Seven Devils

Chapter 30 / Wayfaring stranger

"I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger

Traveling through this world below

There is no sickness, no toil, nor danger

In that bright land to which I go."

— Johnny Cash, Wayfaring Stranger

Youngstown, Ohio

Halfway down to Albany, Marlene decided to make a pitstop. Mostly because the unending road ahead was starting to make her dizzy and her hands were getting sore from gripping the wheel for hours. That and she also needed to refuel. Both the car and herself.

Hey, you've called Sam Winchester. Leave a message after the signal or try Dean —

"Already did, you moron," Marley muttered and threw the phone on the passenger seat. She'd been trying to reach the two twiddle-heads for hours, but neither of them was picking up. Eventually, she'd got desperate enough to call Bobby, though with little result because he, too, had no idea what was going on.

Pissed off and exhausted — her MO for the past few months — Marley drove into the gas station and parked her car at one of the spare slots. She'd always hated refuelling. The entire process had seemed daunting and had made her feel awfully anxious, but having had to do that by herself an awful lot lately, Marlene'd managed to conquer that irrational fear. Well, at least something good had come out of her self-imposed exile.

She stuck the fuel nozzle into the car and waited patiently as the black liquid gold pumped into the tank. Marley would've dozed off had her phone ringer not gone off. She grabbed the pump with her other hand and reached into the pocket of her jacket to retrieve it, "Yes?"

"Just checkin' in," Bobby greeted, "Managed to talk to any of those idjits yet?"

"Nope. It goes to voicemail every damn time, " she pulled the nozzle out with a rather unwarranted aggression and headed to the shop to pay, "Let me guess: you had no luck either?"

"Can't reach any of the phones," Bobby grumbled. Marlene heard him sigh, "They're probably knee deep in some crap, kid, don't worry."

"You do hear yourself, don't you?" she walked into the shop. It was pretty empty, save for the cashier and a few people browsing the isles, "And that text was really weird, Bobby. Sam made two spelling mistakes. And he used an abbreviation," she grabbed some water and a pack of Twizzlers.

"I still think you going there is a stupid idea. Whatcha gonna do, waltz in and do magic tricks?" the harsh sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable, "If there's trouble, you'd better stay away."

"First of all, we still don't know if that ritual worked," Marley put the groceries on the counter. The drowsy old man began checking them out, "Second of all — " she stilled, catching a strange reflection in the mirror above. Marlene narrowed her eyes ever so discretely to get a better look. Her heart plummeted — it was the man in the cereal isle. Black eyes shining like two obsidians upon a gnarled face, "Shit," she muttered.

"'Shit'? That's all you've got to say?"

"I'll call you back, Bobby."

"What — "

Marlene hung up the phone before he could complain any further, "Keep the change," she told the old man and made a beeline for the exit, trying to appear as unsuspecting as possible. Which wasn't easy when all she actually wanted to do was to get the hell out of the shop and sprint to the car.

"But your water..."

Marley pushed the door open and continued walking at a normal pace. She could feel the demon's eyes on her. Or perhaps, she'd been mistaken. Surely, he hadn't been following her — Marlene had made sure of that with the hex bags. And there was still a possibility that he hadn't noticed her in the shop at all. After all, Marley had become rather good at disguising herself with a wide assortment of baseball caps. Actually, just the two, but they worked like magic.

That hope, however, was quickly abandoned when the bell rang behind her. Letting out a slow breath, Marlene reached for the gun in the inside pocket of her jacker. Hand resting on the grip, she continued her casual stroll to the car. She needed to lead him as far away from the shop as possible, to attract less attention.

The closer Marlene got to the car, the faster her heart was beating. The steps behind her were getting more rapid, more determined. She gripped the gun tighter. One...two...three...

She whipped around, aiming it at the demon's twisted muzzle. God, Marley wished there was a way to turn that off super-vision because she was getting real tired of seeing those.

The bastard smiled, quirking a brow at the water-gun, "You gonna shoot me with that thing, pumpkin?"

"No," Marlene replied, her voice only slightly trembling, "But it's gonna drizzle a little." She pulled the trigger and a surge of holy water gushed straight into the demon's puzzled face.

"Aaah!" The creature screamed in agony, steam coming off his skin, "You bitch!"

Ignoring the sexist jab — though she had half a mind to rain on his parade a little more — Marlene bolted to the car while the demon was still crouching on the ground in pain. She reached for the door, but was suddenly pulled away, two hands grabbing her from behind. She whipped her head and saw another demon, his breath tickling her skin, "Don't worry," he chuckled and twisted her arm. Marlene cried out in pain, the water-gun slipping from her hand, "Just gonna clip those wings of yours."

