Seven Devils

Chapter 21 / Lady Things

"Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream

Make him the cutest that I've ever seen

Give him the word that I'm not a rover

Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over"

— Mr Sandman, The Chordettes

Marlene was seven years old when her grandmother died.

Ophelia Ter-Gabrielyan was a statuesque woman with a striking biography — she'd lived the life of an adventurer, a risk-taker, a passionate feminist, a researcher, a historian. Unfortunately, Marley learned all those things about her grandmother many years after her death. At seven, however, she knew only an old woman stuck in a nursing home.

Ophelia's long silver hair was secured into a thick braid and pinned atop her head, her once sparkling coal-black eyes serene with emptiness. She would always sit in a chair by the window that overlooked the forest, her sharp features mellowed by her old age and the malady that had rendered her brilliant mind all but blank.

Arthur visited his mother every Sunday. He rarely brought Marlene with him, but when he did, she'd sit on Ophelia's bed and simply watch her wrinkled, still face. At first, Marley was spooked by the strange old woman who never spoke a word, but the fear soon grew into curiosity — what was her grandmother thinking about? Sometimes Marlene'd see a corner of her thin, wrinkled mouth lift just a little, a flicker of her old self seeping back into her features. It was always so fleeting, however. Maybe Marley imagined it.

Arthur never said a word to Ophelia and neither did Marlene — it seemed strangely redundant, as though their presence alone said all that needed to be said. They would stay for an hour, and then her father would take Marley by the hand and say, "Come on, honey, your grandmother needs to rest." Marlene always thought it was strange — all the woman did was sit in a chair, why would she be tired?

She became more curious with each visit, and as she got bold enough to sit closer to Ophelia, Marley finally noticed the green pendant on her chest.

"It's so pretty," she said in awe, reaching for the shiny stone. Her small finger almost touched the bumpy surface when suddenly, Arthur's hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her back. Marley hissed from pain, her eyes going wide wide with betrayal as she looked up at her father.

"You shouldn't touch it, Marlene," he told her. He'd never spoken to her like that before, and Marlene decided she didn't like it. And so she refused to speak to him on the ride home and for the entire day to follow.

After that visit, Marley would always sit close to her grandmother if only to look at the pretty trinket. There wasn't a day that Ophelia wasn't wearing it, the impressive emerald glowing from the perfectly pressed collar of her shirt.

The only time Marlene didn't see it was on her peaceful form in the casket. She watched it being lowered into the ground and thought how sad Ophelia must've been to be without the trinket she'd loved so much. All alone, underneath meters of dirt and earth, in complete darkness. Marley'd cried then and clung to to her father's side, burying her face in his black trench coat as he hugged her closer. Arthur didn't cry — he was too strong for that. Or, in hindsight, it could've been indifference. He accepted condolences like he did his many awards, his black hair perfectly sleek, his smile just mournful enough.

The cemetery was almost deserted, but for the workers who'd started filling the grave, her father and two strange people he was talking to. It was an old man with downey silver hair and a woman about his age on his arm. The man wasn't looking at his father, or anywhere, really — his eyes were completely blank. Marley stared at him until he finally looked in her general direction, causing the little girl to blush in embarrassment.

Noticing the man's attention shift, Arthur turned back and gestured Marlene to join them. She did, trudging up to her dad with her head hung low, "This is my daughter," he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, "Marlene."

The woman gave her a gentle smile, "Hello, Marlene. I'm really sorry about your grandmother."

Marley nodded, too shy to say anything.

"Pleasure to meet you, Marlene," said the old man, reaching out a hand. Marlene stiffed, glancing at it warily. After a moment's hesitation, she shook it. It felt warm and calloused, the grip a bit too tight. Slightly unsettled, Marley's eyes flickered up to the man's face and she saw his wrinkles deepening into a frown.

"Mr Ganem?" Arthur called, tensing. Marley tried to pry her hand away and stumbled a little when the old man finally let go. The woman, who Marlene supposed was his wife, suddenly looked very anxious. "Thank you for coming. We appreciate it," Arthur nodded curtly. With that, he led Marley away.

"Who was that, dad?" she asked in a small voice as they were walking to the car.

