Hey guys, I'm back writing again after a loooooong break. I HAVEN'T NEGLECTED MY OTHER STORIES I SWEAR, I'm just suffering from intense writers block so I thought coming back to writing and starting fresh with a new story might help me get back into the swing of things again ayyy.

SO the idea for this fanfic came out of nowhere, I already started writing a fanfic for this pairing but it was so bad it hit a dad end after chapter two lmao I'm a failure I know.

So, how about a little Crowley/Clara? I'm a sucker for random complicated unexpected pairings, I just love trying to make them work :D So hopefully you'll like this and maybe leave a review to let me know what you think? I'd really appreciate it :D

Happy reading!

Clara Oswald slapped a hand to her mouth to stifle the traitorous yawn that threatened to escape her lips as she gathered her books off her desk and stuffed them rather chaotically into her bag. She had had enough stress for one day, between having to rush from the Tardis directly to her English class, to having prepared for the wrong class completely. She almost wished she could blame the silver-haired stick insect she travelled with for confusing her into bringing her notes for a class two weeks from now but she was the one who decided to agree to travel to work in a time machine.

She left the room and shut the door quickly behind her, the sound of it slamming shut echoing in the now empty school corridors. She had half a mind to ask the Doctor if he could take her back in time to redo the disastrous day again hopefully with an improved result, but she knew he would be stubborn about it.

"That's what you get, Oswald," She huffed to herself quietly as she left the building, her heart sinking at the realisation that she had no choice but to walk home since she had arrived at school in the now dematerialised Tardis. She shifted her bag into a more comfortable position on her shoulder and began the short walk back to her apartment, her short brown hair swishing across her face in the light breeze. She continued down the quiet pathway, her mind drifting from her current situation. She stopped suddenly with a confused blink, snapping out of her daze and reversing a few steps to see the Tardis parked neatly nearby with two suspicious looking men examining it with matching frowns.

"- Don't know, Sammy, I know demons aren't the type to travel in fancy-ass automobiles but I've never seen them use anything like this big ugly blue son of a gun either."

"Dude, I could smell the sulphur off this thing a mile away. There's definitely something up. And anyway, Cas didn't just zap us all the way to freaking England for no reason."

"Oh yeah? And just where is that winged son of a bitch anyway, huh? He thinks he can just tap our foreheads and transport us to the land of tea and apologies and go MIA with no explanation-"

"Oi!" Clara started over to the two men and stopped just short of them with a frown. Judging by their accents, she decided they must be American, but their words made absolutely no sense to Clara, and she was slightly concerned that they were sniffing around the Tardis without the Doctor present. She folded her arms across her chest and looked up at the pair, her eyes widening slightly as she realised one of them was nearly as tall as the Tardis itself.

"What do you think you're doing?" She demanded in her best 'don't mess with me' teacher tone, raising an eyebrow at the two strangers. "Who are you?"

The shorter of the two men cleared his throat with the ghost of a smug smile on his face and confidently produced ID, the taller man following suite.

"FBI," He clarified, holding the badge out to her for a fleeting second before pocketing it again quickly. "We're just investigating this here police bo-"

"Not buying it," Clara pursing her lips and took a step closer to the Tardis protectively. "The FBI wouldn't be here and they wouldn't be investigating a wooden box anyway. Trust me, I know."

"Dammit, Dean, we're not in America anymore," The taller man looked as if he wanted to face palm and the man now identified as Dean gaped open mouthed for a second as realisation dawned on his face.

"Cas did this on purpose godammit!" He yelled, jabbing a finger at his comrade. "Go on then, Sam, you're the brains of this operation, tell the nice suspicious lady what we're doing looking at a police box from the 60's."

He folded his arms with a surly look on his face and the man Clara now knew was Sam heaved a sigh and raised his eyebrows innocently as if trying to come up with an excuse.

