Seven Devils
Chapter 13 / When Sammy Met Marley
"While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal"
— Corinthians 4:18
Marlene had been having a strange reoccurring nightmare. There was a wide empty field, grass burnt out, lifeless. Blank. She saw a person on the other end, in a stark, white suit — it was Sam. He was walking towards her, silent and resolved, a man on a mission. And then he would stop, every single time he would stop in the middle of the field and raise his head to the sky.
And in every dream Marlene would wonder why he was doing it. And in every dream she would scream in horror when blood would come crashing down from above, like an infernal storm, painting the field crimson. Sam would turn to her, his face frighteningly impassive. And then he would smile like he always did, his eyes lightening up, and he'd yell out her name as if it wasn't raining blood, as if he wasn't knee high in it. And he would start choking, his face growing alarmed with panic, and Marlene would just stand on the far end of the field, forced to watch him die and unable to do anything about it.
Every single night.
Marley never believed in premonitions or bed omens — those were silly superstitions, nothing else. But even she sensed that these nightmare didn't bode well. Not at all. And every morning she'd wake up with a paralysing feeling of dread and a name on her lips. Sam.
Marlene tried to push the thoughts away and make herself busy — if she didn't sleep, the dreams would go away. It sounded reasonable back then. So she'd spend every night reading, cooped up in the car Garth'd rented out for her. They'd parted ways in Dallas, even though Garth'd offered to take her to the Mexican border. It wasn't the worst idea, but Marlene'd refused — she still had unfinished business in the great US of A. Plus, she was pretty sure that another hunt with Garth would get her killed.
Marley steered away from motels, even though she now had a fake ID. The risk of being recognised was too high, and she wasn't about to take it after what'd happened. She'd killed an officer and escaped. Not even Emily Livingston from Nebraska — her fun-loving alter-ego, could help with that. Marlene needed to lay low, and let the storm run its course. In the meantime, she'd sleep in the car, cocooned in her coat, and hope for the better morrow.
But somehow, it never came. The dreams were becoming increasingly worse and the lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll. Marlene had dozed off behind the wheel and barely escaped a crash on multiple occasions. Something had to be done.
And Marley knew exactly what.
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
Sam's shift was almost over. There was only a couple customers left — regulars, from what he could tell after the week spent bartending in the small-town bar. Same faces, same drinks, same jokes — every day was as predictable as the last, and for a time, Sam found comfort in that very much needed stability. But he was starting to feel a little restless.
"Whitey's here, two o'clock," Lindsey whispered with a mischievous smile, coming over to the bar, "Still on about that conspiracy theory."
Sam glanced at the pudgy middle-aged man at the corner table, waiting for his drink with a very determined expression, "I can deal with him — "
Lindsey put her hand on his, "Keith, relax, it's fine," she said soothingly, "He tips pretty well when he's angry. Now if he gets handsy, then you can kick his ass."
The blonde winked at Sam and walked away to take Whitey's order. It would no doubt be rye, three fingers, on the rocks. Sam sighed and resumed polishing the counter.
A sudden vibration in his pocket made him frown. No one had called him in over three days, not even Dean. Sam looked at the number — Unknown.
"Hello?" he answered, wary.
"Hey, Sam. It's Marlene? The girl — "
"I remember you, Marlene," Sam replied, a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Marley thought he almost sounded amused. "Are you okay? I've seen some stuff on the news..."
She looked out the window at the half-dead neon sign of the diner across the road, "Oh, that. Yeah, that's a long story, but, um, yeah. I — I'm fine, I'm alright," Marley picked up the road map from the passenger seat and laid it over the steering wheel, balancing the phone between her ear and her shoulder.
She could hear music on the other line, voices. It sounded crowded. "Sorry, I would've called, but I didn't have your number."
"That's fine, I got it, like, two day ago," Marlene looked at the map, trying to pinpoint her approximate location, "So, how are you guys? Any news?"
"Um, actually..." Sam dropped the washcloth on the scrappy wood and left his station. Lindsey threw him a concerned look over from Whitey's table. He gestured to the phone. She nodded and turned back to the grumpy old man, "Actually, I've decided to take some time off." Sam pushed the backdoor open and stepped out into the alley. The air felt crisp and fresh against his sweaty, flushed skin.
