Supernatural 1. 1 - The End of the Beginning

**Chapter One: The End of the Beginning**

Eyes. Sinister, impossibly black eyes. _And they were staring right at me_, Marley Walker wondered, sliding a small brass key into her front door's deadbolt. It could have just been an illusion, right? A trick of her imagination? _It's late, after all, and I'm tired._ Over her shoulder, she took a quick glance at the quickly darkening, but empty, street, and shrugged into her home, shutting the door promptly behind her, locking it again. Marley inhaled, realizing that she had been holding her breath since she had passed the menacing man on the street only a moment ago. She had never seen this man before, not even once, which is odd, because she always took the same route back to her house from the gym. Every day. At seven p.m. It seemed odd that their paths had never crossed before that short second of eye contact.

The stare he'd laid on her made her feel strangely insecure and paranoid, which wasn't a range of emotions Marley was often met with. Now looking around the interior of her modern-esque two-story home, her heart returned to a normal pace and the stress of that encounter faded away, seeming to peel and slip off like an oily second skin. _Come on, Marley, they were probably just contacts_, she tried to reassure herself, but it was to no avail. She knew the man's, or what had appeared to be a man's, murky gaze was no farce. That was the upside to her ability. Marley could know any piece of information that she wanted, as long as it was or had been, at her simple whim. Unless, of course, it dealt specifically with the supernatural. _Ironic, right?_

This inborn ability to absorb and understand knowledge without as much as a snap of the finger had began a couple of months ago, after her twenty-second birthday. Marley was halfway through her last year of college when she came down with a flu that kept her utterly bedridden for two weeks. When she came back to school, suddenly she didn't need to read the material anymore, or use reference books, or study at all whatsoever. Abruptly, for whatever reason, Marley had gained the ability of knowing all knowledge, any thoughts, any secrets, however big or small, however light or dark. This instant grasp of everything _but_ the supernatural also made Marley amazingly proficient at anything she tried, so at first, the power seemed like a blessing, but over the months, it had only made life ever-increasingly boring.

Boring, that is, until Marley's brother, Cameron, "invited himself" to move into her home after he'd been dumped by his girlfriend of four years because of his addiction to what he referred to as "escorts". That incident occurred a week before this day, and Marley let Cam do as he pleased. He kept well enough to himself at first, considering he didn't have a job or any friends in Jefferson City. She almost pitied him, but found herself lacking in the sympathy department whenever she had to clean up his messes or drag him up the stairs into bed after each of his weekly nights at the bar. Looking away from the clock she'd been staring at while in her train of thought, Marley noticed that Cam wasn't, for once, downstairs drinking, though the kitchen light was still on. This concerned her immediately, and before even thinking of the possibilities, the ability-run portion of Marley's brain told her what she had feared. _Cam's dead, upstairs_, it informed her, in a stoic version of her own thought voice. How it had happened was fogged behind a familiar veil, the same that prohibited her from accessing any knowledge of the supernatural, which meant that the man she'd seen on the street probably had something to do with this, granted he was what she thought he was.

Throwing her keys onto the side table in the entryway where she stood, Marley quickly bolted up the stairs and ran into the guest room, throwing on the lights as she entered. Nothing about the room seemed amiss, save for maybe the open window, which allowed an appropriately icy breeze to snake into the room, catching her skin and sending waves of goose bumps to the surface. Though unnecessary, she tiptoed to the edge of Cam's bed, then Marley whispered his name sadly and sighed. She placed her hand lightly on his body, which was covered still by the sheet, and felt no warmth. A bad taste filled her mouth at the moment of contact, a taste like iron, like blood, and an image of the man's black eyes filled her mind for a split second, then left as soon as it had come, taking with it the foul taste staining her tongue.

Marley relaxed after a moment and began to pull the covers from her brother. His now very pale and very clammy face was revealed, boasting open, bloodshot eyes and a clenched jaw. Curious yet tinged with lingering apprehension, she continued to peel away the sheet, and knew what she was looking for when his bare chest was uncovered, showing five circular marks on his chest. They were brownish, like burn marks, and their arrangement resembled that of fingers that had been pushed against him forcefully. The skin within those spots seemed dry and crusty, yet delicate like old yellowed paper. Marley's palm flew to her mouth and her eyes narrowed in disbelief. Cameron, her brother who she'd seen just this morning shoveling heaps of cereal into his mouth, was now gone, just like _that_. Though she'd known that he'd passed before looking at him, the sight of her only sibling, her only family left in the world, her anchor, her normalcy, now gone, created a cold feeling in Marley's stomach, a dark, swirling pit that raged quietly like churning black seas before a storm. Tears welled up in her eyes, and they spilled over, a small cry escaped Marley's lips and she knelt next to the bed, firmly planting her face between her crossed arms on the sheets. Sobs shook her frame and she grieved for the loss of the last of her family, the brother who'd loved her, supported her, saved her from a sin-filled house so long ago. She wished she'd been more forgiving of his mistakes, that she'd listened to him more when they'd spoken; she wished she'd done more for him in his final hours. But this wasn't any natural death; it was something she could avenge, something she could make _right_.

