Seven Devils
Chapter 23 / Bye Bye Birdie
"There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief."
— Aeschylus
Cambridge, Massachusetts , 1990
Sunlight spilled through the glass window like golden dust, dancing in the air and covering every corner of the little pink bedroom in a warm, sparkling glow. Marlene's doll-like ringlets shone auburn in the golden light, springing every time she went to refill her guests' teacups.
"Do you want a cookie, Mr. Woof?" she asked a stuffed Dalmatian smartly dressed in a suit, a pair of glasses resting on his snout. Marlene had nicked them from her father's room and so far, he hadn't noticed. She found they suited Mr. Woof much better, anyway.
"Here's a chocolate chip for you, your favourite," she put the cookie on the plastic plate in front of him, smiling a toothless smile. The little girl then turned to a porcelain doll, "More tea, lady Scarlett?" Daddy said it'd been her grandmother's, which Marley supposed was true — it was old and a little scary, her periwinkle dress slightly rugged. She picked up a small teapot and tipped it over a toy cup, pretending to fill it with the hot, herbal drink, "There you go, my lady! What about you, sir Indiana —," a gasp tore from Marlene's lips as a bird smacked right into the window, hitting the glass with a loud, dull thud.
Hazel eyes cartoonishly wide with horror, Marlene shot from her little chair and stormed out of the bedroom, "Daddy, daddy!" she yelled, running down the stairs. Her father was very strict about doing that, but Marlene knew he wouldn't get mad. After all, it was an emergency.
Arthur appeared from the living room, "Marlene?" he called back, alarmed, "Marlene — no, don't run down the stairs. Marlene!" he admonished, significantly less worried at seeing his daughter perfectly wild. Her chestnut hair was all over the place as she charged down, skipping the last stair and landing on the soft carpet. It was beautiful and super old, like everything in their house. And like everything in their house, Marlene wasn't supposed to play with it. Or jump on it, "Hey — slow down, little heathen," Arthur caught her by the arm, "Now explain what happened."
"Can't, daddy! There's a little bird, and it crashed into the window and there was a BOOM! And — and it fell down, and now we have to see if it's okay!" Marley grabbed a confused Arthur by his hand "Come on, we need to hurry!"
She dragged him out into the backyard, which was a feat to be marvelled at for a girl of merely five — but then again, Marlene was a stubborn little thing. When they finally approached the area below her window, she dropped Arthur's hands and rushed to the place where the bird would've likely fallen, "There it is, daddy!" Marley exclaimed, spotting a speck of white in the sea of green.
Arthur watched the hope on his daughter's face turn into worry and then panic as she slowly realised that the creature wasn't moving. He walked up to her and crouched down: the bird's tiny chest was barely fluttering, its wings broken and battered — Arthur knew it was going to die.
"What do we do?" Marley whimpered, eyes brimming with tears.
Death was no stranger to her — Arthur had explained the complicated concept to Marlene like he would his students: like any story, life had a beginning, a middle and an end, and death was nothing but the culmination of an incredible journey through time. He was always candid with his daughter, never treating her as inferior — children were smart, they could understand things even adults would struggle to comprehend. Their minds were fresh, malleable, more accepting of the impossible — and sometimes, the impossible was the only way.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Arthur told her, "We cannot save it."
"But — "
He wrapped an arm around her tiny frame, "It's gone, Marlene. Come," Arthur rose to his feet, pulling her up with him, "We should give it a proper burial."
"No!" Marley wriggled out of his hold, a stubborn frown etched into her heart-shaped face, "It's still alive, I can feel it!"
Arthur stopped then, "What?"
Marlene sat back on the grass and gently stroked the bird's feathery chest, "It's not dying," she whispered and smoothed out its wings, "It's going to be fine, you'll see." The little girl took the bird's frail body into her palms and cradled it to her chest, "Come fly, birdie," she mumbled, caressing its tiny head.
Arthur watched his daughter, wary and awe-struck. Marlene looked so calm, so composed, like she knew exactly what she was doing. "Sweetheart..." And then he heard a chirp. And then another. His daughter's ringing laughter filled the backyard.
"See, daddy?" she giggled.
And Arthur did see, only...he didn't understand. Marlene raised her palmed hands and opened them, freeing the bird. The tiny creature fluttered its healed wings and chirped excitedly before flying away.
"Bye-bye, birdie!" Marley yelled, shielding her face from the sun as she watched her new friend disappear into the sky.
Perhaps, it was one of the things only children could understand.
The impossible.
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
"Dad?" the word felt strange coming out of her mouth. Marlene hadn't spoken it in a very long time. But there he was — the man who'd raised her, who'd gone to every Harry Potter movie with her even though he abhorred magic (the irony), the man who'd lied to her and doomed all of humanity. Yes, Arthur Ter-Gabrielyan was a highly versatile man.