Marley almost chocked on the marker cap she had in her mouth, "Vo —" she spat it out and tried again, "What?"
"I needed to clear my head."
Marley could certainly understand that. She'd been exposed to this life for a little over two month and was already going crazy. She couldn't imagine what 26 years worth of that rollercoaster did to you.
"Well, I suppose that makes sense. Even hunters need a break," she circled the little town of Broken-Arrow, "So where'd you go? Hawaii? Jamaica? Thailand?"
"Almost," Sam smiled, "I'm in Oklahoma."
Marley sat up straighter, "Really? I'm in Oklahoma too."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes, I'm in Broken-Arrow. Where are you?"
"Garber. A little North of Oklahoma City — "
"Hey, Keith," Marley heard a female voice call. Sam turned to the door, "Need some help over there. Earl wants a refill and I can't manage that beastly machine."
"Yeah, sure. I'll be there in a moment," he told Lindsey, "Look, Marlene, I gotta to go. See you later?"
Marley circled Garber with a black marker, "See you later."
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
Garber was a quaint little Southern town with population of just over 800 people, which the welcoming sign very proudly declared. It was a marvellous place to be, thought Marley, especially after the hellish week she'd had.
She enjoyed the suburban scenery as she drove through the white-picket streets, past kids laughing on the playground, charming little shops, a gazebo on the main square, decorated with flowers and curling vines. Marlene loved small towns, because they were comforting, welcoming and, well, small, which made finding Sam much easier. In hamlets like this, there weren't many places a guest could stay. And in Garber, there turned out to be just one.
Marley got herself a room at the "Great Planes" motel situated a bit farther from the nice part of the town. The alternative was Aunt Judy's BB, and as tempting and apple pie-smelling as it sounded, it was also too risky. It had be an in-and-out kind of stay, with no tea parties and local gossip. Oh, the local gossip.
"Hey, I'm looking for a friend, maybe you seen him? Nice hair, extremely tall?" she asked the guy at the front desk. He looked way too young to be working at a place like this.
"Yeah, he works at the bar by the pier," he told her distractedly, busy counting the money Marley'd paid and putting it into the cash register. There wasn't even that much, but he seemed to be having some trouble with that.
"Thanks," Marley gave the boy a confused look and went on her own little hunt.
Yet another thing that made small towns a wonderful place to live — everything was a walking distance away. Coffee? Right around the corner. A scoop of ice cream? Don't my if I do walk a hundred feet. Marlene couldn't be happier to ditch the car and have a nice stroll in the sun. She had spent every waking hour — and there'd been a lot of those lately — in that wretched rental.
Marley pushed the bar door open and walked inside. She was surprised to see it so packed in the daytime: tables bustling with guests, a buzz of chatter filling the homely establishment. Marlene felt a pang of panic — she always did in crowded places. She had to remind herself that people didn't give two shits about her as long as she blended in. And right now Marley was standing in the middle of the dining area like a moron.
She spotted Sam at the bar, cutting what looked like limes, a washcloth thrown over his shoulder. He looked like a guy from a Hallmark chic flick that would change the life of a city girl forever with nothing but his provincial charm. It made her smile.
Shaking off the unease, Marlene squeezed through a group of local troublemakers, by the looks of them, and plumped on a bar stool. She cupped her face, elbows resting against the sticky wood, and watched Sam work. He was incredibly absorbed in slicing limes, though, so Marley had to attract his attention, "What's a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?"
Sam's deep hazel eyes snapped up and went wide, "Marlene?"
"Actually..." she took out the fake ID and slid it over to him, "It's Emily Livingston now."
Sam examined it and looked up at Marley, "I didn't expect you so soon."
"I drive really fast," she said. And I was also very worried.
"So, what does Emily Livingston like to drink?"
"Well," Marlene drawled thoughtfully, "She's very adventurous and flirty, likes new experiences. A little bit of an idiot, though, but that's alright. I think she'd like to be surprised. So come on, surprise me, Sam Winchester."