Flashbacks of times spent with an old friend flew through Marley's mind along with a million other thoughts, but through all the commotion, she still managed to calmly call 9-1-1 and inform the authorities of the situation, of course leaving out the part about the man with the black eyes and all the superfluous information not to be dealt with by the police. Really, though, she just wanted Cam's body away and at rest, as she'd seen what could happen if he wasn't to be taken care of properly.

She returned downstairs and turned on the porch light in preparation for the officers that had been dispatched. The taste of blood returned to Marley's mouth and she winced, seeing the black eyes again, and the apathetic tone of her ability spoke in her mind. _It left a note on the kitchen counter by the sink._Without looking at the note or even walking into the kitchen, she knew what it said: "Found you. He was just a bonus." _What evil words... I'll kill him, Cam, for you…_ she thought, feeling itching tears finally coming on and the shock slipping away. The thought of that malicious creature having penetrated into her home sent an all-new wave of shivers down Marley's spine. _Why me? Why now? I thought this was behind me._ Her mind turned back to the black eyes, and she remembered. _The fire._

When Marley was just six months old, a fire burned down the house she was living in with her parents and Cam (who was four at the time), and though both children were removed from the building safely, it collapsed on their father, killing him instantly. Their mother had been completely stricken with grief after her husband's death, and though she had already been an abusive parent, she finally went off the deep end. She began treating the children like animals, locking them in their bedrooms until mealtime, which usually consisted of a few scraps of leftovers from whatever she had eaten, and only let them out to use the restroom once before they had to go to sleep at seven p.m. And, because she was such a loving mother, the woman, every night before locking the kids' doors for the night, would tell Marley that she was the reason their house had burned down. _She_ was the reason her own father died. At the time, Marley had just thought her mother was trying to hurt her, but later discovered Mom was speaking more truth than even she had realized. Marley and Cam lived with their mother after that until Cam moved out to go to Lawrence, Kansas to buy a house with his girlfriend and attend college; however before doing so, he had called Child Protective Services to get Marley out of their mother's house once and for all. They were both finally free from those rooms and what was left of their family. CPS was going to put Marley into the care of a Foster family, but after stacks upon stacks of paperwork and a hefty amount of heated arguments, Cameron was able to manage to get the organization to put his little sister in the care of his girlfriend's parents in the house right across the street from his.

These siblings grew up then, liberated from the cruelty of their mother's captivity, only having to return to the memories when testifying against her in court for the years of torment she'd put them through. Marley, at first, had been hesitant to put her mother in prison and said she needed mental health care instead. Cam, though, was insistent in making absolute that their mother was punished for what she'd put him and his sister through. When Marley turned eighteen, she enrolled in college, much to her new guardians' pride, as they had come to love Marley like she was their own child. It was in her fourth year here (she was attending medical college) that she began _knowing_ things. At first, she thought her studying had finally paid off since she had began passing all exams with flying colors, but when she started suddenly having 100% knowledge on all the students in her classes and even what they were thinking, feeling, _dreaming…_ that's when it got weird. _Maybe I'm going crazy,_ Marley had initially thought, but after a few weeks, she realized this newfound ability could be a serious gift. All in-class labs went perfectly, all tests earned high merits from teachers and medical institutions, but there was still something tugging at the back of her mind, something about her power, and how she felt there was _really_ a connection between her and the house fire that killed her father, like her mother had tortured her with the idea of for years.

So, she'd done some delving into her history, discovering that it wasn't only she and Cam who had survived the same kind of house fire. In fact, she'd found a few different articles regarding the same tragedy in different states. Since she lived in Lawrence, and one of the articles concerned a very similar fire in that area, Marley decided she'd first investigate that incident, since it was so close and wouldn't interfere with her studies, as if she would have to study anyway. She had come up with the plan, after beginning more hands-on research, that if anybody had questions, she could always just use the cover that she was looking for a new house to move into by herself since she was in college. So, on Spring Break, Marley drove into town, finding the old Winchester house almost immediately, as her power saved her from having to stop to ask for directions. A sign out front of the house said it had been recently sold, but the interior was still empty, so she decided to take a look around for whatever reason, probably hoping to find something that was similar between this house and her childhood home, something to connect them with so she didn't feel as crazy as she looked breaking into this random house so far away from her home. Making sure the new occupants weren't inside, Marley entered the mysterious connection to her past.

After finding nothing but a few traces of sulfur in the ceiling of the nursery, which seemed odd yet Marley thought nothing of it, she gave up her search and walked outside again, sulking to her car. Just as she opened the driver's side door, a man had suddenly sneaked behind her and pinned her to the car. Though she couldn't see him, she immediately knew who it was.

