Seven Devils
Chapter 15 / Thelma & Louise
"They will do no wrong; they will tell no lies. A deceitful tongue will not be found in their mouths. They will eat and lie down and no one will make them afraid."
— Zephaniah 3:13
It was like a dam had collapsed, and water poured out in crashing torrents, shattering all the lies in its way. Marlene told him everything. About Gabriel, about the curse on her family and the truth about her father. She watched Sam closely through all of it to gauge his reaction, but his face remained inscrutable, a single crease between his brows to signify deep contemplation. He didn't ask questions, never made an attempt to interrupt her — he just listened. Closely and silently.
Even after her story had been finished and there were no secrets left to unravel, even then Sam didn't hurry to speak his mind. He just sat there, on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his thighs, like the statue of the Thinker.
"So your father freed Lilith?" Sam finally asked after the prolonged silence. It wasn't even a question, really. Just a very grim statement.
Marlene wet her chapped lips, "Y-yes. He...um, he gave Zachariah the last key to her cage."
"The emerald?"
She nodded hesitantly. Why didn't he get angry? Marley wanted him to hate her, to yell at her — anything but this quiet, pensive daze. At one point she'd even thought that, perhapsm her father's mistake would somehow alleviate Sam's. That maybe, just maybe, he would stop blaming himself for what he'd done so harshly, knowing that it was Arthur who'd flipped the first tile.
But looking at Sam now, Marlene wasn't sure she'd alleviated anything. She only made things worse.
"Marlene, I...that's — "
"I know," she said quietly.
Sam looked over at her, "Why didn't you say something?"
"Do you even need to ask?"
He lapsed into an unnerving silence again. The one that made Marlene wonder what was going on inside his head, beneath that luscious main of chestnut hair.
"Does this mean you're Gabriel's...daughter?"
"No. No, God, no," Marley spluttered. She wouldn't wish that on anyone. Yes, Arthur wasn't father of the year, but Gabriel? Perish the thought. "It's...very complicated. I mean, technically, his blood is running though my veins...sort of," she considered it a little longer, "A little bit of it. I guess what...what happened that night might've triggered it somehow. The same must've happened yesterday. When Tim fed me the blood? My body tried to fight it, like...like a virus."
"To purify itself." Marley shook her head to silence the echo. Should she tell Sam about it? She had to. Because she had a sneaking suspicion about who that creature was. God, Marlene never wanted to close her eyes ever again.
"There's something else," she said tentatively. Sam turned to her, "I've been having these dreams..." We don't want Sammy to worry, do we? Marlene squeezed her eyes shut for a second and opened them to Sam's worried face. When had he got so close? "There's, uh...there's a man. He's always there." Marley looked him right in the eye, voice trembling, "Sam, I think that's him. I think that's Lucifer."
He didn't appear as surprised as she'd expected. In fact, he wasn't surprised at all.
"What did he tell you?"
"He — he speaks in riddles, doesn't say much. He's mostly just...there to drive me mad. I — I don't know what he wants." The acute distress on Sam's face didn't escape her, "What? What is it?"
"I saw him too," he confessed, "Last night."
"You did?" Marley asked, mystified, "Did — did he tell you what he wants?"
"Yes," Sam stood up and walked to the window. Then he turned to her, "He wants me, Marlene. I'm his true vessel. At least that's what he said."
She sat up straighter on the bed, ignoring the searing pain, "What?"
"I think he possessed someone, but that body isn't strong enough to hold him. He needs me," Sam came over to Marlene; pensive, disturbed, "I guess that's why Azazel turned all of us. To choose the strongest vessel for Lucifer for when he came back."
Marlene frowned, "Like the Bachelor?" It was the best her foggy, bewildered mind could come up with.
Sam heaved an exasperated sigh, "Yes."
"But why would he come to me? What could he possibly want with me?"
"I...I don't know, Marlene," he said grimly. Clearly, he had some theories.
Marley was afraid to even contemplate Lucifer's sick designs. "He told me I could have my fun" Lilith'd said. "It's more about having something that the angels cannot..."
"He can't possess you without your consent though, right?" she asked anxiously, "He's still an angel."
"No, but he'll do anything to get it. Looks like he's already started," Sam muttered, pacing the small motel room.
How ironic was that and how twisted? Sam and Dean — vessels for the tragic heavenly brothers, destined to ruin each other and turn the world to dust. Was that how it was always supposed to be? How it was supposed to end?
"Did you tell Dean?" Sam gave a single, curt nod. "Well, what did he say?"
"We decided to go our separate ways," he said casually, thought there was an unmistakable sorrow in his voice.
