"When the stench of the sea and the absence of green
Are the death of all things that are seen and unseen,
Not an end, but the start of all things that are left to do.
Wasteland, baby,
I'm in love, I'm in love with you."
- "Wasteland, Baby!" Hozier
It wasn't for at least another hundred years that the real apocalypse happened, but in the meantime, Aziraphale and Crowley were ready for it. Heaven and Hell had left them alone, left to their own devices. So, Aziraphale and Crowley, an angel and a demon without a Heaven or Hell, chose their new side together: humanity. It was the only side that really mattered.
During their time where they could truly be together, they did several things. They watched Warlock Dowling, Adam Young, and Adam's friends grow into adulthood, their memory of that one unusual summer fading away in the face of normal teen troubles. Adam and his friends lost touch as they went their separate into the world. Adam went to medical school, Brian went to culinary school, Pepper entered the Peace Corp, and Wensleydale went to America for university where he actually met Warlock Dowling at law school. Neither of them finished, instead choosing to elope. Adam and Pepper meant and rekindled their friendship, too, and then eventually married. Aziraphale and Crowley were there at both weddings, in disguise as Elvis impersonators at Warlock's and caterers at Adam's. Only Adam ever noticed them.
After Madame Tracy, there were no more mediums.
After Shadwell, there were no more witch-finders.
And after Anathema and Newton, there were plenty more of their lines.
But it was Adam's descendants that did lead the fight against Heaven and Hell. His grandsons John and Paul were the ones who tried to combat the destructive Earth against climate change, pollution, erosion, and extinction. And even with Aziraphale and Crowley waiting in the wings and lending a hand where they could, they were unsuccessful.
Heaven and Hell really did end up joining forces in the end. Beelzebub released a plague that rivaled the bubonic in 2019. Gabriel increased tensions in humanity with manipulations of the stock market in favor of the rich. And both Beelzebub and Gabriel sent the four horsemen out into the world with a handful of angels and demons to assist them.
It seemed that despite it all – and most especially despite Aziraphale and Crowley's combined efforts the first time – the apocalypse was bound to happen. The apocalypse was inevitable.
But you can't say that humanity didn't give it their best shot railing at the end. Everyone could see that.
So, it was at the end of the world that Aziraphale and Crowley returned to Aziraphale's bookshop. Had there been any parks left unscathed, they would have gone there, and had there been any forests left unfelled, they might've gone there, too. But as it is, there was almost nothing left, and even Aziraphale's bookshop was in shambles, looted. Aziraphale didn't mind much. He figured humanity could use all the help they could get when it came to books. He wasn't going to keep anything from them.
Which is also why, for once, Aziraphale did not have any snacks to nosh on or wine to sip as he hosted Crowley for what would be the last time. Once food started becoming scarce, Aziraphale thought it best to eat less since he didn't have to. His body, once plush and chubby, had started to thin out. Crowley didn't like it, but the angel would do anything for humanity, so he kept his mouth shut.
They lounged on Aziraphale's sofa, shivering under the faded, moth-eaten tartan blankets, huddled together more for warmth than comfort. "What will happen at the end, my angel?" Crowley asked him softly. It was a question that he had been afraid to ask for so long, but not any longer.
After their success the first time, the words 'Ineffable Plan' never crossed Aziraphale's lips again. He still kept it that way. "I believe, according to the Bible, the world is going to burn as punishment this time. The first time it was the flood, you know, and we got the rainbow, so God promised She wouldn't flood the earth again."
"Right, the rainbow business," Crowley remembered. "But that wasn't really destroying the earth. Just y'know, the Mesopotamian region and all. The Europeans?"
"Yes, but this time I think She means it. No one is going to be spared." Aziraphale turned his head, burying the tip of his nose in Crowley's flaming red hair. "She's already taken up the good ones in the rapture."
"Really? What was that? Must have missed it."
"Well, it's not exactly how you think. People didn't just take flight to the sky," Aziraphale explained, almost emotionlessly. Crowley understood why. They were both so very tired after so, so long. "They died. Their souls just went to Heaven."
"How could they have died?"
"Pestilence and plague, other natural disasters."
"There seems to be a lot more of them lately."
"She has been busy," Aziraphale agreed.
He pressed a kiss to Crowley's temple, his lips as downy soft as feathers. Underneath the blankets, their hands found each other, squeezing tight and refusing to let go. They were both too exhausted to be afraid, and Crowley was cynically resigned to death now. He knew running away to Alpha Centauri was fruitless; Aziraphale refused to abandon humanity. Besides, humanity had had a good run of it so far. They made a lot of mistakes, but they also made good things too, like ice cream. Might as well quit while they're ahead, Crowley figured. The Almighty must've thought so, too.
Crowley couldn't just let them sit in silence. Despite spending almost all of existence knowing Aziraphale and loving him, there was still so much more Crowley wanted to say, wanted to experience with the angel. "You know, isn't there a poem that says if the world doesn't end in fire, it'll end in ice?"
"Robert Frost." Aziraphale sounded faintly surprised. "I didn't think you much cared for Americans, Crowley, or even the poets."
"They're not all bad. The poets, I mean. Americans, yeah, about as bad as they come. Demons loved that place, so filled with hate." Crowley snuggled further against Aziraphale, more sensitive to the cold due to his reptilian nature. "Besides, I know you love the American poets. The Transcendentalists, especially."
"Whitman was very charming," Aziraphale admitted, "I would have liked to meet them, but America seems a little too rugged for my taste. Besides, I get terribly seasick."
That didn't surprise Crowley at all. "You ignored my question, though, my angel. Which would you prefer? Fire or ice?"
Aziraphale shifted slightly, taking his time to consider the question. When he answered, his voice was so soft that it was like he barely used any breath to push the words out. "I suppose…ice. I'm still so afraid of fire, hellfire actually. Even when I had the flaming sword, I was never that confident brandishing it." His lips brushed against Crowley's sensitive ears, causing him to shiver. Aziraphale thought it was from the cold, and pulled Crowley tighter against him, tucking the blankets around his long, long legs. "And you, my dear? Fire or ice?"
"Fire," Crowley said without hesitating. "I hate the cold." He hated it now especially, when even in Aziraphale's embrace he was still chilled to his bones. "I'm familiar with fire. If the world is going to burn, I'll burn along with it before I go back to Hell."
Aziraphale's fingers combed through Crowley's hair in a soothing gesture. "I heard freezing to death isn't all that bad. Sometimes it can be quick, and other times, it's like falling asleep."
"Wot, you just wake up dead?" Crowley wondered without really thinking about it. Aziraphale's fingers were doing an excellent job distracting him.
"In a way." Aziraphale kissed Crowley's forehead again, this time his lips lingering against his skin. Crowley's hair smelled clean still, and a little spicy, like peppers. His skin was cool to the touch. Aziraphale was worried.
"I think I would like to sleep now, my angel," Crowley murmured, eyes half-lidded. He had long ago stopped wearing his sunglasses. It didn't matter hiding who he was anymore, not when so many demons walked the earth in plain sight.
"Sleep, my dear," Aziraphale whispered to him. "We can rest now."
Crowley's eyes closed without protest, and he went very still against Aziraphale. The only movement was the almost undetectable rise and fall of his flat chest. After watching over his demon for a little while longer, Aziraphale followed Crowley to sleep, and he did not consider what tomorrow's morning might bring. There were no more dreams either.
"Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice."
- "Fire and Ice," Robert Frost.