Somehow in the hours I was with Crowley he convinced me to stay with him for the foreseeable future, I blame the concussion. Most surprising, was that he somehow got my grandmother to agree to it as well. I don't even want to know how he did that.
And so that is how I started living under the protection of a Demon who was the King of Hell…
If anyone would have ever told me my life would be anything like this I likely would have called them crazy. But here I am having breakfast with a well dressed man who was reading over some kind of paperwork and drinking tea out of a lovely red tea cup. To look at us both from the outside you would likely think we were a married couple who do this every morning. And though we were the farthest thing from together, we had still been doing this for over a month.
In that time, I had grown to like the man who had saved me from the worst night of my life. He was kind, even if he was rather sassy and sarcastic. I had a feeling he had some idea of what I was feeling, since he was alway careful to never touch me without my consent. Never standing to close, so as to box me in. I found on nights when I could not find sleep or when nightmares found me, that I could come into his study and curl up on the same loveseat from that first night. Sometimes, I would just sit and read and other times we would talk. He never asked me what was wrong, never pushed for me to talk about what had happened.
One night, about a week into my stay with him, I asked him about how old he was. That question got me a rather odd look but with a sigh he indulge me, putting down whatever he was working on.
"Well, I was born in 1661 in Canisbay, Scotland. So I'm about Five- hundred and thirty-three." He had told me, smirking somewhat when my mouth dropped open.
"Now now, Little Goddess don't let your mouth hang open like that it's unbecoming."
I stuck my tongue out at him to show him just how becoming I wanted to be. Rolling his eyes he took a sip from his ever present glass and asked me if I wanted him to tell me the story of his human life. Smiling and fixing myself in my seat so that I could see him better, I excitedly nodded my head.
"Well like I said I was born in 1661 in Scotland. However, I had a different name then it was Fergus Roderick MacLeod..."
He went on to tell me about his mother Rowena who was a beautiful witch, yes I did say witch. She sounded like a sight to see with her flaming red hair and dark green eyes. Though her looks may have painted the picture of a lovely women of her time she was not. She spent much of her time drugging young Fergus, so that he would behave.
"She even tried to sell me for three pigs! I mean I was an attractive child, I could even juggle. I was worth five pigs at least." He told me seemly upset, though I think it had more to do with the number of pigs then that she tried to sell him for.
"She tried to sell you? Your own mother tried to sell you? How are you not more upset about this?" I asked freaking out a bit myself at the idea a mother could do something like that to her child.
"It's hardly the worst thing she ever did to me." He shrugged, as I stared disbelievingly at him as he continued his story.
In the end, she abandoned him after she was accused of witchcraft. Fleing for her life from her home into the unknown, or at least, Crowley had no idea what happened to her.
He end up is a filthy workhouse, fighting and working just to have something to fill his belly with and a place to lay his head. Though the food was never enough and the room the children slept in was cold and let in every gust of wind that came through the area. Somehow, he survived all of the hardship.
When he was able to leave the workhouse he became a tailor, he, however, was not a very good one. In his words he was two-bit, whatever that means. Still he went on with his life. Living day to day, and trying to find happiness. Marrying a women he would say little of other then she was a cheating whore. Together they had a son named, Gavin, who he seemed to hate almost more then his wife. I have a feeling it had to do with not knowing if he was his son. He told me about how he worked him and worked him until son hated father the way father hated son.
Fergus's story ended with him making a deal at a crossroads that would ten years later mean his death and the birth of the Demon Crowley. And though his story seemed sad to me, I could see that it had given him a kind of "I don't give a damn" strength that has helped him in his long life.
"Diana," I started and looked up at Crowley,"are you alright, dove? You seemed a little lost there."
"I was just thinking…" I bit my lip unsure if I should ask, I was after all just a guest in his home and I felt like I asked much more of him then I should already.
"Now I am many things, devilishly handsome, a connoisseur of fine wine, I even have a mean back swing…"
"And you can juggle!" I interrupted gigging at the reminder of the story he had told me.
Receiving an eye roll, he finished,"...But a mind reader is not one of them. Now tell me what it is you would like."
"Well I was thinking since I have been given a clean bill of heath… that maybe I could go into town? Or even just to down to the water?" I had seen the beach from my window and had been day dreaming of walking on the soft looking sand for weeks.
For a moment it was quiet and I feared that maybe I did ask to much, after all as kind as he had been so far Crowley was a Demon. The King of Hell who could kill me with a snap of his fingers.
"That's it? With all the nerves you were giving off one would think you were going to ask me to give you the keys to Hell. Of course I'll take you into town, however, not today."
I was so excited at the idea that I would be able to get out of the house and maybe see something of the area I would come to call my home, that I did not think to ask why we couldn't go today. Though I would soon learn that it would matter little if we had gone or not, because the reason we had not would soon find us.
Later that same night, as I lay in my bed sleeping peaceful for the first time since the attack, I heard a sound. My sleeping mind didn't make anything of it until I heard harsh but soft voices that had me blinking my eyes confused as to what was going on. Sitting up in my bed sure I was crazy to be hearing things in a house that only ever had myself and Crowley in it.
"You're sure that he's gone?"
"Yes, Sammy, of course I'm sure…"
So I wasn't crazy, or no more than normal… But that meant little because someone was in my home, and they seemed to believe that Crowley was not home. What reason could they have for being here if he wasn't or at all for that matter? Fear coursed through me, could they be here for me? No, that was crazy they couldn't know who I was or that I was here right?
Regardless, I curled into my bed hoping that if I stayed there and didn't move that I would be overlooked, if I was found at all.
It would seem though that lady luck was not on my side as I heard the door open slowly and I clenched my eyes closed, holding my breath, hoping to remain unseen. As you can imagine this didn't work. It didn't work so well that when I felt a hand clamp strongly around my arm and I freaked out.
Imagines flashed through my mind, the feeling of being held down, helplessness bringing tears to my eyes as the sound of a raging storm, and the ripening of fabric all overwhelmed me. When I tried to fight off the hand, a second was added along with a voice I didn't recognize telling me to calm down. Crying out, I thrashed my arms and legs, that someone else took hold of making me scream almost as loud if not louder then when I was in that car. And for me, in my mind I was.
"Dean… Dean."
"Not now, Cas! Can't you put her to sleep or something? If she keeps on like this she'll hurt herself." The voice of this Dean came from my feet and made me feel no better than any of the others going on, in fact the idea of being put to sleep only made things worse.
"Dean!" Snapped the deeper voice of who I guess was Cas.
"Let her go, Dean. We shouldn't be here…"
"No, you shouldn't."