"You decided to what now?" Marley exclaimed incredulously. "Sam, we only have a chance of winning if we're in it together. Divide and conquer is not the way to go here —"
"Yes, but together, we're sitting ducks for Michael and Lucifer," Sam told her, but the words sounded foreign coming from him. He hardly believed in what he was saying, "It's better if we split up."
Better for who? Marlene wanted to ask. But she would never let herself go like she had the night before. It was obvious that Sam wasn't ready to hear what she had to say. To hear anything, for that matter — he looked absolutely lost and only made it more obvious by trying to act like it was his idea.
She only hoped that Dean would pull his head out of his righteous ass.
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
Fucking angels.
Dean'd been thinking that a lot these days. Out of gas? Fucking angels. Card being declined? Fucking angels. Time travelling to 2014 and being dumped in the zombie apocalypse ground zero?You guessed it.
He should've known it was Zachariah. It had his smug fat face written all over it. The bastard wanted to teach him a lesson? Well, Dean was 'bout to shove that freaking lesson right into his celestial ass.
But first he needed to figure out what the hell was going on. All he knew was what Zachariah had told him: apparently, this was the world in which Dean'd refused Michael, Sam'd spread his legs before Lucifer and everything had gone to shit. That was certainly a nice start. So Dean came to the only place he could think of.
Bobby's house looked like crap. It'd certainly never been a palace, but the apocalypse sure hadn't made it prettier. "Bobby? Bobby, I'm coming in!" Dean yelled. The place was completely trashed. It wasn't the usual organised chaos, with books laying around while Bobby did his research. No, it was just regular chaos, with shit turned upside down. And judging by the spider webs and the dust, it had been awhile ago.
With a strange feeling of premonition, Dean walked into the living room. "Oh, no," he breathed, spotting Bobby's wheelchair on he floor, flipped over. When he reached down put it straight, Dean noticed bullets holes on the back of the seat. Stained with dried, crusty blood.
"Where is everybody, Bobby?" he wondered out loud, looking around the rampaged room.
Dean went to the fireplace and opened a hidden compartment beneath the mantlepiece — that's where Bobby always kept his journal. Whatever questions Dean had, he knew that he'd find the answers in there.
He pulled out the journal and found an aged black-and-white photo of Bobby with some guys dressed in military uniform and...Cass? They were posing with guns in hand in front of a sign.
WELCOME TO
CAMP CHITAQUA
Dean was standing in front of that same sign a few hours later. It looked more ominous during night-time, like some kind of a secret government facility. And by the looks of it, Dean's guess wasn't too far off: a couple of guys, armed with weighty guns, were patrolling the perimeter inside the wired fence.
Dean crouched a little, moving stealthily to avoid the light of their flashlights. He wouldn't won't to be caught sneaking around their camp. Especially after he'd seen what those guys did to the infected in the city. He doubted they were the "ask questions, shoot later" type of folk.
But Dean was yet to see the greatest victim of this post-apocalyptic hellhole. He had never knew true heartache until he caught sight of the Impala, abandoned in the rubble, wrecked and rusted. "Oh, baby, no," Dean whispered and headed over there to take a closer look at it. He found a way around the fence and approached the car too peer inside the driver's seat. "Oh, no. Baby, what did they do to you?" he groaned, grief-stricken.
Dean thought he heard rustling behind him, but before he could turn around, he was knocked out.
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
Sam and Marlene decided to go to Bobby's while they figured out what to do next. It was as good a place as any to recuperate and come up with a plan to save the world and flip both Lucifer and his overbearing big brother a fat, heavenly bird.
But there was a long way to go from Garber to Sioux Falls — nine hours, spent in the car with Sam Winchester, the walking and driving but, apparently, not talking statue. They'd taken her shabby rental pickup, curtesy of Garth. And since Marlene was too weak to get behind the wheel, Sam'd volunteered to do it. Actually, Sam had told her to hop into the passenger seat in no uncertain terms, and Marley'd felt too guilt-ridden to contradict him.
Sam had every right to be mad at her. And at Dean — hell, even she was mad at him. Only Marlene would've liked Sam to be a different kind of mad. The kind that didn't stare blankly at the winding road and said more than two words per hour. The last time Sam'd spoken was when they'd got into the car and he'd seen an ungodly amount of fast-food packs and candy wrappers in the backseat. Even then, it was only a disappointed sigh and a reproachful, disbelieving look that said, "That's what you've been eating?" Marlene thought it best not to tell him that that's where she'd been sleeping too.
Sam's perpetual grumpiness'd started to get on Marlene's nerves approximately two gas-stops into the road trip from hell. She'd find herself glancing over at his stoic profile from time to time, in the hope of seeing the frown gone from his face. Alas.
