#x short!reader

The towering wall of flames that surrounded the while of London were preventing your previous plan of escape. Something fishy had been going on for a while, you knew that, and your gut told you that leaving today would be the best idea.

You guessed you just weren’t fast enough.

You had just been starting to get onto the M25 when you saw the flames in the distance starting. It was a miracle you were able to get out of your car before the flames overtook, devouring it and other cars (and people) whole. The only thing you had was your phone, which had miraculously made home in your back pocket before you’d got into your car.

Other people near you had begun to abandon their cars, the fear that maybe the flames would expand. But you stood there, alone in the rain, watching it with… wonder.

It was only a few minutes later, or so it seemed, that a vaguely familiar vintage black car pulled up beside you, and a very familiar red-headed man stepped out. Your eyes widened upon recognition, but before you could say anything be started.

“Who the hell are you?” He says. “Why is it, at every turn, you’re there, huh? Why do I keep running into you!” He throws his hands up, in anger and frustration. Under normal circumstances you would have run away. But there were two things keeping you there. One, even if you were to try to you, you were certain this man would be able to catch you, what with his damn long legs. Second, there was something odd itching in the back of your mind. Something that told you, that despite the way things seemed, you were perfectly safe with this man.

You’d run into him on many occasions now - typically, he was accompanied by a blond man in a tan coat and tartan bow tie. And on each occasion, they had saved your life - more accurately, this angry ginger man had saved your life.

The first time had been rather tame, in your opinion. You’d been bird watching, from your usual tree at the park, out of view of the cops, since they’d warned you against your tree-climbing many times. Usually you would have listened. It wasn’t in your nature to go against a higher authority, but bird watching was one of the few pleasures in life you had, as it required little to no human interaction and could be done from a lot of places.

Your favorite spot, though, was the park. Specifically, the one with the dinosaurs. You couldn’t remember the name for the life of you - you didn’t need to know it. All you needed to know was that someone didn’t cut down your usual tree, and that there were no cops around. Otherwise an afternoon of bird watching would be ruined before it even started.

You were scribbling something down in your journal when the pencil fumbled from your hand, and in the heat of the moment you had fumbled backwards to try and catch it, only to fall from the tree yourself.

It hadn’t been the first time, and you were certain it wouldn’t be the last, but it was the first time you were actually caught. You’d been rather surprised. It seemed as if the person had been expecting your fall. You thought, for a moment, that it might have been Officer Harrison, whom had warned you against tree-climbing on many occasions. But you didn’t recognize the man at all. It was the red-headed man. He’d set you down rather roughly, handed you your pencil before stomping off with a blond gentlemen, who gave you a nervous smile before following his companion.

It only got more extreme from there.

The next time you saw the man, you were making a visit to your Aunt Mary Hodges.

You weren’t related to your Aunt Mary by blood. Your mum had known her as a child, and they’d been rather close, practically sisters. They’d fallen out of contact when you were younger, and in that time Mary had become a nun, then after the order was dissolved, had become a successful business woman. It was around that time she got back in contact with your mom, and by default, back in contact with you.

You loved your Aunt Mary. She was a bit odd, you would admit. Sometimes she would forget she was no longer a part of the chattering order, and would tell you everything on her mind. Some things were questionable, others were just plain silly. You’d learned not to take everything she said to heart.

Was she a bit scatterbrained? Yes

Did you still love her? Absolutely.

Which is why you decided to visit her at her place of work. You’d forgotten to call ahead, which you quickly realized was a mistake. There were a good dozen cars parked out front, including a quite beautiful vintage Bentley.

That meant that another paintball session was happening. Usually when you came to visit during one of those, Mary would leave the back door unlocked for you. Now you were staring to wish you’d called her. You knew she didn’t answer her cell during work hours, especially not when there was a session happening. You would have to risk getting pelted with paint balls if you really wanted to get inside.

So, you tossed off your jacket, sighing in contempt before you began to walk. It was silent. Deadly silent. You were certain some must have spotted you already, and were bracing yourself for impact.

You heard the pop of the trigger being pulled, and your eyes widened as a real, metal bullet whizzed past your head.

Not safe. Definitely not safe. You lurched forward with a short scream, dashing towards the entryway of the building.

More gunfire rang through the air, and to your luck none of them came close to you. You didn’t bother to slow down, your feet carrying you in the direction of Mary’s office.

“Aunt Mary!” You shouted. “Aunt Mary!”

As you were about to turn the corner, you came face to face with a man - the same man, from the park. You froze, eyes wide. You opened your mouth to say something but he lurched forward, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards him as a few stray bullets flew through the window, shattering the glass and impacting the wall beside where you once stood.

