Seven Devils
Chapter 32 / Those Magic Changes
"Roads? Where we're going we don't need... roads!"
— Back to the Future
"Hurry."
Dean woke up with a gasp and sat up on the bed, breathing heavily. What the actual hell was that freaking dream?
Anna's imploring blue eyes were imprinted in his mind, urging him, begging him for help. Hell, he hadn't heard from her since the day Castiel had got captured by the angels for reprogramming. Well, it must've been then that he'd sold her out to the Host of Heavens — Dean knew he wouldn't have done it otherwise.
Meet me there, Anna'd whispered, giving him the address of a warehouse. And although Dean felt sorry for her — for everything she'd had to suffer at the hands of the righteous winged pricks — he had been through enough crap to know that nothing good ever happened in warehouses. Especially when rogue runaway angels asked you for a secret rendezvous at one.
"Dean?" Sam called drowsily. He blinked the sleepiness away and noticed the troubled frown on his brother's face, "Whats wrong?"
"I saw Anna," Dean mumbled incredulously.
Sam sat up a little straighter, "What?"
"She showed up in my dream. Said she needed to see me," he explained, still feeling a little hazy on the details, "Apparently, she'd been locked up in the angelic prison this entire time."
It took Sam's sleep-addled brain a moment to process the information, "And she broke out?"
"That's what she told me," Dean stood up, with no intention of going back to sleep, "But the timing is too suspicious."
"You think it's a trap?
"I think that even Cas couldn't escape from that heaven-hole."
"So she's been brainwashed like him?"
Dean shrugged, "I don't know, Sammy. But something's off here." His eyes landed on the empty bed in the corner of the room. He frowned, "Where's Marlene?"
Brow furrowed, Sam turned and saw that her bed was still made, like she hadn't even slept in it. And she probably hadn't. He brushed a hand over his weary face and rose from the bed, pulling a shirt over his head, "I know where she is."
Dean gave him a long look, then sighed, "Fine. You go get her, I'm gonna try calling Cas."
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
Marlene huddled in her coat, wrapping it closer around her body for warmth. December had creeped in without so much as a notice, unannounced and extremely unwelcome. The air had become crisp and insufferably chilly, and although it hadn't started snowing yet — at least here in Indiana — the ground was covered with a thin glaze of ice.
But even that frozen wasteland was better than tossing and turning in bed with sleep stubbornly evading you. Or you evading sleep, as it was in Marlene's curious case. Truth be told, she hadn't had a normal sleep since Carthage. Every time her heavy eyelids gave in and drooped, the paranoid part of her brain screamed in alert, urging Marley to wake up. If her dreamland was Lucifer's only gateway, she'd do everything to shut that door and bar it the hell up, pun not intended.
Marlene was nestled into the corner of a bench near the vending machine, its faint blue light and the green dazzle of the neon motel sign being the only source of light in the dead of night. One could've easily mistaken her for a vagabond, which, in truth, Marley probably was. No job, no home, no prospects — she'd literally had to scrape for the change in her pockets to buy the sorry bar of Almond Joy. There wasn't enough for anything else.
Cold and disgruntled, Marlene opened the package with fingers that were half-numb, and took a bite. She stilled with a pleasantly surprised expression. Alright, maybe it was sleep-deprivation or the cold that had somehow messed with her senses, but Almond Joy was actually good.
Sam didn't noticed her at first. Marlene had managed to seamlessly blur into the urban scenery, the sound of a candy wrapper being opened the only thing giving her away. His mouth twitched at the sight — something he'd grown used to in their travels. That she would always be there, by the vending machine, stuffing her face with candy and ready to offer him that painfully exhausted smile that held immeasurable warmth. It was the closest thing to home Sam had felt in a long time.
Marlene's head instantly shot up at the of footsteps, alert like a chipmunk munching on a treasured booty. Sam walked up to her, hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat, a sheepish smile quirking his mouth.
"Whoah, for a moment there I thought we were on a Sasquatch case," Marlene said as he approached.
Sam breathed a faint chuckle and sat down next to her, "They don't actually exist."
"Yeah, I wouldn't be so sure about that," she took a bite of the chocolate, staring out wistfully into the empty road before them.
