The Last Stand

"Y'know," Aziraphale slurred, his glass dangling precariously from his hand, "We're the last of them. The last of the last."

"The... the what?" Crowley narrowed his eyes. His glasses had gone... somewhere. It didn't matter. Usually, it did, but not now. That was important, for reasons unclear to him at the moment.

"Last," Aziraphale elaborated. "Of the... you know."

"Last," Crowley added. "Yeah. You said."

Aziraphale nodded heavily. "Exactly. We're... what do they say?"

"Who?"

"People! About things?"

"Dunno. Lots."

"Old school. We're the last angels left on Earth. And..."

"We'll be the last to leave."

Aziraphale smiled, sadly. "Yes."