10. It Thinks Its People.
Halfway down the long, sloping drive that led to the castle, the Bentley's engine died.
"The hell," said Crowley. They rolled to a stop and Crowley stared in disbelief at the steering wheel. "Sseventy yearss, and not onccce hass thiss happened," he hissed, eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses.
Aziraphale twitched. Crowley's lisp only made itself known when the demon was particularly put out. He reached over and pat Crowley's leg in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.
"Calm down," he said, softly. "It's not the car."
"What?"
Aziraphale pulled out Hogwarts, a History. "It says in here that nothing electric or even mechanical can work while around Hogwarts. It's a bit like if you tried to use your little hand-telephone device near a power plant, I expect. You'd get nothing but mad static or it wouldn't even work at all."
Crowley's face fell. "My car is useless here? Blast it!" he shouted, and then he did a very stupid thing.
He thumped the wheel, once, with his fist.
The Bentley gave an almighty roar and jerked forward, speeding toward the castle. Aziraphale gave a shout and grabbed for his fez before it flew off his head. Crowley gripped the wheel and pounded the brake. The car kept going.
"Fuck!" he shouted, and Aziraphale didn't even bother to grimace as he was trying very hard to stay in his seat. "What in blazes-"
"The car!" cried Aziraphale. "It's gone mad!"
Crowley tried to steer the car back onto the drive, but the Bentley seemed to have other ideas. It veered sharply to the left and careened through a narrow corridor that would certainly have been too small had Crowley done some quick thinking. They sped through the courtyard, pulled a loop-de-loop around the fountain in the centre, and then continued on at a tremendous rate to the opposite side and another impossibly small stone hallway.
"Where is it going?" Crowley tried the brake again, stomping on it so hard that he had to concentrate on his foot not bursting clear through the bottom of the car, but it was as if there was no brake. The Bentley seemed to go even faster.
Crowley gulped. If he didn't know better, he would have thought his beloved automobile was ignoring him.
They barrelled out of the castle, careening across a grassy field edged by what looked like a deep, black forest.
"Stop!" Aziraphale shouted, hanging on Crowley's sleeve. "Stop the car!"
"I'm trying!" Crowley had given up on the brake and was now concentrating on the car itself. He muttered under his breath in a myriad of languages, tried to invoke whatever entity he could think of that could stop a runaway Bentley. Nothing worked. The forest grew closer, and Crowley thought he could see eyes glittering in between the trees.
Despite being evil incarnate and more dangerous than even the most terrible monster mythology had to offer, Crowley decided that he did not want to know what those eyes belonged to.
"Aziraphale!" he shouted. "Do something!"
"What can I do?" snapped the angel, gripping Crowley's arm so tightly he could feel Aziraphale's fingernails digging into his flesh through his jacket. "It's not my car!"
Crowley elbowed him. "Do something angelic, you idiot! Maybe it will listen to you!"
Aziraphale hesitated, then put out a hand and touched the Bentley's dashboard. "Er, nice car," he said, feeling rather foolish. He made a gentle, stroking motion. "Good car."
The Bentley shuddered. Crowley couldn't believe it. "Keep it up!"
"There's a dear," continued Aziraphale, utterly befuddled. "Slow down now, it's all right."
With another shudder the car slowed, and the engine ceased to snarl. As Aziraphale crooned the Bentley crept to a silent stop just shy of the edge of the forest, and Crowley's eyes nearly fell out of his head when the car emitted what could only be described as a purr.
Aziraphale looked at Crowley. "I'll be damned," he said, eyes round.
"You should be so lucky," muttered Crowley. He pried his hands from the steering wheel and rubbed them, wincing. "What the hell happened?"
Aziraphale leaned forward and lowered his voice, speaking conspiratorially into Crowley's ear. "Your car thinks its people," he said, and the engine made a sudden sound that neither of them could mistake for anything but what it was. They flew out of the car, grabbing their things and sprinting toward the castle.
When they were gone the Bentley rolled off into the forest, still laughing.