"Ah, the reunion," the host spoke again, breaking the reverie. He rose from the couch and stopped between Marlene and Arthur, acting as a mediator, "Father and daughter, brought together at last. Now, Arthur, tell me...how are you feeling?"
Arthur gave Dr. Bill a baffled look, "What on earth is going on?" he asked Marlene.
"Oh, don't look at me. Better take it up with your bumbling sidekick."
He walked closer to Marlene, ignoring the host like he didn't exist, "What are you —"
"Father and daughter," Dr. Bill sighed in delight, making his presence painfully known, "Already lost in conversation — "
"Your comedic-relief better half? The second pea in the pod? The Dumber to your Dumb?" Marlene listed, fired up, "I can go on, just say when."
Arthur's brows flew up, eyes clearing with a realisation. Then he pursed his lips, "Gabriel," he muttered, "of course."
"You guys need to work on communication. I hear it's key," Marlene told him, every word coated and deep-fried in sarcasm.
"Alright, alright," Dr. Bill sounded tense, his smile almost murderously cheerful. He grabbed Arthur by the elbow, then did the same with Marlene and pulled them both into a half-hug. What the hell? Marley glared at him, appalled, "The fate has brought the two of you together, but the path to reconciliation is long and winding. You know, per aspera ad forgiveness. Sorry folks, my latin is a bit rusty!" As if on cue, the audience laughed, "Marlene, Arthur, please take your seats."
Arthur looked at his daughter, lost. She sighed, "Just go with it," Marley told him and did as was instructed.
Arthur sat down next to her, "How long have you been here?"
"About half an hour."
"I don't understand. Why would Gabriel — "
"Arthur," Dr. Bill spoke his name like an executioner, "Are you happy to finally see your daughter?"
Marlene had never seen her father so at a loss before. It brought her evil satisfaction, "I...of course," Arthur was looking at her as he said it, "I have missed her every single day. I — Marlene, you have to — "
"No-no, we don't use such language in this studio, Arthur. Marlene has no obligations to you, she is free to make her own decisions. Marlene," Dr. Bill's unsettling blue eyes flashed to her, "Do you wish to hear him out?"
Marlene turned to Arthur, "Yeah, sure," she replied faintly. Pleased, Dr. Bill gestured for Arthur to go on.
"What..." Arthur leaned in and said quietly, "What does he want me to say?"
Marley shrugged, trying to appear casual while everything inside her was twisted with anxiety, "I don't know. I mean, truth would certainly be nice," Before Arthur managed to come up with another gaslighting excuse, she added, "The entire truth, father."
His face slacked with resignation, "What did Gabriel tell you?" Suddenly, the studio lights dimmed with a dramatic sound effect. The couch was thrown into the spotlight, "Has he lost his mind?" Arthur exclaimed, half-blinded.
Marley quirked a brow, "Did he have one to begin with?"
"Can they forgive?..." a mysterious voice whispered. The audience started clapping.
Arthur looked around, "This is ridiculous."
"Well, we're here," Marlene said matter-of-factly, "might as well be honest with each other. I'll start," she took a more comfortable position on the couch, "Alright, so...I've almost been killed by two demons, a shapeshifter and a bunch of Furies," Arthur's face blanched, "Wait, I'm not done. I'm a suspect in three murders, currently on the most wanted list — hope my mugshot is on our fridge next to my drawings. What else? Oh, right," Marley chuckled at her forgetfulness, "And I've recently found out that the emerald — the one you gave to Zachariah to initiate project "Doomsday", remember? Yeah, that emerald is the only thing that could save our family from whatever the hell awaits on the other side. Phew," Marlene finally drew a breath, "Now I'm done."
Arthur blinked at her once, twice; his face frozen in a pained, horrified expression, "Are you...are you okay? God, Marlene..."
"Oh, and God's AWOL," she added as an afterthought, "Castiel's on the lookout, but the big guy is nowhere to be found."
"Castiel is looking for...God?" Arthur asked. This entire thing was a theologist's wet dream.
"Well, if God can't sort out this mess, then who can? Certainly not you," Marley considered it, "Well, unless you could go back in time and not follow through with your stupid plan. Then we could've happily avoided it altogether."
"You're kidding yourself if you think Zachariah wouldn't have found another way to get the stone. At least this way, we're getting something out of it."
Marlene scoffed, "And you are kidding yourself if you think Zachariah will honour whatever deal you've made."
"He will," the assurance in his voice ticked her off.
"How can you be so certain?"
"Because I am," Arthur said curtly.
Marlene narrowed her eyes at him, "You know what? This is stupid," she stood up as if there was a door she could walk out of, "You're so caught up in your own damn lies, you can't even see through them anymore."
Arthur followed her up, "You don't understand, Marlene — "
"You're right," she looked at him sharply, "I don't understand. So help me understand. Please, because I have no idea what's going on. Even your journal is one big book of mysteries..."
Arthur gaped at her, "So it was you — you took my journal?" he dared to sound accusatory.
