"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.