He glanced at the bar in her hand, "Almond Joy?"
"It was either that or leftover candy corn. ," Marlene sighed dejectedly, then turned to him with a curious frown, "Why are you awake?"
Sam's brows lifted a fraction, "Why are you out here? It's freezing, Marlene," his eyes roamed her face, no doubt noticing the red tip of her nose, "Are you okay?"
She almost told him about the nightmares she'd been having for weeks. Lucifer's lurid crimson eyes. How she was terrified of going to sleep and seeing them again. To hear him whisper her name, luring her in with ominous threats...But Marlene didn't. She couldn't burden Sam with her problems — he had enough to deal with. Plus, she didn't want to overstep the boundaries of whatever it was that they were.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Felt a bit antsy, is all, " Marley said instead, perfectly casual, "I was actually gonna go back inside, unless..." Don't, Marlene, just go, you don't need this — "...you wanted to talk?" Dammit. Sam looked a bit stumped by the sudden offer. Now they were just staring at each other. Well, great. She'd made things weird again —
"Actually, it's, uh — it's Dean," Sam said after a moment of torturous silence.
Marlene's brows drew into a wary frown, "Did something happen?"
"We should head back in," he stood up, leaving her question unanswered, "Come on."
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
"She said what?"
Castiel hung his head down guiltily as if it was somehow his fault a rogue fallen angel had decided to kill Sam, "She said that Sam's death could put an end to Lucifer's plan."
After a long debate they had finally agreed that Dean meeting Anna would not only be dangerous, but also absolutely stupid. Now, ignoring her sudden plea for help would've been foolish as well, and so Castiel had suggested that he go instead. For once, their plan hadn't backfired, and they had actually got some valuable information out of it.
Only Anna had vanished before Castiel could confront her. And now there was a vengeful angel wandering about with a sole purpose of smiting Sam, who looked awfully calm at the prospect. Marlene found her eyes straying to him every minute, sitting on the far bed, thoughtful. She was finding the expression suspicious.
Dean, however, was pacing, "Really? Anna?" he sounded incredulous, "I don't believe it."
"It's true," Castiel said quietly, busy drawing a sigil on the table. It was supposed to help him locate Anna.
"So she's gone all Glenn Close, huh," Dean muttered, "That's awesome."
The angel straightened up, confused, "Who's Glenn Close?"
"No one, just this psycho bitch who likes to boil rabbits."
"What do we do when you find her?" Marlene asked, watching Castiel's careful ministrations from the back of the room.
"Anna will not heed my warning," he said gravely, "There is but one way to stop her."
The room fell into silence. Castiel returned to the spell while Dean walked back and forth like a restless puppy with zoomies.
"So the plan to kill me," Sam piped up, pensive, "Would it actually stop Satan?"
Marlene's chest tightened. She knew something had been brewing in that big head of his, "Are you kidding me?" she flashed him a glare.
Dean groaned, "No, Sam, come on. "
He dismissed them both and turned to Castiel, "Cas, what do you think? Does Anna have a point?"
Marlene and Dean looked at the angel with remarkable synchronicity, their stares equally threatening. Castiel felt torn between wishing to escape their wrath and speaking his mind, "No," he finally said, glancing at Dean, then back at Sam, "She's uh, Glenn Close."
Sam dropped his head in disappointment. Marlene narrowed her eyes at him, anger bubbling in her chest. How dare he be so reckless?
"I don't get it," Dean came over to Castiel, "We're looking for the chick that wants to gank Sam?" He spread his arms, baffled, "Why poke the bear?"
"Anna will keep trying. She won't give up until Sam is dead," Castiel said and looked up at them, eyes eerily dark, "So we kill her first." He poured some holy oil into a bowl on the table and began chanting the incantation, "Zod ah ma ra la — "
Marlene could feel the vibrations of energy coming off the sigil, almost palpable in the air. They swirled around like serpents, seeking out their pray until finally finding it in Castiel. They curled around him and then sharply tightened their hold. "— ee est la gi ro sa." A red flame shot from the bowl, and Castiel stumbled away from it, visibly weakened by the spell.
Marlene rushed to his side, helping him into the nearest chair. Cas sat down and closed his eyes, his breathing laboured. Then he frowned, as though trying to concentrate, "I've found her."
