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The end of the universe turned out to be a more peaceful experience than one would expect.
As the shop faded around them, Aziraphale felt an energy ripple through the air. It was a powerful force that rumbled like thunder but gently tugged at his very being, inviting, beckoning. Aziraphale’s corporation squeezed Crowley’s hand one last time, and their true forms collided into a warm embrace. They bathed in their love for one another as they turned to stardust, and that strong, familiar force continued pulling on Aziraphale’s soul, and he knew, he knew, that this was not the end. This was a new beginning.
Crowley’s bright, beautiful smile was the final thing Aziraphale saw as the last light of their universe burnt out, and as everything faded to black, one last thought etched itself into Aziraphale’s mind.
I will find you. In any universe, I will find you.
When Aziraphale’s consciousness had pieced itself back together, everything was silent, everything was peaceful. Taking a deep breath, the former angel opened his eyes, ready to explore the wonders of this new creation.
He stood in the bookshop.
He stood in their bookshop, his hand still clasped tightly to Crowley’s, who appeared to be just as confused as Aziraphale felt.
They were alone.
No God. No Satan.
Just the two of them.
The bookshop had, at first, been the only light in the vast ocean of nothingness outside, and for a moment, Aziraphale and Crowley feared that they had been swindled. That the Almighty Herself had broken their deal. This ‘new universe’ was dark and cold, and full of nothing, reminiscent of the blank canvas that had existed at the beginning of everything.
Except this time, they had no avenue to creation, no guidelines to follow, no plan. All that existed in this universe was a former angel, a former demon, and their bookshop full of blank books at the centre of everything.
Well, at least they still had each other.
That is, until Aziraphale sighted a white orb that shone brightly in the darkness, gliding through the air like a snowflake carried by a winter breeze.
Upon closer inspection, it turned out that God had not broken their deal after all. Within the tiny ball of light sat a universe, brand new and beautiful, although its existence came as less a big bang and more a tinny pop.
With the universe held in their hands, the air around them crackled, and Aziraphale and Crowley watched in wonder as thousands of specks of light burst into life, illuminating the darkness and reminding Aziraphale of a time when a certain angel created their first nebula.
It was the birth of not one, but thousands of new universes that hung in the sky like stars.
Universes where free will was real and neither Heaven nor Hell were pulling the strings.
Universes that would run for millions and billions of years, until their natural end consumed them, and their existence turned to stardust, only to be reborn and for the cycle to repeat.
And at the centre of it all, a former angel and a former demon watched over every single one.
Over time, their new life became rather domestic.
After careful experimentation, they had discovered they had retained a small amount of miracle power. Whilst they were not as powerful as they once were, it was enough to manifest some home comforts. Aziraphale had begun rebuilding his library, replacing the classics from Dickens to Austen and revelling in the abundance of new authors that emerged.
The Bentley, which had defied all laws of… well, everything, as she was wont to do, sat contentedly outside the bookshop, beeping her horn, much to Crowley’s chagrin, when she wanted attention, and twisting her headlights to follow the specks of light that danced around her.
Crowley transformed the shop into something akin to a rainforest, with every shelf covered in lush green leaves and occasional spots of colour peeking through from budding flowers. Aziraphale took great delight in spoiling the plants, while Crowley found joy in scolding him for doing so.
Every night they danced to music, delighted each other over food, or bickered over wine, and it did not take long for the bookshop to feel like home once more.
Their home.
They also took great joy in watching the goings-on across all the universes together, and it had quickly become a pastime not dissimilar to watching their favourite play or a cinematic film.
In every universe, familiar faces would pop up, and Aziraphale and Crowley revelled in the reunions, gasped at the drama and cooed over the happy endings. In several universes, Maggie and Nina found one another, as did Gabriel and Beelzebub and Anathema and Newton. Warlock and Joshua would join forces with Adam and the Them. Muriel and Eric had been an unexpected pairing, but Aziraphale and Crowley rooted for them every single time.
They certainly never interfered.
They especially did not interfere when they had discovered that, somehow, their own essences had a habit of manifesting human versions (or whatever the universe equivalent would be) of themselves in every single universe.
They certainly never interfered by attempting to bring their alternate selves together.
Although it certainly wasn’t from lack of trying.
Their attempts to unite their universe counterparts were always disregarded; their alternative selves ignored Aziraphale and Crowley’s pleas and continued with their existence. Meanwhile, Aziraphale and Crowley yelled at the balls of light in their palms, as if the small universe contained characters from their favourite television show who had done something idiotic, like chickening out of speaking to the pretty goth man with gorgeous red hair and mysterious dark sunglasses sitting at the bar.
After all, free will was a real thing in these universes.
And yet, in every universe, in every reincarnation, their counterparts still found one another and lived unique and fulfilling human lives full of romance, drama, happiness, and grief.
Together.