"Scribbles of a tortured liar, much help they were," Marley snapped venomously. The poisonous words left a sour taste in their wake, standing between them like a wall of concrete. Arthur and Marlene stared each other down, equally petty and stubborn.
"Look, Marlene..."Arthur finally spoke again, raking a hand through his mane of salt-and-papper hair, "I've never wanted any of this — turning into my own father..." he shook his head, "All I've ever done, I've done to protect you. I don't care what it takes, if it's right or wrong, I don't care who lives or who dies — as long as you're safe, the world can burn for all I care." Arthur sounded so cold and yet so desperate, so at odds with himself, so...so unlike himself. All Marlene could do was listen, "I've never had a family, not really. My father, your grandfather, he...he was not well. Plagued by his demons, haunted by the ghosts of the past who whispered in his year day and night. It — it poisoned him, this...chase, this obsession. It poisoned our entire family," Arthur's eyes were distant as he spoke, lost in the years long past, "My entire childhood, all I've ever heard was the curse. How we owed it to our ancestors to break it, to put all the tortured souls to rest. And...At some point, seeking a way to break the curse had become a curse in itself."
"When I left for college, I had a fight with your grandfather. You already know that, but I've never told you what it was about," Arthur hesitated to speak further, but the afflicted look in Marlene's eyes made him continue, "He kept going on and on about our's family legacy, our duty, and I — " he broke off, averting his eyes, "I told him I'd break the vicious circle. I told him...that our bloodline would end with me."
Marlene gaped at him, shocked, "What?"
"That was the merciful thing to do," Arthur tried to explain, "A way to end it once and for all. And I was adamant on never having children. Until..."
When I dream, I dream about Sophia
I dream about knowing her
Loving her
And losing her all over again
"Until you met mom," Marley whispered.
Arthur nodded, a rueful smile lighting up his weary face, "She was...magic. With her, everything seemed possible. And like a fool, I thought that maybe, just maybe I could have it. With her. She was the exception to every rule, so how was this different? Perhaps, she could beat the odds and draw the darkness away," sorrow seeped back into his expression, "But the darkness swallowed her whole."
Marlene blinked back her tears, "And you were left with the constant reminder of her absence," she said bitterly.
"No," Arthur said vehemently, "Never, don't — Marlene, you were the only thing I had left. You have never been a reminder of her absence," Marley could barely see his face through the tears, "You are the embodiment of her light."
"Dad..."
"And I can't see this light extinguished, Marlene. I won't," Arthur shook his head, "You can hate me, God knows I deserve it, but I will always choose your safety above anything."
"But, dad — " Marlene whispered, tasting salt on her lips, "How...how is dying safe? I know you want to see mum, but there's an entire world out there. She will wait for us," she pleaded with him, "And...and we can find the other pieces of the stone, and figure out a way to break this curse, together. We've always done everything together, remember? Like that bird?" Marley sobbed, a small smile cracking through the sadness, "You thought it was dead, but we fixed it. We always fix it, dad. Just please — let us fix it."
Arthur reached out and took her hand in his trembling one, "There isn't enough time, Marlene," he told her gently, like she was five years old again, crying over a dead bird.
"Dean and Sam will stop it," Marlene assured him urgently, "You should meet them, dad, they're...amazing. You were right, they're the best out there. And they will make everything right. And when it's all finally over, we can start looking, you and I..."
"Sweetheart — " Arthur's voice broke with emotion, "Even then, there won't be enough time."
Marlene frowned, "But why? What — "
"Marlene..."
"No, you're doing it again!" Marley yelled, her face flushed with tears and anger, "Why can't you just tell me?"
"Because it won't matter," he answered plainly. Just like that, her entire life decided.
Marlene glowered at him, breathing heavily, "You ruined my life," she whispered in disbelief, as if only now realising it.
Arthur flinched, "I gave you your life! A normal childhood, everything you could've ever want — "
"It was all a lie! All of it — don't you get it? You...you never told me who I was, what I was. You made me believe I could have all of those incredible things...And — and you'd always known there was an expiration date to them, you always knew that," Marlene bit out, choking on tears of pain and frustration, "Why would you do something so cruel?"
"Because that's what your mother would've wanted," Arthur said quietly, all fight leaving him. It pissed her off even more.
Marlene's eyes flashed with malice, "My mother is dead! She's dead and you can't — "
"And you would've been too!" Arthur yelled and instantly regretted it.
"What?" Marley froze, "What are you talking about?"
"I've done everything to keep you save for as long as I could."
She stumbled back, shaking her head,"Why...why do I keep listening to you? Every word you say is a lie," Marlene hissed, feeling her resolve slipping, "Lies, lies, lies! That's all you're good for!" her yell was swallowed by the all-consuming silence. There was no clapping, no butting in...Suddenly, Marley got painfully aware of the audience. Could see their blank faces, their judging stares. Abomination —
She needed to get out of here...