You opened your mouth to say something, but it all became blank. The man stood before you a few moments longer before retreating, leaving you confused and alone. You didn’t know why you didn’t follow him, or why you didn’t say anything. A part of you wanted to, but something else was telling you to just… forget about it. And you did. Even when the police arrived to investigate, you could hardly say much about the interaction. It somehow just felt unimportant.

And you kept bumping into him. And he kept saving you, sometimes from himself and his own antics.

You couldn’t find the words to express your confusion, or your upset. You just stood there, in the rain as this man shouted at you. A part of you wanted to break down and cry, but all you did was stand there. He calmed down slowly, and turned to you. You blood ran cold as he removed his glasses, revealing a pair of golden snake eyes. But you weren’t afraid.

“Who are you.” He demanded again. You quickly stuttered out your name. “Why the hell do I keep meeting you, (name)?”

“I don’t know!” You cried out, arms wrapped around yourself to try and save your warmth. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“I find that hard to believe.” He glanced over your shoulder and his eyes widened in surprise. You braced yourself. Anything could happen.

“Get in the car.” He said suddenly.

“E-excuse me?”

“Get in the car. Now.” He didn’t look away from whatever might be behind you. He lifted his hand, and with a snap of his fingers the passenger side door flew open.

“I, uh, I don’t think that’s a very good, uh, idea-” You went to turn around, but the man stopped you.

“You have to trust me.” He said suddenly. “Please.” You did. You against your better judgement, you trusted him. Despite this you stood there, staring him down.

“I don’t even know you.” You repeated.

“What? You want a name? Will that make you feel better?” You said nothing. “Crowley. The name is Crowley, now please get in the car.”

Feeling as if you didn’t have a choice, you entered the vintage car. Crowley followed quickly after, getting in the driver's seat. He hands you a singed book. “Open that, see if there’s anything.” He instructed.

You did as you were told. There were many, small, numbered paragraphs littered on the pages. You read the first one that caught your eye.

“3334. Drive. Hold her close, demon. For the fire will burn but yee can protect her.” You looked up at the towering flames. “What the fuck does this even mean?”

“It means we’re going for a drive, (name).”

“Are you crazy!”

“He must be.” You wanted to scream, the sudden appearance of a man in the back seat sending you into a panic. He was deathly pale, with warts covering his cheeks, and a slimy frog fused to the top of his head. He was horrifying, but he paid you no mind. His dark, murky eyes were turned to Crowley.

“Ah, Hastur, how was your time in voicemail?” Crowley grinned to himself. You yelped as he pulled you into his side, arm thrown over your shoulder.

“Funny ha-ha, joke all you like, Crowley.” The man, Hastur, grumbled. “There’s nowhere to run.”

“Aren’t you to be lining up, ready for battle around now?” All you could do was stare forward into the fire. Was he really going to drive you into that?

You didn’t doubt it.

“Hell will not forget.” Hastur sneered from behind you. “Hell will not forgive. You know where the real Antichrist is, don’t you.” Antichrist? Hell? What the fuck was going on with these men, you wondered. They couldn’t really be… demons. Right? “You’ll never reach him. You’re done Crowley. You think you’re going to get the both of you across that?” The flames before the car seemed to grow at the demons words. It took you a moment to realize Crowley was busy selecting a CD to play. “There’s nowhere to go.”

“Let’s find out.” Crowley slipped the CD into the player. The car began to roll forward, and your heart started to race.

“What- wh- why are you driving.” Hastur demanded.

“What the hell are you doing,” You said. “You’re mad!”

“Trust me on this,” He muttered, pulling you closer. Everything told you to pull away, but instead you squished closer, clutching his coat tightly as the fire came closer, and closer.

“That’s- what- Stop this thing!” Hastur demanded, and you wanted to agree. There was no way you’d make it across, you were certain of it.

“You know the thing I like best about time?” Crowley drawled. “It’s that every day it takes us further away from the 14th century.” Crowley kept an arm around you, and one hand firmly on the wheel. You began to shake. “I really didn’t like the 14th century. You’d have loved it then, Hastur. They didn’t have any cars back in the 14th century.” As Crowley spoke, you sped closer and closer to the flames. You let out a small scream as the car plunged into the fire, and Crowley gave you a tight squeeze.

You’re surprised to find that, you’re barely even warm. It was like a soft blanket was wrapped around you, protecting you from the flames that licked at the outside of the vehicle. Behind you, Hastur howled in pain. These howls dies out with one last ‘I hate you’ before all you could hear was the music on the radio and Crowley’s shouts at his car telling it that it ‘will not burn’.

Despite everything, despite the fear coursing through your veins, despite the voices in your head telling you that this is it, you found yourself snuggling just a bit closer to Crowley.