"You know what-" Clara began with a sigh then cut off, shaking her head and raising her arms in exasperation at the two madmen. She strode up to the Tardis door and knocked on the hard wood briskly. "Doctor? Doctor, you in there?"

"It's okay, Sammy, I don't think we're the ones who're crazy here," Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam, fighting a smirk.

"Hey, you two still look like you belong in an asylum in my opinion," Clara glared challengingly. "And I'm always right."

"You do know the chances of someone being inside that tiny box are slim to nil?" Sam looked at her almost apologetically, confusion dominating his expression.

"Yes of course I… know that," Clara shuffled from foot to foot defensively, realising that her actions hadn't exactly made sense either. She fought the urge to rap on the door again. She could feel a building concern in the pit of her stomach as she wondered if something had happened to the Doctor.

"Look, Miss-"

"Clara Oswald."

"Clara," Dean continued with a small nod. "I don't know what your, uh, attachment to this box is all about but if you could leave so we could finish our work, that'd be great."

"You're not touching this box," Clara glowered, moving to stand between the Tardis and Dean. "Leave it alone."

"But-"

"Please," Clara pleaded, pressing herself up against the wood. "Just don't."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances, frowning slightly.

"Dean, maybe we should find Cas before we go rushing into anything," Sam murmured, concern in his eyes.

"Sam, the guy could be anywhere, are you sure that's a good idea?"

Sam glanced at Clara fleetingly and grimaced. "I think it's the best idea we've got right now."

Dean paused, looking from Clara, to the Tardis, to Sam. Clara wondered what they were up to, because it was obviously something. She remained pressed up against the Tardis, unwilling to let the two men near it.

"Right," Dean grunted, heaving a reluctant sigh. He gave the Tardis one last suspicious glare then looked at Clara and gave her a small wink. "See you around, Oswald."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Uh, nice meeting you," He flapped a hand awkwardly and turned to follow Dean as they walked down the street in the same direction Clara had come. She gave a small wave in return and let out a sigh of relief, leaning back against the Tardis, unsure what to make of the whole situation.

She waited until Sam and Dean were well out of earshot and turned towards the Tardis again, trying the door futilely but to no avail. She gave a huff off annoyance and knocked on the door once more.

"Doctor,"She raised her voice this time, allowing the worry to seep into her tone. "Doctor, are you there?" She paused, looking around quickly to make sure she wasn't being watched and pressed her ear to the wood, listening. She was met with silence. "Come on, Old Girl," She whispered pleadingly. "Let me in."

She sighed in defeat and took a step back, letting her arms fall down by her sides, unknowing what to do when she heard the click of a lock suddenly. She gasped, reaching a hand out almost fearfully and pressing against the door. It swung open with a creak and Clara burst inside, her heart rate speeding up in anticipation.

She let out a horrified gasp as she took in her surroundings. The Tardis console had been smashed and smoke was emitting from it, various items were thrown across the vast room and there was an intense smell of sulphur heavy in the thick air.

"Doctor?" Clara choked out fearfully, taking another shaky step into the room, an anxious knot twisting in her stomach. She fought the urge to call for him again. She knew for sure the Time Lord wasn't here. The whole room looked like the result of a fierce struggle.

"No," She whispered, worry for her friend causing her chest to constrict. She hated seeing the Tardis like this, even though they didn't exactly get along. She gazed around the room again for some sort of indication of where the Doctor could have gone, her eyes falling on a splash of colour amongst all the charred remains of the console.

She approached it, her mouth dropping open as she realised that it was an orange-red leaf, the same leaf that represented her life, her lives. The leaf she had found again when she jumped into the Doctor's time stream so long ago. She reached out a trembling hand and touched it gently, surprised at how unscathed it was considering its surroundings.

She snapped out of her thoughts, picking up the leaf and placing it carefully between the pages of one of her books and putting it gingerly into her bag. She didn't know where the Doctor was, but she was determined to find out.