_"John Winchester?" although she already knew, Marley asked the name to keep suspicion down. She didn't want to scare him away this early in the game. John spun her around roughly, looking her in the eyes, then took a flask out of his coat pocket, popped the cap, and dripped some of the clear liquid on Marley's face. "What's that supposed to be, holy water?" She laughed nervously, hearing in his thoughts that it was exactly what she'd "guessed". For a moment, John looked embarrassed then took a step back, clearing his throat. A warm but apprehensive smile played its way across his lips and into his eyes, which crinkled at the corners._

_"Sorry about that, can't be too careful. Have we met?" he asked pleasantly, and Marley smiled back at him calmly. She shook her head and took another glance back at the Winchester house._  
_"This is going to sound crazy, but," she perused his memory, finding treasure troves of knowledge, seeing that he was a hunter of the supernatural and that all the things that she'd only ever heard of in legends existed, "-with your background I think you'll be more understanding than most."_

She'd explained to him about the similarities between the two of them, specifically the house fire. However, when she'd gotten to the part about her "talent", he'd suddenly turned reluctant to listen further, so she had to coax him out of his trepidation with tidbits of information from his past that only he or his two sons would know. After a couple minutes, she'd finally cracked his shell, and he told her about his children, Sam and Dean, and how Sam had also been six months old when their house burned down and how the fire had taken John's wife, Mary. But he'd said it wasn't an ordinary fire; a demon caused it. Probably the same demon that burned down Marley's house when she was just a baby.

Their conversation lasted nearly an hour there on that street in Lawrence and eventually John decided it was time to leave and continue his life on the road. Marley insisted that she would go with him, but he refused, said he worked alone, and she told him she didn't care, that he was stuck with her. Marley thought she'd be more reluctant to up and leave her normal life to help somebody, who'd be considered a stranger to her, hunt ghosts, vampires, werewolves, and a plethora of things the average populace thought were just fairy tales. As it turns out, however, in this direction, she felt useful, like she could really help people, and undo the evil people like her mother had left on the world. Before they left Lawrence, Marley had John drive her to her adopted parents' house where she left a note stating she'd gone on a road trip with some friends from college (even though she didn't have any; her prestige had made her intimidating to her peers) and wouldn't be back for a while. So for a few months the two of them traveled together, and she helped in the hunting as best as she could, realizing the veil that stood in the way of her ability's grasp of the supernatural. John tried to help her get past it, even giving her a deck of cursed cards to practice with, but the efforts seemed useless after a while. Finally, on that last day of her break from college, John dropped her off at a new house back in Jefferson City, which was only a mile away from her school. He said he'd paid for it with another one of his fake names and that it was a parting gift, though he left her with a warning that it probably wouldn't be a smart idea to go back to Lawrence. After hunting, he'd said, it could be putting her family in serious danger.

_"Seriously, no need to thank me," John laughed as he tossed Marley the keys to her home. "Consider it reparations for that talent of yours. And if you ever run into my boys, tell 'em I'm alright." Marley beamed at the man as he tipped his head to her. He drove away in his big black truck and she turned to the new two-story white beach-style house, absolutely puzzled at how she would try to live a normal life from here on out._

**Ding-dong.** Marley jumped from the noise. _The cops, right._ Marley shook away the nostalgic memories of John and stared at her hands for a second, remembering the predicament she was in. Tear swelled up her eyes again but this time she let them escape. She walked to the front door and opened it full-swing. "Evening officers. Come on in."


	2. 2 - The Threads Entwine

**Chapter Two: The Threads Entwine**

A week had passed since Cam's death and nothing particularly interesting had occurred around Marley's house since then. The world around her seemed to settle down, as if the incident had never happened, as if she'd never seen the demon on her walk home that night, as if her brother had never been killed. That was frustrating enough in itself, but what was even more obnoxious was that the police had given up on Cam's case, though Marley knew they would never turn to investigate the supernatural, but the officers had simply named the cause of death a 'liver failure', even though Cam's liver was perfectly functional, and called it a day. Obviously the Jefferson City PD wasn't very motivated these days. Though their explanation didn't explain why Cam's heart was missing when they did the autopsy, which had absolutely baffled the mortician, they let the case go cold, returning to the norm of petty thefts and domestic discrepancies.

Marley pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger as a headache appeared out of the blue, and she leaned on the kitchen counter with her free hand. She sighed, stood upright, and shook her shoulders. _I bet John could have figured this out_, she thought solemnly and tried to track him down with her ability. Usually it was a simple task, and she would see in her mind's eye the interior of a motel room layered in articles and John sitting at a table in the dark eating various fast foods. However, now, she couldn't see him. _John? Where are you?_ At first, she considered that he was in the middle of a hunt and his location was being fogged by whatever he was hunting. That notion was quickly discarded, as she'd still be able to see John, just not his quarry. _Dammit, John._ She couldn't help but feel she had something to do with this. The demon, Cam. Everything was too much of a coincidence.

For a second, just a small second, it was clear, as if the veil moved, the thing itself that was blocking her mind's sight pulled away, allowing a vivid image of John. He was strapped to a bed, unconscious, but alone and unblemished. She saw the door of the room he was in, on its outside in plastic numbers "208". Though the veil returned almost as soon as it left, "Sunrise Apartments" ran through her mind, giving her a notion of John's location. Marley had a bad feeling about this, not only that John was tied to a bed and in trouble, which she had to quickly set aside to begin calmly yet hurriedly putting together a travel bag, but the inconspicuous manner in which the veil cleared, just for that information to be passed to her. Normally she didn't believe in such deliberate action, especially from the supernatural, which normally acted in a radical and random manner in her experience, and she hoped this passing of John's location wasn't a lure since without so much as considering the alternative, Marley had already decided to go rescue her friend.

