#questionable father figure whose past may or may not bite them all in the ass

[roseverdict]

i've fixated on the sticks for the past 7 months and i also just finished watching the first half of rottmnt s1 and also the movie, and i have come to the following conclusion:

this venn diagram is almost completely just straight-up a circle

[crashdevlin]

To Hell and Back 2- Assignment

To Hell and Back Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version). This is an AU of my story ‘Marion’ and is just as epic as that series. 

Summary: Marion goes on a mission for her boss.

Pairing(s): Crowley x Marion-ish

Word Count: 3148

Chapter Warnings: smoking, Dean’s isn’t the best brother, angst, mentions of child abuse, demon deals

Marion put the key in the door and shuffled into the motel room, dropping the bag at the end of the bed and heading for the bathroom as she always did when she first entered a motel room. She'd insisted on being given her own room when she was 17. It was partly for safety, since the monsters always seemed to find John and the boys' room, and partly for feminine privacy, and partly for him.

"What do you want, Crowley?" She asked, walking out of the bathroom and dropping to the bed.

"Whatever happened to your manners? I know I taught you better than that." A deep, gravelly accent came from the chair next to the television.

"Yeah, but then my daddy came in and fucked it all up." She pulled the knot out of her bootlaces and toed her boots off. "The question hasn't changed, Crowley."

"You know, it's days like this I regret pulling you outta the way of that Chevy." He said, standing and adjusting his suit jacket.

"Yeah." Marion threw her boots at the corner of the room and turned her eyes on the demon. "But then you remember that you came here for a reason and you give me my damn assignment."

Crowley handed her a small piece of paper. "Name's Devon McIntyre. He sold it fer money, so you can do this one without the guilt."

"Fine." She snatched the paper and pocketed it. "You can go, now."

"You know, there was a time when you enjoyed my company. What happened?"

She looked away from him. "I figured out who you really are and what you do to the people I mark."

"They do it to themselves. They know what they're signing up for." He tried to catch her eyes, but she just let her dyed brunette hair hang in a protective curtain in front of her face, so he just rolled his eyes. "I have never lied to anyone about what Hell has in store for them. And I told you what I was back when you were too young and dumb to hate me for it."

She tucked her hair behind her ear and glared at him. "I'm a hunter, you ass! A demon killed my mother!"

"And a demon saved you!" Crowley shouted. "So many times that I would be bisected if the boys downstairs knew about it." He stepped forward. "I pulled you out of the path of that truck when you were four. I ripped the head off that vampire when you were twelve. I'm the one who risked my entire reputation to claim a damn hunter's daughter so that no other demons would lay a bloody pinkie on you, and I tried to convince you to back off when you insisted on helping me when you were sixteen."

He gave a huffing breath. "You wanna back out now? Sorry, it doesn't work that way, Lilith has you on contract sealed with a sodding kiss and as long as she's around, you work for us! Not my fault, you moody little-" Crowley took a deep breath and sighed, letting his anger go. "Just go mark the wealthy little arsehole so my dogs can find him."

Marion nodded, looking away again. "We're on a hunt. It may be a few days." She pulled the paper out of her pocket and set it on the side table.

If she'd been looking at him she would've seen him open his mouth like he'd wanted to say something else, but he just nodded and disappeared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marion was halfway through her fourth cigarette in a chain when her phone went off. She grabbed it off the side table and flipped it open. "It's a ghost." Dean gave no greeting. "A woman named Constance Welch threw herself off the bridge where we stopped earlier. We're gonna head down there, later, see if we can draw her out."

"Okay. Lemme know how it goes. How you lookin' for salt rounds?"

"We're good." There was a moment of silence. "You want in on this?" His tone told her he wanted her to say 'no'.

"No. You get to gank ghosts with me all the time. Spend some time with Sammy. Who knows when you'll have an opportunity for Sam bonding again?"

"Yeah. Sounds good. We'll call."

"Right." Marion said, disbelieving as she flipped her phone closed. She ran her hand down her face and sighed, pulling her bag off the ground and dropping it to the bed. She pulled out her slinky red dress and her strappy black heels from the very bottom of her duffel and slipped them onto her body. After pulling her hair into a messy up-do and pasting her face with bright red lipstick and brown eye shadow, she walked out of her motel room and headed to a luxury car with a demon in the driver's seat. The door opened without being touched and she slipped into the back next to Crowley, whose eyes slid down her profile without hesitation. "If you mention how well I fill out this dress, I will stab you in the eye with my branding iron." She didn't look his way as she spoke, but noticed his acceptance of her terms.

He nodded and signaled for the driver to head toward their destination. The Lincoln was silent through the entire ride, Marion biting the inside of her lip and thinking back to simpler times as they drove. When they pulled up in front of the mansion, she easily slipped out and up to the door and rang the bell. She smiled for the camera near the buzzer. "Who are you?" A voice came through the speaker.

"I'm a gift... from Mr. Crowley." She responded, sweetly, but inside she was grimacing at the sentence.

