The Ashes of Eden

Another one bites the dusk

Then.... Something happened. Something so terrible, not even Crowley, could have imagined in his wildest dreams. Another world war broke out. But this time the rotten and cold breath of death ravaged over the countries with an incredible speed.

The demon had never seen so much destruction, so much despair spread in such a little time. At first, he had been the happiest man alive and spent his nights dancing in the gunpowder and spark filled air of Warsaw, while the civilization around him had gone down in flames.

Another task the humans had fulfilled for him, without any effort on his side. Genocide, homicide, concentration camps, war crimes, death... destruction... structured extinction, music to his ears. He didn't miss out on the opportunity to notify the head office and claim this victory for himself.

When all of sudden he remembered someone, who wouldn't feel as amazing as he did while staring down at the burning inferno, that once had been called Berlin. Aziraphale. In that moment his smile died, like a withering flower.

"Fuck." He hissed, rubbing the bride of his nose. His heartbeat was racing, but not from euphoria, rather due to panic. Immediately his thoughts were overturning. Nevertheless, he was trying finding a hint, where his old friend's current location was. Damn humans with their delicate, but brain cell wrecking alcohol...

Moscow? No. Rome? No. London! Yes! He had to be in London. Surely hiding with his books. Yessss. He tried convincing himself, for not slipping more into the fear, that was knotting his organs. His position on the rooftop of the Reichstag surrounded by a strange symphony, consisting of the distorted howling of the air raid sirens, bomb impacts and people's screams wasn't his most desired place to be anymore.

A sigh left his lips, while he focused on another familiar spot. It took him only seconds to manifest at another place.

Demons weren't subjugated by the laws of the human physic. At the moment he could still suppress his panic and worry. He was soothing himself with the conviction of having the familiar scent of old books, pastry, lavender, and incense in his nose at any second. Also hearing an upset Aziraphale scolding him, because he never bothered with the doors.

Unfortunately, his feet didn't touch the carpet covered ground, instead he stumbled into the debris and remains of an old book shop. A blunt pain rushed through his back, when he hit the ground. No... was the first word, that came to his mind. Quickly he got up. He didn't even care about his expensive clothes being covered in dust.

"NO!" he yelled frustratedly. Distressed he removed his glasses, while his heartrate reached new peaks. Luckily, he didn't need oxygen, because out of tension he was unintentionally holding his breath. Yellow, snake-like eyes wandered around spotting one tragedy after the other. Books covered the wreckage. Tousled. Torn. Burnt. Pages were laying around, like snowflakes... fragments of a life's work... an existence.

"AZIRAPHALE!" Crowley yelled at the top of his lungs, until his voice cracked. His movements became more erratic with every passing second. The ashes on the ground were cold... The impact must have been days ago.

Still he didn't give up. The shattered shop window crunched under his feet, but he didn't feel the pain of the pieces cutting through his soles. Currently, he wasn't feeling anything, but spiking fear. "BE ALIVE YOU BASTARD!!" he yelled into the ruins.

The sunset bathed the macabre scenery in a fiery red, matching the fire that had destroyed all this knowledge. The manifestos of so many existences. Aziraphale's existence.

Crowley's hands were bruised by the rough, pointed, and sharp debris. However, he kept moving them away, carelessly throwing them around. He didn't even know what he was searching for. Or if he wanted to discover something at all... His vision blurred, but he refused to give in to his tears. Why should he cry? He was immortal after all... he couldn't be dead...? He couldn't.