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One of the popular sayings about how things will end is that it will either be with a bang or a whimper.
Those sayings are wrong.
It ends with a hoarse whisper. From the mouth of an angel whose throat has been scraped raw from screaming in agony and horror at having just seen his long time love be slaughtered in the worst way imaginable. An angel whose face is covered in tear tracks that look like golden streams. An angel who has looked around at the ruined landscape that surrounds him for endless miles; millions upon millions of bodies of humans, demons, and other angels alike. And for what? A stupid turf war to prove who’s the best?
Another surviving angel is walking over to him. Probably assumes that Aziraphale fought for Heaven, and deserves a friendly pat on the shoulder for a job well done. But Aziraphale hadn’t fought for Heaven. He did it for humanity. He did it for…
Aziraphale grunts and picks up his sword, and it becomes engulfed in white, hot flames. His wings might be in utter disrepair, he is covered in various types of blood, and looks as though he should be collapsing instead. But he knows he has enough strength left for what he’s about to do. After all- you had to be quite high up in the ranks of Heaven to have been assigned as a guard of Eden, and have quite an amount of power. But that was a long long time ago. And now? This is the end.
Silence falls across the land. Other survivors are looking up in alarm. Something is about to happen. Something devastating. Something Final.
Aziraphale looks down as an enormous sigil begins to light up the ground under and all around him. He slams the sword down into the middle of it, and lets go as the hilt lights up with white-blue flames. He kneels down on both knees in the dirt, and closes his eyes. This is it. His last act. He opens his mouth.
“Let there be light.”