"An old friend of your grandfather's," he replied dismissively.

Marlene looked back one last time and saw the old man staring in her general direction. She quickly drew her eyes away and got into the car.

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

"Ah, hi, Sam. Would you please tell your brother to use his goddamn phone? Also Bobby's kind of gone. Shit, not like that — I mean, he left. Physically. And I think he's coming to Statesborough?... Beats me how, the freaking Lightening McQueen, but he escaped, and I know I'm a terrible warden, and I'm sorry — please tell me if he got there okay, I'm really worried. Call me back when you hear something. Also, sorry if that's — whatever, just call me, alright?" A pause, "It's Marlene, by the way. 'Kay, bye." Marley ended the call with a look of utter disappointment in her social skills.

She was pretty used to crises — her student life was filled with them. No, her student life a one big crisis in itself: juggling deadlines, TA responsibilities and exams had been one hell of a feat, but nothing could've prepared her for this. It's like she was having a jolly good time juggling three apples, and some prick decided to throw in a couple more, and the next thing Marley knew she was on the ground buried underneath an entire mountain of Granny Smiths. Just to lift the veil of mystery, it was Gabriel. Gabriel was the prick.

He was like a damned mosquito: appearing out of nowhere, buzzing relentlessly in your year, draining you dry and leaving a nasty bite that gave you an itch for days. In Marley's case, the itch could potentially lead to a very unwise decision that would end in yet another crisis. Why was she surrounded by nutjobs?

Her father lied to her. Again. One could argue that he hadn't — how could he have if he hadn't said anything about the emerald in the first place? It must've slipped his mind. Or maybe, just maybe he knew nothing about its curse-breaking qualities.

Oh, but Marlene knew the man better than anyone else even though she had missed a couple of red flags along the way — which one could simply attribute to him being a good actor, something Marley already knew, as well. No, Arthur hadn't forgotten, since he rarely ever forgot anything at all. That man could hold a mean grudge — Marlene had learned it the hard way in her teenage years. Arthur'd never grounded her, but boy if he hadn't brought up every single one of her transgressions, no matter how petty, during every single time they'd had an argument.

So, yes, Marlene knew why Arthur'd kept that a secret from her. He was desperate to make her believe in his deplorable plan and presenting their overpriced ticket to Heaven as the only way to escape the mysteriously terrifying afterlife was the best chance to talk her into it. Because if he'd told her there was another way out, one that didn't involve them and millions of people dying, he wouldn't be able to play the "desperate madman" card anymore. The thought made Marlene want to drive all the way to Cambridge, Zachariah be damned, and sock Arthur in his pathetic, manipulative mug. And to think she actually looked up to him...

As if Zachariah is going to keep his promise, Marlene scoffed. Yes, he couldn't kill them for the fear of Gabriel's wrath now, but as soon as Michael was suited up...this power duo would be unstoppable. Marley highly doubted that the infamous archangel would take it easy on them, since he'd very likely voted 'yay' for cursing their entire bloodline in the first place. So it was just a matter of time before the both of them were blasted off the face of the earth either by the angels or by the good old Apocalypse. It was a lose-lose situation.

Marlene needed to find another solution, in case Sam and Dean failed to save the world. Even though she was a glass-half-full kind of girl, sometimes she had to admit that it was fucking empty, man up and refill it.

"Castiel," Marley called, sitting on the couch, surrounded by mountains of books and a sea of useless notes, "I know you're really busy tracking...God," she needed a pause after saying this sentence out loud, "But I need to talk to you, because...Well, 'cause things are shit," Marlene shrugged in a very resigned manner, "And I — I think you might make them less shit for me? Just...Jesus, can you please do that? I promise I won't take long —"

"You want me to deal with shit?" a puzzled voice came from the hallway. Marley lifted her eyes from her intertwined fingers and met Castiel's confused slits.

She blinked, "You came."

"You called for me," he reminded her.

"Well, yeah, but — " Marley rose from the couch, crossing her arms over her chest self-consciously, "I didn't expect you'd actually show up. Not that fast, anyway."

Castiel regarded her with a slight tilt of his head; like a golden retriever, "You sounded rather desperate."