"Where is she?" Dean asked urgently.
"Not where. When," Castiel regained his strength and looked up at them, "It's 1978".
Marlene's brows shot up, "Huh?"
"What?" Sam rose from his seat on the bed and joined Dean and Marley, "Why 1978? I wasn't even born yet."
"You won't be..." Cas spoke thoughtfully, piecing it all together, "...if she kills your parents."
"What?" Sam breathed faintly.
Castiel walked over to them, "Anna can't get to you because of me. So she's going after them."
"Jesus, that bitch is insane," Marlene muttered.
"Take us back right now."
The angel's eyes flashed to Dean, "And deliver you right to Anna? I should go alone."
"They're our parents, Cas. We're going."
Castiel sighed and walked a few steps away from them, contemplative, "It's not that easy."
"Why not?" asked Sam.
"Time travel was difficult even with the powers of heaven at my disposal," Cas sounded frustrated. Marlene supposed it couldn't have been easy — having been stripped of the power you'd held for millennia.
Sam's face went slack, "Which got cut off," he sighed.
"So, what, you're like a Delorean without enough plutonium?"
"I don't understand that reference," Castiel stated politely. Dean rolled his eyes, "But I'm telling you, taking this trip, with passengers no less — " he broke off, shaking his head, "— it'll weaken me."
Dean walked to Castiel, "They're our mom and dad," he insisted, "If we can save them, and not just from Anna, but if we can set things right, we have to try."
The angel didn't like the idea, not one bit. Nonetheless, Marlene could tell just by the pained look on his face that Castiel's resolve was slipping. He wouldn't be able to say no. It seemed he could never say no when it came to the Winchesters. But she'd seen what that spell alone had done to him — travelling through time could very possibly mean...
"I'll help you," Marlene blurted out, drawing three pairs of wide eyes to herself, "What? I've done it before, haven't I? It wasn't time travel, but — "
"Yeah and you almost died," Dean told her dryly.
She glowered at him, "The witches already fixed that." Sort of, her mind supplied. So what she got nosebleeds? It was nothing. Certainly nothing worth mentioning.
"Oh, yes. The witches," Dean said sarcastically.
Sam sighed, "Marlene, we don't know what it could do to you."
Castiel frowned, majorly out of the loop, "Witches?"
"I'll fill you in on that later," Marlene promised and turned to Sam, "No, we don't know that. But I'm willing to take a gamble. Because Cas won't make that trip alone without serious consequences," she glanced at the angel who still looked a little worse for wear, "And since I don't see any other capable or willing DD's in here, if you want to travel through time, I'm the Marty McFly you're stuck with."
Marlene would've lied if she'd said she didn't enjoy the begrudging helplessness in Dean's burning glare and Sam's quiet resignation.
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
They'd packed a duffel bag, filled with old ceramic jars — holy oil to trap angels that were a bit higher up on the food chain, Sam had explained — and Castiel's angel blade, among other hunting essentials. If Marlene didn't know better, she'd have thought they were going on a camping trip.
"Are you sure you can do it, Marlene?" Castiel turned to her, grim and solemn.
"No," she told him point-blank.
The angel frowned, disheartened, "I'd expected your reply to be more reassuring."
"Hey, you don't need to worry about me — I'm just the backup," Marlene raised her hands guilelessly, "You're still the one pulling all the weight."
Unfortunately, her little pep talk hadn't been as optimistic as she'd hoped. With a heavy sigh, Castiel zipped the duffle bag and handed it over to Sam, who threw the bag over his shoulder. Dean stalked up to them, face the mix between a pout and a glower.
"You'll have to take hold of both our arms," the angel instructed Marlene, glancing at Sam. She froze for a moment, her brain failing to comprehend that she would actually have to touch him. Gingerly, Marlene did as she'd been told, feeling a shiver when her hand touched the surface of Sam's jacket. He became noticeably stiffer at the contact. Gee, sorry.
Cas gave the three of them a loaded look, "Ready?"
"Not really,' Sam sighed.
"As I'll ever be," Marlene said at the same time.
"Let's get in over with," Dean grumbled and grabbed Sam's arm, "Don't forget to bend your knees."
