Seven Devils
Chapter 10 / A Certain Doom
"The great dragon was hurled down—that ancient serpent called the devil."
— Book of Revelation 12:9
Marlene and Sam stopped at the entrance to an old building, gazing up at the cross hanging above its door.
"A church?" Sam deadpanned and glanced over at Marley, "Are you serious?"
She tugged on his arm, "Come on."
"Marlene — "
"Come on."
Marley dragged him inside, despite his very vocal reluctance, which wasn't an easy feat, considering he could easily crush her with her measly 5'4. The church was almost empty, safe for a few parishioners that had decided to say their prayers in the late afternoon. It was peaceful and quiet, a smell of wax and frankincense lingering in the air.
Marlene sat down on a bench in the back and pulled Sam down next to her.
"I don't think that a church is the best place for us to be right now," he whispered and then smiled at the passing priest.
"Don't you believe in God?" Marley asked, scandalised, "Come on, relax. No one's going to look for us here. It would be way too obvious."
Her words did little to subdue Sam's paranoia. Hands locked between his thighs, he tried his hardest to appear relaxed, but everything: from his rigid posture to his constant looking around betrayed the sense of acute unease.
"My father took me to church every Sunday. It wasn't a spiritual thing. More like...research," Marley spoke softly, eyes fixed on the altar. She could feel Sam's eyes on her, "When we came home, he'd always give me those...those lectures on the corruption of religious institutions and how one didn't need to go to church to feel connected to God. He — um, he believed that it was all a papal hoax to receive generous donations. A transaction like any other." Sam noticed a slight change in her face, a sadness creeping into its expression. "I hated the things he said, I felt...felt they were a bit ignorant, you know? Plus, I liked going to church. And it wasn't because it made me feel closer to God, because, frankly, I'm still not sold on the guy," Sam chuckled at that, "but because it made me feel closer to people. Just take a look around."
Sam swept her his over the church where a woman was praying at the alter, a young mother was fixing up her kid's tie, probably for his first confession, a man just sitting there in absolute peace.
"They all come here to feel part of something. To feel better. To feel human," Marley said, "My mom was like that. Perhaps, that's why my father lost faith in everything."
Sam cleared his throat, "My, uh...my father didn't believe in much, either. There was the road and the job, and that's it. He'd be pretty disappointed in me right now," he huffed out a derisive chuckle.
"I'm sorry," Marlene said quietly, "About everything."
"Yeah. Me too."
"No, don't get me wrong — you fucked up." Her suddenly harsh words startled Sam, breaking him out of his own misery. She turned to him, "You did, Sam. But that already happened, you can't change it. Perhaps, Zachariah would've found a way to kill Lilith without you, perhaps not and you did him a solid — none of that matters anymore. Because you're going to fix the hell out of it. " Marley said, looking straight into Sam's slightly baffled eyes, "You're not the same man, this is not the same river, but you're gonna cannon jump your ass right into it and make some splash."
Sam stared at her, his face a mix between absolute confusion and amusement. "Was that Heraclitus?" he finally said, cracking a smile.
"No, that's Marlene."
"Huh, I could've sworn it was Heraclitus."
"You'd better brush up on your Greek philosophy, Shallow Alto," Marley teased.
Sam burst out laughing and she followed suit. They both received some displeased looks from the priest.
"What kind of insult is that?"
"You've never heard that one? We Yalies say all kinds of terrible things about you guys."
"And you call yourself Yalies."
Marley laughed, "It does sound pretty dumb, doesn't it."
After some time, Sam seemed to loosen up a little and embrace the tranquility. Marlene watched him watch people, his eyes filled with a sorrow and torment that made her chest heavy. He looked like he didn't belong here. Like he didn't have the right to be within these walls, with these people.
"Why did you start drinking demon blood?" Marlene asked. There was no accusation in her voice, just genuine interest. Sam whipped his head to her, surprised by the sudden question. "I mean, I know why, I read the books...but still — why, Sam?"
Sam breathed out a heavy sigh. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, head bowed, "When Dean died, all I wanted was to kill Lilith. And I know that saying "I wasn't myself" does not justify it, but, Marlene — I wasn't myself," he looked at her pleadingly, "I was lost and Ruby gave me a purpose. Suddenly, the thing that made me a monster gave me the power to actually help people."
Marlene wondered if that made her a monster, too. Was she — was he — somehow unclean just because their blood had been tainted all those years ago?
"But then...then it became different. It wasn't about Dean or Lilith, or Ruby anymore, it was about me. It made me feel good. Made me feel strong. And I still..." Sam let out a humourless laugh and shook his head, "I still think about it."