Marlene let out a self-deprecating snort, "That's because I am," she leaned against the table stacked with Sam's scribbles. His handwriting was hilarious, "So, how's...God?"

"I don't know," Castiel...grumbled? "I haven't located him yet." Marlene'd never heard him quite so aggravated before, "Why did you call me, Marlene?"

Ah, to be called by your name and not an abomination. They'd truly come a long way. "You know about the emerald, right?"

Castiel frowned, "The emerald?"

"Lucifer's emerald. The one that fell from his crown and cracked into three pieces?"

He pursed his lips grimly, "The one Zachariah used to free Lilith."

"Do you know if he still has it?"

"I don't know. It could've been destroyed — "

"But you're not sure, right?"

Castiel's face assumed the usual look of confusion, "I suppose I'm not."

"A-and...and do you know where the other two pieces are?" Marley was pacing the room now, her lower lip a bloody mess. Castiel watched her, brows furrowed in concern, "My father said they were scattered around the earth, but Gabriel...Gabriel told me they weren't even in this plane of existence," Marlene realised she sounded like a madwoman, but she was too far gone to do anything about it, "Do you have any idea where they could possibly be?"

"I — angels don't talk about it. The stone is considered to be cursed with the markings of the greatest sin, I have only heard whispers..."

"What whispers?"

"Marlene — "

"What whispers?"

Castiel sighed. Marley realised he looked rather worn out. She didn't know angels could be tired, "When Lucifer fell, the stone cracked. One piece remained on earth, another he took with him to hell. And the third..." Marlene urged him to continue with a raise of her eyebrows, "...the third was lost in-between."

She frowned, "In-between? What...like a purgatory?"

"It is just a myth, Marlene."

"No-no, I get it, I — " the ringer on Marley's phone suddenly went off. Dazed, she picked it up from the table. Shit, "Hello?"

"Marlene," Sam breathed in relief, "Are you alright?"

She scratched the back of her head, glancing at Castiel, "Yeah, totally — wait, did Bobby get there? Is he okay?"

There was a suspiciously long pause, "Uh, he did, yeah. He is...doing great."

"Thank God. Wherever he is," she muttered, "Any luck cracking the case?"

There was a commotion on the other line: a door opened and someone started arguing, "We're getting there," Sam told her, clearly distracted by whatever was going on, "Uh, listen, Marlene, I gotta go. You sure everything's alright?"

"Peachy." God, peachy?

"Okay. Well, um, talk later?"

She nodded even though he couldn't really see it. For some reason, things between her and Sam had become ever more awkward than before, "Sure. Bye, Sam." Marlene knew he needed time to get over what'd happened on their road trip, but she thought they'd reached a common ground. A friendly ground.

"Why do you look like that?"

Marlene shot Castiel a glare, "Like what?"

"Angry and sad."

She puffed out a breath and plopped down on the couch, "Oh, Castiel. I wish humans were as frustratingly honest as you."

"They would have to be without sin," the angel told her, solemn.

Marley quirked a brow, "So you're without sin?"

"I am an angel of the Lord."

"You didn't answer my question." Probably because he hadn't understood it, "Being holy doesn't mean you're sinless. I mean, look at the church — the holiest and probably the most corrupt institution on the planet."

Castiel seemed fascinated by that fact, "It is?"

"Uh-huh, big time. Always has been. Plus, Zachariah is an angel and you wanna tell me he isn't a sinner?" Marley scoffed, "Ticked a few deadly ones off the list, that's for sure. And Gabriel..." she trailed off. It was too obvious a point to explain. "And for the fear of being struck down by the hand of divine justice, I don't think that God is without sin either," she confessed, "Which kinda makes him more relatable, when you think about it. All PR is good PR, right?"

Castiel was deep in thought. It seemed Marley's words had struck a cord with him — the sin was a mundane concept to angels, an elaborate grade system to determined who went up and who plummeted down to the deepest caverns of hell. Castiel used to be so sure of that system, it had never really occurred to him it could be corrupted.

"Castiel?"

"I will try to find out what became of the emerald," he suddenly announced.

Marley was slightly taken aback, "You will?"

"Yes," the angel nodded, resolute, "I will contact you when I have any information."