How would she handle any supernatural beings if they were there, though? She hadn't used a weapon since she last saw John months ago, and the only things she stored in her house were bags of rock salt in her hall closet upstairs and an iron fire poker in the living room. That and the .45 she kept under her mattress. Thinking of which, Marley jogged upstairs, still barefoot, and into her bedroom, grabbing the handgun, the extra magazine next to it, and put both into the backpack, checking the safety on the weapon to make sure it was on.

"Missing…something…" she mumbled to herself, flying through drawers to grab anything important. "Oh! Right." Moving quickly to the bottom of her nightstand, she pulled open the last drawer, which had a false bottom, and from it she grabbed the emergency silencer for her .45 along with an old fake police badge and ID and a money clip holding approximately thirty-five hundred dollars in twenties. If there was anything John Winchester taught her in their time together, it was that even out of the game, you'd have to be prepared for everything. Some called it paranoia, she called it precaution, not that anybody else knew about her hidden stash of "rainy day" money.

Marley paused. Demons. Of course, demons. How did she not think of that first? Before running downstairs, she grabbed an empty cardboard carton from the waste basket in her bathroom and filled it to the brim with rock salt from one of the sacks in the hall closet. As she ran into the kitchen, she zipped the backpack, tossing it casually onto the sofa, and then grabbed an empty spray bottle from under the kitchen sink and filled it with tap water from the faucet. Within the drawer in the far end of the counter space was the rosary Cam had brought with him to Marley's house; it was the only thing from his ex-wife he had to his name, and had refused to throw it away but couldn't stand to look at it either. She silently thanked him now for his stubbornness and dropped the rosary into the water in the bottle.

"Exorcizo te, creatura aquæ, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in nomine Jesu Christi, Filii ejus Domini nostril…" Marley began, purifying the tap water and making it holy, a weapon that would burn the Hell (more figuratively than literal) out of any demon she encountered. After a few moments, she ended the incantation with "Per Dominum, amen." and screwed the spray cap back on the bottle, then walked into the living room and stuffed that in her backpack as well. It thunked against her back when she slung it over her shoulder and took her final steps over the threshold. A breeze rustled through her bangs lightly, bringing with it the smell of the lavender her neighbors had planted just last month. Her sense of determination to help John was there, stiffening the way she walked to her dark red sedan in the driveway, but as much as the feeling confused her considering the very recent passing of the last of her family, a loss she had yet to properly grieve, a sort of freedom washed over her. Every fiber in her body began to tremble in the excitement and thrill she hadn't realized she'd missed so much. It wasn't until that moment that Marley Walker regretted letting John kick her out of hunting those months ago.

Nobody necessarily belonged in this business, but she didn't feel like any other line of duty would be a better fit for her, except possibly the police force, since she could know each person who committed every crime and find the evidence to convict them all in a snap. Yet it was still too small-town somehow, too widely-known and too "apple pie". Traveling with John Winchester had entirely warped Marley's sense of normalcy, and she was experiencing a sensation not unlike "you don't know how hungry you are 'till you smell dinner", which was something the man himself would mutter before taking his first bite into a gas station burger after a job well done. A smile crept its way onto her lips at the memory, the only feature of her face she couldn't see as she checked the rear view mirror after starting the car's engine and backed out of the driveway.

Luckily, Sunrise Apartments were only fifteen minutes away from her house, another reason, she realized as she made her way to the location, that this could very well be a lure. The motive, though, of the demons was the part she couldn't figure out. She'd been out of hunting for a while and she and John had had minimal contact since she moved into her house. Why they would possibly try to get her _now_ was entirely mysterious. This theory, however, didn't trump Marley's devotion to this dangerous undertaking. After the countless scrapes she and John had been in during their short time together, he'd saved her life several times, and she his as well, yet she would never be able to pay back her debt to him. And that's what kept her pressing a little harder on the gas pedal around each corner, becoming anxious to reunite with John and maybe give him something to owe her for this time.

Not caring about the observing pedestrians or making a silent approach, Marley slammed on the brakes, the car coming to a screeching halt outside the apartment complex. The driver-side door flew open and Marley ran into the building, then as she went up the stairs, pulled the handgun and spray bottle out of the backpack, re-zipping it and securing its place on her back again. She held the spray bottle in her left hand, holding the same way as she did her .45; in a quick motion, she turned the safety off with her thumb and returned her index finger to the trigger. Once she reached the third floor, before advancing to the door of room 208, Marley double-checked the nozzle of the bottle, twisting the plastic knob at the end to "jet" so the most holy water possible would spray out at the demons she desperately hoped weren't in the room with John. Past the door, her mind's eye was fogged, so something supernatural was most definitely behind it, but she had no guarantee to what that was going to be. Before taking the last step, Marley desperately prayed she'd packed accordingly, then walked up to the only thing between her and John Winchester, and knocked three times with the nose of her pistol.

There was a hesitation from inside the room, a bit of shuffling, and then everything went quiet, too quiet. At that moment, no sound penetrated the aged building from the streets; no footsteps sounded on the wooden stairs from above or below her, the wind outside had died down entirely.

