The Neighbourhood

This story contains violence, language, death, angst, abuse, and sex.
Reviews are welcome as is constructive criticism.


Chapter 7

Beatrice woke up back at Crowley’s house, lying on his mattress. She felt exhausted and her stomach hurt. Then she remembered their little ‘errand’. What the hell had that been about?

Crowley was pacing the room, and for the first time he wasn’t wearing his black coat. Beatrice could see the outline of his abs under his wife beater and the muscles in his arms. She had never been alone with such a fine specimen of the male species. In fact, she had never even been alone with a male who wasn’t her father. Again she got that warm feeling below.

Crowley noticed that she was awake and handed her a bottle of water.

“How do ya feel?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

Beatrice looked away from him. “I’m really tired and my stomach feels like it’s been ripped open,” she said, drinking some water.

It must be because of what that guy did to me.
She still couldn't wrap her mind around what he had pulled from her stomach. What the hell was it? And how was it possible for his hand to sink into her like that? Weird, very weird.

“Well that’s normal…” he said to himself.

“What’s normal? Feeling like this?” She asked, shocked.

“Yeah, I mean after He- oh… uh…never mind,” he said, shaking his head.

Beatrice looked him in the eye and pointed her finger at him.

"Don’t never mind me, Alexandre! You explain to me just what happened on your errand,” she said.

Crowley made a ‘hmmph’ noise.

“I just saved your soul is what happened,” he said, bitterly.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Crowley threw up his hands in exasperation.

“Jesus Christ! Ya know what? I wish I never met you! All you’ve been is trouble! Now, because of you, I gotta choose whether or not to give up my soul or yours! Absolutely fuckin great!”

Beatrice stared at him in surprise and shock. Where had that sudden anger come from? Give up his soul or mine? He’s crazy, nothing like that is possible. And then his other words processed into her brain and she felt a sharp pressure near her heart. She felt like someone had just torn out her heart and stomped on it repeatedly. She hadn’t felt like that since…the day her father first raped her.

He looked at her and said, “Just go! Get away from me! I don’t wanna look at you right now,” he said, scowling.

Beatrice was close to tears and she turned away so he couldn’t see her face.

“Okay,” she whispered, getting her things. Did he really mean it? Did he really wish he had never met her? Because she didn’t. She turned her back on him and started walking to the door.

Just forget about it, Bea. If he doesn't want you in his house anymore, fine. He has the right to kick you out.

Then another voice responded: Yeah, but I just didn't think he would do it.

“Beatrice! Wait,” he said.

She turned around, tears falling down her cheeks against her will.

Crying again? Geez, get a grip on yourself. He probably thinks you're a leaking fountain, for chrissakes!

Crowley stood in front of her, looking as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to it. She thought she saw regret and even…yearning in his eyes. “Oh, fuck it,” he muttered, and kissed her.

Beatrice stiffened at the feel of his lips on hers, and even through her anger at him she felt every inch of her body rejoice. He crushed her against him, kissing her with a desperate sort of passion. Beatrice’s heart raced and she kissed him back, feeling as if she was going to swoon. For the first time she thought maybe, just maybe there was a chance she could learn to let go of her past. Crowley’s one kiss did that to her and more. So much more. Not to mention the sheer shock that he had kissed her in the first place.

I must be dreaming. Crowley wouldn't kiss me.

The kiss had gone on for only 30 seconds before Beatrice remembered what Crowley had said to her. And worse, he invaded this rare slice of heaven with the memory of him forcing his lips upon hers, his hot, foul breath and the way he tried to slide his tongue into her mouth.

Beatrice shoved Crowley back and slapped him hard across his face.

His face was one of confusion and shock. Good. The bastard deserved it for what he said to her. Already Beatrice was regretting the fact that she had kissed him back. But damn if it wasn’t the best kiss she had ever received. Well, the only kiss she had ever received that hadn’t been forced on her.

“Don’t…ever touch me again,” she said with venom, though her in her mind she was thinking the very opposite thing. She wiped her mouth, trying to get the delicious taste of him off her lips, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger.

“I’m…s-s-sorry,” he finally said after he recovered from her slap, forcing the words out. The sincerity of his apology struck a cord in Beatrice. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean what I said. I just…I’m, well- bein’… forced into makin’ a decision that no one should have to make. And I think it would have been better for you if ya hadn’t come here at all.”

In a soft voice that she could barely hear, he added, “Though I’m still glad that ya did.”

Beatrice felt an inner happiness at his words. "I'm-I'm still mad at you," she huffed. She was trying not to forgive him so easily but damn he could make really good puppy eyes for a man who looked like he tortured puppies for fun.

Yeah right. I'll bet he rescues them from trashcans.

"Fine then! I'll forgive you..this time. But only because you make awesome hotdogs," she said, trying hard not to smile at the triumphant look on his face. How was she going to be able to stay mad at him?