"Thank you, Castiel. I..."

"Marlene, next time, make sure not to use the angel frequency. Zachariah might be looking for any traces of the energy, it could lead him to you," Castiel fumbled in the pockets of his trench coat under Marley's puzzled stare. Finally, he took out a small, shabby Nokia, "You can call me."

Marlene grinned cockily, "Are you asking for my number?"

"Yes," the angel replied without a beat.

She rolled her eyes and snatched the phone out of his hands. There was only one contact — DEAN, and now Marlene's name was right beneath it. "Here," she gave him the phone back, "Call me anytime."

"Alright," Castiel nodded somewhat quizzically, "Goodbye, Marlene."

She cracked a smile, "Goodbye, Castiel."

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

Dean was a pain in the ass. Which was okay — it was his MO, and Sam had gotten used to it over the years. But nothing, not even two decades's worth of traversing the great US of A together stuck in the same old car could've prepared Sam for Dean's inner Hugh Hefner emerging. Although, admittedly, it was much less Playboy mansion and more a cranky seventy-year-old geezer.

Currently, Dean was eating a salad Sam had brought with him from a diner. He stabbed a cherry tomato with impressive violence and stared at its impaled form, having a full-on existential crisis. Probably wishing it was a medium-rare steak.

Sam's mouth twitched as he glanced over at him, "How's the salad?"

Dean dropped the fork into the takeout box, "I'd rather have a stroke," he grumbled and leaned back into the chair, closing his eyes for a moment. It was probably the back again.

"Well, give it a year."

Dean cut him a deadly glare, "Was that Marlene you were just talking to?" he met Sam's narrowed eyes with a pointed raise of his eyebrows.

"Yes," Sam replied off-handedly, rearranging kale in his own salad.

Dean was enjoying it way too much, "How's she doing?"

"Okay, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Alright, quit squabbling like two damn teenage girls," Bobby cut in, rolling closer to the table, "We got plenty on our plate as is."

"Speak for yourself," Dean mumbled, glancing at his salad with pure disgust.

Sam sighed, "She sounded alright. A bit freaked out about Bobby taking off," he said, looking right at the culprit.

"Whatcha starin' at me, boy? I couldn't just sit around on my ass all day being freakin' wet-nursed."

"Well, technically — " Dean piped up.

Bobby levelled him with a stare. Dean cleared his throat and resumed silently glaring at his food, "I'm tellin' you, that girl is one hell of a nervous Nellie. Worse than my own mother," Bobby muttered, then quieted down for a moment, "Do you two trust her?"

Both Dean and Sam stilled for a moment. They exchanged a brief look, thinking back to the conversation they'd had on the way here.

"I trust her."

Sam threw Dean a suspicious look, "Since when are you on Marlene bandwagon?"

"Since when are you not?" It was a dirty move and Dean knew it. Sam's nostrils flared ever so slightly, lips curled into a reserved snarl.

Bobby watched the exchange with a confused frown. He didn't bother to get into it, "Okay, listen. That girl's been around the house for a good few days," Bobby told them, "She might be a wack job with the worst luck I've ever seen, but she ain't got a bad bone in her body. She's got as much reason to hate the winged bastards as we do and she isn't chummy with demons, so that ain't a problem," Sam looked away, contrite, "And whatever deal her father has goin' with Zachariah...I don't think she's in on it."

Bobby was right. There was no darkness in Marlene, only the light. She was clean, unlike Sam. Unlike any of them. "Thoughts pass, Sam. No feeling is final. It's if you act on them that matters." Her words rang through Sam's memory. Marley'd given him the benefit of the doubt back when they hadn't really known each other. She was the only person who'd trusted him and accepted his choice for what it was without any judgement.

Marlene was the only person who could understand what he was going through. Perhaps, that's why he kept pushing her away — she was too much like him. Too much like the person he wished he could''ve been

Sam was a dick. Which was okay — Dean would say it was his MO.

He'd probably be right.

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

Bobby's house was creepy. It reminded Marlene of these remote cabins that usually ended up being slaughter houses for horny teenagers in slashers. And although Marley was no longer a teenager and definitely not horny, she felt like she'd get Texas Chainsaw'd the minute she closed her eyes. That is to say, sleep evaded her.