Aziraphale and Crowley had always been drawn to one another; it had been a tale as old as time itself. From the very moment a bright-eyed angel had flagged down a flustered passerby requesting help with his nebula. Aziraphale had been enamoured from day one, and his love never faltered, not when a frightened rebel had taken him hostage and stolen his sword, not when a curious demon had slithered up the wall of Eden to risk a conversation with the enemy, not when that very same demon had asked his adversary for the very thing that could destroy him, not when he had begged Aziraphale to run away with him, had rightly refused to return to Heaven or had tempted Aziraphale with a desperate kiss.
And it certainly had not faltered when a former demon stood before an archangel, both offering their hearts to one another on a silver platter and making the decision to build a better universe.
Together.
So, of course, it made sense that their alternate selves would behave similarly.
It didn’t stop Aziraphale and Crowley’s anxiety every time something threw a spanner in the works. Every time their alternate selves were in the same space but did not notice each other, every time one of them was too frightened to make the first move, every time they argued, or made a ridiculous mistake that created a misunderstanding.
Aziraphale and Crowley had survived every bump in the road; their alternate selves would too.
“Who’re we watching tonight?” Crowley asked, sauntering into the bookshop’s back room, a glass of wine in each hand. He placed Aziraphale’s glass on the table and slithered onto his place on the sofa, draping one arm over the back behind Aziraphale, who had taken to sitting next to him.
The universes each had their own quirks; you could say they had a specific genre, which Aziraphale and Crowley were able to pick based on what they were in the mood for. If they fancied science fiction, then one of the space universes, where humans lived among the stars, was the optimal choice. Crowley was particularly fond of that genre. If they fancied something a bit more fantastical, they might switch to a universe where magic and curses ruled the world and dragons soared above the clouds. They were rather enamoured with a particular universe in which a sorceress had placed a curse on Prince Anthony Crowley, forcing him to live the remainder of his life as a beastly snake; they were still shouting at Ezra to kiss the damn snake and break the curse.
The true classics, however, lie in the mundane. Where humans were simply humans going along with life as best they could.
Aziraphale had always loved a classic love story, and Crowley had a soft spot for the funny ones.
Thankfully, they had quite an array of romantic comedies to choose from.
“Astrophysics Professor Anthony Crowley and bookseller and former teacher Asa Fell,” Aziraphale said, smiling down at the universe in the palm of his hand. “I’m afraid Anthony is currently trying to explain to Asa why he now has two copies of Arthur Eddington’s book of Relativity.”
“Because he is an idiot,” Crowley muttered into his wine. “He’s an astrophysics professor, as if he wouldn’t have one of the most famous books on astrophysics. He could have picked literally any other genre of book to chat Asa up with,” Crowley shook his head. “I would never do something so stupid.”
“Of course not, darling,” Aziraphale chuckled. “Regardless, his attempt at flirting did appear to have worked rather well.”
“Yeah, except now it has come back to bite him,” Crowley groaned. “He should have at least got rid of the copy he already had; he’s made an idiot of himself now.”
“Actually, I think Asa finds Anthony’s spluttering rather endearing,” Aziraphale said, watching Asa smile softly as Anthony stammered his way through an explanation. “I can’t say I blame him. It is a rather charming character trait, very fitting for Anthony.”
Crowley spluttered out consonants that were of a similar vein to poor Anthony, except instead of embarrassment, Crowley looked affronted.
Aziraphale felt that familiar warmth blossoming in his chest.
It had taken time and several conversations, but slowly they had discovered their likes and boundaries when it came to affection. They had started with holding hands, a familiarity they both found comforting, and slowly rebuilt and grew their relationship from there — a light touch on the arm, a peck on the cheek. Crowley had even been brazen enough to wrap his arms around Aziraphale’s waist whilst they waited for the kettle to boil. The action made Aziraphale’s heart do somersaults, and butterflies flutter in his stomach.
What an incredible feeling.
However, there was still one hurdle that neither of them had been brave enough to cross.
Aziraphale sighed contentedly and let go of the universe, letting it float upwards and hang in the air. He walked over to the gramophone. Crowley watched, raising an eyebrow in interest.
Every reincarnation of them shared one other similarity.
They all had their own specific song.
Aziraphale played their record, the one about nightingales singing in Berkeley Square, and offered Crowley his hand. “Would you indulge me in a dance, my dear?”
Crowley smiled, a bright, beautiful sight, placed his wine on the table and took the proffered hand.
They danced slowly, Aziraphale’s arms around Crowley’s shoulders, Crowley’s hands on Aziraphale’s waist, bright blue eyes hypnotised by beautiful golden ones, and as their faces drew closer, Aziraphale whispered one plea.
“Do it again, please?”
Crowley had clearly been on the same page; without hesitation, their lips met in a soft, tender kiss, and Aziraphale felt his anxiety at the request slip away and his heart soar. He lifted a hand to cup Crowley’s face, tenderly stroking his cheek and smiled into the kiss as the former demon gently pulled him in closer.
Aziraphale finally had everything he had ever wanted.