She hurried from the Tardis, shutting the doors quickly behind her and sprinting back towards her apartment, her heart hammering in her chest. She arrived at her door, fumbling with her key, out of breath. She swallowed hard, willing her hands to stop shaking. She shuddered as she scurried inside and slammed the door shut behind her, locking it out of habit. She had a bad feeling in her gut that something was terribly wrong. Her mind drifted back to Sam and Dean, wondering if they had anything to do with any of this. Today was strange, and usually she had the Doctor to help her deal with strange days. This time it was different.

She dumped her bag on the coffee table and rummaged around it quickly for the correct book, opening it and taking the leaf out almost reverently.

"What are you doing here?" She whispered as she turned it over in her hands gently.

"I'm afraid foliage doesn't talk, darling, and you won't get your questions answered by talking to a leaf."

Clara jumped and let out a small surprised shriek at the unfamiliar voice that had come from behind her. She spun around to face the intruder, her heart rate accelerating rapidly.

She was met with the sight of a man not much taller than herself, dressed in a dark suit with an amused smirk on his face. His hair was dark, as were his eyes which glinted with mischievousness and a hint of menace. Clara felt her blood run cold as her eyes flitted to the door. She was certain she had locked it after she came in.

The man followed her gaze and raised his eyebrows with a smug smile.

"Doors aren't really my style," He shrugged, only half answering her unasked question.

"Who the hell are you?" Clara demanded breathlessly, swallowing hard, clutching the leaf closer to her chest.

"Hell being the operative word," The man took a step closer and Clara felt intimidated, though she was determined not to let it show. This man was dangerous, that much she could tell already, but she had been in countless life-threatening situations before and she reckoned she could handle one more.

"The name's Crowley," The man smiled confidently at Clara's shocked expression. "I'm a demon, I run Hell. Got any scotch?"

"You- You what?!" Clara spluttered, unsure whether to laugh or run for her life.

"No worries, I brought my own," Crowley turned and sauntered off towards her kitchen, carrying a bottle of expensive looking alcohol in his hand which Clara was almost certain hadn't been there before. She pinched her arm quickly just to clarify that she wasn't dreaming this whole day up, the sharp pain making her satisfied that she was awake.

"Care for a glass?" His voice was gruff and British, Clara noted, as he brandished one of Clara's own glasses at her, pouring a drink for himself.

"I'm more of a tea drinker myself," Clara followed him cautiously, making sure not to get too close. Her mind went into overdrive thinking of what she could use to defend herself if necessary, wondering if a wooden spoon could be classified as a worthy weapon, that being the closer thing to her of any use.

"Suit yourself," Crowley leaned against the counter and took a sip of his drink, his dark eyes twinkling at her. "Don't look so frightened, I don't bite. I leave that to my hellhounds."

"Yeah, not making me feel any better about a stranger breaking into my house Mister 'I'm a demon from Hell'," Clara raised her eyebrows and folded her arms across her chest defensively.

"Well technically I didn't actually break anything to get in here-"

"Still not helping."

"Well, you're a feisty one aren't you."

"Care to explain what you're doing in my apartment? You seem to have overlooked that one."

"Seems that you overlooked the fact that I'm a demon, which I so kindly informed you already," Crowley raised an eyebrow and held up his glass. "Or were you not listening?"

"You're telling me you're a demon?"

"Correct."

"From Hell?"

"No, I strode through the pearly gates and sauntered into your apartment showing off my beautiful angelic wings, yes, from Hell."

Clara paused and blinked slowly. "I guess it must be pretty hot down there."

Crowley regarded her slowly, his eyes narrowing. "You're not taking this seriously, are you?"

Clara remained silent, truthfully not knowing what to believe but definitely not about to trust anything that came out of this man's mouth. Crowley shrugged.

"Alright then, love, whatever helps you sleep at night," He took another sip of his drink and slowly and deliberately raised his free hand and clicked his fingers. The kitchen lights immediately flickered and smashed, plunging them into semi-darkness. Clara screamed in shock, eyes wide as she look from the smashed light to the madman in front of her.

