Seven Devils

Chapter 20 / The Calm Before the Storm

"He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, 'Quiet! Be still!' Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. He said to his disciples 'Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?' They were terrified and asked each other, 'Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!'"

— Mark 4:39-41

Her fingers tightened around the metal grip. It felt rough against her skin — unblemished, unsoiled, tender skin. There was a sense of...wrongness to it: to see a sword where once had been a pen. Words cut deeper than swords, they say. Well, Marley had very recently learned that you couldn't very well kill an ancient evil with a quip, however witty, so...you had to use something a little sharper.

Squinting, she took aim — that sorry can didn't stand a single chance. Even though it had got lucky about a dozen times before this Hail Mary moment. Marley'd never thought she'd suck at this quite so much. Hell, she was even a little cocky — she'd been a regular Hickok at every summer fair in Cambridge. She'd even won a glow stick bracelet that one time. No ducks were left standing.

But cans appeared to be a different beast entirely.

Marlene let out a steady breath, feeling the trigger under the pad of her index finger. A fraction of a movement that could end somebody's life. Or save Marley's. If she stopped sucking at this so much, that is. Otherwise, it might just be her downfall — she never excluded a possibility of accidentally shooting herself to death.

"Come on," a whisper fell from her chapped lips. Marlene stuck out her tongue in concentration — she always did that; a habit since she was a kid. Maddock'd made fun of it incessantly, calling it the "peak concentration" look. Marley's chest tightened at the memory. The ringing laughter of the past long assigned to oblivion. The life she used to live, surrounded by the people she loved, instead of the one she was barely scraping through.

And so she pulled the trigger.

Marley knew everything was screwed the moment she felt a tremor in her hand. The tremor that sent the bullet on a wild adventure. She squeezed her eyes shut at the blasting sound of broken glass. And then there was silence.

Marlene opened them after a few seconds and chanced a look at the can — it was staring smugly at her, untouched. A little bit farther away, though, was the unfortunate fatality: a car that was mysteriously short of a headlight. Bobby was going to kill her.

With a feral growl of a perfectionist who couldn't get something done, Marlene strolled up to the can and viciously kicked it off its wooden pedestal, "That's what you get," she hissed, pleased that she'd managed to do at least that.

"Lucifer is quaking," a snigger came from behind.

Riding the wave of eternal exasperation, Marley turned around and shot Dean a glare, "Well, we can't all be angelic weapons of destruction." He lifted a brow at the comment, leaning against the hood of an old Dodge. She sighed, "Sorry. I'm just...tired."

Marley threw the handgun on the cluttered table in Bobby's workshop and brushed a hand through her hair — she'd been practicing to shoot a gun for the better part of the morning, with little result. Ever since that day in Tyro, Marlene couldn't shake off the nagging feeling of helplessness. Sometimes, she'd wake up in the middle of the night and reach for her neck, expecting to find a whip wrapped around it, her throat tightening. Even through the bruise had long faded, Marley could still make out a faint purple line on her alabaster skin. It sent a shiver down her spine.

Suffice to say, after her independence road trip, that resulted in double-homicide charges and an intimate run in with death — twice — Marley's announcement of going back into the wild world was met with some resistance. As in, she'd been specifically ordered to stay at Bobby's and, preferably, avoid getting killed and getting in jail. And seeing as she could barely protect herself against a can and there was a warrant for her arrest in two states, Marlene hadn't put up much of a fight.

She caught Dean watching her and narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. Thing is, Dean had been watching her a lot lately. Marlene would lie if she said it didn't freak her out. Was he planning on murdering her? She knew Sam must've told him about their little heart to heart back in Oklahoma — was Dean silently plotting her demise? He wasn't such a dick to her anymore, though. But it was weird, too, in a way — Marley didn't trust the sudden niceties. If anything, they were making her all the more suspicious. What the hell was Dean Winchester's deal?

"Wanted for two murders and I can't even shoot a can," Marley grumbled, joining him by the car, "Where's the fair in that?"

Dean didn't say anything. Again — weird. Since when did he miss a chance to make fun of her bad luck?

"So...uh," Marley chanced a wary look at him, "Sam told me. About your...conversation."

And there it is

"He did?" she pursed her lips, "Of course he did."

"Pretty big damn thing to keep to yourself, Marlene."

"I know," she said with a wince, "I'm sorry, I just...I didn't know how to tell you without coming off Antichrist-y." A beat, "So if he told you..."

"Bobby knows."

Marley nodded, "Right." She feared the old man's reaction more than divine retribution.

