began to shake, the candle fallen to its side, and setting the garden aflame. The once tranquil sanctuary was now a maelstrom of fiery chaos, roaring and crackling with a malevolent hunger.
Angelic cries pierced the night, a guttural wail of agony and despair as the flames closed in on him. Aziraphale felt the searing heat scorching his skin, the acrid smoke filling his lungs, then destroying him from the inside out. Tears streamed down his face as he clung to what was no longer there, haunted.
In that moment of desperation, of desperate love, as the flames danced closer, Aziraphale made a decision born out of his remaining yearning, aching for Crowley to be beside him still. He could not bear it. He couldn’t bear such a farewell. They had discussed it for months, yet there Aziraphale was, breaking their final contract. Destroying the last pact they had made. With trembling hands, he reached deep within himself.
Releasing a wretched, agonizing scream, Aziraphale tore open his own chest, his fingers digging into his chest cavity. His hands, then glowing with ethereal light, grasped the essence of Crowley's soul, pulling it out of metaphysical space like a radiant beacon. He couldn’t let go. He wouldn’t let him go. The pain was excruciating, but Aziraphale’s pertinacity was unwavering. It was like he had been given a second albeit brief life. An absolute and final farewell.
As he held Crowley’s ever-dimming soul in his trembling hands, Aziraphale’s vision blurred from tears and a blindness that Hellfire was giving him. He pressed the radiant soul against his own, feeling the divine and infernal energies collide within him. It was a fusion of love and sacrifice, a desperate act of salvation.
With the last of his strength, his existence, Aziraphale choked up, “I will carry you with me, Crowley, for all eternity.”
And then, as the flames engulfed him, as the smoke choked his cries, Aziraphale let out one final, anguished cry, his tears mingling with the burning Hell of his own making. In that moment, he became a blazing beacon of devotion, adoration, and sacrifice, a testament to Them , and the flames consumed them both, leaving nothing but ashes in wake.
Their loss was a goodbye like a hecatomb, and a hello like a renascence.