"Thoughts pass, Sam. No feeling is final," Marley told him reassuringly, "It's if you act on them that matters."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Sam breathed with a wane smile, his eyes a little vacant. "I think we'd better go back now. See if Dean and Bobby figured anything out."
They walked to the motel in silence. It was getting dark outside, which provided Marley with a perfect cover, and so she dropped her hood to enjoy the fresh caress of the evening breeze. She spotted a new car parked outside their room — the same one she'd seen at Bobby's back in South Dakota. So that was the Baby Dean was talking about.
"It looks so...vintage," Marlene said as kindly as possible.
Sam smiled, "Just don't say that to Dean."
But as Marlene and Sam got closer to the room, they could hear strange noises coming from the inside. Sam pushed Marley behind him, a wary look on his face, and opened the door. "No!" he suddenly screamed. Staggered, Marlene followed his eyes and saw Bobby lying on the floor, bleeding. And molten, hellish demonic faces.
Sam darted forward to rush to Bobby's side, but was pushed back into the wall. A petite brunette smirked at him, "Heya, Sammy. You miss me?" Then her eyes flashed to Marley, who was still standing in the threshold. The smile widened , "Apparently not."
"Meg?" Sam breathed in shock.
The demone grinned. With a feral curl to his mouth, Sam launched himself at her and swung a fist, but Meg dodged it and landed a blow at his crotch, knocking Sam to the ground. The other man — the demon — was at Dean's throat while Bobby was bleeding out on the floor, and Marley just stood there, frozen with shock.
"It's not so easy without those super-special demon powers, huh, Sammy?" Meg jeered and looked at Marlene with a predatory smile, "Why so shy, sweetheart?"
It did well to shake her our of the stupor. Marley stormed inside the room to get to her bag, but Meg was quicker. She grabbed Marlene by the hair, pulling her back, "I think I wanna keep her, Sammy."
Marlene screamed out when she felt a sharp knife run down the skin of her throat. She tried to break free of the demon's grasp, but every sharp movement made the pain in her skull worse. "Oh, she's a real catch," Meg taunted.
While the demon was busy with her newest toy, Sam rose to his feat and attacked her from the behind, catching her by surprise. Meg let go of Marlene's hair and turned to Sam with a snarl, charging on him again. It gave Marley enough time to get the bag. With trembling fingers, she took out the plastic pouch filled with green powder.
Meg lifted Sam by the collar of his jacket and landed a series of punches on his face, making it a bloody mess. And it didn't look like she was finished. Heart thumping in her ears, Marlene spilled the powder into her palm, whispered the incantation and yelled, "Hey, you bitch!" Meg looked back, but before she could say anything snappy, Marley blew the powder straight into her muzzle.
The demon screamed out in pain, her skin sizzling. It was then that Dean pulled the knife out of Bobby's stomach and stabbed the male demon with it. When his lifeless body crumpled to the ground, Dean stood up and advanced on Meg, who was doubling in pain on the floor.
The demon screamed, her mouth stretching wide open as smoke shot out of it, leaving behind only a limp body.
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
Dean and Sam burst into a busy emergency room, carrying Bobby's limp body. "Need some help here!" Dean yelled out in panic. Bobby couldn't die. They would figure something out, they always did.
A nurse rushed over to them and ran her eyes over the wound, "What happened?"
"He was stabbed," Sam told her.
She turned to her colleagues, "Can we get a gurney?"
"Hang on, Bobby. Hang in there," Dean was telling him, "You're gonna be okay." The nurses got Bobby onto the gurney and he was rushed off towards the surgery unit. Sam, Dean and Marley tried to follow after them, but were stopped at the door.
The nurse turned to them, blocking the door, "Just wait here."
Sam shuffled restlessly, "We can't just leave him."
"Just don't move," she said, giving them a warning look, "I've got questions."
"Sammy, we got to go," Dean said as soon as the nurse was gone.
Sam shook his head, "No. No way, Dean."
"The demons heard where the sword is," Dean whispered, "We got to get to it before they do, if we're not too late already. Come on!"
"Go." They both turned to Marlene who had been dead silent the entire ride to the hospital, "Go, I'm going to stay with him."
Sam eyed her with hesitation, "Marlene — "
"You heard her," Dean told him, "Come on."
Marlene watched the two brothers run down the hall and disappear in the sea of medical personnel.
But Sam threw one last look at her. Only she hadn't seen it.