"So, what, are you an angel?" Dean asked, face scrunched into a frown.

Marley snorted, "God, I wish it were a pickup line. And no, I don't think so. I mean, no one really gave me the heavenly birds and bees talk, but I'm pretty sure that's not how angels are made."

Dean considered it for a moment. "Maybe Cass knows something."

"Oh, he does. He calls me an abomination," Marlene told him casually. He quirked a bemused brow, "It's an inside joke. I still have no idea what I am, though. Not even my dad has fully figured it out. All I know is that an archangel decided to smash booties with my proto-grandma and they didn't use protection."

"Gabriel."

"That's the one," Marley drawled sarcastically, "Then the heavens cursed our bloodline and two millenia later, our mutual pal and a diehard teacher's pat decided to cash in on the aftermath to win favour with the Dark Lord. The rest, as they say, is history."

"So this angelic X-gene reacted to the demon blood?"

"That's the working theory. 'Cause it never really happened to anyone in my family before, they lived pretty normal lives. I mean, obviously, there's still the curse, but they didn't see demons or hear angels or anything like that. That's all me," Marlene sighed, "Blessed and damned."

Dean huffed out a humourless laugh, shaking his head, "This world'd a freaking sandbox for these pricks," he muttered.

"My dad would've quoted Shakespear. "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players," Marley tried to imitate his deep voice and excessive theatrics, "He always did that, it was so annoying." The smile slipped off her face as soon as Marlene realised she'd used the past tense.

She hadn't talk to her father in more than a month — God. What must he be thinking, seeing all that nonsense on the news? He's willing to let millions die, what's two more? Maybe he's proud Marley was speeding the process. "And then he went and pressed 'Enter' on the Apocalypse," she added bitterly.

Dean glanced over at Marlene, brow furrowing at the melancholic expression on her face. He'd seen it already. Five years into the future. "Hey, even angels got daddy issues," Dean said after some time, mouth quirked into cheerful a smile.

"Well, if God isn't perfect, than there's no hope for any of us, is there?"

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

They'd been laying low at Bobby's for a couple of days now, and Dean was itching to get back on the road.

While Sam, Marlene and the old man were busy looking for any clues on Lucifer's whereabouts, he scoured the web for a new case. It seemed, though, that the evil had decided to take a week off — the most suspicious thing that happened was Aaron Maybin scoring a goal in the playoff against the Colts. The dry spell, however, did nothing to hinder Dean's resolve and so he found himself aimlessly browsing random websites in hopes of stumbling upon news of a gruesome murder. What made that ordeal a bit easier, though, was his newly-discovered source of entertainment.

Marlene and Sam's occasional conversations or, rather, word exchanges were painful to witness. Or delightful if you asked Dean. To him, they were absolutely hilarious, and he was having an awful good time watching the show of two sorry actors.

The exchanges were few, they were short, and they were very, very awkward. Dean had once told Sam, when Marley'd gone into the kitchen to get some coffee, that every time they talked looked like an opening scene from a low-budget porn. It had earned him the stinkiest eye.

Dean was currently reading an article about a group of teenagers who'd encountered a hairy creature in the woods in Minneapolis. One of them'd sworn it was the Bigfoot, which had riled up all the conspiracy theorists in the region. Only the ball of fur'd turned out to be a wannabe Bear Grylls who had sequestered himself in a cave in the thick of the woods. When asked what'd prompted him to venture on such a wild adventure, the man'd replied that "when his wife kicked him out of the house, he had a sudden revelation and knew he was meant to find another path to tread in life."

"Hey, who's got the Revelations?" Marley asked from the couch.

Dean noticed Sam shuffle in the seat opposite him. He looked up from the useless article, lips stretching into a smile. Here it goes

Sam cleared his throat, "Uh, that'd be me."

Silence. "Oh."

"I, uh, I'm almost finished with it. There's a verse — "

"Oh, sorry, no — it's fine, you...take your time. I was just...yeah, it's whatever. Verse away."

Dean couldn't hold back the snort that ripped out of his mouth. It was almost comical the way Sam and Marlene glared at him at the same time, round eyes accusatory. He instantly assumed a very serious expression, "Sorry. This article's just..." he let out a nervous little laugh that grew into an awkward cough. The growing tension came to a halt thanks to one of Bobby's phones ringing. Saved by the freaking bell.

"Which one is it, Bobby?" Dean asked.

