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He had been driving for hours. He didn’t know where he was, the English countryside passing in a blur as he hit speeds that made him a blip in the mirror to anyone with a half a mind on the road—and that was a rarity in this day and age. Crowley darted through the traffic, bolting onto lanes and passthroughs, the Bentley arcing around and through gaps in the other vehicles.
Paved highways gave way to beaten shepherd tracks, single lane roads that were taken with a speed that would have resulted in a crash for anyone other than him. His fingers tightened on the wheel as he took a turn on two wheels, the car’s axles groaning as she landed neatly back onto her tires.
Crowley ignored her.
He kept his eyes unfocused on the road, his hands rigid on the wheel, taking the route without thought, trusting in his own instincts to keep him on the road.
“Now they say your folks are telling you
"Be a superstar,"
But I tell you just be satisfied
And stay right where you are
Keep yourself alive yeah
Keep yourself alive
Take you all your time and a money
Honey you'll survive—”
“Shut up,” Crowley snapped, turning the radio off with a vicious twist of his wrist and a click of the dial. The silence as he roared through the countryside was almost accusing. He didn’t care. She was a car, for Someone’s sake. She had no idea how the world actually worked.
She felt what he was feeling, but that was neither here nor there.
He’d put her here, after all. She was his, and he was hers, and the lines had blurred long enough that they had almost become one and the same—
The radio flickered to life again, the lurid red of the backlighting coloring his face in bloody tones.
When had it gotten dark?
How long had he been driving?
Shit.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, the momentary distraction all the Bentley needed to hum her radio to life again.
“Funny how love can break
Your heart so suddenly
Funny how love came tumbling down
With Adam and Eve
Funny how love is running
Wild and feeling free
Funny how love is coming home
In time for tea—”
“I said shut up.” Crowley fair to snarled it this time, eyes unblinking as he glared at the radio dial. It twisted itself to off, but then a turn forced his gaze upward, and the Bentley hit a pothole, causing them both to bounce along the road while Crowley reasserted control.
He growled and pushed her well past what would be considered a car’s top speed.
Where was he going?
He sure as Hell didn’t know.
He could veer into a garden wall now, hit a post, launch himself through the windscreen, splatter himself across the highway—
If he discorporated now, where would he go? Would they bind him in Hell? At this point, he didn’t give a damn about himself.
What was the point?
Too late. Always too late.
“All dead, all dead
All the dreams we had
And I wonder why I still live on
All dead, all dead
And alone I'm spared
My sweeter half instead
All dead and gone
All dead—”
“Shit!” Crowley snapped. He veered to the side of the road, screeching to a halt. The Bentley’s wheels smoked with the force of his braking, and she squealed in protest as he jerked her wheel roughly. “You’ve really done it now.”
The radio was silent, accusing as he glared at it.
“I swear to God, if you interrupt me one more time—” He was breathing so hard, he never even registered the slip as he all but shouted himself hoarse.
There was a dissonant, cacophonous shriek from the radio in response, the engine still ticking angrily as the Bentley finally rested from their mad gallop across the country. Steam rose from her bonnet, smoke billowing from her in a way that hadn’t happened since their breakneck trip across the Hellfire-enflamed M25. She shivered, her whole body creaking, like a lathered horse.
Normally she wouldn’t mind driving. She loved it. It was her whole Purpose. But as Crowley stumbled from the car, he noticed the body of the car was nicked, the paint chipping and flaking.
Crowley shoved his sunglasses back onto his face, hiding his eyes as he snapped his fingers.
The Bentley slowly eased back to her same self, the chips in her paint smoothing, the bugs in her grill vanishing, the chrome beginning to shine once more. Pristine, as she should be.
It took a lot more effort these days. She was more Herself now than she was Crowley’s.
But then, that wasn’t a bad thing, was it?
No. Of course not. He’d changed, why shouldn’t she?
And it wasn’t fair to her, she who’d housed him when he’d lost his apartment. She who’d always looked after him, even as he’d looked after her. She’d never let him down, not once, and he talked to her like that.
Shame, an all too familiar feeling, welled up in him, and he reached out to lay a hand over the top of the car.
“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was gentle, soothing, as though one would speak to a child. “It’s not your fault.”
It was his, wasn’t it? He’d put everything on the hope that someone else was like him. That they’d find their way together. That they’d escape.
Now? He had nothing. Nothing but himself, his Bentley, and the Earth.
That could be enough.
He was a demon. He lied to everyone else, why not himself? Maybe he’d eventually believe it.
There was another click from the radio dial.
“When I'm gone
They'll say we're all fools
And we don't understand
Oh, be strong
Don't turn your heart
We're all, you're all
For all, for always
Let us cling together as the years go by
Oh my love, my love
In the quiet of the night
Let our candle always burn
Let us never lose
The lessons we have learned—”
Crowley rested his head against her door.
“I know,” he said softly, as the radio played just as soft back to him. “I miss him, too.”
Overhead, the stars wheeled in the blue-black of the sky; Crowley finally allowed himself the luxury of weeping.