"Gabriel!" Marley called out in a frenzy, "Let me out! Gabriel — "
Arthur put a gentle hand on her arm, "Marlene, sweetheart, calm down..."
She flinched away from his touch, "Don't you ever tell me what to do." Why was her chest burning? It was too hot in here. She needed out. She needed out. A way out...Marlene stalked up to Dr. Bill, whose face was frozen in a wide grin, "How do I get out?" No response. She grabbed the host by his collar, pulling his rag-doll body from the armchair, "Answer me!"
"Marlene, stop it!" Arthur tried to reason.
Marlene threw Dr. Bill back into the armchair. Her skin was electrified — she could sense every little neutron, the acuteness, the awareness made her hairs stand on end. Marley fisted her hands tightly, her entire body shaking. Or was it everything around her?
"Marlene, please..."
The studio lights were flickering: on and off, on and off, until the tension became too much and they exploded, one by one, sparks flying. Arthur covered his head and darted away, "Marlene, you need to get it together!"
"I can't!" she whimpered, knees buckling. Arthur was right there to catch her before she tumbled to the ground. All he could do was keep her close and try to sooth the pain, and — and he failed. All those years trying to protect her...After everything...he failed still.
The set around them started glitching: the carpet turning green, the couch disappearing, the room becoming smaller, the audience — the audience had vanished. It was like static, burning through her head, setting every single neuron on fire.
She needed to get out. She needed OUT —
A tortured scream tore out from Marlene's chest as sharp pain ripped through her bones. She squeezed Arthur's arm tightly, crying, "It burns, dad...I can't — "
The last of the set disappeared, and she was back in the motel room. Lying on the ground, cradled in her father's arms, her body limp with exertion. Blood trickling down her nose and from her eyes. She fluttered them open only to meet Arthur's petrified expression, "What's happening with me, dad?" she whispered.
But before Arthur could even think to answer, she was gone.
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
Cambridge, Massachusetts , 1990
The living room was dark and quiet, safe for the fire crackling in the fireplace. They'd barely ever used it: sometimes on Christmas, because Marlene liked the atmosphere. Arthur'd always loathed to do it, though — it was a pain. But he didn't know how else to warm his daughter's cold, lifeless body. Now she was in her bed, wrapped in all the blankets he could find, sleeping.
And Arthur was down in the living room, staring at the dancing flames while they burned through the wooden logs. Turning them to ash. To nothing.
"You called me here to watch you being all mysterious and brooding?" a sarcastic voice asked, "You know, I'm not a plumber you can call up every time you've got a leak, man," the owner of the voice walked to the couch where Arthur was sitting, "I was a plumber once," he reminisced, "Fixed the hell out of that leak —"
"She's had a seizure again," Arthur said gravely.
"Should've called the doctor — "
"It's bad, Gabriel," his dark eyes flashed to the angel, "She's been hearing voices again."
All playfulness was gone from his expression, "Where is she?" Arthur led him up the stairs to her bedroom.
Gabriel walked to the bed and looked down at the sleeping girl: there she was, buried under the blankets, pale as parchment, lips blue and cracked. He brought a hand to her chest and closed his eyes, a golden glow emitting from his palm.
"What is it?" Arthur asked, noticing the furrow in the angel's brow. Gabriel's face was stern, but a little twitch in his jaw betrayed concern, "Gabriel?" He said nothing, eyes boring into Marlene's peaceful face. He looked more like an angel that either of them ever had, "Gabriel — "
"She's dying."
Arthur flinched, "What?"
"Her body is shutting down," Gabriel explained, detached. He hated the disappointment he was feeling, "She doesn't have long."
"But — no, she...she can't die, Gabriel," Arthur pleaded. Why did he think Gabriel could help him? Why did anyone? "She can't go to that place, you know that. She's not going to make it — "
Gabriel huffed out an annoyed sigh. The sex hadn't even been that good and yet he had to deal with the consequences two millennia later. "You said she's been hearing voices again. Anything else?"
"W-what?"
"What else kind of Rosmary's baby crap's been happening?" Arthur frowned, looking like a lost, helpless whelp, "Come on, think, you idiot!"
"She...she healed a bird!" Arthur said loudly.
Gabriel's brows jumped, "Say what now?"
"Y-yesterday, a bird smashed into her window. Marlene was crying and ran outside to see if it was alright," Arthur explained, "It was dead, Gabriel. I saw it with my own eyes. But when she touched it...it went flying again," 'Bye-bye, birdie!' his daughter's cheerful voice ringed through his memory, "I thought that maybe...maybe I was wrong? Maybe it had been alive the whole time, but..." he trailed off into the creeping silence.
Gabriel regarded Marlene with a thoughtful frown, "So she's got the juice but no grace," he said slowly.
"You mean she has the power of a Nephilim?" Arthur asked, incredulous.
Gabriel snorted, "No, definitely not. If that'd been the case, daddy would've come knocking, trust me."