Bobby wheeled himself over to the landline valley as Marlene'd dubbed it, "The hotline," he grumbled and picked up an ancient stationary phone, "Bobby Singer, who's callin'?" Whatever the caller had said got Bobby's attention, "Oh yeah? What're you thinking?..."

"Do you still need it?" Sam turned to Marlene, who was already engrossed in another book.

So engrossed, she startled at his deep voice, "Huh?"

"The Revelations?"

"Oh, are you already done with it?"

"Ah, no, but if you need it..."

Dean made a face. Jesus

"Em, not really, I found another lead — "

Bobby rolled back into the living room, broody. He'd been like that ever since they arrived three days ago, and if Dean had to wager a wild guess, he'd say it was because of the wheelchair the old man was now stuck in. It would probably take Bobby a while to get used to it: both to the wheelchair and to the fact that he could no longer be in the field, "Well, I've got a possible job for ya, boys."

"Thank god," Dean breathed, "Is it vampires? I'm feelin' kinda stabby."

"Nah, It's somethin' else. But I bet you're gonna like it."

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

Dean drummed on the steering wheel to the beat of an AC/DC song, hot Georgian air streaming through the open window. Man, was he happy to be back on the road — being cooped up in the house with Bobby's constant brooding and Sam and Marlene's freshman foreplay was slowly but surely driving him insane. Especially since whenever he looked at them, he saw a little guy with hazel eyes who couldn't shut about about dinosaurs. How the hell did the two of them go from that to making a kid?

"What?"

Dean realised he was staring and turned his eyes back on the road ahead, "Huh?"

"You okay?"

"Are you okay?" he bristled childishly. Sam sent him a quizzical frown but decided not to get into it and just shook his head.

No, Dean hadn't told him about 2014. He wanted to, perhaps, he even had to, but how would he even go about it? "Hey, Sammy, guess what: you got a kid, but you're sorta out of service and the Devil wants to be the step dad?"

"So," he ventured after some silence, glancing over at Sam, "What's the deal with you and Marlene?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do I really need to spell it out for you?" Dean gave him the look.

"There's no deal, Dean."

Dean snorted, "Yeah, sure."

A pause. One...two...three...His phone started ringing. Dean glanced at the caller ID and smiled a shit-eating grin, "Your girlfriend's calling." Sam only sighed at the elementary-school jape, "Hey, what's up?" Dean answered.

"Hey, sorry for calling — are you guys there yet?"

Dean frowned, "Yeah, almost. Everything alright?" Sam sent him a questioning look, which he returned with a shrug.

"Oh, yeah, all's good. I'm just...kinda worried about Bobby," Marley spoke quietly, almost in a whisper. Dean heard a door creak — she must've gone into another room.

"What do you mean?"

"He's been shooting stuff outside for two hours," and sure enough, there was a remote sound of a gun blasting away," I think if I go out to talk, he'll shoot me too."

Dammit, Bobby, "Just, uh...leave him. He'll come 'round." Sam raised his brows in question. Dean mouthed 'Bobby'.

"Al...right, will do," she sounded rather sceptical about it.

"Found any leads yet?"

"Nope, nothing. It's kinda strange how quiet things have been lately, you know?"

"From your mouth to Lucy's idle hands."

"Well, with my sick aim, I don't think we've got anything to worry about."

Dean laughed, "Alright, kid, watch the old man, yeah? We'll check in later."

"What did she say?" Sam asked as soon as Dean hung up the phone.

"Who, your girlfriend?" A blank stare. "Bobby's been throwing a hissy fit. She's worried."

"Oh."

When Sam didn't add anything else to his meaningful reply, Dean looked over at him. Sure enough, his brother was in throes of violent overthinking.

Sam sighed, "I was a jerk to her."

"No surprise there." He sent Dean a glare, "Hey, relax. I'm sure you'll sort things out. It couldn't have been that bad if she's still talking to you."

"No, that's not it. It's — "

Dean looked over at his brother, catching the familiar note of torment in his voice, "What is it?"

"I...I saw him again, Dean."

"Lucifer?" Dean asked, brows drawn together in concern. Sam nodded, "What did the bastard want?"

Sam looked away for a moment to collect his thoughts. With a heavy sigh, he spoke, "It wasn't him. Not exactly. It was...her. Marlene."

Dean's brows shot up. He opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it, eyes going wide with a disturbing realisation, "Did you?..."

"No — Jesus, Dean!"

He shrugged noncommittally, "Stranger things have happened."

"But it was — it was so real. Seeing Marlene now...is, well — it's a little bit unsettling."

