It was over. A flash of eerie green light, a sonic boom, and a strangled, aborted cry from Moloch's throat was how it ended.

When Crane and Abbie open their eyes, the four white trees are gone. The forest is still, save the residual smoke swirling and dissipating around them.

The air smells of brimstone.

Abbie blinks, gathering her wits, grateful for Crane's strong hand gripping hers. She looks up at him just as he looks down at her.

Seven years of tribulation.

Seven years of partnership.

Seven years of spending nearly every waking moment together.

Something unnamable shifts; a hidden puzzle piece slides into place with a soft click.

They move simultaneously, each reaching for the other like long-lost lovers finally reunited, and Crane's lips find Abbie's.

His arms wrap around her, supporting her, almost lifting her and she clings to his neck, holding on like she's afraid he's going to disappear.

His passion surprises them both, his tongue delving into her waiting mouth where it is eagerly greeted by hers.

"Are we dead?" she mumbles into his mouth. "We're supposed to be dead..."

"Then, why do I feel so unbelievably alive?" he answers between kisses.

"I don't know... maybe this is heaven?" she breathes, pressing her lips hard against his.

Someone softly clears his throat and they release one another, having forgotten they are not alone.

"It is your love for each other that saved you. This same love helped give you the power to defeat Moloch." Reverend Carlin, Reverend Knapp's successor, steps forward.

"What?" Abbie asks, stunned. Do I love Crane?

Is that a stupid question? Of course, you do. You have for years. You just couldn't allow yourself the luxury of acknowledging it until your work was done.

"Love is the most powerful force in the world," the reverend explains.

"'And now abideth faith, hope, and love, even these three,'" Crane softly quotes. He looks down at Abbie, finally allowing the love he didn't realize he felt for her to flow through him. How long? How long has my heart belonged solely to her?

"'But the chiefest of these is love,'" Carlin finishes. "1 Corinthians 13:13." He nods solemnly at Abbie and Crane, then glances over at the two others standing to the side. "There has been enough death. Enough loss."

Crane and Abbie concur , each mentally ticking off the list.

Sheriff Corbin: dead.

Reverend Knapp: dead.

Andy Brooks: dead.

The men of the Masonic lodge: dead.

Detective Jones: dead.

Andy Brooks: dead. Again.

Luke Morales: couldn't take the stress and left. Moved to Denver to work as a personal trainer.

Jeremy Crane: dead.

Katrina Crane: dead.

Jenny Mills: almost died. Twice. Stubbornly fights on.

Frank Irving: divorced. His marriage couldn't take the strain and secrecy.

There are more names. More people affected by Moloch's attempts at ending the world.

However, the list is much shorter than it would be had the demon succeeded.

"Chapter 13, verse 13..." Abbie muses. "Thirteen is supposed to be an unlucky number."

"I think we all know things are not often what they seem," the reverend reminds them.

Crane reaches over to Abbie, gently pulling her into his arms again. He kisses her forehead. "Miss Mills... Abbie... I love you," he says, his fingertips lightly holding her chin, tilting her face up so he can gaze into her large, brown eyes. "I have for some time now, I believe... but..."

"...we were too busy averting the apocalypse to consider our own feelings," Abbie finishes, smiling slightly. "And I love you, too, Crane. Ichabod."

He bends down and kisses her lips once, softly, her face cupped between his large hands. "Then, marry me. Be my wife. Let us take this chance we weren't supposed to have – again – and make certain we do not waste a single moment by denying ourselves happiness."

He reaches out with his thumb and wipes a tear from her dirt-smudged face. "Yes," Abbie whispers, barely able to speak. "Yes. As soon as possible."

Crane looks over at Reverend Carlin and raises an eyebrow.

"It is clear you have been through more trials and have lived out a commitment to each other that I rarely see, even in couples who have been married for years," he wisely says, a slight smile playing across his weathered face.

As if he knows the reverend's intent, Crane loosens his hold on Abbie, sliding his hands down her arms to take her hands in his. Carlin indicates for the others to step forward. Jenny and Irving approach, their faces curious. They haven't been able to hear much of the conversation, but have been watching with interest the entire time.

The reverend places his hands over Crane and Abbie's joined hands. He nods at Crane.

"I, Ichabod Cornelius Crane, take you, Grace Abigail Mills, as my wife."

Carlin looks at Abbie. Smiling, she responds , "I, Grace Abigail Mills, take you, Ichabod Cornelius Crane, as my husband."

"The Lord has blessed this union and so shall I. What He has joined, let no man – or demon – tear asunder. Amen," concludes the reverend with a smile.

He releases their hands. Crane leans down and kisses Abbie again, this time as her husband.

Jenny and Irving applaud. Abbie starts giggling against Crane's lips when she distinctly hears her sister comment, "About damn time."

"Shall we go home, my love?" Crane asks, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Definitely," she says. "I need a shower and some food. Pizza."

"Most definitely pizza," Crane agrees, leading the group out of the forest, Abbie's hand in his.

"Um, Reverend, I hate to be the one to spoil the moment, but don't they need a marriage license?" Irving asks as they walk.

The reverend agrees, but dismissively waves his hand, chuckling. "We can take care of the paperwork later. The important part is done."