Marley was feeling bored, and restless, and incredibly drowsy. But every time she'd give in and close her eyes, she would shake herself awake. Marlene couldn't allow herself to fall asleep. She couldn't see him again.
Sam glanced over at her, "You need to sleep, Marlene." And it speaks.
"I really don't," she muttered, rubbing her eyes until she saw stars. Well, that was a nice little talk.
With an pointed sigh of annoyance that Marley hoped hadn't gone unnoticed by Sam, she reached forward and turned on the radio.
"Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan is still at large — "
"Louisiana is bracing for the largest storm since Hurricane Katrina. The governor has declared a state of emergency — "
Oh, for fuck's sake
"...more than a million acres of land have burned in California, and the number is rapidly growing. Many people've lost their homes, Gary — "
Sam shuffled restlessly in the driver's seat, gripping the wheel tighter. Marley changed the station again — this time, it was Taylor Swift's voice that came through.
That you were Romeo, you were throwin' pebbles
And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet"
And I was cryin' on the staircase
Beggin' you, "Please —
"Hey!" Marley exclaimed indignantly, turning to Sam, "I was listening to that."
"I did both of us a favour."
She squinted at him. The nerve, "It is my car, you know."
"But driver picks the music."
Marlene sighed and fell into the back of her seat, arms crossed, "Well, at least you're talking now. That silent passive-aggression was driving me nuts."
Sam threw a bewildered look at her, "Silent passive-agression?"
"Yeah. Your way of punishing me for lying."
"I'm not punishing you," he said incredulously.
"Then why does it feel like you are?"
Sam shrugged, "Maybe because you're feeling guilty," he said matter-of-factly.
"I'm not. I told you everything," Marlene turned away to look at the road, "You even saw me half-naked, there's literally no secrets between us."
He looked at her askance, cheeks tinged with a pale shade of pink, "I'm not punishing you, Marlene," he said measuredly.
"Alright, then. Because I already told you how sorry I am."
A beat of silence. "I just think you could've told us earlier. If we'd known about the emerald, perhaps, we could've used it against Lilith — "
"Oh, please," Marlene scoffed, secretly pleased to have gotten something out of him, "You and Ruby had your hands pretty full as it was."
Sam fell silent, jaws clenched as he resumed his stare-off with the road ahead. Marley wanted to scream. "What else should we discuss?" she wondered pretty obnoxiously, "Perhaps, your and Dean's mutual decision to take a pause and reinvent yourselves?"
"What do you want me to say, Marlene?" Sam asked wanly.
"I want you to admit that you're angry, for God's sake! Or not for his sake, because I don't think he cares that much anymore," Marley mumbled with a thoughtful frown. She sighed and turned to him, "Sam, I lied to your face, my father is almost single-handedly responsible for the Apocalypse and Dean is being a total dick — why aren't you mad?"
Sam ignored her more intently. "You did one shitty thing and now what? Everything pales in comparison? Well, I've got a newsflash for you, Winchester: you don't have the monopoly on fucking up."
"Can we please not talk about it right now?" Sam implored. Only the white of his knuckles indicated the true level of his inner turmoil, "Let's just get to Bobby's and go from there, alright?"
Fine. Marley gave him a side-eye and turned away to the window. The car seemed even smaller now. God, she couldn't imagine another four hours of silence —
The engine made a series of chocking sounds, couching up a cloud of smoke. And after wobbling down the road for a few seconds, the car stopped altogether. Sam tried to restart it a few times, but there was no response — the control panel was completely dark
With a tortured sigh, Marley looked outside at miles and miles of green fields.
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
Dean was beginning to break a sweat — pulling out a nail from the floorboard was harder than it looked. His entire face was contorted in concentration, shining beads running down his forehead. God, he couldn't believe he was such a dick. Handcuffing himself to a ladder? Dean would never do that. What kind of sick bastard would he become in five years?
"Come, on," he muttered, glaring at the nail that just wouldn't come out...until it did. Dean held it up like a trophy and began to fiddle with the lock.
"What are you doing?"
He almost dropped the frigging nail. Dean whipped his head to the door and saw a little boy standing in the threshold, watching him. "Heeeey there, buddy. Mind helping me out?"
The boy giggled, "You're being silly."
"A "no" then," Dean sighed and resumed his ministrations. The boy just stood there, watching him, which Dean thought was creepy, like the Shining creepy. He let out an annoyed sigh and looked up, "Why don't you go play ball with you friends, yeah?"
"I don't have any friends," the boy said plainly.