The combination of being in a house filled with all sorts of cursed objects and being in that house alone made Marley remember the good old days when she was scared of a sneaky monster under her bed. And if twenty years ago that monster was nothing but a figment of her wild imagination, these days it could very well be literal.

Ah, fear was exhausting. And so was overthinking, and together, the two made for one hell of a torturous pair. "One piece remained on earth, another he took with him to hell. And the third...the third was lost in-between."

Marlene couldn't stop thinking about Castiel's words — they were the first real clue she'd got, what with her father's lies and Gabriel's constant riddles that left her absolutely bewildered. Bewildered and enraged.

Now she knew that one piece of the emerald was most likely in Zachariah's possession and another...was in hell. Marley had no plans to visit anytime soon, so she needed to find another way in, someone on the inside —

Good friends are like stars

You don't always see them

But you know they're always there

No.

She wanted to give herself a slap for even considering that. Reaching out to a slimy, opportunistic midget of a demon? And they say the best ideas come at night — what an absolute scam. Marlene'd have to be dying from despair to do that, and even then she'd wait until the other option was gruesome death. Then, and only then would Marley consider seeking help from the silver-tongued bastard. She might've been more positively inclined...had he not framed her for murder and got her arrested. Oh, and there was the matter of selling — sorry — lending her soul to the King of literal deals with the Devil. Yes, Marlene had done her reading. She was diligent like that.

Annoyed at herself, Marley turned to her side, face meeting the perfectly cold surface of the pillow. Well, at least things weren't completely terrible. There were only so many negative life scenarios her mind could take, and at some point, Marlene's body decided it'd had enough. The stubborn thoughts relented, and she dozed off into a slumber. However, peaceful it was not.

Everything around her was black.

At first, Marlene thought she'd woken up in the dark room and needed to give her eyes some time to adjust. But time passed, and yet...everything remained the same. There was neither left, nor right; neither up, nor down; neither light, nor darkness — it was complete and unadulterated nothingness.

"Hello?" Marley called out, her voice echoing through the boundless abyss. She could hear distant sounds of music; muted and old, as though coming from an antique record player. It sounded just like her father's, the one he'd played every evening when Marlene went to bed. She'd listen to Frankie Laine's muffled voice coming from Arthur's study, lulling her to sleep. Now it was anything but.

Marlene walked forward — but was there even a forward? This place had no sense of space or time. It just...was.

"Is anybody here?" her voice trembled. She tried to stay on the move, hoping to see a glimmer of light in the infinite darkness. Hoping that maybe there was an end to it, after all. But as Marlene continued her trip into oblivion, she began to realise that there was no end. Just like there hadn't been a beginning.

Children's laughter rang through the music. Marley whirled around, glancing to her left, to her right — where had it come from? "Who did that?" her heart was hammering in her chest. Another giggle and hurried steps. But from where? "Stop that!" A thunder clapped in the wake of her yell. Shaken, Marlene looked up, expecting wet droplets of rain, but there was no rain. Just the sound of it pelting against a window. Thump, thump, thump...

Was the music...getting louder? Spurred by the discovery, Marlene quickened her step, listening carefully to the 40s tune. The sound seemed to be getting closer and closer, no longer muffled, a faint light in the distance indicating that Marley was on the right track.

Mr Sandman, bring me a dream

Make him the cutest that I've ever seen

Marlene stopped.

Give him two lips, like roses and clover

And tell him that his lonesome nights are over

The song was coming from an old gramophone, its golden cylinder shining in the light that spilled from...above it? But there was nothing —

—the record jammed, letting out a screeching sound. Marley winced. The song started anew.

The record played from a small stand of dark wood. By it, sat a man. His was slouched in a wooden chair, his back to Marlene. Was he asleep? Something in the black hair and the burgundy sweater he was wearing made her chest ache. Slowly, her steps painfully small, Marley walked to the gramophone and lifted the needle, halting the song. Now, there was just rain and the sound of her heart pounding.