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
They drove up to the storage facility, a bright neon sign painting the dark, empty street in blues and reds. Dean opened the trunk and threw a gun to Sam. In foreboding silence, they reloaded their weapons and walked in.
Sam stood watch while Dean was unlocking the door. It opened with a dull creak, revealing two dead bodies sprawled across the Devil's trap on the floor. Judging by the stink of sulphur, demons had already paid a visit. Sam and Dean went inside, cautiously looking around with their weapons at the ready. The bastards had rummaged through their father's storage room, alright.
"See you told the demons where the sword is," a familiar voice spoke from the shadows.
Dean and Sam turned to face Zachariah and his escort.
"Oh, thank god," Dean sighed sarcastically, "The angels are here."
"And to think..." Zachariah walked closer, stepping over a demon's body, "...they could have grabbed it any time they wanted." He waved a hand to close the door and looked at Dean again, "It was right in front of them."
Sam's brows twitched towards each other, "What do you mean?"
"We may have planted that particular piece of prophecy inside Chuck's skull, but it happened to be true. We did lose the Michael sword. We truly couldn't find it," Zachariah's lips widened into an overly-pleased smile, "Until now. You've just hand-delivered it to us."
Dean stood taller, "We don't have anything."
Zachariah sighed, marvelling that he even needed to say it out loud, "It's you, chucklehead," he told Dean, "You're the Michael sword."
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
The dorms were pretty busy in the evening — it was a Friday night, and the folks were going out to celebrate their freedom before spending an entire weekend in the library. Maddock should've met Marlene downstairs an hour ago and the idiot hadn't showed up.
She banged on his door, "Open up, Maddy! You unpunctual trust fund turd!"
Maddock opened the door, and Marley stepped inside like a hurricane, pushing him away, "What's wrong with you? I called, like, a gazillion times."
"How many millions is that?" he retorted cockily, closing the door.
"Too many," Marley grumbled and noticed that Maddock was still wearing his sweatpants and the Yale Bulldog's shirt. She gave him a once-over, brows raised, "You're wearing that? Your game is not that strong, Maddy."
He scratched his head and yawned, "Where are we going?" Maddock opened a drawer and took out a blunt.
"Out," Marlene plumped down on his unmade bed, "I've been writing that blasted essay on John Adams for ages, I need a breath of life."
Maddock chuckled and took a long drag. He handed the blunt to Marley, "None for me," she shook her head, "So where's Tessa? I thought you guys were — what? Why are you looking at me like that? Oh, my God, did you break up?"
"Marlene..." Maddock said slowly, like she was insane, "Tessa died."
Marley scoffed in disbelief, "What? Maddock, this is not funny, what are y —"
"Tessa's dead. Don't you remember?" he crouched before her, looking up at her staggered face, "You killed her."
She jumped off the bed, pushing him away, "What is wrong with you?"
"Me?" Maddock laughed, "You killed your friend, Marlene. You're a killer."
"Stop," she whispered, her vision becoming blurred, "Stop saying that!"
Maddock advanced on Marlene, forcing her to stumbled back, "Why? Because you can't handle the truth?" he hissed, pushing her to the door.
"I didn't kill her!"
"Oh yes, you did, you ruthless little midget," Maddock would never say something like that. He didn't even sound like Maddock anymore.
"What are you?" Marlene asked in a shaky voice.
Maddock smiled — it looked wrong. Then his face changed, morphing into someone she hadn't expected to see. Sam was staring down at her, the same dimples appearing on his cheeks. But his eyes...his eyes were cold, malicious, predatory. He leaned forward, his lips brushing against Marley's ear, "Wouldn't you like to find out?"
Marlene woke up to the beeping sound of the life-support machines. Bobby was still unconscious, his heart beating at a steady rhythm. Unlike Marley's, that was thumping in her chest like crazy. Wouldn't you like to find out?
She shivered from the mere memory of the voice. It was like she could still feel Sam's breath tickling her skin, his soulless eyes that glimmered crimson. She had dreamed it — of that, Marley was certain. Then why had it felt so real?
Stifling a yawn, she closed her father's journal — enough of that. She'd fallen asleep reading the chapter about her grandfather. It was certainly not the most riveting read, nor the most entertaining. Arthur had very little to say about the man. Anything positive, anyway.
"Excuse me, miss?" Marley turned to the door — it was the nurse that had admitted Bobby, "Can I talk to you outside?"
Shit, Marlene cursed and rose from the chair, leaving Arthur's journal on the coffee table. She followed the nurse into the corridor.
"Is everything okay?" Marley asked. She felt skittish out there, in the open. What if there were cops around? Or TVs with another story about a runaway Yale student? With all the shit going on in the world, they sure managed to fit her in there.