"Get...off me," she grunted, trying to wriggle out of his grip. But he was much taller and significantly stronger than her, so her measly attempts to get away were shamefully futile.

The demon tightened his hold, one of the hands crawling dangerously close to her neck. Not that again. "Boss will sure be happy."

"That bitch shot holy water at me!" lamented his pal, just now recovering from the burn.

"Suck it up and help me get her into the car, you idiot."

Marlene clawed at his arm locked around her neck, but the more she resisted, the more the demon squeezed, "Surely your boss wouldn't appreciate you strangling me," she croaked out as a last-ditch effort to set herself free of the monstrous grip.

"Having trouble talking, pumpkin?" the demon sauntered up to her, taunting. His lips quirked into a smug smile, "Good thing you't not gonna be doing that for much longer." Marlene opened her mouth to retort, but the monster behind her had her neck in a tight lock, so only a gasp came out. His friend leaned closer in mock concern, "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I..." Marley whispered, "I..."

Something cold and sharp touched her cheek — it was a knife. He grazed her skin with the tip, taking pleasure in her sudden stillness, "You what, pumpkin?" Marlene stared silently at him. The demon sighed, "Come on, man, let the poor girl speak!" he exclaimed wryly.

She sucked in a breath when the pressure was lifted from her neck, although not enough to allow actual movement. The sudden intake of air made her a little dizzy. "Well?" the demon standing before her quirked a brow, dragging the tip of the blade down her cheek, "You were saying?"

"I said go to hell, you little twerp," Marlene mumbled faintly.

He laughed, exchanging amused looks with his friend who was still holding her in place, "Come again, sugar?"

She stared the weasel down, jaw set tightly as she spoke in a low, monotonous voice, "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas — " His eyes grew wide as he staggered away, the knife slicing through Marlene's cheek in the aftermath. But she was too high on adrenalin to care. Just as she'd hoped, the words had weakened the demon behind her, and she managed to slip out of his hold.

"You fucking cunt," the smaller demon growled.

The two monsters swiftly recovered from the initial effects of the spoken incantation and glowered at Marlene, preparing to advance on her. She stumbled back, still slightly light-headed, and continued chanting, "— omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis — "

She was thrown into the nearby car before she could go on. The impact left Marlene wondering if she'd drawn her final breath at last. Her vision was filled with black dots, everything either blurred or swirling. Slumped on the wet pavement, she forced herself to look up, which sent a piercing pain shooting through her skull. Marley turned her head and made out two figures moving towards her — who were they? The demons, a distant voice supplied.

Once her foggy, very likely concussed brain got the memo, Marlene blinked her eyes rapidly to gain back some focus. She needed to get up and do something, she needed to...oh, right. Continue the damn exorcism.

"Cong-gregatio et secta..." Marlene mumbled, propping herself up against the car, "...diabolica, ergo draco maled — " with another sway of the hand, the weasel-looking demon had her choking.

"Enough talking," he snarled.

Her temples were pulsating with pain, heartbeat so strong she could feel its rapid thumping in her head, pounding against her injured skull. The invisible hold the demon had on her throat was getting more stifling each second, and the black dots clouding Marlene's vision were quickly spreading. Gasping for air, she tried lifting herself up, to move, to do something, but it was like her body refused to cooperate. Like it'd already given up. Yet her brain was still very much eager to see another day.

Marley wouldn't have herself die at a gas station in Ohio. Nuh-huh, that simply couldn't happen. And Sam and Dean, what would they think? She just couldn't allow Dean Winchester to be right about something. "I told you so, Marlene. You don't just go off on a damned solo roadtrip. Now you're dead." The mere thought of that awakened the dormant strength within her. Like a vernal bud caressed by the sun, it bloomed inside her, filling her chest with a strange, almost...tickling warmth.

"Not in the mood to chatter anymore, eh?" the demon gloated, prowling closer with his taciturn partner. The grip on Marlene's neck grew tighter, completely blocking the airway. He smirked at the way her eyes widened in shock, "There it is, that fear. Better stay quiet, pumpkin, or I'll make sure to rip out that sharp tongue of yours."

She was trying to grip onto something, her body spasming from the lack of air, but all she could feel underneath her palms was the harsh pavement. "Magic can seem surprisingly subtle to those who do not wield it," Orontes' voice echoed through her addled brain.

"Alright there, doll face ?" the demon wondered in mock concern.

Marley was writhing helplessly, eyes fixed on his nauseating grin. That couldn't be how she died — "Believe me, you will soon feel the effects of the binding spell." The warmth in her chest began to spread, suffusing every part of her body. Like liquid gold, it shot through her veins and straight towards the heart —

— and then it burst like a supernova. The explosion sent a major shockwave through the entire parking lot, setting off car alarms and, apparently, knocking the two demons down. Marlene's hand shot to her neck that was no longer squeezed by the unseen force, her breathing rapid and greedy. When she'd finally got enough air, she willed herself to rise, feet wobbly.