The door before her opened slowly with a small creak to reveal a bed with a man tied to the headboard, a two people, a man and a woman (or what appeared to be a man and woman) standing halfway in the room. Both of their heads shot up, glaring at Marley through fully-black eyes. She didn't waste any time, spraying holy water at both possessed bodies, instantly causing the skin to redden and bubble. The man recovered quickly and lurched at Marley who ducked under his outreached hands and spun around, spraying him in the face with the holy water, burning out his eyes, blinding him. He screamed out in pain and the woman, now enraged by the disability of her partner, charged at Marley, catching her by surprise, sending them both falling to the wooden floor with a thunk.

Both women wrestled on the floor while the male demon reached around the room, stumbling over a chair that had been pulled out from the small dining table in the apartment. After earning a punch to the face, Marley managed to stuff the woman into the closet, forcing both doors closed and began digging through her backpack, pulling out the carton of salt and lining it in front of the folding doors, trapping one of her attackers. Adrenaline pumped through her blood, giving her the strength to tackle the blind demon, but was quickly thrown off against a dresser and hitting her head on the wood. Marley shook her head and tried to focus her vision; after a few seconds, she aimed her handgun at the male demon who was groping empty space in search of his enemy. She shot one knee, then the other, sending him to the ground to try to crawl to her. Seeing no other option, Marley began speaking the exorcism incantation: "Exorcisamus te, omnes in mundus spiritus omnes satanica potestas, omnes incursio…" Right as she finished, two clouds of black smoke appeared, both congregating against the ceiling and breaking through the window to escape. Marley leaned her head against the bed and sighed in relief.

"That went better than expected," she mumbled to herself, yet still wasn't able to completely let go her feeling of uneasiness. Standing, she shook herself loose, letting the bottle of holy water drop to the floor and setting down the handgun on the bed. Thankfully, nobody had walked by and seen the predicament, but just to avoid further problems, Marley shut the door groggily and plopped down on the bed next to John's unconscious form, letting the adrenaline rush slide off of her. A few breaths. Noise from the streets returned, the wind picked up again. Marley turned around on the bed and untied John's hands from the bedpost and looked at his face, seeming so peaceful with his eyes closed. And it struck her then. Glancing at him, thinking hard, she still couldn't see him as John there with her mind's eye. The man looked like John, obviously his body, but it still wasn't… _John, _somehow.

Marley stood up and looked around the apartment and in a drawer found a spoon made of silver. She rushed again to John's side and touched the silver to his forearm. No reaction. She picked up the bottle from the floor and sprayed John's face with holy water. Again, no reaction. The bottle was returned to its location on the floor and the spoon was dropped lazily onto the bedside table. A mixture of the moisture and the clink roused John from his sleep, and he blinked slowly, looking around him, trying to decipher his location. Seeing her friend waking, Marley shoved away her predicament, blaming it on a glitch in her power, and smiled.

"John," she spoke. He looked at her, his brows furrowing. She leaned in closer, brushing her hair behind her ear, still smiling. "Hey, there, sleepy head."

"M-Marley?" he questioned, shaking his head, trying to rid himself of the sleep still left in his mind. John sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes, then stopped and wiped his cheek. "Why is my face wet?"

"I had to make sure it's really you, John."

"Smart move."

"I learned from the best." John grinned, wrinkles forming at the corner of his eyes and Marley, feeling joy for the first time since Cam passed only a week ago, bombarded Winchester with a hug, tightly wrapping her arms around his large torso, squeezing him, glad he was okay. He returned the gesture half-heartedly with a groan and they broke apart.

"You take care of him?" John motioned to the corpse in the corner of the room.

"Oh, yeah, that one and a girl. What happened, John?" Marley asked him, standing and stuffing her things back into the backpack she'd thrown on the floor next to the closet doors.

"I-I'm not sure; they've been drugging me."

"Well, can you walk?" she asked, returning to her spot next to the bed and outstretching her hand to John. As their hands met, the fire alarm began blaring throughout the building. Marley squinted her eyes at the sudden noise, but John didn't as much as flinch. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and tried to stand but hobbled sideways a bit and Marley caught him, helping him back to a sitting position on the bed.

"You're not going anywhere for a few minutes, tough guy," she ordered over the shrill alarm. They stayed in that position for a few minutes; neither of them moved, but both of them were paying full attention to their surroundings, Marley still confused why she couldn't see John as he was. She thought it might have been because she hadn't seen him for a while, but she'd been keeping tabs on him. That alone would have kept the connection strong. Her power, though, wasn't that developed and it was harder for her to see or know things that weren't near her at a consistent rate. She'd have to start practicing again. Even still, she could see John fine just two weeks ago when she'd checked in on him mentally. Was it the drugs? She doubted it, they weren't anything supernatural, or so she thought.

"I don't smell any smoke, do you?" Marley wondered aloud, thinking it may have been a false alarm, using her power and realizing there wasn't even a fire in the building.

"There isn't a fire. False alarm."

"Exactly."

The door to the apartment burst open and two men stepped in, bearing shotguns and gas tanks filled with holy water. The taller was Sam Winchester, Marley realized, and next to him was his older brother, Dean, both sons of the man next to her on the bed. Sam had dark chocolate-colored hair that swooped over his eyes and tucked behind his ears, hanging lazily at the nape of his neck. He had forest green eyes set deeper in his head than his brothers, a ski slope nose and thin lips, a V-shaped chin but a wide jaw. Dean was only a few inches shorter than Sam and had wide, hazel eyes, a strong, angular nose, fuller lips and a rounder chin. Both men were well-built and attractive, bearing many of the same traits as their father. Apparently, Marley noticed as she perused the brothers' minds, they had come here looking for their father just as she had, but they had been looking for quite a while now, having only seen him once since Dean picked up Sam from college after his girlfriend Jessica died. No, not died, _killed_ by a… "demon". Sam's own memory filled in the word for Marley's mind, not being able to see the culprit hidden behind the veil for herself.