Dean raised his brows. Well, it least he was honest. "How did you get in here?"
"I opened the door."
Alright. With a sweet-sounding click in the lock, Dean took off the handcuffs and stood up. His head was still kind of hurting from the blow. God, what a freaking asshole. He walked to the door and stuck his head out to see if there was someone outside. When Dean was certain that the coast was clear, he left the house.
"What are you doing?" the boy wondered, trailing after him.
Dean threw him a side-eye look, "I'm trying not to get — "
"Hey, Dean." He turned around, stumped. Chuck was approaching him, looking all business. When the prophet noticed the small boy, his brows shot up in surprise, "Hey there, Robby.
"Hello, Chuck," the boy replied in a sweet voice.
Chuck smiled at him, endeared by the toothless grin, then looked up at Dean, "Hey, you got a second?"
"No — yes. Uh, I — I guess. Hi, Chuck."
Chuck glanced down at Robby, who was still standing there. Then at Dean again, with a slight frown, like he couldn't process them being together, "Hi. So, uh, listen, we're pretty good on canned goods for now, but we're down to next to nothing on perishables and — and hygiene supplies. People are not gonna be happy about this. So, what do you think we should do?"
Dean wanted him to repeat all of it because he didn't think he'd heard a single thing. "I — I don't know," he said slowly. Chuck squinted at him, confused. Dammit, "Maybe, uh, share? You know, like at a kibbutz."
Robby was gazing up at them, eyes jumping from Dean to Chuck. The prophet frowned, "Wait a minute. Aren't you supposed to be out on a mission right now?"
"Absolutely," Dean quickly recovered, "And I will be."
Suddenly, Chuck's eyes shot to something behind him, "Uh-oh," he breathed in panic.
"Robby!" a woman's voice called out. Dean turned back and saw a familiar brunette advancing on them, her face the picture of fury, "Robby, I told you not to leave!" Marlene was out of breath, her cheeks slightly flushed. She crouched down to the boy and brushed his dark curly hair away, "What were you thinking?"
"I'm sorry, mommy," he mumbled sheepishly.
Dean's brows flew up. Marlene had a kid? He did look like her, he now realised. With the same mop of chestnut hair and hazel eyes. That were now glaring at him. "You were with him?"
"Yes?" Dean replied.
Marlene looked exhausted. Older. She sighed and rose to her feet, "Look, Dean, I thought we had an agreement —"
"Mommy, uncle Dean didn't do nothing. I promise! It was all me, I ran away!"
Uncle Dean?
"'Didn't do anything'," Marley corrected and glared at Dean, "And Uncle Dean never does anything, does he?" she said, voice drenched in derision, "Come on, Robby." Marlene took the little boy by the hand and led him away.
What else had his dick-alter ego done?
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
Tyro, Kansas
Marlene and Sam awaited the verdict with bated breath, watching the mechanic assess the damage. At last, the man shut the hood of the car and wiped his greasy hands with a cloth, "It ain't lookin' good. The alternator's burned all the insides, I gotta replace the battery and see if it works."
Sam nodded slowly, "Okay, sure. How...exactly how long is it going to take?"
"Two, three days?" the man shrugged, "I'll let ya know."
Now isn't it just great, Marley groaned internally.
"Is there anywhere we could stay?" she said instead, "A motel, perhaps?"
The mechanic scoffed, "Yeah, you ain't gonna find no five star hotels 'round here. But there's pastor Wilkinson's farm up the hill, he'll sure take you in like a good christian."
Marley and Sam shared a look and seemed to both decide that it was the best possible option at the moment. The town of Tyro — which could hardly be called a town, really, more like a village — had been the nearest one to their car.
"I could give you a lift if you want," the man offered.
Sam gave him an grateful smile, "That'd be great, thank you."
"Just give me a minute, I gotta finish something up."
Rory disappeared into the backroom, leaving Marlene and Sam alone for the first time since their fight. She chanced a glance at Sam and caught him doing the same. They both looked away. "So...this should be a fun retreat," Marley said.
"Yeah," Sam huffed out a dry laugh, but then his face went still. Confused by the sudden shift, Marlene followed his eyes and saw a police car drive up to the auto repair shop.
"Oh, no," she whispered, heart beginning to race from panic. How had they found her? She'd been so careful...
"Calm down," Sam whispered, eyes trained on the police car, It could be a coincidence — "
"Yeah, or it couldn't," she hissed.
The police officer got out of the car, the star on his hat glimmering in the sun. He took a look around and then walked into the garage. Marley instinctively snuck behind Sam's tall frame and bowed her head.
"Hi," the officer said, taking off his hat, "Sheriff Dickson. You two just passin' though?"