"Then what is it? What does she keep hearing these voices and the bird — "
"I said she wasn't a Nephilim, a didn't say she was powerless," Gabriel turned to Arthur, "But that power has no divine source, no connection to Heaven. It doesn't have the grace to fuel it," he spoke in fascination.
"Then why on earth does she have it?" Arthur hissed, losing his patience, "None of us have ever possessed even a speck of that power, not for thousands of years."
"Well, none of you've had a demon feed you his blood, now have you, professor?" Gabriel retorted. Arthur's face hardened, "Think of it as a chemical reaction. Like adding a mint to soda — it'll go kaboom."
"So the angel blood is fighting against the...the virus?"
"It's certainly trying. Hence the whole mumbo-jumbo," Gabriel said, "The feisty angel in her uses everything it's got."
Arthur frowned, glancing at his daughter's frail sleeping face, "But it's antibiosis — it's killing her."
"She's still a human. A human body can't handle this kind of power. It needs to nibble on something, so it drains her life force."
"So every time she uses her power..."
Gabriel nodded, "She's dying." He could see Arthur's thoughts spiralling out of control.
"But...can't there be — there should be something," his eyes were looking every which way, as if a sudden revelation was a grasp away and he only needed to catch it. Arthur was wracking his brain for a solution — any solution — that meant his daughter not dying at the age of five and being thrust into a nightmare, but nothing possible came to mind. There was only the...
"Bring me a knife," Gabriel said suddenly.
Arthur blinked at him, "What?"
"A knife and a vial, now."
He raced to his study and grabbed a glass vial from the backroom and a letter opener that was sharp enough to cut through flash.
"What are you going to do?" Arthur asked, handing the knife to Gabriel.
"A freaking mistake, obviously," the angel muttered and made a small cut in his throat. Arthur watched in awe as a blue glow spilled from it and slowly slid into the glass vial when Gabriel brought it to the incision. When it was filled, he corked it and handed it to Arthur, "It's going to end very badly. But that's the only fun way, right?" the archangel quickly healed the cut with a single touch.
"What is that?" Arthur asked, examining the substance in the vial.
"That little thing? A speck of my grace. It should keep the little beast alive for a while," Gabriel said casually. Arthur looked at a loss — he was holding angelic grace in his hand, "It's not a solution, Arthur. Just a bandaid. That," he tipped his head in Marley's direction, "Is bound to happen again, and it will be worse. Kids are crap at control, and that one is a sucker for empathy — she'll drain that vial real soon."
"So there's no way for her to stay alive without it?" Arthur's voice trembled at the realisation. How long would it take? A year? Two years? Ten, if they were lucky?
Gabriel's jaws tightened, "From where I see it, you've got two options, pal: either put that rock you're hiding to good use or get yourself a ticket to holy Disneyland, because you ain't got much time."
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
Even caught in an angelic mouse-trap, Gabriel was a smug motherfucker, "So. Boys. Now what?We stare at each other for the rest of eternity?"
"Well, first of all, you're gonna bring Cas back from wherever you stashed him," Dean told him.
The archangel quirked a brow, "Oh, am I?"
"Yeah. Or we're going to dunk you in some holy oil and deep-fry ourselves an archangel," Gabriel stared Dean down expecting him to cower, but the older Winchester stood strong, chin up, the promise to deliver on the threat burning bright in his green eyes.
Grudgingly, Gabriel raised a hand and snapped his fingers. With a loud crack, Castiel appeared behind them, covered is bruises and blood.
Dean turned around, "Cas, you okay?"
"I'm fine," Castiel replied, his breath heavy. He glared at the archangel, "Hello, Gabriel."
Gabriel gave him a cheerful smile, "Hey, bro. How's the search for Daddy going? Let me guess," he pursed his lips in mock deliberation, "Awful."
Castiel glowered, "What did you do to Marlene?"
"What?" Sam asked, aghast. Dean sent him a wary look, "What do you mean, Cas?"
"I can't find her," he told them, still glaring at Gabriel, "She's been missing for days."
"Oh, come on," the archangel groaned, "She's fine, she's having a little therapy session."
Dean wasn't buying his shit, "Gabriel," he growled, "If you don't zap her here right now, I swear —"
"Yeah, yeah, you're gonna deep-fry me blah, blah, blah," Gabriel sighed in annoyance, "You're getting real boring, you know?" and he snapped his fingers again.
Marlene felt cold concrete underneath her palms as she tried to pull herself up. Where was she? Where was her father?
"Oh, there she is!" That bastard, "Well? Did Dr. Bill help you or what?"
Sam and Dean turned to see her crouching on the ground, struggling to stand up. She looked strangely frail and weak, as if —
"Marlene, are you alright?" Sam asked, fearing to hear the answer. He got it nonetheless when Marley finally made it to her feet and met his eyes. Her face was covered in blood, crimson streaks staining her cheeks. She looked like she was about to faint.
