To quote Adele's "Skyfall"...
"This is the end. Hold your breath and count to ten..." Chapter Specific Warnings: Suicidal Attitude, Canon-Typical Violence, Aftermath of Violence and Torture, Character Death.
Also, archangels are dicks, but we already knew that.

-

The next day finds the boys and Bobby outside in the yard, sipping on beers, trying not to think of the task before them.

"Where's Crowley?" Sam eventually asks.

Bobby shrugs. "Goin' through my books. Promised not to take or mess with 'em and seemed genuinely respectful of them—especially the older ones."

Beside him, Dean snorts. "A demon making a promise, wow she's so trustworthy."

Bobby shrugs. "They're books. It's the apocalypse. Got bigger things to worry about than the demon Queen of the Crossroads rummaging through my library."

"How's she not got a hangover?" Dean grumbles. "She passed out last night after drinking—what—like three bottles of liquor, all by herself. Should still be dead to the world."

"Apparently demons don't get hangovers," Sam shrugs wryly. "Despite how hammered she got."

Who knew.

"Speaking of, did I drink too much or, well, was she…" Dean hesitates, doubting his memory.

"Cryin'?" Bobby supplies. "Yup. In tears about that…Zira fella."

"You mean Aziraphale?"

The hunters turn to find Castiel behind them. "So what do you know about all that?" Dean asks curiously.

For a moment, the angel says nothing, thinking as he glances up at the cloudy sky. "Not much, but more than most, I suppose. Aziraphale is well known amongst angels; he originally guarded the Eastern Gate of the Garden."

"The Garden—you mean like…the Garden of Eden? Adam and Eve's Garden?" Sam sputters.

"You are correct," Castiel nods. "He is a Principality—the highest rank below the archangels themselves and so quite powerful, but not power-hungry. A good and kind angel…rather fond of books, if I recall correctly. After Eve consumed the forbidden fruit and they were removed from Eden, Aziraphale was stationed as Heaven's permanent representative on earth."

At this knowledge, Sam hums in thought. "Interesting."

"After that I did not have contact with Aziraphale for millennia, while I was in Heaven and he on earth," Castiel continues. "It was a few years ago when I saw him last—he was searching for someone…" The angel's voice fades for a moment as he stares back at Bobby's house.

"Cas?" Dean prompts.

"He was looking for someone…whom he thought Heaven had captured, but no one had any knowledge about it. That was when I received orders to lead my garrison into Hell to save you, Dean. Aziraphale volunteered to help and was with me very nearly until the end. Eventually, I lost him in melee and thought him killed. Afterwards, we had doubts about his death and began to search…but he was gone from earth and absent in Heaven. No one could locate him and so he was assumed dead. But if what Death said is true…"

"Then Aziraphale's still kickin'," Bobby surmised. "So, what? Not upstairs or here—what's left, Hell? Wouldn't she know if he was in Hell rather than think he's dead?"

The angel shakes his head, almost frustrated. "I do not know. I'll have to investigate later."

Thinking, Sam pauses, forehead wrinkled in deep thought. "D'you think…Crowley might not really be a demon? Or at least, not a normal demon?"

Dean snorts. "That bitch? Really, Sam?"

"What, I mean, it makes sense, Dean!" Sam replies, defensive of his musings. "Have you ever heard of a demon crying? Mourning? That's what she was doing last night. She has no reason to fake that kind of emotion. Not to us. And, I mean, she is Queen of the Crossroads and one of the most powerful things we've ever come across—it kinda makes sense."

"I'll believe it when I see her wings," the shorter snorts, skeptical as ever. "Wait, Cas, can you tell?"

"I cannot. As far as I am aware, she is a demon—an extraordinarily powerful, dangerous, and cunning demon…but only a demon. If she isn't…she has warded herself incredibly well."

They lapse into silence, broken moments later by a snort from behind them—Crowley, leaning against the Impala and watching them with a smirk. "Not polite, you know—talking about a girl behind her back."

"Oh yeah, 'cause you're a paragon of virtue and manners," Dean snaps.

Her eyebrows rise. "That's rich coming from a Winchester," she murmurs coolly and turns away. "I kept my promise, Bobby—your library is just as I found it—demon's honor."

"Yeah right," Dean mutters to his beer bottle.

Bobby sighs. "Can it, kid."

A smirk toys at the corner of her lips, but even her usual bravado is diminished by their looming duties. "If that's all, gentlemen, I'm going to retrieve a few items. I'll return shortly."

She vanishes and Dean turns to the older hunter. "Really?"

"What?" He sighs. "Dean, you really shouldn't antagonize one of our few allies—a powerful one at that, who would have little to no compunction about killing you. So shut your piehole next time, got it?"

"You gotta take her side on this, Bobby?" Dean mutters.

"She's already got me by the soul, kid."

He snorts. "More like got you by the balls."

"You got somethin' to say?"

"Didn't say anything."

She doesn't bother inform them that she had overheard the entirety of their conversation, nor does she care that they are questioning her character and species.