And everything went white.
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
Marlene wished she'd heeded Dean's advice, though she supposed it wouldn't have made any difference — she wouldn't have stuck the landing either way. She found herself collapsing to the ground, legs wobbly and soft like cotton candy.
"Motherfu — "
"Hey, are you okay?" A voice asked. It didn't sound like Sam. Or Dean. Or Cas. Who the hell was that?
Wincing from the daylight that suddenly seemed too bright to bear, she looked up at a young man with shaggy sandy hair. Once she noticed the tie-dye shirt he was wearing, there was no doubt the trip had been successful.
"I'm fine," Marlene croaked out, very much not fine.
It appeared she'd been dumped in some alley. The tie-dye guy was leaning against the brick wall, a lit joint posed between his index and middle finger. He seemed like he really wanted to bolt, but felt obliged to do his civic duty. Oh, the blessed flower children. Marlene was also pretty sure he was majorly stoned. "Yeah, uh...you're, like, bleeding?..."
Her hand went straight to her nose, "Crap," she cursed and shot up from the ground, startling the Shaggy. It'd been a stupid thing to do, though, because a moment later, Marlene nearly stumbled back down. The world before her eyes seemed to be spinning, lights blurring into splashes of color, voices and sounds echoing from miles away as though she were stuck underwater. She braced herself against the wall and shut her eyes, taking a deep breath. Where the hell was everyone?
The first thing Marlene saw after gaining some strength was a poster of Cher and Sonnie's upcoming show in Hartford. As if she needed any more proof — Hold on a moment. She frowned at the bright flyer, forgetting all about the pain in her head. Hartford? Marley was pretty sure they were supposed to be in Lawrence, Kansas...
She whipped around, suppressing another wave of dizziness, and met the Shaggy's puzzled and very obviously red eyes, "We're in Hartford?"
"Uh...yeah," he replied sheepishly.
"And it's 1978?"
"Dude," the boy breathed in amazement, "What'd you smoke?"
Marlene liked to think she was a relatively reasonable person who could handle a precarious situation with immaculate grace and overcome every hurdle life kept putting in her way. But being transported into the past and somehow ending up in the other part of the country with no means to contact the jolly bunch she'd travelled with, was a hurdle that'd had Marlene tumbling down to the ground — literally.
"Yo, man, you're, like, to-otally fried, aha-ha," The Shaggy laughed, apparently finding his own words awfully amusing. She had no time for this.
"Alright, catch you on the flip side, man," Marlene muttered and started to walk away. She stopped pretty soon, though, remembering she had nowhere to go. Not even a plan. Or money, "Hey," she turned back to the Shaggy, "Could you spare some cash? I think I was mugged."
Still directionless and planless but now a dollar richer, Marlene plunged into the move and groove of the 1970s Connecticut. She had to admit it was sort of amazing — the 70s were the weirdest and greatest time, at least culturally. Music, movies, art — it was exhilarating to realise that she was now living through it. It would've been even more exhilarating if Marlene wasn't stranded in Hartford, too weak to transport herself anywhere, much less back into the future.
She passed by a newsstand and stopped to scan the headlines. Lots of stuff about Ted Bundy's trials, Grease's striking box office and — Marlene stilled. Eyes going wide, she snatched today's issue of Hartford Courant and gaped at the date — March 23d, 1978.
Her birthday. Eight years from now, but still...it couldn't have been a coincidence. Was that why she had been sidetracked here? Marlene'd done as Castiel had instructed, not a stray thought in her head; certainly not about Hartford. She hadn't even been there in 23 years, since the day her father had packed up their life and had them move to Cambridge. Which, again, would happen eight years from now, which meant...Oh my God.
Newspaper still clutched in her hands, Marlene looked up from the pages in complete shock. Her parents. They were already together in 1978. In Hartford. Her mother was alive. She had a family.
"You gonna buy that?" an wrinkly old vendor asked, eyeing Marley with suspicion. Apparently, she wasn't dressed to the current fashion. She looked way too normal.