Sam shook his head, an amused smile playing on his lips, "Alright." He took a glass, poured some ice into it, a bit of scotch, and presented it to Marlene.
She frowned at the drink, "It's just scotch."
"You're surprised, aren't you?" Sam grinned cockily. Marley rolled her eyes and took a sip, smiling into the glass. "Plus, it's one of the few things I know how to make."
"Aren't you the bartender?"
Sam huffed out a laugh, "No, he'd just stepped out for a bit."
"Hey," a waitress came over to the bar, "Lookin' good, Keith," she winked.
Marlene sent Sam a question look, "Keith?" it asked. He smiled sheepishly, "What's the order, Lindsey?"
"Two light beers," the girl said, gazing at Sam. She turned to Marlene, "Hi."
Marley swallowed the scotch, "H-hi."
"You two know each other?" she looked between her and Sam.
"No. No, we've just met," he replied quickly.
"Yeah," Marlene confirmed, nodding, "Never seen this man before in my life."
Sam filled two beers and put them on Lindsey's tray, "Here you go."
"My saviour," she sighed dramatically and walked away.
Marley watched the exchange with raised brows, "Keith?"
"New town, new name," Sam shrugged, "Easier to stay off the radar. Speaking of," he leaned in closer to Marley, "What was all that stuff on the news? You killed an officer?"
She sighed, "This is a story for a place with less people to overhear it."
"My shift ends in fifteen minutes. We can grab some dinner?"
Marlene dawned the scotch and put it back on the counter, "Sounds great. Can I get a refill?"
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
Marlene had never enjoyed a meal quite like that. Perhaps, it was a lie and she was grossly exaggerating. Or maybe, just maybe, that ham and cheese sandwich was as delightful as it tasted to Marley who hadn't had any normal food in a week.
Sam watched in amusement as she closed her eyes, relishing every bite. The strange girl who'd all but fallen into their life. The girl who had managed to become one of the most wanted people in America without even holding a gun, who'd got herself involved in a shapeshifter-mafia business and had almost been killed by one of them, "So who was that guy who helped you?" Sam send a forkful of salad into his mouth.
"Some newbie hunter. Said his name was Garth. Do you know him?"
Sam's brow furrowed, "No, I don't think so. Did you two figure out who killed that shapeshifter?"
That part of the story Marlene had very sneakily left out. If she told him about Crowley, Sam would want to know what he wanted, and Marley wasn't ready to tell him the truth just yet. Especially now that the King of the Crossroads — whatever the hell that meant — was after her soul. She needed to deal with that before adding someone else into the equation.
"Garth said it was some gang business," Marley shrugged and took another bite of the sandwich.
Sam stared at her, shocked by the nonchalant answer, "Marlene...are you alright?"
"Yeah, it's all good. Garth arrived just in time for the final act. If it hadn't been for him, I'd be halfway to Shawshank or six feet under right now."
"You should've called," Sam told her, almost sounding reproachful.
"Your hands were pretty tight as it is, Sam, I didn't want to be a bother. Plus, I hate "I told you so's"."
"So you'd rather go to jail than be proven wrong?"
"Yes," Marlene replied seriously, "But it all worked out in the end." She preferred to ignore the fact that the police were still very much after her and a million other things that were tragically wrong.
Sam shook his head, chuckling incredulously, "Sounds like you've had one hell of a week."
"Says you," Marley scoffed, "Horsemen of the Apocalypse, huh? I should be more surprised but somehow I expected nothing less dreadful."
"I have a feeling it's just the beginning."
"Oh, it is. If they're doing a costume reenactment of Revelation's hit verses, it's only only gonna get worse," Marley took a sip of her iced tea.
Sam seemed contemplative, "Hey, you've noticed it too, right? The earthquakes, the storms? All the cataclysms?"
"Yeah, this stuff is all over the news. I'm starting to get jealous."
"What I mean is...the same thing happened in River Pass. A bunch of weird omens, like river getting polluted, a huge shooting star," Marley was listening intently, brows twitched together in concentration. The river, the star — it was all from the Book of Revelation, "There's this town nearby, Tully — insane hailstorm, lighting strikes burnt almost thirty acres of land."