When Gabriel saw her, he stilled, the cocky smile gone. Castiel hadn't missed the change and took it in with a fascinated frown. But then, to everyone's surprise, Marlene's face turned ballistic and she stalked up to the fire-ring with all the strength she still had in her, "You good-for-nothing piece of shit!" she stopped as close to Gabriel as was possible, feeling the heat of the flames biting into the tips of her toes, "I'm going to kill you," Marlene gritted out.
"Evidently, there will be a line," Gabriel tipped his head in Dean and Sam's direction, "But I'm sure we can figure — "
Before the archangel could finish the quip, Marlene stumbled back, feeling queasy. Gabriel darted forward on instinct, but flinched, burned by the flames. Thankfully, Sam was quick enough to catch her by the shoulder, "Hey, careful there — "
"I'm fine, I..." Marlene told him, her voice tapering off. And then she fainted, falling right into Sam's arms. Hauling her closer, he palmed her bloodied face and searched for any sign of life, "Marlene?" he shook her gently, "Marlene, come on..."
"What have you done to her, you sick bastard?" Dean barked at Gabriel, but the archangel's eyes were trained on Marlene's unmoving body.
"Cas, can you see if she's okay?" Sam asked, laying her gently on the ground. Nodding grimly, the angel crouched down and brought a glowing hand to her chest. His face fell, brows twitching together into a troubled frown. "Cas?"
"She's..." the angel said and shook his head, "I'm sorry, Sam. She's dying."
Sam flinched at the words. 'She's dying', "But...You can heal her," he turned to Gabriel, "Dean, let him out — "
"As much as I'd like to get outta here, I can't heal her."
Dean glared at him, "And why is that, huh?"
"Because she's got a depowering sigil burned into her freaking bones," Gabriel told them matter-of-factly. Dean's scowl disappeared, replaced with shock, "Angel magic doesn't work on her."
Sam frowned, "What?"
"How the hell do you know all that?" Dean asked gruffly.
"Uhhh," Gabriel thought about it, "You could say I'm her fairy godfather."
"How is that possible?" Castiel wondered in bewilderment, "who could cast a spell this strong?"
"Ask her daddy," Gabriel told him, "Now, I know how to help her. If you could just blow out the candles and make a wish?"
Dean really didn't want to oblige — he didn't trust that scumbag. But when he looked at Marlene and saw her pale face and blue lips, he remembered the boy with hazel eyes and a toothless grin — just like his father's.
"Dean?" Sam urged him.
With a single glare at the archangel, Dean pulled the fire alarm, setting the sprinklers off. In a matter of seconds, the fire disappeared, and Gabriel stepped out from the trap that was no more, "Oh, please, don't shit your pants," he rolled his eyes at Dean's suddenly protective stance, "I'm not gonna come at you," a pause, "I will need a knife, though."
While Dean was thinking if he should just stab the Trickster for the fun of it, Sam handed Gabriel his pocketknife. Dean cut him an annoyed stare, which Sam skilfully ignored.
"What are you going to do?" he asked, watching the archangel closely.
Gabriel brought the knife to his throat and made a small cut. Castiel's eyes went wide with horror, "You cannot do that, Gabriel — "
The archangel grinned, "Of course I can, lil' brother. Just don't go snitching to daddy, yeah? I mean, if you find him." Ever so smug, Gabriel conjured up a glass vial and filled it with enough grace, "Now give it to her," he handed it to Sam.
Sam glanced at the vial, wary, but accepted it nonetheless, all under Castiel's judging stare. He cupped the back of Marlene's head gently and raised it, then brought the vial to her cold lips and let the ethereal blue substance slide inside.
He looked up at Gabriel, "Now what?"
"Beats me. She'll be fine for a while," the archangel said, "Never know how it goes."
"An angel grace in a human body...is unholy," Castiel said slowly, the sacrilege too grave for hm to comprehend, "It's forbidden."
"Oh, Castiel, you poor naive soul," Gabriel sighed and gave him a patronising look, "Worse angelic things have found their way into a human body."
It was Dean's cue to be disgusted, "Alright, we're outta here," he headed for the exist.
Sam picked Marlene up and followed after him, but then stopped and looked back at Gabriel, "What you've done for Marlene...for her family —" he broke off to search for the right words. Gabriel just stared, face unreadable, "What I mean is...a coward wouldn't do that. You can do better, Gabriel."
Sam left the warehouse, leaving the archangel behind.
All alone.
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
Pungo, Virginia, 1997
The forest was dark and winding, sun barely fighting its way through the thick canopy above. It was easy to get lost both in time and space — Arthur had no map, or any clear direction. All he knew was that there was a house somewhere, sometime, and he would know when he saw it. The trees would show him the way, the winds would carry him down the right path.
Arthur traversed the woodlands, his daughter's body limp in his arms. He had traveled all night to come here, without a wink of sleep or a moment of rest — if he hadn't been fast, he would've lost her. He could still lose her. That thought gave Arthur strength to move forward when he felt like his feet could take no more, when Marlene's body grew too heavy, and his arms too weak.