"I just need you to answer a couple of questions."
Marley nodded, "Of course."
The nurse took out a pen and brought it to the notepad, "What's the name of the patient?"
"Ro — oss, it's Ross. Ross Greene. He's my, uh, he's my uncle."
"How did he receive the stab wound?"
Good grief
"He...he was working in the shed. Yeah, there was all of that..." Marley made a vague gesture, "...stuff that they usually have in sheds? You know like nails, wood, b-beer..." she tapered off, noticing that the nurse was getting suspicious, "Um, he was sharpening knives and just...tripped over a sn — chainsaw."
The woman looked up from the notepad with a frown, "A chainsaw?"
"Guess his guardian angel was looking the other way, huh?" Marlene said with a nervous chuckle. But the nurse didn't find it funny. Marley cleared her throat, "So, um, is he going to be okay?
"It's too early to say. He needs to wake up before we can make any assessments," the nursed told her. Marlene nodded, glancing at Bobby, "Miss, what's your name?"
"Sorry?"
"I need to fill out the report. It's protocol," she explained, "I need your name."
"Oh, I...I'm Lilly. Lilly Adams."
The nurse scribbled something in her papers, "And the gentlemen who brought your uncle in?"
"I d — "
Attention, code blue, third floor, corridor two, room three-eleven. I repeat, code blue to all medical staff. Third floor, corridor two, room three-eleven...
The nurse put the notepad away, "Please, stay here," she told Marlene and hurried down the hall towards the staircase. Marley's brows shot up. She glanced at the ceiling. Saved by the bell, indeed.
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
Entry from December, 2000
When I dream, I dream about Sophia
I dream about knowing her
Loving her
And losing her all over again
Marlene had been staring at that page for almost half an hour. It was blank but for those four lines, and the next one was blank, too.
With a theologist for a father that had taken it upon himself to debunk anything remotely otherworldly, which, in retrospect, was nothing but gaslighting, there was one thing Marley couldn't help but believe in. Love.
But while others believed in the beauty of love, Marlene believed in its destructive power. She saw it in her father — the pain of loss, all those years later. Sometimes she feared that Arthur longed to see his wife so badly, he could actually take the final plunge into the unknown. Like Heathcliff, haunted by the ghost of his beloved, driven mad by it. So mad, he was ready to let millions die for the chance to see her again —
"Oh, balls..."
Her eyes shot up from the journal. " ?" Marlene instantly put it away and rushed over to Bobby's bed, " ?"
"You'll call me that when I'm dead, girl," he grumbled, barely lucid, "And I ain't dead yet." Bobby tried to lift himself up, an attempt that resulted in a wince. Marlene helped him a little, adjusting the pillows. It seemed that it's only then that he realised it was her, "What're you doin' here?" Bobby rasped out.
"Well, hello to you, too," Marley drawled sarcastically.
Bobby frowned to himself, growing visibly alarmed, "What the hell?"
"What is it?"
"I can't feel my freaking legs — "
The door opened, and Dean walked in, with Sam in taw. When Marlene saw him, she quickly looked away. "You alright?" Dean asked and then stopped, noticing that something was off, "What's wrong?"
"He can't feel his legs," Marlene told him.
Dean was about to say something, but Bobby beat him to it, "Screw it, they'll be fine," he grumbled and looked at Dean and Sam, "You'd better tell me what the hell you boys been up to."
Marley noticed Sam step aside a little, as if trying to make himself scarce. She frowned at that.
"Well, we did find the Michael sword," said Dean.
Marlene quirked a sceptical brow, "In a castle on a hill made of forty-two dogs?
"Turned out you were right, it was a code for something," Sam told her. His voice sent a shiver down her spine. "Wouldn't you like to find out?" "Our father's storage room."
"So where is it? That sword?" asked Bobby.
Sam and Dean exchanged wary looks. "That's the thing. There is no sword," Dean said.
"I knew it," Marlene exclaimed to everyone's annoyance, "What?"
He cut her an unimpressed glare and continued, "Because I am the sword."
"What?" Bobby asked.
"Apparently, I'm Michael's vessel. His weapon."
Marlene's brows twitched together, "So why hasn't he hijacked your body yet?"
"He's an angel," Sam replied, "They can't do it without your consent."
"And I sure as hell ain't giving it. Harry and Sally meet, millions of people die — "
"Good evening, Mister Greene..." A doctor strolled into the room, nose stuck in a chart. When he looked up from it, he started at seeing so many people inside, "You've quite the company, I see," the man's jovial smile came in comical contrast with Bobby's displeased expression.