Marley put the sandwich bake on the plate, "Sam...it could be nothing," she said gently, "I mean, fires are pretty common, right? Especially in rural areas like this. Doesn't seem that disastrous."
"Yeah, but —" Sam broke off with a crestfallen sigh, "I guess it's...it's probably nothing. Sorry, I'm just..."
"Hey, it's fine," Marley assured him, "Weird shit's happening everywhere, you can't be too cautious."
She hated to discourage him like that. Sam's eyes had practically lit up when he was talking about a potential case, something she hadn't seen since she got here. He didn't look like a man who'd got the much needed break. He looked tortured and restless.
"Sam — " Marlene started tentatively, "Sorry if I'm prying, but...did something happen? In Colorado?"
"No," Sam replied after a short pause, giving her a reassuring smile, "No, I just...realised that I wasn't ready to go back yet. Don't know if I'll ever be," he muttered, looking down into his plate.
Marley decided to leave it at that. She knew there was more to it, but until Sam felt like sharing it with her, she would keep her mouth shut. It was one of the things her late Tata had taught her: "People are like flowers, jan," she'd say, "You need to have patience. Be gentle with them, nourish them, give them your love and they will bloom."
And so she asked him about his life at Garber, about Lindsey who had the craziest crush on him, and serving drinks to drunks like his brother. There was no talk of the supernatural or the impending doom that humanity was facing — no, they talked about life. About school, where Marley was part of the cheerleading team (which Sam thought was extremely surprising). She told him about her father's enormous wine-cellar and how she'd still the cheapest bottles and sneak out to her friend's house where they'd hold their own wine-tasting. About the dog she'd got when she was 14 and promptly given away.
"Look, I'd been asking my dad for a dog forever, and then he got it for me. And you know what?"
Sam was already smiling, "What?"
"I hated it. I've never been more disillusioned in my entire life," Marlene said, "Like, I had this whole personality build around wanting a dog, and then that happened, and I didn't know who I was anymore."
"You had an existential crisis over a dog?" he asked, chuckling incredulously. It was ridiculous.
"Make fun of it all you want. It was a dark time in my life."
"Really? What did you do, watch Lady and the Tramp and cry?"
Marlene laughed, "Sam Winchester!" she exclaimed in scandalised disbelief, "You are terrible!"
Laughter wouldn't stop ringing even as they left the little diner and took a walk down to the motel. It was already dark outside, the streets deserted as if the entire town was on a strict curfew. Sam would glance over at Marley every time she burst out laughing. He had never met someone who laughed with such abandon, so loudly and heartily. It was infectious, and he found himself joining in, if only to bask in that warmth a little longer. Dean was wrong, Sam thought. There was not a drop of darkness in that girl.
But he knew she was hiding something. And that suspicion had nestled itself inside Sam's mind, raising its head every time he began to feel at ease.
"So that guy, Brady. He basically parent-trapped you and Jess?" Marley turned to Sam. He looked wistful.
"Yeah, you could say that."
"You still in touch?"
"Uh...no. I kind of cut ties with everyone when I left."
"Yeah," she said quietly, "I get it."
Sam noticed the light of excitement dim in her eyes and felt a grave urge to reignite it. "You studied Linguistics, right?"
The question brought a smile to her face. It was nice that Sam had actually remembered it, "That's right. Ancient languages and cultures."
"Any particular reason?"
"I was obsessed with Indiana Jones," Marlene told him, "I dressed up as him for Halloween for ten consecutive years."
"How old were you?"
"20 the last time," Marley replied casually. Sam laughed at her. "What? You never celebrated Halloween?"
"Uh, no," he said like it was absurd, "Our whole life was practically one big Halloween party."
They arrived at the dingy motel with a neon sign that hung from the roof like Damocles' sword, a gust of wind away from giving someone a very bad concussion. Sam walked to his room and fumbled for the key in his pockets. "You can have the bed, I'll take the couch," he said, opening the door.