The demons were still down, groaning from the impact. Marley recalled that shit-eating grin and the knife at her face. Threatening. Humiliating. Mouth curling in revulsion, she hobbled towards them, close enough to catch the cocky demon's eye. "Something you want to say, sugar plum?" she derided.

"You fucking — "

"— cunt, yeah. I know," Marlene picked up the water-gun from where she'd dropped it, "I think you've done enough talking, don't you?"

Without waiting for the reply, she aimed it straight at his face and pulled the trigger. While the demons were writhing in pain from the little shower, like she had been mere minutes before, Marley lowered the gun and spoke softly, almost in a whisper, "Ergo draco maled icte, ut ecclesiam tuam secura, tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos."

She should've budged when black smoke surged out from the two slack bodies on the ground, but Marlene hadn't. She just stood there, frozen in place, and watched the dark clouds of demonic matter disappear in the night sky. Off to torture someone else, far away from her.

The aftermath was...quiet. Marlene found herself feeling dreadfully empty, all the pent-up emotions rushing back in a violent current. Suddenly, she became very aware of the bloody gash on her cheek — it stung like a bitch — and the pounding pain in her head, accompanied by the pain in the rest of her body from literally smashing into a car.

With a slight limp in her right leg, Marlene dragged herself back to the shop. The upbeat music playing on the radio was a nice change from the depressing nocturnal quiet. The old cashier looked up from his sudoku and gawked at her appearance, speechless.

Marley stopped by the counter in a most casual fashion, "Hello again," she attempted a smile. The man blinked, "Now, about that water..."

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

Holy mother of Christ the Saviour, what the actual effing eff was that? — that thought had been the primary occupant of Marlene's head.

She still wasn't quite sure how she'd got back into the car and driven away from that blasted gas station. It had been done purely on autopilot and some of the adrenalin that was left in her body. Neither the mild concussion nor the possibly sprained leg could stop Marlene from reaching the destination.

She'd almost been killed. She'd exorcised two demons. She used her power. She used her power and didn't die —

Holy mother of Christ the Saviour, what the actual effing eff was that?

Marlene was only beginning to get to grips with what'd happened when the sun finally peeked from the horizon, expelling the darkness, both literal and figurative. She was surprised to discover she'd driven all night and not blacked out from all the injuries — perhaps, that had something to do with the newfound source of energy within her. So, Orontes hadn't been lying. She was certainly feeling the effects of the binding spell now.

Another thing Marlene'd discovered was that her phone had fallen victim to the Ohio gas station skirmish of 2010. She had no way of reaching...ultimately, anyone. God, she'd hung up on Bobby. He would probably kill her if her headache didn't do it sooner.

And so, six hours later, Marlene finally entered Albany, New-York, half-delirious and half-pissed off because she wouldn't have found herself in that mess to begin with had it not been for Sam's bizarre text. Add the fact that he hadn't really provided any specifics in his Bat-signal to the long-list of reasons why Marley was ready to kill the Winchesters with her bare hands. Thanks to that, she now had to stop by every cheap motel in town to Sherlock around.

Battered and bruised, with a baseball cap on that hopefully concealed the cut on her face, Marlene did not particularly inspire trust in people, but she supposed they felt enough pity to help her. "Hi there, have you by any chance seen two guys: one really tall with nice hair and the other who looks like a cowboy edition Ken doll?" she'd ask them, shifting from one foot to the other — injured one — like a fidgety junkie. Usually, they'd give her a bewildered once-over, then offer a look that was equal parts sympathy and suspicion and then kindly tell her that no, they hadn't seen anyone by that description and she'd better skedaddle or else.

That is, until Marlene reached the Cloverleaf motel.

"Hi there," she greeted the bored-looking guy at the reception, "Have you by any chance seen two guys: one really tall with nice hair and the other who looks — "

"— like a gayer version of Eastwood?" Marlene considered the description for a moment before giving a hesitant nod. She supposed it couldn't be too far off, "Yeah. Room 105, checked in last night."

"Awesome," she said, surprised it'd been that easy. The guy didn't even look up at her, eyes glued to his computer screen, "Alright, thanks."

"Yeah, whatever," he muttered distractedly.

At this point, the only force driving Marlene was pure anger. And, perhaps, curiosity. But mostly anger. She trudged up to the second floor, wincing with every stair she climbed — it was certainly a challenge.

As Marley neared the number 105, her rage was starting to slowly melt into exhaustion. She hadn't slept in two days, had had to deal with a crazy witch coven, undergone an ancient binding ritual, had been attacked by demons and driven all night only to spend another two hours looking for that freaking motel. And all for what? It'd better be good, Sam Winchester.