"Mister Greene?" Dean frowned, confused.
Marley stepped forward, "Yes," she gave him a pointed look, "My uncle Ross."
Sam cleared his throat, "So, what's the prognosis, doc?"
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
"Unlikely to walk again"?!" Bobby yelled, red in the face, "Why, you snot-nosed son of a bitch! Wait till I get out of this bed!" The doctor fled through the door, seeking immediate escape, the chart clutched tightly in his hands. "I'll use my game leg and kick your friggin' ass! Yeah, you better run!" Bobby looked over at Sam and Dean, "You believe that yahoo?"
"Screw him. You'll be fine," Dean said gruffly.
Sam looked away. "So, let me ask the million-dollar question," he huffed out a grim laugh and glanced at Bobby, "What do we do now?"
"Well..." the old man considered it, "We save as many as we can for as long as we can, I guess. It's bad. Whoever wins, heaven or hell, we're boned."
"What if we win?" Sam turned to Dean, surprised at his sudden burst of confidence, misplaced or not. Bobby narrowed his eyes at him.
"Look," Marley said, "It's always good to stay positive, but, Dean — "
"I'm serious. I mean, screw the angels and the demons and their crap apocalypse. Hell, they want to fight a war, they can find their own planet. This one's ours, and I say they get the hell off it," Dean walked to the other side of the room, "We take 'em all on. We kill the devil. Hell, we even kill Michael if we have to. But we do it our own damn selves."
"And how are we supposed to do all this, genius?" Bobby asked.
Dean turned to them with a shrug, "I got no idea." Marley scoffed, earning a stink-eye from him. Sam watched them with a rather sceptical expression, "But what I do have is a GED and a give-'em-hell attitude, and I'll figure it out."
"This doesn't sound fatal at all," Marlene said, "No red flags when you're blind, isn't that right, Dean?"
He sent her an annoyingly confident smile. She shook her head.
"You are nine kinds of crazy, boy," Bobby told him good-naturedly. Judging by the look on his face, Marley would say he was...proud.
Dean considered it and shrugged, "It's been said."
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
For the first time in a very long time, things seemed...together. In a very chaotic, unsettling sense. A little haven in the eye of the storm before shit hit the fan and the world was either obliterated or made into a playground for two narcissistic celestial beings.
Before that happened, though, there was still life to be lived. And life to be born, Marlene reminded herself as she looked at the dozens of cots filled with newborns in the maternity ward. Those were the real angels — innocent souls, untainted by greed, jealousy or hatred. Clueless to the fate of the world they'd been born into.
"They are perfect," a voice spoke beside her. Marlene would've screamed had she not stood near sleeping babies. She turned and saw..."All made in God's image."
"Castiel?" she breathed in shock. The same freaking beige trench coat, the same spiked hair..." You're alive?"
The angel gave a solemn nod, "I am."
"But Chuck said you died, that the Archangel — " Marley broke off; she didn't want to repeat Chuck's words.
"I did," Castiel replied serenely.
"Then how are you alive?"
"How are all of them?" Cass said, looking at the newborn babies, "How are Dean and Sam?" He turned to Marlene, "By God's will."
She glanced at him quizzically, "God? You saw him?"
"I did not. But he made himself known to me."
Marlene didn't know how to process that information. Demons she'd got used to, angels, too. But God?
"He brought me back and put Sam and Dean on that plane," Castiel told her, and then added, curious, "How did you manage to escape death?"
"Gabriel," Marlene answered plainly.
"Ah," Cass nodded in understanding, "Sam and Dean still don't know," it was a statement rather than a question.
"Nope."
"Why haven't you told them?"
Marley snorted, "Cause there're two Archangels out there trying to kill each other and millions of people in the process? Isn't the ideal time for the grand reveal, don't you think? And it doesn't matter who bang who thousands of years ago," she said, "I'm not defined by my frolicking ancestors."
"They must know the truth, Marlene," Castiel spoke after a beat of silence, his voice grave, "And it's better that it comes from you."
"I know," Marley sighed, "But — I don't even know who I am. What I am. How can I confess to something I don't understand? I need time," she turned to Castiel, "To learn more about it. About my family. The curse."
"Time is not something we have right now, Marlene."
One of the children broke out in soul-wracking cries. A nurse rushed to coddle him. Marlene watched them with a detached expression on her face, "Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today," she quoted Mother Theresa, "So let us begin."
Marlene had to admit that there was solace in certainty.
Even if it was doom.