My Dearest Warlock

Ending of Ends

A story should end where it begins. Or, at least, that's what Aziraphale thinks. Every good story that Aziraphale has ever read began and ended somewhere similar. Aziraphale knows that every story must end eventually, regardless of whether it ends happily or sadly. In the end, everything must end, and Aziraphale knows this. And honestly, Aziraphale thinks he can live with that.

In the middle of the forest, stands a tree. Gnarled roots run far beneath the very ground Aziraphale stands upon, anchoring it to the ground so that no storm or challenges could carry it away. The bark is a light color, making it stand out against the other trees. Lush, radiant green leaves can be spotted in clumps throughout the tree. The dazzling red of the apples is what truly stands out. There's something special about the way that they glimmer in the sunlight, almost like they're a beacon. It feels only right that this would be the place.

Aziraphale dressed as best he could manage, considering his entire closet is pretty pale shades of tans mixed with tartan. He's dressed in an oversized tan dress jacket with a pale tartan striped shirt underneath. Well-fitted darker brown dress pants look very nice on him, complement by a pair of white shoes. He wore his hair as he usually did, although a beautiful blue flower is tucked behind his ear.

Anathema is sitting in the front row, smiling at him while she gently bounces her baby on her leg. Her ruby colored skirt nearly touches the ground, although Aziraphale can see it move upward every time she bounces the baby slightly. Her loose fitting black shirt moves slightly in the wind, making Anathema looked free and untamed. At the moment, Aziraphale believed that she may have been one of the Greek goddesses.

Newt sat next to her, looking at his wife and daughter with a wide grin. He gently rubbed Anima's [1] head and turned to his wife with a smile. He still looked like a goofy dork, which was a surprise to literally no one. He was wearing a dork looking bow tie with a striped dress shirt and a pressed pair of tan dress pants. He turned to grin at Aziraphale, and he gave Newt a small smile in return.

Next over was Madame Tracy, dressed as fashionably as she could be. She was wearing a bit of gaudy jewelry, but Aziraphale thought that she still looked very pretty. Her dress was a bright pink color, reminding Aziraphale of a princess that he couldn't remember the name of. Her lipstick was smudged slightly, and one look at Shadwell told him why. Her jewelry was a neon green color, reminding Aziraphale of a lime.

Shadwell... looked like normal. He was holding onto Madam Tracy's hand, sending withering glares at one of the other guests in attendance. He was dressed rather shabby for a wedding, but Aziraphale didn't care or mind- it only mattered that he was there. Light traces of stubble were visible on his face, as was some grease on the suit that he wore.

"Where's Crowley?" whispered Newt quietly, seeing Anathema smile.

"He wanted to be dramatic. Just watch the apple tree."

Newt gave Anathema a nervous grin. There were so many people here; new people always sort of scared Newt. He wasn't sure if it was the whole confrontation thing, or whether it was because he had practically nothing interesting to say about himself- all he could talk about was his gorgeous, amazing fiancée and their amazing daughter. Actually, all he wanted to talk about was Anathema and how much he loved her, as well as their daughter. None of that usually sat well with strangers; strangers wanted to know where he worked and what he planned on doing with his life, not about how much he loved his family.

Newt was just hoping Crowley didn't bolt away at the last possible minute. He knew that getting married was a big deal, and he knew it was terrifying.

Standing in front of a crowd and being judged... yeah, it wasn't Newt's thing. Everyone staring while the married couple pronounces their love for each other just felt judgmental. The in-laws taking notes on how good the speeches were... it all just felt like too much. Everyone judged the wine, the color of the flowers, the music, the food, and practically everything else. They judged the clothing too ("Oh! Did you see that dress? I think she got it from the grocery store!" "Nah, that looks like something Macklemore bought at the thrift shop!"). There was just so much that could go wrong.