What matters is what Castiel had told them. "…Aziraphale vanished and did not answer our calls, he was gone from earth and absent in Heaven. No one could locate him and we thought him dead."

As far as Heaven is aware, he's dead. He isn't dead. Her spellwork confirms that he isn't on earth. He can't be dead.

That leaves very limited options.

He is captive, she is sure of that. By Heaven or Hell, she isn't sure—but it has to be by the top tier. Whether that means he was taken on Michael's orders and hidden away in the dungeons of Heaven, to hide the shameful angel…or he was taken on Lucifer's orders for leverage against Crowley.

She doesn't know which is worse, but she hopes she is wrong.

Despite what they all expect, Crowley returns and remains. They wait for her to vanish off to whatever hole she wants to hide in, but she lingers, grim and determined.

She follows to Detroit, lingering even after Lucifer has Sam. They don't ask and she doesn't explain, remaining a quiet spector in their wake. So concentrated upon these proceedings, she doesn't bother with her constant sarcasm and wit; she's too tired, too worried, too focused for it.

When they learn Stull Cemetery is the destined site of the big battle, she goes too, without them asking.

If the smug demon is grim and silent, no one remarks on it. She's no more so than the rest of them.

Hopefully, maybe, possibly she will learn of her angel soon enough. Interrupting the prophesied battle between Michael and Lucifer is sure to be a death sentence for her, but if it is to stop the apocalypse (again), she's willing to do it.

There's no Aziraphale here to make life worth living, no one to remind her of the simple pleasures, no one to keep her from ruminating upon the miserable eternity of her existence, no one to offer companionship, no one to laugh with, no friends, no lovers, no one to enjoy wine with and to have dinners at the Ritz with. No one. Not anymore.

She's tired, simply put. So tired. And as she learned centuries ago, even sleeping for years at a time will not end that exhaustion.

Crowley can't find it in her to really care for her survival. She's committed to save humanity (annoying as they can be at times) and to stopping her immature and arrogant brothers.

Well, she doesn't really expect they'd manage to stop them without her. Really. A ken doll with daddy issues, an old alcoholic, and a weakened little sparrow of an angel? It's doubtful, but maybe a fallen angel-cum-Queen of Hell will tip the scales.

Maybe she will learn Aziraphale's fate in the process.

Blaring Def Leppard, Dean pulls the Impala into the Cemetery and Crowley appears next to him, pale and determined as she observes her eldest brothers.

"Dean. Crowley," Lucifer growls in recognition. "I didn't expect this of you. Interesting." It's disconcerting to see her brother—sister—sibling's mannerisms and countenance in the form of Sam Winchester. But she can recognize the inflections in the archangel's voice and the particular posture he bears.

"A pleasure to see you as well, Lucy," she curtseys mockingly, but her face is set in a cold snarl. "Been a while."

Beside him, Michael inhales sharply in abrupt recognition. "You? Well, I'd wondered what happened to you."

"Michael, it's been ages," she bites out at the scowling archangel. "Glad to see you've gotten off your high horse and finally graced us with your oh-so-pleasant presence."

Lucifer, however, has more to say to his former-underling. "I believe I have something of yours, Crowley." He snaps his fingers and calls, "Beelzebub!"

When they turn, a demon has appeared, bringing with him a bloody mess that takes Dean several long moments to realize is a person. Crowley is frozen in shock before she begins to tremble in rage. The hunter puts a hand on her arm to hold her back, but she hisses at him, "Let go of me, Winchessssster, if you value your arm." Her voice trembles too, hissed out between her clenched teeth.

Immediately, he releases his grasp on her.

"What did you do to him?" she nearly screams at the demon, smirking coldly at her.

Beelzebub laughs, and it sounds like bones cracking. "Oh, you know Alastair's usual routine, don't you, Crowley? His apprentices just love fresh meat to practice on—especially those of a divine quality. Holy oil and fire makes for such delightful torture, don't you think?"

Like lightning, she has a sword in hand and is on the other demon, lunging at him like an animal. It's nearly too quick for human eyes to keep up with, but he catches enough pieces to follow—Beelzebub slamming her into a tree which falls—Crowley tossing him by his throat—a blow to her chest—a fist to his crotch then a blade through his neck.

When Dean blinks, Beelzebub is gone and Crowley is already at the blond man's side, who he assumes to be Aziraphale, if his hunch about what Death and Castiel had said is right.

The demon's hands are uncharacteristically gentle as she lifts the unconscious bloody mess of a man into her arms, cradling him in her lap. When she lays a hand on his forehead and revitalizes him with some of her power, she is immensely grateful for her skill with healing as his eyes open swiftly, focusing upon her eagerly.

"What—" he begins, panicked, seeing the blood first.

"Not my blood, angel," Crowley interrupts quickly, stroking his cheek soothingly. "Beelzebub's…and yours. He had you. I thought you were…

"Well. He's not alive anymore. Are you alright?"