The door opened, just slightly, to reveal an attractive, well-dressed brunette man, eyeing her warily. "Crowley?"

"Mr. Crowley would like me to remind you that he kept his end of the deal. He made you wealthy and thus appealing to women. May I?" She pushed past him into the mansion, across the lines of the Devil's Trap painted on the floor by the door. "Mr. Crowley would also like me to tell you that he's aware that you are planning to run from him, that you think you can use the resources he awarded you to hide from him. He wants me to tell you that he didn't get to be King of the Crossroads by letting greedy little pissants squirm out of their contracts, and you won't be the first, or last, to try." She said, before grabbing his shirt and jabbing her branding iron into his left bicep. She let him go and stepped back to allow him to examine the burn mark.

"What the fuck was that?!"

“A homing beacon for Crowley’s hounds. No matter where you run, they’ll find you. Thanks for playing.” She said, starting to go. Devon grabbed her hand and tried to pull her back. She twisted, ax-kicked him in the head and grabbed his throat. “You have a week, you miserable prick. You have a week to do something worthwhile. Do not make me cut out all that potential by killing you early.” She threatened, tossing him to the ground and walking out of the Devil’s Trap on the way out.

“You aren’t a demon?”

“No. But I’m sure he’ll turn me into one, eventually.” She said, before shutting the door on him.

“You know that’s not going to happen.” Crowley said, opening the car door for her.

“What?”

“That’s not your deal. You didn’t sign away your soul, you signed away your work. Just like a real job, it only seems like it’s crushing your soul.” Crowley said, as the car pulled away from the mansion.

“I’m helping demons, Crowley. Helping you damn souls to unbelievable torment. That doesn’t sound like something that’s gonna get me into Heaven.”

“Well, there’s always the Void.”

“Yeah. Being a ghost. That sounds peachy.” She said, sarcastically.

“Look, you knew. You asked for this. I begged you not to kiss me, but you thought you knew what you were doing.”

“I was sixteen!” She exclaimed. “I just wanted my father to stop hitting me.”

“And it worked, right? He hasn’t hit you in a decade.” Crowley reasoned, trying to block out the thought that he’d have already taken her to Hell, if she’d signed a normal contract.

“It doesn’t change it, Crowley. It doesn’t change the fact that I traded my well-being for… this. I thought I knew what I was doing and I thought I was grown enough to make that decision, but I wasn’t.”

There was silence in the car for half an hour as she looked out the window. “Well, if you do end up in Hell, Marion, I’ll make sure they go easy on you. That’s the best I got. See you next time.” Crowley said as they pulled into the motel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crowley stared out the window of his mansion, lost in thought. He knew what was being planned for the Winchesters, what Lilith and Azazel were going to do to bring Lucifer home. He felt almost bad for Marion. He'd known her since she was a wee thing and if there were a Winchester who deserved to be kept out of all the bullshit Hell had planned, it was Marion.

Sometimes he really did think he should have let her die when she was four. That way she never would have had to deal with Mary Winchester's death or the way John dealt with the pain of her demise. She never would have had to deal with demons and monsters, she never would have had to deal with Crowley, himself. Life would've been much sweeter for his Marion if she'd just died at four years old.

Crowley grimaced at the term. His Marion. It seemed like it might be an endearment, but it was the truth. She signed herself over to him, kissed her life away. He could keep her like a slave, but he chose not to. Ungrateful cunt.

He turned to demon lounging on his couch, wearing a short, well-dressed blonde lawyer as a vessel. "You. Go change your meat suit. I've got some tensions I need to relieve."

"Anything in particular, sir?"

Crowley sighed. "Tall, tan, bottle brunette, green eyes, and leather. Go more Roadhouse and less Mistress with it."

She smiled. "Yes sir." It took her half an hour to reappear, in a vessel that almost matched his request. "I could only find a blue-eyed one."

"It'll have to do." Crowley growled, twisting a hand into her hair and crashing his mouth into hers.

Two hours later, he looked down at the surrogate he'd taken his frustrations out on. Covered in bruises, bleeding cuts and cum, he could almost imagine this biker chick in her forties was Marion. The illusion was broken as soon as he thought about it, though, so he rolled away from her and snapped to replace his clothing. "Get your old meat suit back. She's good fer business. But... keep track of this one."

"Yes, sir."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marion was pulling her boots on the next morning when a knock came to her motel room door. She opened it and smiled tightly at Dean. "Dad had a room here, too. Figured out we're dealing with a Woman in White. He hasn't been here in a few days. You hungry?"

"Yeah, actually." She grabbed her black fleece jacket and walking out the door with him. She noticed the police presence right before Dean did. He looked over, saw the police car parked by the clerk's office who was talking to the deputies. When the clerk pointed at Dean and Marion, Dean pulled out his cell, calling Sam as the deputies started to approach them.

"Dude, five-oh. Take off." There was a second of silence. "Uh, they kinda spotted us. Go find Dad." Dean flipped the phone closed and turned to the deputies with a grin. "Problem, officers?"

"Did we do something?" Marion asked, innocently.