"It's going to be alright," he whispered to her. Or to reassure himself.
Arthur hadn't opened the family books for ages — he'd promised himself to abandon that legacy and strive to forge one of his own, but it seemed the spirits of his ancestors were set on pulling him back, sinking their claws into his pliable flash, back into the curse. Back into his father's bequest. They held the wisdom of hundreds of years and twice as many mysteries — one of which was the house in the middle of the wild forest. The last known location of the Astłik [Asthik] coven.
The Astłik witches had never been seen — they were a myth, a legend, a tale told to children. Creatures of great beauty, they served the Armenian goddess of fertility and love, guided by her skylight. They were elusive and ethereal, which is why two thousand years ago, Gabriel's natural son Artaxias — the first Nephilim — had chosen them to carry his grace. Freed from the shackles of his power, Artaxias had lived out his days with his wife and many children and died a simple, mortal man.
Arthur's family had been tracing the Astłik cover for hundreds of years, and two centuries ago, they'd finally found traces of them in America. On the quest to find the truth, Armaund Ter-Gabrielyan had travelled the world and spoken to many an old coven — turned out, witched liked to talk.
They'd told the young pilgrim that the Astłik sorceresses had fled the Mediterranean Kingdom of Cilicia once it had fallen under the Ottoman Rule, and escaped to France, from where some of them had come to England. And in the 17th century, a number of them had boarded the Mayflower to put down roots in a new, uncharted land. Which was exactly what they'd down, right in the most uncharted part of it.
"Just a little longer, sweetheart..."
The house revealed itself at the forest's edge, surrounded by a garrison of tall trees, underneath a cloudless dome of endless azure. It was a shabby, timbered thing covered in layers of moss, like a witch's hut they described in children's books. Arthur stopped, his breath heavy — so that was the sanctuary of one of the oldest covens known to history.
Tightening his grip of Marlene's sleeping body, he walked to the door and knocked on the rugged wood. An unkindness of ravens flew by, leaving an echo of cackling in their wake — just then, the door opened.
"Hello," Arthur spoke hesitantly, looking at the raven-haired woman. She was studying him with her slate blue eyes, "I am Arthur Ter-Gabrielyan, this...this is my daughter, Marlene." The woman's attention flashed to the little girl in his hands. Her stern face grew more mellow.
"Asumes Ter-Gabrielyan?" she asked in native Armenian. Arthur hadn't heard the language in years, but the lilting melody of it sounded painfully familiar.
He, "Yes, my...my family's admired yours for centuries."
The woman quirked a thin, black brow, "Hianum՞yek. Duk' nkati unek' vorsel՞yek' mez."
"N-no, no — hunted? We've never..." Arthur broke off, desperation rendering him a blabbering fool, "We respect your magical practices. They've always served a purpose and stayed true to your goddesses' light."
"Ah, inch shoghok'vort'vogh yes," the woman drawled slyly and opened the door wider, stepping aside, "Lav, anzec."
The witch's hut he'd entered was nothing like the temple inside. Arthur's breath caught in his throat when he saw the high ceiling and the wide hall, Astłik's dragon stone placed in the heart of it. The place resembled a viking longhouse: all dark wood, fire and furs, like it hadn't been touched by progress of time. A haven of benediction and graceful solitude that smelled of sage and smoked timber.
"Anun yes Xiomara," the woman introduced herself, "Es sa Orontes e," she gestured to the young, auburn-haired man that had silently appeared by her side. Her shrewd almond-shaped eyes turned to Marlene, "Orontes, zohaseghany mak'ri," Xiomara instructed.
Arthur frowned, hugging Marlene tighter, "T-the altar?"
"Yerekha teghavorelu tegh e petk'," the witch explained, though Arthur was still wary of the thick piece of oak that bore a telling red shade.
When the alter was cleared, Xiomara told Arthur to lay Marlene down, "I՞nch' patahets' nran," she asked, scanning the girl's body for any harm.
"She...she has powers. Not unlike that of our forefather's your ancestors once knew. But they're killing her," Arthur said hesitantly, watching Xiomara's face change, "You are familiar with this magic, Xiomara, there has to be something you can do to help."
The witch closed her eyes and let her hands slowly run above Marlene's body, the frown deepening the closer she got to her heart, "Es...ch'em haskahum — inch' e na?" Xiomara looked at Arthur across the altar, her pale blue eyes filled with confusion and fear.
"She's a ten year old girl and she's dying," he answered pleadingly, "Please...can't you help her?"
Xiomara glanced at Orontes, unsure. The man gave a silent nod, "She was touched by divinity and damned by Spandaramet," she spoke in a heavily accented voice. Arthur recognised the name of the pagan goddess — she was an Armenian rendition of the Greek Hades, "Her soul is at odds, it is trying to purge the evil, but ends up destroying itself."
"Is there something to be done? A way to block that power?"