"No, today's boring," she returned with a fake smile, demonstratively putting the 20-cent newspaper back on the rack. The vendor huffed and turned his back to her. Ah, the smell of pot and peace in the air. But Marlene was too buzzed on the latest realisation to be bothered by anything. She walked down the crowded main street like a woman on a mission until she finally stumblinb upon a payphone.
Marlene slid inside the booth and hastily opened the phone book, her hands trembling anxiously. She felt exceptionally thankful for the internet at that moment, flipping through the pages in search of the familiar family name. R...S...T — Marlene laid the book completely open and scanned the page, her index finger gradually moving down the list of names. Terderro, Terenowski, Terfondant...How many Ter's lived in this Wasp little town? Jesus.
"Come on, come on," she muttered, getting restless. And just when Marlene was half ready to grab the blasted phonebook and tear it to shreds, her finger stopped, mouth stretching into a triumphant smile, "Bingo."
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
With no money but the one dollar given to her by the friendly pothead, Marlene had very few options when it came to getting places. Getting a taxi or a rental was not even a possibility she could realistically entertain, and since public transport was out of the question, too — Marley had much trouble figuring it out in her own time much less the past — the only other viable option was to hitch a ride. Yes, it was pretty dangerous — the 70's was a highly prolific time for serial killers, after all — but Marlene'd already had her fair share of run ins with demons and a bunch of other homicidal monsters, so how bad could a guy with a moustache and a machete really be? Plus, she still had her gun —
Marley reached frantically into the inner pocket of her jacket. She relaxed.
— yes, she still had her gun. Good. Something was working for her, at least. So armed with a gun and a dollar, Marlene walked further down the main street. Finding a place that wasn't particularly crowded, she stopped and stuck out her hand, thumb up. She had no hands-on experience with hitch-hiking, but that's what they usually did in movies, right?
Fifteen unsuccessful minutes later and a creeping numbness in her right hand, she realised that it was yet another thing the movies were lying about. Not a car stopped by or at least slowed down to take a look and make sure Marlene was harmless. They didn't need to know she had a gun in her jacket.
Desperate, Marley was starting to entertain the idea of dodging a bus ticket. She'd already done it once as a freshman and...yeah, she'd been kicked off that train. She'd also been drunk. And it had kind of been Maddock's idea. Huh, Maddock.
Marlene had been so wrapped up in not dying and dealing with Satan, she hadn't had the time to think about her old best friend. Was he still looking for her? Was he still mad? Did he care? He'd likely seen her face all over the news: the dead fisherman in Galveston, the brutally stabbed police officer — he had no way of knowing they were shapeshifters. He must've just thought she was insane. A criminal.
Maddock was the last person tying Marlene to her old life. To the life where she was a burnt out, sleep-deprived (which still held true) Masters student, whose only worry was finishing up her thesis and getting tenured. That life was but a mere dream now, a washed out memory slowly being assigned to oblivion. Marley didn't like to dwell on it too much — she felt like these memories taunted her with their false promise.
Wrapped up in her depressing thoughts, Marlene barely noticed the car that was slowing down to the curb. "Oh, no," she whispered, looking at the blue Volkswagen van. It looked like the car from Scooby Doo, only Marley was pretty sure the passengers weren't chasing monsters, but rather nirvana. Or Woodstock.
The van came to a stop and the door slid open. A doe-eyed girl with long blond her and an almost delirious smile emerged. There was a half-wilted flower crown on her head, "Hello, fellow traveler," she greeted serenely.
Marlene willed her face to stop making that mildly terrified expression — they were all she got. No one else was loony enough to pick up a stranger. She cleared her throat, "Uh, hi there."
"You need a ride?" a guy with a guitar asked.
Oh, boy. "I...do. Yeah."
Another girl appeared from the backseat, smiling brightly, "Hop in!"
"Are — are you sure? I'm heading to Scarborough — "
"Oh, that's cool!" the flower-crown blonde enthused, "We're heading West too!"
Marlene kind of wished they weren't. But instead she managed a rather awkward smile, the one she had given her high school boyfriend Dylan McCoy when she'd agreed to be his prom date even though she'd actually been meaning to break up with him for weeks. "C-cool," Marley nodded, begrudgingly coming to grips with the idea of having a ride on that fry-bus.
