𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 ▸ crowley (o.h.)

── xiv,

"FIRE"

          Aziraphale had left Amelia at the bookshop about half an hour ago. He didn't say where he was going—but he did tell her to make herself at home. So, that's exactly what she was doing. She sat at Aziraphale's desk, tapping her foot against the wooden floor as she ate her sandwich. She couldn't help but replay what Crowley had told her.

          "You're the lousiest inconvenience I've ever had to deal with."

          His words hurt her. Way more than she thought they would. Amelia was never one to dwell on other people's opinions, but that coming from Crowley—really affected her. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she leaned back in the chair. The sky was cloudy and it seemed like it was going to rain again.

To pass the time, Amelia stood up and walked through the book shop. Her fingers drifted across the tops of the books before she found one that sparked her interest—"The Great Gatsby." She relaxed into a chair, propping her legs over one another and flipping to the first page. The wind howled and the sky grew darker. Rain started to pour down onto the streets.

Lightning struck which was followed by loud thunder claps. She had only gotten four pages in before she started to doze off. Rubbing her tired eyes, she sat the book down and cuddled into the soft chair. Slowly but surely, she fell into a deep sleep.

—

Crowley sped down the wet streets of Soho, London in his Bentley. A few foul words and middle fingers were thrown his way as he drove—which didn't bother him in the slightest.

          "Watch where you're going, you twat!"

          Crowley muttered under his breath, "Oblivious filthy humans." The demon turned on Aziraphale's street, his snake like pupils widening slightly at the sight before him. He looked up at the burning bookshop—and the first thing that came to his mind was Amelia. The tires squealed as he slammed on the brakes. He hopped out of the car and rushed up the sidewalk, pushing people out of his way in the process. With a snap of his fingers, the doors flew open.

"Amelia?" His serpentine eyes darted around, trying to spot the girl between the thick smoke. "Amelia!" People gathered on the streets, witnessing as the bookshop slowly began to wither under the deadly flames. The demon finally spotted her at the back of the shop, laying unconscious on the chair where she had been napping.

He immediately hurried over to her and turned her face towards him, watching and listening for any movement. "Amelia." He shook her lightly, but she didn't budge. He moved his cool fingers down to her neck and checked for a pulse. It was there—but faintly. He snapped his fingers, trying to miracle her awake, but it wasn't working. It was as if his demonic powers only worked on her when they wanted too. He snapped his fingers again, over and over and over.

          "Come on, love," The demon said, starting to get frustrated. He brushed her hair out of her face and shook her once more—but nothing happened. "For fucks sake!" He picked her up in his arms. "Aziraphale!" Her body limply hung from his grasp. "Aziraphale, where the Heaven are you!" His voice cracked the tiniest bit. The sudden sound of an ambulance caught his attention.

          As much as he didn't want to admit it—he couldn't save her. But maybe they could. Without hesitation, he burst through the doors and into the pouring rain. Loud thunder boomed throughout the sky and the wind was harsh against his skin. The paramedics spotted him with Amelia and instantly took action.

          "Sir, we need her over here." Two men took Amelia from his arms and placed her on the gurney.

          "Do you know how long she's been exposed to the fumes?"
          "Does she have any medical conditions such as asthma or other respiratory problems?"
          "Is there anyone else inside?"
          "We have visual signs of smoke inhalation."
          "We need to proceed with a endotracheal intubation."

          It was pure chaos—everyone talked over each other at the same time. Crowley watched as they stuck a tube down her throat to open up her airway. Her skin started to turn pale and her usual pink lips were draining of color. Seeing her in this state made him feel completely torn.

          "Sir?"

          Crowley snapped back to reality and ran a hand through his hair, "I-I don't know how long—I wasn't with her." And that's when it hit him. This never would of happened if she was with him. Under his protection.

"Are you the owner of this establishment?"

"—Do I look like I run a book shop?" Crowley spat towards the poor man who was only trying to help.

"Sir—I'm only—"

"—Just do your bloody job and save her!" His dark growl shut the man up immediately. Crowley returned his attention to Amelia. He allowed this to happen to her. It was his fault.