Dean and Sam lowered their weapons for a moment, looking in relief at their now conscious and very much _alive_ father sitting on the bed, but noticed Marley and walked into the bedroom quickly, Dean raising his shotgun again. Marley raised her hands in defense but didn't really feel in danger. John and wouldn't let his own sons harm a family friend, especially not the one who just saved his life.

"Dean, calm down. Put it away," John barked, apparently finding his fatherly voice once the boys were present. "This is Marley Walker. She's a friend." Sam and Dean both lowered their shotguns, trusting their father's judgment, but Dean still raised the holy water and splashed it on both Marley and his father but to no avail. Dean smirked, visibly not surprised by the ineffectiveness of his weapon.

"Nice to finally put the faces to the names. Well, in person, that is," Marley noted, a joke that only John would be able to catch, as he was the only other person in the room that knew of Marley's ability, which almost didn't seem fair considering Sam's visions which John had told her about during their time together. Marley and Sam were both born on May 2nd, 1983, and both had their very own sort of mental power. Both of them had lost a parent in a house fire when they were just six months old as well, a coincidence that gave Marley a cement conviction that the two of them were connected. Anybody with a functioning brain could see it, yet the only thing she was left wondering was the purpose of their connection and if there were any others out there like the two of them.

Figuring that out, however, was a matter of actual hands-on research as she only knew about Sam's power and past from perusing his mind and reading the information embedded within his memories, obtaining the knowledge for her own at a snap of her fingers. There were only two others she could find by strolling through the brothers' memories. A man named Max Miller, now deceased, who had the power of telekinesis, and a possible case, not a solid fact: an infant named Rosie, who had the alleged power to read minds. Max Miller was also born on May 2nd, 1983, furthering the correlation between them, almost as if they were a generation of their "species", a mutation spread across random children in the United States on that date.

"Dad," Dean sighed in relief and helped his father up off the bed now that he could stand without support.

"So, uh, what's with the get-up?" John asked his sons, who were both dressed fully in bright yellow fireman garb, a disguise they acquired to get into the building. John's question was barely audible over the piercing sirens. Behind the brothers, Marley noticed two more men looming in the doorway, both staring violently with pitch black, shiny eyes.

"We don't have time for this," Marley snapped and pushed past the brothers, closing the door that separated the bedroom and living room, locking it. Before the brothers, now recovered from her rude ram through them, could ask what _that_ was for, an axe came through the wood, sending splinters flying toward their faces, answering their question. Marley quickly grabbed her backpack from the floor and got out the salt again, lining it in front of the door, then followed John and brothers, who were already out the window onto the fire escape. Barely having enough to finish the task, Marley lined the window sill with the salt then sprinted down the stairs, catching quickly up to the Winchesters as Dean helped John onto the street then hopped down himself, followed by Sam who assisted Marley down.

As the group began moving down the street, a man appeared and attacked Marley from behind, loosening the backpack from her shoulder and sending it flying a few feet away. He pinned her to the ground and grinned an evil, toothy smile. Despite the commotion, she recognized him. It flashed through her mind: the black hoodie he wore, the dark jeans, the brown rustled hair and those sinister black eyes. He was the man, no, the _demon_, she'd seen that night. This demon was the one who killed her brother.

Her realization was cut short by a sudden punch to the face, followed by another, then another, and another after that. The seemingly endless blows completely blurred Marley's vision, and she felt blood running down her cheek, flowing into her mouth. Within a few seconds, the brothers noticed the brutality occurring right behind their backs and ran to the woman's aid, John staying behind for lack of current ability. If he couldn't trust even his own feet, he definitely wasn't going to trust himself in helping against a demon. Sam ran to Marley and the man and kicked him in the face yet it yielded no effect and Sam was sent flying into a nearby parked car, the glass of the windshield exploding and shattering from the blow.

A gunshot. Loud, echoing off buildings and chasing silence from the street, which returned quickly, then again replaced by the muted thump of the man's corpse hitting the asphalt beside Marley. The punches stopped but the pain remained, and she tried to regain her strength to get up and rolled over onto her stomach and rose to all-fours, but when she tried to stand, her knees gave out.

She would have fallen to the asphalt again if Dean hadn't caught her mid-descent, pulling her to her feet and putting away his weapon simultaneously. A glint of sunlight caught on the barrel and Marley smiled weakly through her swollen cheek as her sight cleared.

"Is that… the Colt?" she inquired, managing to sound eager even through her clenched teeth, jaw still rigid from trying to bite back the soreness in every facet of her face. Another pair of strong arms, John's, helped her rectify her posture from her left and she turned to look at her friend through one eye; the other had swollen shut.