And so she climbed into the Volkswagen, pointedly ignoring the guitar guys's helping hand. Wow, she had to hold her breath for a moment when the pungent smell of pachouli and weed hit her nostrils. The veil of smoke in the car was almost opaque. Buffy Saint-Marie playing on the radio, some people were singing along, some flying so high, all they could do was sway mindlessly to the music. Marlene felt like an undercover narc, sitting on the edge of her seat, all stiff and prim among the free and spirited flower children.
"So-o," the blonde girl sing-sang, "What are you called?"
Marlene blinked at her, "What am I?...Uh — "
"Your name," the guitar guy said with a helpful smile.
"Oh. I'm, uh — I'm Marlene."
The blonde grinned, "Oh, my! That's beautiful!" she gasped, her wide green eyes glimmering with amazement and something else entirely, "Oh, I love it. I think that is what I'm gonna call my daughter —"
"Please don't," Marlene mumbled uncomfortably.
"— and tell her all about the wayfarer I met in my travels. It is fait, don't you see?" she looked at her friend, who nodded distractedly.
"What do you seek in Scarborough, Marlene?" The guitar guy asked, taking a drag from a joint being passed around. His eyes seemed so intensely black there was no telling how wide his pupils were. Wait a minute —
"I'm going to see my family."
"Family," the blonde sighed, wistful, "What a strange word it is."
"Not really — " The guitar guy held out the joint to her. Marlene shook her head, " — oh, no, thanks. I don't smoke."
"I totally respect that," he said serenely and passed the joint to the blonde instead, "So that family in Scarborough — you haven't seen them a while?"
"You could certainly say that," Marlene sighed and then frowned when the flower-crown girl suddenly leaned forward.
"See?" the girl looked at her friend and whispered, "Fait."
"Yeah, or a bunch of nazi angels playing house," Marley muttered. She didn't know they would actually hear her.
The blonde stared, mystified, "Angels?"
"I mean...like a metaphor," Marlene backtracked lamely, "You know, as in hands of cosmic force guiding you?" she'd definitely got second-hand stoned.
The guitar-guy gazed at her, "Your brain..." She started when he touched her forehead, "...is beautiful."
Majorly unsettled, Marlene let out a shaky chuckle and sat further back. Away from that creep. "And you guys? Going anywhere special?" she asked, eager to change the subject.
"Everywhere is special," the flower-crown girl said dreamily.
"Yeah...but you've got to be going somewhere?"
"There is no final destination," the guitar guy told her solemnly, "Even death is just the beginning of another journey."
Marlene really wanted to argue on that — boy, did she have a lot to say, but he was too high to actually listen and she was not high enough to start that discussion. Oh, and the van stopped. Marley looked out the window. They were in a homely suburban neighbourhood. And by suburban, she meant filthy rich.
"Your family lives here?" the blonde girl whispered in amazement.
"Are you, like, flush or something?" the guitar-guy asked. Judging by his disgruntled tone, he didn't like the idea of money.
"Seems like it," Marlene whispered, gawking at one of the huge houses, "Well...guess it's my stop. Thanks for the lift, guys." She opened the sliding door and jumped out of the van, legs still slightly wobbly.
"Farewell, Marlene," the crown-flower girl said, "May the hands of fait guide you well." Oh, may they not.
"It was a pleasure knowing you," the guitar guy nodded, "Safe travels." And so the door slid shut and the Volkswagen slowly drove off, Nancy Sinatra's Summer Wine but a dull noise coming from the open windows. Just like that, Marlene was alone again.
Heaving a sigh, she trudged down the street, looking around like she was in a freaking museum. Damn, those houses were nice, one more luxurious than the other. Sure, Arthur made rather good money as an Ivy League professor and renowned writer, but as well-off as they were, they could've never afforded...well, that.
"Holy shit," Marlene whispered when she stopped at Scarborough Street 135 — the Ter-Gabrielyan residence as per the yellow pages of 1978. To say it was a big house was an understatement — it was a mansion. An enormous mansion with a wide drive-in that had a small fountain placed at its very centre and...about a dozen cars parked around it. Marlene would've thought they all belonged to her "family" if it wasn't for a crowd of people gathered at the entrance, all dressed in black and carrying various trays of food.
It was a wake.