Run Like the Devil • L.S. • Larry Supernatural AU

Chapter 8

Louis has been on a plane exactly once in his life, and he threw up twice, started crying during takeoff, and kicked the back of the seat in front of him so hard the flight attendant had to come over and ask his mom to please get him under control, which had embarrassed her, and made him even more upset, which made him throw up again. After his great-grandmother's funeral, they had taken the train back home, instead.

"Absolutely not," Louis says, when Niall suggests they fly cross-country. "No. No way."

There are plenty of good reasons they can't fly: Louis still has a warrant (or several) out for his arrest and is most likely on the no-fly list; Harry doesn't legally have an identity at all; and airlines, Louis thinks, generally frown on people trying to transport bags full of semi-arcane weaponry across the country. There's probably a rule against that. Anyway, the point is: this has nothing to do with Louis' distaste for flying, and everything to do with practicality. He grins triumphantly when Niall concedes, but once they've packed the car and he's watching the house disappear in the rearview mirror, he feels decidedly less vindicated.

Niall is staying behind, with Stasha, who's been quiet and skittish but demands, when she overhears them planning, to come with, and throws a completely age-appropriate temper tantrum when Niall explains all the reasons she can't and needs to stay here, where if anything goes south she and Niall can move to the bunker and wait it out, which he's promised to do the second things seem screwy. Niall's overabundance of caution sometimes grates on Louis, but he's nothing but grateful for it now. Still, a selfish part of him wants Niall with them, at his side, even though he knows that he can do the most good from here, and nods when Niall claps him on the shoulder and says, "Y'wouldn't want a gimp holdin' youse up, anyway. I'm better off behind the scenes."

It's him, Liam, and Harry, then—Niall offers to ring Nick, see if he'd be up to joining, as he's apparently fine now (Louis hadn't realized Niall was in contact with Nick, and flushes at his failure to check in himself), but Louis' uncomfortable with the extra risk as it stands, and he's not about to ask someone else to put their life on the line for him. He'd considered sneaking away and going it alone, too, but the moment he thought it, Harry's gaze snapped straight to him, intense and glaring, and even though he knew Harry couldn't read his thoughts (ridiculous that the idea would even cross his mind), it had reminded him that, by necessity, he'd have to break his deal with Harry, and therefore leave Harry vulnerable. Two months ago he would have balked at the idea of a demon's safety being so high on his list of priorities, but things change, and, much as it's uncomfortable to admit it, he needs Harry for this, and not just for his abilities. More primally, secretly, he doesn't want to let Harry out of his sight, chest seizing with anxiety at the very thought of it. It's a good thing, then, that they're magically bound to stay within 100 yards of each other.

He sort of expected whatever this thing was between them to vanish once he found out about Fizzy, but the silent and unassuming way Harry's been taking care of him—setting a couple fingers on the back of his hand when he sees him trembling (and, in turn, letting Louis brush errant curls out of his face or a million other little gestures)—is no small part of what's keeping him from completely losing his mind. He's grateful for it, and even more grateful that Harry doesn't make him talk about it—not any of it. He just seems to know. And of course he does: Harry lost his sister, Harry sold his soul to keep her safe, but there's something else he can't pin down, too, something he doesn't know that he has the vocabulary to name, but he doesn't have to think about it right now. He couldn't, anyway.

They take the driving in shifts; with bare minimum stops for gas, food, and the bathroom, it's just shy of two days to New Jersey (Harry had, with Niall fastidiously taking notes, performed some kind of spell involving a map which had suddenly caught on fire and burned until a tiny, charred scrap of paper remained on the scorched table, that scrap apparently showing where Caroline was within a 100-mile radius. Louis had been impressed, and said as much, which made Harry glow faintly in the candlelight, eyes flickering with it). One of them drives, another sits in the passenger seat and uses Liam's phone to check for updates and check in with Niall, and the third takes the back to sleep. They rotate every six hours; Louis takes first shift driving, and it passes in what feels like a blink or two. He argues that he's fine, he can do another shift, he doesn't need to sleep, but not ten minutes after he says it, he's drifting into the next lane, and when Liam says, firmly, in his don't-fuck-with-me voice, "pull over," Louis nods and flips on his turn signal, making his way to the shoulder.