"Yeah, we got it. C'mon, we got to get out of here," John encouraged her, his voice edged with gruff yet still somehow softer than the tone he'd used with his sons. Sam was walking ahead of them now, leading the group carefully through alleyways until the sirens disappeared. In a small nook between two buildings, Dean and his father finally let Marley down, propping her up against a cool brick wall. They didn't need to be so careful, Marley was definitely tougher than she looked and John knew that she didn't like people taking care of her. Marley liked being the helper, not the _help-ee, _but as she felt the pain pulse throughout her skull again, she thought maybe letting the boys tug the load this time around wouldn't hurt.

Sam dropped the duffle bag he'd been carrying onto the concrete heavily then knelt beside it, unzipped it, and brought out the medical supplies. Marley rolled her eyes, well, her eye, and straightened up against the wall, trying to show she was still fine and able.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. I'm fine. It doesn't even hurt, really," she pleaded and Sam hesitated, looking up at his father, unsure how to handle this newcomer to Winchester & Co. John just smirked and nodded toward Marley.

"Well, kid, looks like you haven't outgrown your stubbornness," he noted almost happily, earning a somewhat confused glance from Dean. He and Sam hadn't seen their dad since they got the Colt from a nest of vampires and here they find him, with somebody they've never met or even _heard_ of, in the middle of a mess of demons.

"I learned from the best," Marley joked, breaking Dean's train of thought. Sam took this opportunity to swiftly but gently place the icepack he'd been shaking onto Marley's swollen eye. She flinched from him, shocked by the sudden pressure to her wound but found herself leaning back into Sam's hand, finding relief in the cold of the pack. His gaze found hers and was sympathetic. She nodded to him briefly and took the pack in her own hand. The four were still for a few minutes, then Marley broke the silence when she stood, stretching each of her limbs, save for the one grasping the ice pack, feeling the soreness in her muscles.

"I can walk, I'm fine. Can we go now? We're kinda trapped in this alley if anything is still following us," she pointed out and got a fleeting look from Dean. A moment passed before Marley remembered that she'd never met either of John's sons before today, though it felt like she'd known them since she'd known John, as every detail of their lives was burned into her brain thanks to her nifty ability.

Sam and Dean took the head of the walking arrangement, John and Marley watching the rear. The brothers walked closer together than she and John, and their movements were nearly mirrored, yet there was a different emotion behind the twitching in their muscles. Dean's jerks and habitual switching of dominant hands was something he'd picked up from his father, a hereditary business trait; however, when Sam did these things, it was out of a sort of nervous apprehension, a need and determination to be ready for whatever may walk around the corner. They were near opposites but so alike, like they were molded for a book series or a dramatic television show.

Once the group reached the original street they were on, all four walked to Dean's car, the Impala, a sleek shiny black '67 sedan. It had quite a history, and was a character of its own in the life of the Winchesters.

"So what's the plan? What next?" Marley asked, already decided herself that she was going to be included in whatever the boys were up to, having nothing to go home to and no reason to stay in Jefferson City.

"I think we need to rest up. Follow you to your place?" John suggested lowly, adding to the point he was attempting to make. _Still no thoughts, nothing. Completely blank._ Marley was now completely baffled as to what could be veiling John from her like this, but she'd be keeping an eye on him, for her protection, for John's, and for his sons.

"Uh, yeah," she replied after too long a silence, earning another concerned glance from Sam and a puzzled expression from Dean. He was suspicious, not completely willing to trust another hunter from the jump. Sam was less cautious, which in turn made Marley slightly wary of him, not used to the idea of a hunter, even less a person she'd just met, finding her "pretty" as Sam had so simply put it in his mind. She shook away the thought, though. There were much, _much_ more important things at hand, and a fling with a well-built, tall, attractive hunter was not going to get them any closer to killing the demon that had afflicted each of their lives so intensely. Marley smirked, though, thinking that when this whole mess was done, she may give it a shot.

The drive back to her house was much less exciting as the ride to Sunrise Apartments, Marley noted as the last remaining bits of adrenaline wore off and she stole a look at the Impala in her rear view mirror. She pulled into her driveway and Dean parked his car on the curb in front of the walkway; both killed their engines simultaneously. Exiting her car, she waited for the men to meet her at her doorstep then as they did, she opened the front door, letting Dean and John inside, but Sam seized the door, insisting with an open palm that Marley enter before him. She complied with a small smile and entered her home, seeing that the men already inside were making themselves right at home.

Dean already had a beer from the fridge and John was lounging on the couch, feet crossed and planted on the coffee table. Sam offered Marley an apologetic look and she shook her head, still smiling, and waved her hand, telling him silently it was fine, that she was used to it. Dean set down the Colt on the kitchen counter and started walking toward the bathroom. Sam sat down on the loveseat near the door and began conversing with his father. The topic seemed deep and instantly both men were immersed in speaking with one another. Marley took this opportunity, stepping quietly and briskly into the kitchen and sliding the Colt from the counter and into the back of her pants, then covered it with her shirt, glad that she hadn't chosen a tight blouse today.

Sam and John were still conversing, and Dean was just walking out of the bathroom, but Marley was already halfway up the stairs, and continued into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her, securing the lock. She walked into the bathroom and saw her bloody and bruised face, cringing from the plethora of blues, reds, and purples blotched over her eye and the surrounding cheek and a portion of her forehead. It was only that side of her face, however, that was swollen, which was a relief, yet she still could only see out of one eye, distorting her depth perception.