With a trembling hand, Marlene reached for the man's shoulder. It stopped right above the soft, woollen fabric of his sweater — she let out a shaky breath, her lower lip quivering from fear. Finally, Marley's fingers touched the man's shoulder and she gently shook it, urging him awake. But then his head lolled back, revealing two gaping, burned out holes on his face.

Her scream was the only thing she could hear. "No! Dad — "

Before Marlene felt a presence right behind her, a body pressed flush against her back, warm breath tickling the skin of her neck. "Boo."

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

Marlene stopped the car. She stayed in the driver's seat for a couple of minutes, hands firmly clutching the steering wheel. Breath in, breath out. Was she really going to do this?

It was early morning, the sky still bearing the reddish traces of the dawn laced with pale purple. It would've been beautiful, picturesque even, had Marley had a wink of sleep the night before. Had she not woken up screaming, her father's lifeless face imprinted in her memory. Had she not stumbled out of bed with the first rays of sunshine and rummaged through Bobby's cabinets. Had she not driven to the cemetery for dirt.

Had she not been parked in front of a crossroad.

"This is stupid," Marlene whispered and finally got out of the car, grabbing a box from the passenger seat.

She walked around and opened the truck to retrieve a shovel. Marley had no idea how to man that thing — she wasn't even sure she'd have the strength to do it, but she'd try. She'd do anything for that dream to never become reality.

A half hour later, covered in sweat and dirt, Marlene was staring at the highly unimpressive hole in the ground. Luckily, it was just hollow enough to fit the box that contained all the necessary ingredients: a black cat's bone, graveyard dirt and her fake ID.

She didn't know how they operated down there, but hoped that as the King of Crossroads, Crowley had dibs on all the deals being made. He knew her fake name, Marlene was sure of it — now she only hoped that it was him who'd show up.

Making sure the box was properly buried (even summoning a demon had to be executed to perfection), Marlene stepped away and spoke the incantation, "Te invoco a profundus inferni." Ah, her Latin professor would've been ecstatic that she was actually putting that language to use.

Honestly, Marley didn't know what she was expecting. The score from the Jaws? Infernal flames blasting from the depth of the earth? Phantom of the Opera aria? She was sure something had to happen. Only...it didn't. Given, Castiel had appeared with no preamble too, but at least he had been quick about it. Alright, maybe demons were just lazy.

Confused, Marlene took out the note from her jacket and checked if she'd got the incantation right — and of course she had. Then what was the problem? The ID.

"Shit," Marley hissed. She didn't know they were so strict about it down there. Now she felt like a freshman trying to get a Long Island on her nineteenth birthday. Still a mystery why the bartender hadn't believed that her name was Rosalinda Buchachos.

Anxiety-ridden and sleep-deprived, Marlene walked over to the buried box. She crouched down to get it out, but before she could get her hands dirty, she was staring at a pair of shiny black leather shoes.

"My, my," a smug voice drawled, "I believe I was offering my friendship, but if you insist..."

It was a miracle Marlene didn't stumble and fall on her way up. Once she was on her feet again, though, she could glower at him from a safe distance. God, she loathed how red her face had become.

"I didn't want to do this."

Crowley shrugged, "We all have our regrets."

"Why did you come?"

"Isn't that what friends do?" he wondered innocently.

Marlene narrowed her eyes. Crowley returned the suspicious squint with a patient, jovial smile. Almost as though he'd expected her to summon him...For a moment Marlene thought he might've planted that nightmare in her head, only she knew perfectly well who was responsible for that. Someone much higher on the food chain.

"You wanna be friends?" Marley said, voice so tense it was almost trembling, "Fine. But I have my conditions."

"Ah, it sure feels like home," Crowley sighed, pleased, "Alright, I'm all ears, little angelette."

First, stop calling me that. "I need you to find something. It's...hidden somewhere in Hell."

A glimmer of curiosity flashed in his eyes, "Could you possibly be more vague about it, crumpet?"

Marley huffed out an exasperated sigh, "It's a stone. A piece of it, really. A piece of an emerald."

"Lucy's little trinket?" Crowley asked, a look of mild confusion on his face. And interest, "Why?"

"None of your business. You know about it?"

The demon bristled importantly "Of course I do. The better question is..." he walked closer to Marley. She stepped further back, eyes trained firmly on his sneaky human form, "...how do you know about it?"