Neither Xiomara, nor Orontes replied. They exchanged a long, meaningful look, and the man disappeared into one of the many rooms of the temple, "You can see there's just the two of us here," the witch told Arthur, "Our coven is scattered around the world right now — the summer solstice is coming, a pilgrimage is to be made. Each of the elders travels to France, England Syria and Turkey to hold celebrations."
"Does this mean you won't be able to help?"
Xiomara's translucent eyes glimmered, "I never said that."
Orontes returned to the hall with a wide bowl made of red bronze and placed it on the alter, just above Marlene's head, "Shnorhakalut'yun," Xiomara thanked him. The man nodded and stepped aside, giving the witch full reign, "See, Arthur, I remember the forefather you speak of," she said casually and sauntered to the wooden cabinet filled with vials and jars. Xiomara looked like a gypsy; barefoot and wearing a baggy, purple toga above a long floral dress. She chose the ingredients carefully and brought them to the altar, "Artaxias was his name. Yes, I remember him perfectly: a true titan, divinity made flesh, he was...inevitable."
Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing. That witch..."You knew him?"
Xiomara's deity fingers sprinkled dried leaves into the bawl. Her mouth curled into a delicate smile, "Oh, I did. His voice thunders in my ears still, begging for help."
"So it's true?" Arthur asked, glancing at taciturn Orontes, then back at Xiomara, "You...you have his grace?" he felt compelled to whisper it. So the Heavens couldn't hear.
The witch crashed a set of bones in her palm like they were mere twigs, "Perhaps, I do." She extended a hand, and Orontes passed her a golden ewer — it was filled with olive oil. Xiomara mixed it with the contents of the bowl, then cut her palm over it.
Arthur watched as the mixture turned red, "Is it going to help?"
"No," Xiomara replied much to his bafflement. But then a vial appeared in her hand: it was incredibly old, the glass faded and barely translucent, the golden incasing dark and faded. But even so, Arthur could make out the unmistakable blue gleam, "For thousands of years, not a drop of it has been spilled. We vowed to use it wisely or not at all," Xiomara opened it and tilted the vial over the bowl, letting the ethereal essence spill into the concoction. Just then, a bright blue light shot from it, and both Arthur and the witch had to shield their eyes from the blinding impact. When they looked again, the light dimmed, but the mixture still bore a blue shimmer, "Artaxias warned us of this day," Xiomara spoke in absolute wonder, "He knew it would come, Arthur Ter-Gabrielyan. He left his grace with us for that very reason."
Arthur was dumbstruck by what he'd just witnessed, "I..."
"The goddess led the son of Gabriel to us," Xiomara told him, a smile of utter disbelief blooming on her face, "And brought you here to fulfil my final destiny."
The witch dipped two fingers into the concoction, covering them in a thick, red liquid, "Luysi astvatsuhi," she whispered reverently and brought them to Marlene's forehead, "Yerkri dustry, arevy dustry," Xiomara drew a circle, "Astgheri e lusyny mayry," she made two strokes, creating a cross inside of it, "Paylir k'vo surb luysy anmegh hogu vra, pashtpanel ayn charikits' yev irenits'," the witch connected the corners of the cross with a 'V', "K'ani vor yet'e yerkusy kan, voch' meky ch'petk' e haght'i," Xiomara whispered the last words, and the bloody mark glowed the familiar blue. Arthur watched in astonishment as the sigil seeped into Marlene's skin and then disappeared, not living a single trace.
"Is..." he stammered, "Is it done?"
Xiomara nodded, calm and serene, "It is."
"What do I do now? What...what's going to happen?"
"Now you live, Arthur Ter-Gabrielyan. And wait for your devil to claim what he's owned."
TRANSLATION: "Goddess of the light, daughter of the earth, daughter of the sun, mother of the stars and the moon. Shine your holy light on the innocent soul, protect it from evil and from itself. For if there are two, then neither should win."
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
Sam opened the back door of the car and picked Marlene's sleeping form up gently, hauling her into his arms. He could feel her steady breath on his neck, much stronger than it had been before — he couldn't believe they'd almost lost her.
Dean shut the door, taking out all his bubbling anger on the poor Baby, and trudged after his brother. "Some help, Dean?" Sam asked, quirking a brow at the door, "My hands are kind of full right now."
Dean huffed, yet did as asked, giving Sam a tight grin of an obliging doorman. Sam rolled his eyes at the childish antics and walked into the room, careful not to hit Marlene's head on the doorframe. But as he stepped over the threshold, he stilled.
"Hey, no tip?" Dean complained from behind, "You cheap mother — " he came to a halt right next to his brother and did a double take. There was a strange man sitting at the table. In their room. But he wasn't strange, not really — Dean recognised his black hair and his dark, placid eyes. Judging by the conflicted look on Sam's face, he was thinking the same thing.
"Hello," the man spoke, composed, "Sam and Dean, I presume?"
Dean shut the door.