She briefly wondered what he would look like with hair. And then another thought that came to her unbidding: I wonder what colour his pubes are. She was interrupted from her embarrassing thoughts when Crowley gave her a smirk that was dangerously close to a smile.

“And there is that whole letting you stay in my house thing, not to mention the saving your soul part,” he drawled, and the mood lifted.

Just as Beatrice was about to ask him about the saving her soul part there was a quick knock on the door and then it was slammed open.

The intruder came into the room without invitation or any word of greeting. Beatrice turned and saw the sallow, drawn face of a young woman who might have been beautiful but destroyed her potential with bad addictions. There were dark circles under her sad, blue eyes and her greasy, dirty hair hung down to her breasts in tangles. She smelled of alcohol, smoke, and sweat.

Her thin, knobby body was shaking and she drew her rag of a blanket around her shoulders and asked in a hoarse voice, if it was cold in here?

Then she seemed to notice Beatrice and she frowned.

“When did you get a girlfriend, Alex?”

If it was possible for Alexandre ‘Alex’ Crowley to blush he might have just then. Beatrice was quite able and she could feel her cheeks flush.

“She’s not my girlfriend, she’s just stayin with me for awhile, alright? And I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t storm into my house. Ya never know what ya might walk in on,” he said, meeting Beatrice’s eyes.

She pretended not to notice.

The intruder laughed. “Come off it, brother. You wouldn’t let anyone stay with you while you’re still alive on this earth,” she said.

Beatrice scratched her head as the awkward silence crept in. Crowley’s sister seemed to catch on and then she looked wide-mouthed at Beatrice.

“He is letting you stay with him! Oh my God, it’s a miracle! He has a heart after all! Congratulations, girl, you must have been one sorry looking ass if the Crow pulled out his long forgotten hospitality!”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Not sorrier lookin than you,” he said, “now are ya quite finished?”

Suddenly his sister grew solemn and her eyes darted from Crowley to her hands that were pulling on the loose threads of her blanket.

“I need yours now, Alex. I’m finally empty,” she said, her eyes pleading.

“I can’t, Sarah. His majesty wants Beatrice’s soul, and I beg- I mean asked him to wait. And ya know how it goes. It’s either hers…or mine,” he said, and Beatrice was shocked by the sadness in his voice. Oddly, it made her sad.

Sarah looked at Beatrice with what could be called hunger.

“Then we’ll use hers! What does it matter to you anyway?” She shot back, glaring at her brother.

“It’s okay, Crowley. She can…um…use my soul or whatever. Really, it’s okay with me,” Beatrice added. She had no idea what would happen if her soul was taken but she really didn’t want Crowley to give up his. And if Sarah needed hers, then why not?

Crowley suddenly exploded. “You won’t! Absolutely won’t! I’m not gonna let ya give up your soul just so she can get a fuckin fix! I can’t believe you, Sarah! How did ya become so selfish?” He asked.

Sarah looked taken aback and Beatrice thought she saw hurt in her eyes. But then it was gone. The wasted away woman seemed so desperate she almost felt sorry for her.

“Then let me have yours! Please, Alex, please! I’m your sister! I need this,” she begged him, then started to cry.

Crowley’s jaw clenched and he shook his head. “What ya need is help. Get out of my house, Sarah. Go find your fix somewhere else,” he spat.

Sarah let out a frustrated snarl, and started cursing and tearing at her shirt like a mad woman.

“I HATE YOU, you fucking good for nothing bastard!”

She gave Beatrice a look that would have burnt her had she been able to shoot laser beams from her eyes, then stormed out still cursing and slammed the door so hard the whole house shook.

Once she had left Crowley sat down on the mattress and sighed. He opened a can of beer and took a long swallow.

“Jesus,” he muttered. Beatrice sat next to him, wanting to say something but not knowing what.

“I love her, I really do,” he admitted after awhile.

Then he laughed bitterly. “I did everythin I could for her, and this is how she repays me. She’s like a different person now. She didn’t used to be like this, honestly. It was the rape. And the drugs,” he said, shaking his head. Beatrice silently studied how his hands held the beer can. When he said no more she gathered up enough courage to respond.

“After my mom died my dad started to drink and became a completely different person. Sometimes I blame my mom for dying. Because if she weren’t dead, things would be good. My dad would be happy and…” she trailed off, close to tears. Then she laughed without merth at the two of them exchanging their tales of woe.

Crowley pulled her close to him and hugged her. “We both need a good hug, eh?”

She gave a half-hearted laugh, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his chest. Even though they had just kissed earlier on in the day Beatrice couldn't have felt more comfortable sitting with him. For the first time in years she felt truly relaxed and safe. It was a wonderful feeling.

~~~~~~~~


AN--
A little sappy I know. But hey, at least they kissed.