She knocked on the door ferociously. Three, five times. Eight times. Fifteen...It finally opened, revealing the culprit in all his glory. Sam stared at her, his face slack with shock, mercurial eyes comically wide. "H-hey — "

"What the actual hell, Sam?" were the first words out of Marlene's mouth. Without awaiting an invitation, she strolled into the room, past the stumped beanpole, "You send that weird text and what — no address? How did you suppose I was to find you, huh?" she raged but the sight of a clean, soft bed mellowed her anger, "And why didn't you pick up your damned phone? Speaking of: where's Dean? God, you guys! What on earth is going on? I'm so exhausted."

Sam closed the door and slowly, very slowly turned around to see Marlene sprawled on his bed. He froze. She gave him a weird look, "Are you okay?"

"You...you're hot," Sam blurted out.

Her brows shot up. She stared at him, "Alri-ight. Must've been something in your salad today," Marley mumbled uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of the fact that they were alone in the room, "So, what's up with that text, Sam? Is everything alright? Is Dean fine? Where is he?"

"Uh...yeah, the text," Sam breathed out a sheepish chuckle, "It's, um, it's all sorted now. N-no worries."

Marlene blinked at him, quiet fury bubbling in her chest, "All sorted? No worries?" she repeated with terrifying calmness. Sam gulped, "I drove two days straight because I thought you idiots were dead in a ditch somewhere and you've got it 'all sorted now', huh?"

"You're upset."

Marley huffed out an incredulous laugh, "I don't know — am I?" Sam looked like a helpless, cornered animal. She frowned, bemused by his strange behaviour, "Sam — are you really alright?"

"Oh, I'm okay," he replied with a sudden cheerfulness, "Great, even. M-Marlene," Sam finger-gunned at her. He actually finger-gunned. Marley stared at him, eyes narrowed. He cleared his throat, "So, where'd you get the cut? Looks real gnarly."

"It's nothing. Had a run-in with a couple of demons. It's all sorted now," she said, looking very smug at the retort, "By the way, that witchy stuff was a pretty weird affair. Turns out their coven is, like, dying or something and they needed my help, which was great cause I needed their help, and it all just — " Marley broke off and frowned, noticing something exceedingly strange. Sam was looking at her, but his eyes were set way lower than her face, "Sam, are you...um, are you staring at my boobs?" she asked, half incredulous and half self-conscious. She'd never thought there was much to look at, really.

His eyes went wide, "No! I-I — No, I'm not, what?" he snorted, smiling bashfully, his whole face going red.

Marley looked at Sam quizzically. "Okay," she said slowly, giving him a suspicious side-eye. She rose from the bed, wincing at the now dull pain.

There were some notes on the case piled on the table — Marlene scanned through them, smiling at Sam's freakish calligraphy. Witches, she thought with an internal eye roll. "So, it was a witch-hunt? That's what you needed my help with?" Her voice dripped with self-irony. Marlene had no illusions she could've been of any help whatsoever.

Sam seemed surprised she'd addressed him, "Uh, not exactly. It was a ghost of a witch. We had to burn the bones and everything — it was pretty awesome."

She looked stumped by his cheery enthusiasm, "Keep up the good work, comrade," Marlene said, but something in Sam's face told her that he hadn't caught the sarcasm. And then it hit her — they were actually talking. Not mumbling 'sorry's' when they'd bump into each other in the kitchen or exchanging quiet 'hello's' whenever they'd fail to avoid one another. She sighed, "I'm actually glad you texted."

"You...you are?"

Marley nodded, "Things have been...weird between us lately and I-I'm sorry," Sam quirked a surprised brow. "I'm gonna be honest, Sam — I was trying to avoid you. But I realise now it's...not the best time for high school drama, so...thank you. For reaching out, I guess," she mumbled the last part rather awkwardly, "One of us had to."

Sam stayed quiet for a while, brow furrowed in deep reflection, "So...you're into me?"

Marlene's cheeks turned a rich shade of scarlet, "Um...huh," she cleared her throat, extremely uncomfortable, "I mean...Yes? I suppose so. But it's fine, I get it. With everything going on — haven't we already talked about this, Sam?"

Sam nodded eagerly, "Yeah, sure. Sorry, just thought I'd, uh, clear things up."

"Right," Marlene said, looking rather sceptical. Thankfully, the door opened before any more awkwardness could ensue.

"Hey, I thought we could check out that bar — " Dean halted and gaped at Marlene, "What are you doing here?" He frowned, noticing the cut on her cheek, "And what the hell is wrong with your face?"

Donning a guileless smile, she pointed at Sam, "Take it up with your brother."

Dean shot him a glower. Sam looked away in shame.