Disclaimer: I own nothing


When it all went down, Anna was sat on the roof. Crowley preferred the comfort of indoor heating and no threat of a messy landing. But there was Anna, enjoying a gale, hair flashing like fire in that strange sort of sunlight. Angels. There was something wrong with them.

Crowley watched from the nearest open window.

"There's death wishes, but you take the angel cake," he smirked. "Apocalypse not enough of a guarantee for you?"

Anna's mouth turned up, though her eyes stayed fixed on all she surveyed. The sky was looking bruised, cloud now starting to roll under the sun. Not normal weather. To be expected by those in the know. There'd been escalating cold spots for months now, not to mention the nasty case of death a lot of humanity was catching in larger stickier numbers.

Death was stalking the streets, having himself a ball.

Crowley offered his glass, full of something cold and classy, anticipating the look he was getting. It reached part of him that stayed quiet to all but her.

"Everything's clearer up here," Anna said at last, when the glass was half-full.

Her wings were making a quiet soft noise in the wind. They were practically out in full view, for people who actually bothered to look up. Doubtful. Crowley eyed them. There was fire at the edges now, like they were just waiting to catch alight. A thought to be savoured.

"Including the end?"

"Who says there's an end?"

And like that, she was back beside him, handing his glass over, smiling as though something else was burning inside her and couldn't he see it too? Crowley liked that look.

One of her wings brushed across his shoulders. It felt like pins and needles used to, not enough to be called pain. Almost pleasure now. It had been deliberate too, from the way the corners of her mouth twisted. He liked that even better.

"What is it you're seeing?" he asked, his glass topped up again and a shade sweeter, just the way he liked it.


Ah, not a reason to smile. They could be spending their last hours together in that beautiful little villa in Tuscany. But apparently she knew something he didn't. Crowley lifted an eyebrow, his intrigue clear

There was condensation dripping off Anna's fingers.

He pressed against her side as the sky got darker and the Winchesters fumbled their way towards stopping the end of days. God, that was a joke. Somehow, if Crowley didn't believe in miracles before – it was his line of work after all, at a price – he would have allowed them their existence today. The world stayed the way it was.

They slept in stages, punctuated by heady roars of sensation and bite marks left on her thighs. The burn of her wings was a glorious background. Like every night.

Crowley's tongue traced the Enochian and Latin etched onto her back. It was as clear as her handprint over his heart.

There was bacon in the kitchen, grease was licked off fingers. Anna tucked herself under his chin, quiet and fragile for a while. Crowley's lips met her temple. He listened to her heartbeat in time with his fingers. It was still going.

Anna was out of bed early again. He could smell her on the sheets – human and angel both under the shampoo and shower soap. Potent.

And there she was, wrapped up in one of his old coats – not too shabby, the last time he'd worn it had been Athens several centuries ago and it still had that wine stain on the cuff. Call it sentiment. And coffee was brewing a halo around her head. Oh, the irony.

The table was covered in maps and she had that look in her eyes like the world was going to be dragged away from the edge. A crusading angel. That stirred memories.

"Sam's gone," she told the maps. "He took Lucifer and Michael with him."

Ah. The world saved by a noble sacrifice. The more things changed…..

Crowley poured himself a coffee and ventured into her personal space. Tuscany was still calling, and it would be glorious, but Anna clearly had other needless and more death-seeking plans. And here he was, not in Tuscany either. "So what's the daring and suicidal plan?"

Anna leaned towards him, fingers and feathers sending starbursts of pleasure/pain through him. He slid a hand down her side, a sly lingering rejoiner.

Her look was all anticipation, something crackling through her ready to spark off touchpaper.

"We're going off the edge of the map."

Crowley smirked, skirting a hand across the creased paper into unmarked territory. Angel had a death wish, and he happened to have a hell hound who was desperate to stretch its legs. "Ah, here be monsters."

Anna grinned, her teeth as sharp as her knife. He liked that smile, it promised bite.

"I'm counting on it."

-the end