"What the hell did you do that for?!" She yelled, taking a step forward unintentionally.

"Again with the hell," Crowley smiled again. He cocked his head to the side and tutted. "And you act like you're not a true believer. You didn't need the light anyway, see?"

He waved a hand and the kitchen table abruptly set on fire, the flames twisting and turning almost as if they were alive, illuminating the smirk on Crowley's face.

"What- You-" Clara spluttered in a panic, unsure whether to feel angry or frightened. She figured a mix of both would be appropriate. She lurched forward and grabbed Crowley's arm without thinking. "Stop! Put it out!"

"What's the magic word?" Crowley grinned, amusement flashing in his eyes.

"Please, you childish demon!" Clara yelled, eyes wide with worry as she stared at the fire.

"That's more like it."

With a small motion of Crowley's hand the flames died down and disappeared, leaving the table the way it was before, if not slightly charred. Clara's let out a sigh of relief, closing her eyes momentarily.

She opened her eyes quickly again at the sound of Crowley clearing his throat and looked up to see him eyeing her hand still clasped around his arm in a vice like grip.

"Oh," She exclaimed, releasing him quickly and blushing despite herself. "So, um, demon. Yeah, great. Demons are real. Of course."

"You catch on fast," Crowley smirked with a wink. He downed the rest of his scotch. "Now we can get down to business. I've been looking for you for a very long time, Clara Oswald."

"How do you know my name?" Clara asked, trying not to allow the fear she was suddenly feeling to seep into her voice. The fact that this man really was a demon was just starting to hit her.

"Being the king of Hell comes with its perks, I have a vast knowledge of important assets."

"Assets?" Clara repeated fearfully. "What are you talking about?"

"Your little stint in a certain someone's time stream regarding splitting yourself into a million tiny little pieces all that time ago just so happened to catch my attention," Crowley took a step closer to Clara intimidatingly as he spoke quickly. "Word gets around and word is that you are very important. And I'm not just flirting, I'm being serious."

"I… Don't know what you're talking about," Clara whispered hurriedly, backing away slightly.

"You see, when you decided to split yourself into all those pretty little pieces it created souls, if only echoes of the real thing. Those hundreds of thousands of souls that lived and died all around this wretched world all belonged to you, Clara Oswald. Which, in my opinion, makes your soul very valuable indeed."

Clara took a deep shuddering breath. "And?"

"And I want you to sell it to me."

"You what?!" Clara spluttered incredulously. "Not happening, Mister, my soul is staying right where it is thank you very much."

"Is that so?" Crowley raised an eyebrow challengingly. "What a shame. And I was so looking forward to adding it to my little collection."

"Sorry to disappoint," Clara glared at him, a feeling of nervousness building up inside her.

"Let me make you a little deal," Crowley took a step closer and this time Clara didn't back away, staying rooted to the spot, almost afraid to move. "I think you'll like the terms."

Clara's eyes met Crowley's and her breath hitched in her throat, her heart giving a small jump which she quickly dismissed as being due to fear, that was all. She saw something shift in Crowley's eyes for a split second and then it was gone and his gaze turned menacing again. The corners of his lips twitched up into a threatening smile.

"You give me your soul, and I give you back your Time Lord bestie."

SO what did you like? :D Like it, hate it, interested, uninterested?

I really like this pairing cause it's so fun to write the conversations between Clara and Crowley, I think they'd be such a sassy couple.

I'm currently LOVING season 10 of Supernatural I'm literally gunna cry because of the feels who's with me :O

Oh and if anyone really likes this pairing I made a couple of videos for them, they're on youtube if you search Clara and Crowley they should come up, just if you're interested :D

Reviews are the pie to my Dean, I would love if you left me one ;) Pie or a review, whichever works :D Laters, mishamigosssss