"So that's why you were playing naked and afraid back there?"

"I wasn't — " Sam broke off, realising he was fighting a losing battle, "I just don't understand what he wants with her."

"And you don't trust she won't buy into his bad boy charms?"

"I want to believe that."

"Well, Sammy," Dean sighed, "Welcome to the club."

Sam cut his brother a frustrated glare and turned away to the window, muttering a nearly audible "yeah". Dean knew there was a lot he wasn't telling him. But the defensiveness in Sam's voice and the ridiculously flustered look on his face that was reminiscent of his freshman year in high school were enough for Dean to don a smug smile.

"Hey," Sam said after some time, "When I told you about Marlene — why didn't you freak out?"

Dean cleared his throat, "Dunno. I just figured we could use all the people who're willing to help, you know?"

Dean thought back to the little boy with his brother's eyes, and a strange feeling of calm washed over him. No matter what happened, at least there's some good to come out of this mess.

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

Bobby decidedly despised Marlene for staying behind. Even though she'd tried to tell him it was for her own safety since she was a total liability on the road, he insisted he didn't need a babysitter and he could shit all on his own, thank you very much.

Marley could tell he was disgruntled. Even more than usual. She had an inkling it was because of the new case, something about a twenty-seven-year-old guy dropping dead from an old age. She could see the stubborn pain in Bobby's eyes as he watched Sam and Dean drive away. She felt bad for him.

A man like Bobby, who'd spent the better part of his life on the road, fighting evil and helping people — it couldn't have been easy to stay behind. Knowing that you could no longer do the one thing that made sense, stripped to a wheelchair, never to walk again.

Marley wanted to talk to him about it, but every time she breeched the subject, Bobby's glare did well to shut her up. So she just sat there in unnerving silence, throwing occasional worried glances at him, and tried read a book on Occultism in Nazism. She remembered her dad giving the talk on the subject about 5 years ago — it had been a pretty fascinating lecture. The Nazis were absolutely beguiled by the glory of days past, myths and old orders, not unlike that of the Templars, who'd brought the Holy Grail back from the Holy Land to Europe. Maybe that would give her some clues on the whereabouts of the other pieces of the emerald and why her great grandfather had been looking for it in the first place?

"What's that you're reading?" Bobby asked, voice tinged with suspicion.

"Nazis," Marley said casually and flipped over the page.

Before Bobby could say anything else, his phone started ringing, "Yeah?" he answered, "Thought so. Any other stiffs in town?...Anythin' else?" Marlene perked up, listening in. "Well, check them out. Call it a hunch." She noticed Bobby's face go from mildly bored to dangerously irritated, "Doing? Oh, you mean my legs?" at that, he cut her a furious stare. Marley stuck her nose in the book, guileless, like she hadn't talked to Dean an hour ago and told him all about Bobby's existential crises, "Well, I'm just weeping in my Haagen-Dazs. Idjit," the old man muttered and hung up the phone.

"Bobby — "

"Watch the landline," he grumbled and rolled out of the room to wallow in solitude.

Marlene couldn't fault him for that, but she was starting to feel restless like she had during her house arrest back in Cambridge. Only back then there wasn't an angry glaring man who was pissed at her for lying and being an overbearing worrywart. Just a regular ego-maniac with a penchant for destroying the world for his personal agenda.

With a sigh so tortured it bore the weight of two millennia's worth of intergenerational trauma, Marley rose from the couch and trudged to the kitchen. She desperately wanted a glass of whiskey, but since it was only noon and she liked to think that all was not lost just yet, she opted for a glass of water instead.

Marlene grabbed a glass from the cupboard and came over to the sink to fill it when she saw a movement behind the window blinds. It was swift, like a barely perceptible blip, and had they not been on the brink of the Apocalypse, Marley would've likely brushed it off. Wary, she leaned closer to the window and looked through a slit in the blinds — the backyard was perfectly deserted.

"Tsk, bad form, Marls."

The glass fell right into the sink and her heart all but sank into her stomach. She had to grip the counter with both hands to steady herself, "Holy — " Marlene whipped around, "What the fuck, Gabriel?"

The archangel stood leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen, arms crossed. The same shiny golden hair and a jolly glimmer in the eye like he hadn't just scared her half to death.

"How — why? What do you want?" Marley's irritation quickly grew into panic, "You can't be here. Bobby — "

Gabriel grinned, "Is gone."

A pause. "What? What did you do?"