Marley smiled at the offer, "I...I kind of got my own room."
"Oh," Sam looked at her sheepishly, "Okay, then —"
"But thank you," Marlene added quickly, feeling her cheeks flare up, "It's...uh, it's really nice of you. Thanks," she began to slowly retreat towards her room, "Good night, Sam."
He gave her a warm smile, eyes twinkling with amusement, "Good night, Marlene."
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
Marlene felt like she was on a spa retreat. Nice dinner, good company, a walk in the fresh air and a hot shower? Absolute bliss. A bliss that for most people, was a normal evening. Marlene'd never had the time for long showers — she used to always be in a hurry, always on the move. Now, though, she had all the time in the world (as much of it that was left, anyway), and relished the scorching heat and the perfect water pressure.
Sam Winchester, what a nice guy.
It was a strange thought to have in the shower, but Marlene couldn't stop replaying his smile in her head. Sam was the kind of guy you wouldn't think twice about bringing in to meet your parents, the kind who was moderately nerdy and extremely well-read, incredibly handsome without coming off vain, yet using his charm when he had to.
Marlene wished she'd met him all those years ago. He'd probably be a hot senior and she — a snotty freshman, dressed up as Indiana Jones. So she'd admire him from afar like the Holy Grail. And just like that, Marley's thoughts strayed even further, now preoccupied with her research about the emerald. She hadn't found anything except obscure articles from all around the world, claiming that a golden cup had been found, thought to be the Grail. They never were. And she wasn't even close to finding the answer to the question that bothered her most: why had her great grandfather been looking for that emerald?
Marlene stilled when she heard a sound coming from outside the bathroom. Was that a knock? She turned off the water and jumped out of the shower, snatching a towel from the railing. Marley wrapped it hastily around her body and left the steaming bathroom. Crap, that was cold.
More knocking. "I'm coming!" she yelled and opened the door..."Sam?"
Sam gaped at her, thrown into a stupor. His eyes did a once-over of her towel-clad body and he instantly drew them away, "S-sorry — I...I'll leave," Sam spluttered, studying the potted plant by the door with a keen fascination.
Marley suppressed a laugh at his sudden awkwardness, "It's fine," she told him, smiling, "Just, uh, give me a sec."
As soon as the door was closed, she rushed to her bag and got dressed faster than she ever had for the morning lectures she was late to. Now in a pair of leggings and the Bulldogs sweatshirt she'd stolen from Maddock, Marley opened the door again. Sam chanced a hesitant look at her.
"I'm dressed, Sam," Marley chuckled, "You can come in."
"Uh, sorry about that."
She closed the door behind him, "Relax, it's not like I was naked. So what's up? Everything's okay?"
Sam put his laptop on the table and opened it, "I couldn't stop thinking about Tully. So I tried to look for Revelation omens and..." he clicked on a tab, and a scanned page from the Book of Revelation popped up, in Latin.
And upon his rising, there shall be hail and fire mixed with blood, Marley translated. Hail and fire. She shot Sam a wary look, "Blood?"
"We'd better make sure it doesn't get to that part."
"Alright. Yeah, if we head out tomorrow — " Marley broke off when Sam lowered his eyes, "We're not going, are we?"
"I can't, Marlene," he said quietly, "I don't trust myself around...around them. Not yet."
"What do you mean, Sam?"
"Back in River Pass, I — I almost caved again. The blood," Sam paced, his face contorted with torment, "If Dean...if he hadn't showed up, I would've done it," he looked at Marlene with his green, haunted eyes, "I would've done it."
Now Marlene knew why he had left. It wasn't because he was tired or needed a break. It was because he was afraid of failing his brother again, of failing himself.
"Sam — "
"I gotta call Bobby," he said absently and grabbed his laptop, "Maybe he's got someone in the area to check out those omens."
"Sam, come on, lets talk about it — "
"Sorry for barging in, Marlene," Sam opened the door, "Good night."
And he left.
there's so much angst to come, guys
y'all aren't prepared for it
again, I can't thank you enough for reading and commenting!
hope you liked the chapter. I might just post the next one tomorrow...
xxx, marie