𝙀𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 || 𝐶𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑙𝑒𝑦 𝐸𝑢𝑠𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑑

|THREE|

blood

blood

blood

the pool of blood was growing. what once was a small splatter of thick red liquid has now quickly expanded into a large puddle which is rising up to crowley's ankles. if ever there was a time for fear, this would be it.

it's a cruel, ever so torturous sight. the bodies piled up, one on top of the other. each face lifeless, with eyes mercilessly burning holes right through the existence of crowley himself, leaving him exposed, vulnerable, and fragile even.

"i don't want this." crowley whimpers, eyes screwed shut as he tries to ignore the lifeless corpses of all those he once knew, cared for, and respected.

"please bring them back."

though his eyes are closed, he can hear it, the rustling and the rising of bodies that are coming back for him. they'll take him too.

he sighs, ignoring the burning in his eyes as he feels many rough hands yanking at him, pulling him in all different directions.

he's not going to make it. crowley is going to die at the hands of his previous comrades. comrades that died. crowley did not.

he struggles against their grip, yanking his limbs out of the unrelenting grasp of men long dead, fear taking hold in his core.

abruptly, the hands let go, leaving only the sensation of them being there a moment before.

it takes him a moment, but crowley soon opens his eyes. slowly, cautiously. this state of anxiety is no good. it leaves crowley spinning around in the dark helplessly, knowing that something lingers. something surrounds him like the darkness itself, silently laughing at his desperation to find whatever enemy is lurking.

what should he do? if he can't pinpoint the location of the danger, then it could come from anywhere. the blood is gone, leaving only dark hallways around him.

crowley takes a step forward, making it no further before he's tugged backwards by gentle hands, but he loses his balance regardless.

when he hits the ground it's bright out. the sky is ever so blue, the grass ever so green. small pink and yellow flowers are littered throughout the top of the hill, each one picked from its stem, yet strewn haphazardly across the grass. crowley stands, looking around the beautiful scenery, taking in the breathtaking view. there are trees surrounding the bottom of the hill, like he's been put far above a cage yet still cannot escape it. the pine trees stretch on as far as the eye can see, and it appears as though they are the nothingness that surrounds him.

crowley turns at the sounds of someone clearing their throat quietly, the sound almost graceful. he turns.

there a woman stands, hand extended out to greet him.

crowley makes no move to take her hand, staring incredulously at her instead, guard up.

the woman hums softly, perhaps in acknowledgement of something. she looks slightly disheveled, like she recently took a tumble down this hill, but dragged herself back up nonetheless.

she wears a soft baby pink dress, which drags behind her as she steps forward. she's not wearing shoes, and appears to glide as she walks, displaying such effortless grace. she looks to crowley, a masterpiece. a fine art piece brought to life with the purest of magic. she is something of divine making.

she slows to a halt in front of him, swaying slightly before she reaches out again. she does not wait for crowley to take her hand this time, and instead grabs his instead, holding the back of his hand in her palm as she slowly traces a rune onto his wrist, maintaining intimidating eye contact.

"who are you?" crowley finally manages to ask through his mesmerized state. he cringes, recoiling at the surreal feeling this woman's presence brings.

she smiles, a playful grin resting on her lips. crowley chews the inside of his cheek, looking away from this stranger in hopes that it will keep his thoughts from turning hazy.

the lady says nothing in response to the question, and instead pulls crowley to sit, the tall strands of grass a mediocre cushion for the solid ground beneath.

when she meets his eyes again there is a spark of curiosity hidden within them, continuing to draw crowley in, making himself a little curious as well.

"your dreams are surprisingly difficult to infiltrate." she sighs, bringing a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "you're different."

crowley tries to ask, as he opens his mouth to find out just what she means by that, she smiles again, raising a hand up to silence him before he's even spoken.

"times up, my dear crowley."