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Every step forward hurt like glass in his feet, which there very well may be. Everything was destroyed. For as far as he could see buildings were torn apart, and bodies littered the streets. Nothing was left, and yet he still held a foolish hope.
None of this felt real, just like some horrific dream he found himself in. He swayed with each step, only barely avoiding falling. Was this some sort of joke?
Only one thought was spinning around his mind, Aziraphale. He had to find Aziraphale. His head told him that there was no way he survived, after all, no one else did. But his heart screamed to find him.
What had happened to the bookshop? Could it have survived at all when everything else was so thoroughly decimated? He quickly shoved the thought away.
Crowley made another turn towards the bookshop. More bodies lay before him, in various states of mutilation. Whatever had happened here must have been akin to some sort of apocalypse. Some bodies had been crushed or beaten, while others were cut or sliced in half. Birds, rats, and other animals were picking at the corpses. His stomach churned at the sight.
Finally, Crowley could see the bookshop. He also saw it was in the same state as the other buildings.
He felt his heart drop and stumbled into the building. All of the windows were shattered and broken glass coated the floor. Crowley felt a pang in his chest at the sight of the books strewn about the place, pages ripped out and spines broken. Aziraphale had worked so hard to keep the place to his liking, never once selling a single book. And now it was all gone.
Crowley frantically started to search the shop, looking anywhere a person might fit and praying that he wouldn't find anything.
After several sweeps of the place he finally let out a shaky breath, torn on if it was a good or bad thing he couldn't find Aziraphale. Where else could he be?
Crowley looked around helplessly, not knowing what to do next. Where else did he frequent, the park? It was as good an option as anything.
Without anything else to do, Crowley walked out of the bookshop and made his way down the street to the park.
The bodies continued, seemingly no end to the carnage. Crowley couldn't remember what had happened here, he just sort of woke up on a street bench to the stench of rot. Maybe the heavens opened and the stars fell down. He would believe anything.
The park was in view now, strewn with bodies as he had expected, except for one small hill in the middle.
On top of the hill was a small tree, shading the area and creating what would be a lovely picnic spot. If it hadn't been for one small thing. The body lying under the tree, with a little brown bird picking at what seemed to be a fresh cut across the chest.
Crowley couldn't make out who it could be from this distance, but a sinking feeling had started in his chest and settled in his stomach.
Crowley took a step forward, then another, until he was running up the hill and falling to his knees beside the body, Aziraphale’s body.
Crowley pulled Aziraphale’s head into his lap and desperately ran his fingers through his hair.
“No no no no, this can't be happening, this isn't real.”
But it was real, and he was holding his best friend in his arms, not a single sign of life left. Time seemed to slow, and Crowley felt foreign in his own body as he bent over Aziraphale and screamed.
He screamed until there was nothing left inside his chest and all that was left were broken sobs and gasps.
He just couldn't accept that this was how things would end, after all this time everything was taken away from him in the blink of an eye.
As Crowley sat there and time went on, his grief turned to pure agony and started to boil into anger. Whoever, whatever had done this would soon regret it. For Crowley had the vengeance of someone so deeply in love, and nothing left to lose.