"Nothing, he left a couple minutes ago," the angel told her nonchalantly and opened the refrigerator, "Do you have anything to eat?"

It took Marley a moment to grasp what he'd just said, "Where'd he go?"

"I think you know where."

Fucking — crap. She literally had one job and she'd failed it. She couldn't even stop a man who couldn't walk from leaving the house. She couldn't shoot a can. Couldn't save Tessa. Or her father from his self-destructive spiral of pure evil. What she could do, though, was take out all the pent-up frustration on the celestial creature who was responsible for her pitiful existence.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she stormed past him into the living room, half-expecting Bobby to be in the study, "I didn't call for you — why did you come?"

"Saw all that stuff on the telly," Gabriel closed the fridge, clearly disappointed, and looked back at Marley, "Gotta say, Marls — I'm impressed. All that fame? You know, you got that from me, that magnetism. You could totally make in on the big screen, you've got it."

Marlene found that whenever Gabriel opened his mouth, her brain seemed to shut itself down or simply refused to process the received information. It put her into a state of complete puzzlement and incredulity.

"You told me not to call," she said, voice monotonous.

"And see how well you did all on your own!" Marley glared at him. Gabriel sighed in defeat, "Your dad annoyed me into checking up on you."

At that, her anger completely dissipated. Well, almost, "You talked to him? Is he alright? Did he —"

"He's fine. You, on the other hand..." he gave the clattered living room a suggestive once-over.

"Is he still with Zachariah?"

"Yup," Gabriel popped and picked up one of the books on the table, "Reading up on the Grail, huh? So your dad told you about my brother's little trinket?"

Marlene's heart pumped with excitement, "You mean the emerald? You know something about it?"

"Please," Gabriel scoffed, "I was the one who found that piece your padre bartered for a sweet spot in Heaven."

"Wait, so..." Marley frowned, "my great grandfather didn't find it?"

"Of course not. 'Twas all yours truly," Gabriel said proudly, "Had to pull some strings, but eventually, a friendly god pointed me in the right direction."

"A...god?" she deadpanned.

"You didn't think there was just one, did you? Anyways, found the one, the other three, though," Gabriel trailed off, "Beats me. One thing for sure — they ain't here."

"As in, not on earth?"

"Ah, the smarts you got from your uncle."

Marlene ignored the jape, "But why...why look for them in the first place? What do they even do?"

Gabriel stilled for a second, eyes narrowed. Then put the book he was scanning through back on the table and gave Marley a surprised look, "He didn't tell you?" She shook her head slowly, "The thing's stupidly powerful, Marls. A single piece can crack an infernal cage open. The entire rock?" The angel raised his eyebrows, "Can break a curse."

Heaven's doors are closed to us, so are the Gates of Hell. Where go our souls? It is clear to me now that two cannot live until one is no more. Such is the balance. Such is the curse.

So that's why her great grandfather Felix had been looking for it — he'd been trying to find a way to save them from the inevitable fate. All of them.

For a moment, Marley caught a glimpse of the brighter future, filled with hope. But then she remembered that her father'd squandered the one piece they actually had. Which didn't really change anything since the two other bits weren't even in the same hemisphere as her.

"So, what, all you need to do is put the emerald back together and we can all die in peace?"

"Oh, no," Gabriel shook his head, "There's shitload of other stuff to do."

Marley frowned. Of course it wouldn't be so easy, "Like what?"

"No idea."

"Excuse me? You an archangel."

"Yeah, well, my dad's got a flare for paranoia," Gabriel told her, offended, "Some things even I don't know."

"But there is a way, right?"

"Oh, yeah. For sure."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because my dad never does anything without the reverse button. Everything he creates, he can uncreate. Or sent to the pits of hell. There's always's a loophole."

"Alright," Marley said slowly, "Then where would one look for it? It's not like there's a manual."

The glee in Gabriel's eyes was positively mischievous, "Oh, Marls. Marls, Marls, Marls."

Marlene wanted to yell at him to stop using the ridiculous name, but decided to show some restraint. She needed him to cooperate.

"Is there something you wish to share with the class, Gabriel?" Marley asked, her sweet voice laced with unmistakable passive-aggression.

The angel considered her question, "No, not really. You're not there yet."

"Are you kidding me?"

He grinned, "Maybe. But there again, maybe not."

"Gabriel — "

"Find the missing pieces. Then we talk."

"But — "

"Have fun, Marls," Gabriel winked, "And don't do anything I wouldn't do. Cause it would be really boring." And just like that, the celestial pain in the ass disappeared.