"It doesn't matter. That's my condition," Marlene told him, "The emerald in exchange for my..." Crowley quirked a suggestive brow at the pause, "...cooperation."

"So you will give away your soul?" he asked, suspicious, "Willingly?"

"I believe you used the word "lend". In which case yes, I will lend it to you. Willingly. For six months."

Crowley let out an incredulous laugh, "Oh, little angelette," Marlene clenched her jaws at he nickname, "I'm afraid that's not the way it works."

"A lease always has an expiration date. You are the King of deals, should I really be explaining this to you?" It pleased Marlene to see the annoyance on the demon's face.

Crowley pondered on it, "Fine, a year."

"A year?"

"Yes, one year. Once Lucifer is dealt with, you get it back."

"But it could take years — "

"Oh, please," Crowley scoffed, "he doesn't have the stamina to last this long. It will be over before you know it."

Giving — lending — her soul to an opportunistic demon for an entire year. Twelve months. Three hundred and sixty five days, or sixty six days if it was a leap one. That's not how Marlene'd imagined her year to go when she was drunkenly kissing Maddock on New Year's.

"Alright," she said at last, quiet and gravely.

Crowley looked ecstatic, "Marvellous. Now...shall we seal the deal?" he got uncomfortably close, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Marley scrunched her nose, repulsed, "Nah-uh," she stumbled back, "There is no deal without the emerald. You get the stone, then we talk."

Crowley's face was a mix of impatience, infuriation and reserve that was noticeably slipping, "Of course," he managed to keep his composure, even though his smile now seemed more like a snarl, "I'll prepare the papers."

Marlene managed a nod, "How soon can you get it?"

Crowley's dark eyes studied her face for a few highly uncomfortable seconds. She hoped he hadn't heard her loud gulp, "I'll be in touch."

The ride back to Bobby's house was filled with less tension. It was quiet and contemplative, accompanied by a peculiar sense of peace. For the first time since her life had spiralled into absolute chaos, Marlene had managed to regain some control over it. She wasn't floating anymore, she had a direction, a purpose. Life was always a little easier when you had a plan, however self-sabotaging and potentially suicidal it was.

However, all the peace flew right out the window once Marley drove back into Bobby's yard and saw his van. And a familiar black Chevy Impala next to it. If only she could climb the pipe to her room, get back in bed and pretend she was sleeping. Huh. Today was weirdly reminiscent of her teenage years.

It took Marlene some time to muster up the courage to get out of the car. And then some more time to brace herself for the damage control. Here goes nothing, she thought and opened the front door.

There were voice coming from the living room, and all of them quieted when Marley closed the door. She winced at the loud sound — Bobby really needed to get those hinges fixed.

Slowly, she walked down the hall and stopped, facing the living room and the three very angry men, who were currently glaring at her. Alright, only two of them were glaring at her. Sam looked more concerned than murderous.

"Hey, you're back!" Marley chirped, "How was the case? Did you kill anyone?"

"Did you?" Dean deadpanned.

"Where the hell were you, kid?"

Marlene's cheerful smile dimmed. She cleared her throat, assuming a remorseful expression, "I...went into town."

"Marlene..." Dean growled.

"Dean, come on."

Marley almost dropped her act from the sheer shock of Sam standing up for her. He decided to be normal again? "I needed to go, okay?"

Bobby gave her a suspicious look, "Why?"

"Because! Because..." Dean crossed his arms and tipped his head forward, brows raised. Marlene sighed, "I had to buy something."

"What?"

A pause. "A lady thing."

It was way too much information for Bobby — something Marlene had counted on, and the old man instantly lost interest. Sam seemed deeply uncomfortable, eye contact long forgotten. Dean, however, was a different story.

"What lady thing?" he asked, deeply baffled.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and mumbled a disappointed, "Dean..."

"What?"

Sam gave him the look, staring as long as it took for his brother to understand. When it finally hit him, Dean let out a weak "Oh", then repeated it, more forcefully this time. Marley pursed her lips at his revelation. Dean cleared his throat and went to the kitchen to get them all some bear.

And that was that.