He nods. "I will be. But…how long…how long has it been…?"

Pursing her lips, she hesitates. "About five years on earth…about six centuries in Hell. I searched, Zira," she whispers brokenly, face crumpled in regret. "I searched for you for so long…I went back to Hell to search, to gain more power to look for you but…they must have hidden you too well."

"You…you went back to Hell?" he repeats, eyes wide.

The fallen angel winces. "I…I had to look for you," she shrugs. "If it meant dealing with the devil to do that, I would. I had to find you."

Aziraphale nearly sobs in heartache. "Crowley. You broke your oath. You swore you would stop looking for me if I—"

The demon shakes her head calmly. "You know as well as I that I never could uphold that, my love." Her voice, so often a coarse tone, is as gentle as a caress across his skin.

"I wish you could try," he murmurs, then pauses as some thought occurs to him. He smiles up at her. It's a beatific sight. "Crowley, did you say—"

"Yes, of course I did, you stupid angel," she murmurs tenderly. "Could I have been more obvious that I love you?"

Azirphale's answering smile is brighter than she has ever seen before. "No, but hearing it is marvelous, my dear."

Why—why had she never said it before? Why? How could she? To think that he was taken from her, that she nearly lost him—never telling him the truth.

"I love you," she replies softly, intently. "I love you, I lo—"

So focused on her found loved one, she had forgotten the others nearby.

Dean, watching the scene, sees it coming but can do nothing to prevent it.

Michael and Lucifer had hung back during her fight with Beelzebub and done nothing. Now, however, Lucifer produces his sword.

Wrapped up in their own reunion, neither notice this until Lucifer is behind Crowley, shoving his sword through her chest. The demon screams, though the sound dies halfway through in her throat, as she chokes and blood fills her mouth. "You always were a sentimental fool. Even before your fall," the Morningstar mutters calmly.

When he pulls it from her body, he vanishes it—blood and all—and returns to stand near Michael, watching dispassionately as their sister gasps her dying breaths.

Crowley's hand flies up to her chest, where a sudden red stain blossoms over her dress and the very end of the sword emerges briefly through her chest. She slumps forward and Aziraphale is quick to right himself to cradle Crowley instead.

"Zira…"

The word is a small whimper as her eyes flutter, trying to focus upon the wound then darting to his face. Light begins to slip through the injury as well.

"No, Crowley—" the angel exclaims.

She snatches his hand with the bloody one of hers. "Zira," she whimpers softly, clutching him clumsily with weak hands. "Z…Zira…"

Dean looks away, unsure if he should watch the moment between them. When silence falls, he glances back. All that is left of her is a small, bloody, crumpled body.

For a moment, there is impossible disbelief in the angel's eyes before the shock fades from him and all he can do is clutch her body to his chest, bury his face into her hair, and weep—broken tears and keening sobs.

The look on Aziraphale's face is one of utter devastation. It is the face of a man who had finally gained everything he'd ever dreamed…and lost it in an instant. It is the look of someone how has lost a vital part of themselves and can't function with the remains. It is the look of Atlas, bearing the weight of the world on his back alone. It is the look of someone who has lost their entire world—watched it die helplessly and then losing it utterly.

Dean would know. He's seen it often enough and caused it a fair few times. But none of those times bear this kind of significance, not that Dean is fully aware of it at all.

Because this is Aziraphale: an angel who has spent six thousand years plus on earth—who has spent that time fighting, trusting, befriending, and loving Crowley—who is an immortal being who now looks like he'd give everything, give his life, give the world to have her back. Because this is Aziraphale and to see that look on an angel's face because of his love for a demon is incredible. Because this is Aziraphale, who has been an angel for millennia, who has saved the world several times, who looks like he has lost his entire world.

Dean realizes abruptly that maybe Aziraphale actually has.

Before anything else can be done, Michael turns his cold gaze to Aziraphale. "You!" the archangel snarls, infuriated. "You traitor! A demon, really? Her, of all beings? Again?"

Bloody, bruised, battered, and grieving, Aziraphale is unfazed by his fury as he looks up to Michael. "I have loved her for ages, Michael. And I regret nothing at all."

Lucifer sneers. "You are a fool, Aziraphale. Just like her," he remarks with cold pity. "Your devotion and love for that…pitiful creature will be your downfall every time. You never learn do you, brother?"

The blond angel glares fiercely. "I love her, Lucifer. I have suffered Hell's torment for six hundred years—for her, to protect her. I would die a thousand deaths for her. All of it—every pain, every scream, every sob—is worth it. I would do it a hundred times over. Because I love her. You had best kill me now, brothers. Because you just killed the one I love—and if either of you survive this, I will find you and I will kill you. Because you took her from me."

"So be it," Michael snarls and waves a hand. Aziraphale and Crowley's body both vanish instantly and Dean doesn't have time to wonder if Aziraphale is dead or alive. There are other things to worry about.

Castiel appears with Bobby. "Hey, assbutt!"