Halfway down the long, sloping drive that led to the castle, the Bentley's engine died.
"The hell," said Crowley. They rolled to a stop and Crowley stared in disbelief at the steering wheel. "Sseventy yearss, and not onccce hass thiss happened," he hissed, eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses.
Aziraphale twitched. Crowley's lisp only made itself known when the demon was particularly put out. He reached over and pat Crowley's leg in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.
"Calm down," he said, softly. "It's not the car."
"What?"
Aziraphale pulled out Hogwarts, a History. "It says in here that nothing electric or even mechanical can work while around Hogwarts. It's a bit like if you tried to use your little hand-telephone device near a power plant, I expect. You'd get nothing but mad static or it wouldn't even work at all."
Crowley's face fell. "My car is useless here? Blast it!" he shouted, and then he did a very stupid thing.
He thumped the wheel, once, with his fist.
The Bentley gave an almighty roar and jerked forward, speeding toward the castle. Aziraphale gave a shout and grabbed for his fez before it flew off his head. Crowley gripped the wheel and pounded the brake. The car kept going.
"Fuck!" he shouted, and Aziraphale didn't even bother to grimace as he was trying very hard to stay in his seat. "What in blazes-"
"The car!" cried Aziraphale. "It's gone mad!"
Crowley tried to steer the car back onto the drive, but the Bentley seemed to have other ideas. It veered sharply to the left and careened through a narrow corridor that would certainly have been too small had Crowley done some quick thinking. They sped through the courtyard, pulled a loop-de-loop around the fountain in the centre, and then continued on at a tremendous rate to the opposite side and another impossibly small stone hallway.
"Where is it going?" Crowley tried the brake again, stomping on it so hard that he had to concentrate on his foot not bursting clear through the bottom of the car, but it was as if there was no brake. The Bentley seemed to go even faster.
Crowley gulped. If he didn't know better, he would have thought his beloved automobile was ignoring him.
They barrelled out of the castle, careening across a grassy field edged by what looked like a deep, black forest.
"Stop!" Aziraphale shouted, hanging on Crowley's sleeve. "Stop the car!"
"I'm trying!" Crowley had given up on the brake and was now concentrating on the car itself. He muttered under his breath in a myriad of languages, tried to invoke whatever entity he could think of that could stop a runaway Bentley. Nothing worked. The forest grew closer, and Crowley thought he could see eyes glittering in between the trees.
Despite being evil incarnate and more dangerous than even the most terrible monster mythology had to offer, Crowley decided that he did not want to know what those eyes belonged to.
"Aziraphale!" he shouted. "Do something!"
"What can I do?" snapped the angel, gripping Crowley's arm so tightly he could feel Aziraphale's fingernails digging into his flesh through his jacket. "It's not my car!"
Crowley elbowed him. "Do something angelic, you idiot! Maybe it will listen to you!"
Aziraphale hesitated, then put out a hand and touched the Bentley's dashboard. "Er, nice car," he said, feeling rather foolish. He made a gentle, stroking motion. "Good car."
The Bentley shuddered. Crowley couldn't believe it. "Keep it up!"
"There's a dear," continued Aziraphale, utterly befuddled. "Slow down now, it's all right."
With another shudder the car slowed, and the engine ceased to snarl. As Aziraphale crooned the Bentley crept to a silent stop just shy of the edge of the forest, and Crowley's eyes nearly fell out of his head when the car emitted what could only be described as a purr.
Aziraphale looked at Crowley. "I'll be damned," he said, eyes round.
"You should be so lucky," muttered Crowley. He pried his hands from the steering wheel and rubbed them, wincing. "What the hell happened?"
Aziraphale leaned forward and lowered his voice, speaking conspiratorially into Crowley's ear. "Your car thinks its people," he said, and the engine made a sudden sound that neither of them could mistake for anything but what it was. They flew out of the car, grabbing their things and sprinting toward the castle.
When they were gone the Bentley rolled off into the forest, still laughing.