A/N: Yaay ridiculously short chapter!

I'm having fairly bad writers block right now, hence lack of updates, and this has been waiting for more scenes for about three months so I decided I might as well post what I had. Enjoy short chapter + Supernatural references.

Chapter XI

The coven split apart late that night, or rather early that morning. Sam, tired though she was from the week's worth of running around and revelations about her worldview, was wide-awake and full of energy, her head thrumming with the secrets that she had learned.

It was two AM. She had to work tomorrow, but that could wait. Well, it couldn't really, and she'd spent the last week playing catchup, but the imminent end of the world was probably a valid excuse.

Sam rubbed at her face tiredly, then stopped as her hands came away smudged with makeup. She had one more stop to make.

Checking about her to see that she was not observed or followed, Sam hurried towards her car, which was parked at the side of the road. She jumped in and started the engine, noting that other members of the coven appeared to have opted to do the same, except for Horologia - who felt that being sped by the night's black wing upon the tide of Dark was more effective than driving, and Sam had seen her car (a pink Nissan Micra), so was inclined to agree – and Unaneledus, who naturally agreed with her, but had taken the option of summoning the quintessence of a raven and flying off like a giant, oversized… well, raven was putting it strongly. Thrush, perhaps.

Sam swung the car smoothly out into the road, taking some comfort in the normal sound of the engine purring. She took a turning, then another, purposefully weaving around in the most random fashion to attempt to lose any of the rest of the coven who might be going the same way.

Sam took a shaky breath. 'I swear, last week life seemed so sensible,' she muttered. 'I mean, psychic, yes, weekly coven meetings, yes, but at least there weren't any – any - Seals to Hell, and the end of the world, and angels living in a flat in London-'

'An angel and a demon,' came an affronted voice from the passenger seat.

Sam glanced over in sheer panic and thrilling, visceral, gut-wrenching terror. She swerved and braked out of sheer shock, thankful that the road was deserted. The demon, Crowley – as apparently Sherlock Holmes was also known – was sitting in her passenger seat. Her decidedly empty passenger seat.

Sam sat there, hands on the wheel, catching her breath for an indeterminate moment.

'That wasn't necessary, you know,' came a reproving voice from the back seat.

Sam jumped again and glanced in her rear-view mirror. Aziraphale was sitting in the back of the car.

'Please stop doing that,' she said faintly, as she started the engine and put the car into gear again.

Crowley gave a decidedly worrying grin. Sam debated furthering the issue, then gave up.

'They plan to attack the Seals you hold next,' she said briskly. 'The puzzle box and the scroll. They don't really know who you are, I mean, not just that you're, well, you know, but they don't know that it's 221b Baker Street that holds them. I don't reckon it'd stop them, but still. They, ah… the scroll, they plan to use a Divining to find it and then break in and destroy it, like they did the statue.'

'When?' Crowley asked in business-like tones.

'Next Friday. It's something significant- I think it's to do with the phases of the moon or something. I wasn't paying that much attention at that stage.'

'And have you found out how to prevent this?' Aziraphale queried.

'Nearly. Look in the bag on the seat next to you,' Sam instructed. She kept her eyes on the road as she heard a faint rustling and then an intake of breath. 'It's the original,' she added.

Crowley snorted. 'Not another old book.'

'It is not an old book, it's a scroll,' Sam replied, affronted. 'This is Seimei's second legacy – the instruction manual.'

'He left an instruction manual?' Crowley queried. 'That's just… cheating. What does it say?'

'I don't know. I can't read it yet,' Sam said. 'I told them I could break the code. Could you two help? I mean, given that it's a code in ancient Japanese, you have a better chance…'

Sam glanced sideways again and found that her passengers had disappeared. This time, she only swerved near a hedge, and didn't even stall. 'I am exorcising this car,' she muttered.

Normally, Crowley was the one keeping antisocial hours in the flat. Mrs Hudson had become used to it, and the strange noises/smells/coloured smoke/stains that resulted. This time, however, Crowley was dimly beginning to appreciate just how irritating his habit was (and therefore resolving to do it more often).

Aziraphale was still sitting at the table with the scroll. Crowley suspected him of using some kind of miracle to prevent it from falling apart. It was almost as old as they were.

The angel was frowning and scribbling something upon a pad of paper that was next to the scroll. The scroll itself was on a sterile surface [1] and open to reveal lines and lines of meticulously drawn symbols.

'Any luck?' he asked boredly, from where he had sprawled himself across the sofa.

Aziraphale didn't look up. 'There are several mentions of an irritating and incompetent servant demon.'

'Can't think who that was, then,' Crowley replied waspishly.

'I think that he's using a cipher. It seems to be a substitution of some kind,' Aziraphale said in frustration. 'All the words make sense, but none of them make any sense together.'

'You managed to translate the last instruction manual for the apocalypse,' Crowley observed. 'Why not ask that Device woman? She seemed to know what she was doing.'

'Yes, dear, but she isn't fluent in ancient Japanese,' Aziraphale said mildly.

This was an irritatingly reasonable objection, and so Crowley opted for a huffy silence as his best response.

[1] This in and of itself had necessitated a miracle. The table in 221b was rarely even visible, let alone not a biohazard zone.