A knock on the door. Rap, rap, rap. Hard knuckles. She couldn't see who it was behind the door, so it must have been John. She'd had no problem locating Dean and Sam in the house downstairs, just to make sure. Cautiously, Marley walked back into the main area of the bedroom and unlocked the door, and pulled out the Colt. She held it on the inside of the door and swung it open, moving with it, keeping the gun concealed. John walked into the room with big steps, turning to face Marley. She knew she looked suspicious, holding the door the way she was, a look of determination mixed with anxiety stuck in her features, and she remained silent, waiting for John, or what looked like John, to speak.

"I wanted to ah, to thank you for saving me back there. Don't know how you knew I was there with the demons around and all but I'm probably still breathing 'cause of you," John spoke evenly, looking Marley in the eyes, occasionally glancing to the edge of the door which she stood against.

"Dean did a good job in that alley. Shot that demon, didn't even hesitate," Marley tested the man before her, and his eyes narrowed slightly at her words.

"Yeah, he did what he had to to get the job done," John replied just as warily. Marley smirked then and the eyebrow above her unwounded eye arched.

"You're not mad?"

"For what?"

"For Dean using a bullet." As the words left her mouth, the wind picked up, rustling the curtains at the window and the lights began to flicker, protesting against the night slowly falling over her home.

"It found us. It's here," John stated, turning toward the doorway.

"Don't you move, John," Marley ordered sternly, taking a step to her left, revealing her whole self and the Colt firmly held in her hand just as Sam and Dean reached the threshold, both noticing the sudden fluctuation in the atmosphere.

"You guys salt the windows and doors?" John asked his sons, and Sam nodded. Dean turned his head to Marley and traced his glance down her side, noticing the Colt, which he'd assumed John had taken, in her hand.

"What the hell's going on?" Dean asked, his confusion finally turning to anger which was apparent in his question.

"This isn't your dad, Dean. He's possessed," Marley claimed through clenched teeth. "He's been possessed since I found him." She stared hatefully at John, knowing know that it wasn't her friend in front of her, but a powerful demon. One that wouldn't react to the holy water she had in the apartment, and the only one she could think of with that level of ability was the one that had haunted her since birth.

"What?" Sam asked and in his tone conveyed the notion of their father being possessed was ludicrous, yet it was still edged with that apprehensiveness that always lingered with Sam.

"He's not possessed; we already tried holy water," Dean protested, taking an offensive step toward Marley.

"Yellow Eyes doesn't react to holy water. That only works on regular demons," Marley admitted with finality, and held up the Colt at John who put both hands up in defense, still feigning innocence.

"Marley, this is ridiculous. It's me. How can I get you to trust me?" John asked, now with annoyance tingeing his voice. He still didn't seem the least bit worried, though, his hands acting only as a show for Sam and Dean.

"Dean, think about this, since when does John not care about using the Colt's bullets? Don't you think he'd be chewing you out by now?" Only silence met Marley's question. She looked desperately between the brothers and their father, Sam and Dean sharing a prolonged look between them. Marley cocked the Colt, still aiming it at John, hoping to quicken the decision-making process with drastic measures.

"She's right, Sam," Dean finally spoke, beginning to get upset.

"What?" Sam asked, shocked that his brother would not only turn on their father, but take the side of somebody he'd just met an hour previous.

"Have you lost your mind, Dean?" John shouted the question, finally completely agitated with the situation.

"You shut your mouth," Dean yelled back, taking a step toward Marley and outreaching his hand. "Give me the Colt."

"Will you use it if you have to?" Marley inquired with a scowl, knowing the tendency of the Winchesters to sacrifice everything for each other, which was something she'd always admired about them. This, though, was something entirely different. Dean grabbed the Colt from Marley's hands, keeping the aim locked on John, giving him a deadly glare.

"Sam?" John asked the only person in the room not currently bent on blowing a gaping hole in his chest wide open, but Sam looked back and forth between what appeared to be his father and what he knew to be his brother and the woman even _he'd_ chosen over John. Sam walked to Marley and stood beside her as well, tensing for what may happen.

"What the hell's gotten into all of you?" John's voice raised even higher, the question coming out in a furious snarl.

"I could ask you the same thing," Dean barked back.

"Fine, then. You're all so sure, go ahead. Kill me."

Dean switched his stance, holding the Colt with both hands, his aim rock solid. He couldn't, however, pull the trigger. John looked down, waiting for a shot. Another few moments of silence passed; nobody moved.

"I thought so," John spoke in a low voice and looked up, his eyes now a swirling gold and pupil-less. Sam lunged toward his father but was thrown against the wall and pinned there by some invisible force. Dean tried his brother's move but ended up in the same fate, dropping the Colt. Marley knelt to grab for it, but got thrown back into the door, her mass closing it as she flew back, stopping as the door closed. Pinned there, suspended up in the air, she stared into the yellow eyes of the demon possessing her friend, the demon continually causing so much pain to John's sons, and dragging out the tragedy that has been their life.

"What a pain in the ass this thing's been," Yellow Eyes playfully cooed as he picked up the Colt. He faced Marley, and he winked.


End file.

Supernatural, Drama, Supernatural