"Yeah, our, uh, car broke down on the road. Rory helped us get it here," Sam replied with perfect nonchalance. Marlene hoped to someday achieve that level of composure. Now though, was not the time to begin. She fixed her hair so that they covered the right side of her face.
"Well, welcome to Tyro," the sheriff drawled, "Is Rory still around by any chance?"
"Yes, I think he's in — "
"I'll be damned," the mechanic came out from the backroom, "What a pleasant surprise, chief."
The sheriff didn't look like he came for a good old chat, though. His face was grim, "Rory, why don't you sit down?"
The man sighed, "What have my son done now, sir? Whatever it is, he ain't gettin' away with it this time. His momma's gonna whoop his lilly-white ass — "
"Rory, Charlie died."
The sheriff's words struck Rory like a flash of lightning. The man stilled, his flushed face a mixture of disbelief, shock and grief, "What did you just say?"
"I'm very sorry," the sheriff lowered his eyes, "We found him in the field behind Lenny's farm. He was already gone."
It would've been quite ironic if it wasn't so said, Marlene thought. It seemed like death and misfortune followed them wherever they went. She turned to Sam and found him watching the scene with a wary look in his eyes. Perhaps, he was thinking the same thing. Did he blame himself for that, too?
The sheriff talked with Rory awhile, explaining what'd happened. Marlene and Sam only caught fragments of the conversation, but it was enough to raise suspicion. Dickson mentioned blood and something about bites. Marlene wasn't a seasoned hunter, but even she could put two and two together.
Rory was holding up pretty well; stoic. But it was obvious how much strength it took for him not to break apart. He nodded, jaws clenched, then nodded again. The sheriff padded Rory on the shoulder and told him something, probably how he'd do anything to get to the bottom of it. A boy dead in the field in such a small town? Marley was no detective, but it sounded kind of fishy.
"Is everything okay, sir?" Sam asked when the sheriff walked back to them, leaving Rory to grieve alone.
"It ain't, son," he shook his head, dejected, "Charlie was only fifteen. I was at the boy's baptism, for Christ's sake," Dickson put his hat back on, "A town like this, you don't expect this stuff to happen."
"What stuff?" asked Marley, completely forgetting about her apparent guise.
"You think he was murdered?"
Sheriff Dickson looked at Sam, then at Marlene, a little squint to his brown eyes, "You said you were just passin' through?"
"Yes, we're on our way to Omaha. To investigate a case," Sam reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out an FBI badge. Marley's eyes went wide, but she quickly cleared her throat to mask her surprise, "Agent Broderick, this is Emily Livingston, an independent consultant for the Bureau. Could you tell us more about what happened?"
The sheriff threw a sceptical look at the badge, then at Sam and Marlene. After a few moments of careful consideration, he gestured to the garage door, "Why don't we talk about this outside?"
They followed the sheriff to his car, "Lenny, the local farmer, found Charlie's body in the field behind his house. White as parchment, no signs of struggle, just a couple of bite marks on his neck, that's it," Dickson said, "Look, it's a small town. Peaceful. Things like this happen, folks get scared. I know every bastard in the area, and I can tell you — we ain't got no killers here in Tyro."
"Did you say he was exsanguinated?"
Sheriff Dickson nodded gravely, "Not a drop left. What kinda sick person would do that?"
"What was the cause of death?" Marley wondered.
"We don't know yet. The coroner's still working on the autopsy report."
"Could we take a look at the body?"
"It's in Caney right now. A fifteen-minute ride," Dickson replied, "I can drive you there tomorrow."
Sam nodded, "Thank you."
"You got a place to stay?" the sheriff asked, looking at him and Marley.
"Uh, Rory said something about pastor Wilkenson?" Marley trailed off, "He was going to take us there, but..."
"Oh, yes. Yes, Wilkinson will have a room for you," Dickson nodded and pointed his head toward the car, "Come on, I'll give you a lift."
Marlene would never have thought that she'd be willingly getting into a police car a week after being arrested. And yet, there she was in the backseat, behind the bars again.
"I thought you said you'd burned them," Marley whispered to Sam.
The shadow of a smile crossed his face, "Not all of them."
There was definitely something wrong with this town.
hello there,
am I getting annoying with these updates yet??
alright, so sam and marley just can't seem to catch a break.
what do you think is going on in this creepy little town? Vampires? Hmmmm
Also, Robby...my sweet summer child. You'll see more of him in the next chapter:)
THANK YOU LOADS AND LOADS FOR COMMENTING!
that's probably what gets these chapters out so fast, you guys inspire me!
see ya soon,
xxx, marie