"Where's your partner?" The deputy asked, ignoring Marion.

"Partner? What, what partner?” Dean asked. Marion put on her best clueless face.

Deputy Jaffe, according to his name tag, glanced over his shoulder and jerked his thumb towards the motel room. Deputy Hein headed over there. Dean fidgeted. “So, fake US Marshal. Fake credit cards. You got anything that’s real?” Jaffe asked.

“My boobs.” Dean replied, with a smirk.

Marion rolled her eyes and put her hands behind her head as the cop slammed Dean into the hood. “The best thing you can do, stud, is keep your mouth closed. You obviously need a refresher on your ‘right to remain silent’.”

“Like I’m gonna take legal advice from a prostitute.” Dean snapped, thankfully catching on to her train of thought.

The cop turned her around and examined her. He seemed a bit skeptical about her status as a working girl. The jeans, boots and fleece jacket weren’t exactly street-walker clothes. “You don’t know each other?”

“Look, ask the clerk. Paid in cash. I was just looking for a place to bed down. I work from home… even when I don’t have a home, if you get my drift. I’m not saying I’m a sex worker, but… I’ve never met this guy before this morning. He was gonna buy me breakfast and we were gonna head back to my room.”

The deputy looked between the two of them, then pulled her handcuffs off. “It’s your lucky day. This guy is a much bigger fish than you. But if I find you soliciting in my town again, I’ll personally escort you downtown.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” She said. She leaned over next to Dean, who was bent over the back of the cop car. “Better luck next time, handsome.” She whispered before walking off toward her room. Sam was sitting on her bed.

“How’d you manage?” He asked.

“I convinced them I was a whore. They let me go because they didn’t have any proof that I know Dean. This is one time I’m glad I stayed in the car.” She said, grabbing her bag off the floor and rifling through it. “So, where to?”

“Uh, Joseph Welch. He’s the husband of the woman in white. That’s where Dad would’ve gone.”

“Okay.” She sighed. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for in here.” She threw her hands up and headed toward the window. She watched as the police car pulled away with Dean in the back. She pulled Dean’s keys out of her jacket pocket and nodded toward Sam.

“When did he hand over his keys?” Sam asked.

“I picked them off him when I said goodbye.” She said, heading out the door and into the parking lot.

Marion tossed the keys at Sam. “If I move the seat forward, Dean will kill me.” She said, getting in on the passenger side.

“You… you got really good at this stuff.” Sam said, sliding in behind the steering wheel.

“I was never bad at it, Sammy. I just didn’t have a lot of opportunity to show my skill, when you were around.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam pulled into the driveway of a house with an overgrown yard. Marion got out and walked up to the door in front of Sam. She knocked with a closed fist. An older man opened and looked out at them. “Hi. Are you Joseph Welch?” Sam spoke up.

“Yeah.” Joseph responded, walking out of his doorway and shutting the door behind him.

“Hi. We just need to ask you a few questions.” Marion said, with a smile.

“Have you seen this man?” Sam asked, handing Joseph a picture of John and the 2 boys. Marion, of course, was not in the picture.

“Yeah. He was a little older, but that’s him.” Joseph said, handing the photo back to Sam. “He came by three or four days ago. Said he was a reporter.”

“That’s right. We’re all working on a story together.” Sam replied, as they walked into the junk that was Joseph Welch’s front yard.

“Well, I don’t know what the hell kinda story you’re working on. The questions he asked me?”

“About your wife Constance?” Marion asked.

“He asked me where she was buried.”

"And where is that again?" Sam leaned over the shorter man as he spoke.

“What, I gotta go through this twice?”

“It’s fact-checking. If you don’t mind.” Marion said.

“In a plot. Behind my old place over on Breckenridge.” Joseph answered.

“And, why did you move?” Sam asked.

“I’m not gonna live in the house where my children died.” Joseph responded.

Sam and Marion stopped walking. Joseph followed suit. “Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?” Sam asked.

“No way. Constance, she was the love of my life. Prettiest woman I ever known.”

“So, you had a happy marriage?”

Joseph hesitated before responding. Bingo. “Definitely.”

“Well, that should do it. Thanks for your time.” Sam said with a smile. Marion stood her ground while Joseph and Sam started walking in their separate directions. Sam waited a moment, then look back at Joseph. “Mr. Welch, did you ever hear of a woman in white?”

Joseph turned back around. “A what?”

“A woman in white. Or sometimes ’Weeping Woman’?” Marion said. The man just stared.

“It’s a ghost story. Well, it’s more of a phenomenon, really.” Sam started to walk back to the man. “Um, they’re spirits. They’ve been sighted for hundreds of years, dozens of places. In Hawaii, Mexico, lately in Arizona, Indiana. All these are different women.” Sam stopped in front of Joseph Welch. “You understand. But all share the same story.”

“I don’t care much for nonsense.” Joseph said, starting to head toward his house again.

“See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them. And these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children.” Sam seemed to hit the right button because Joseph turned around. “Then, once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So, now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways. And if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him. And that man is never seen again.”

“You think...you think that has something to do with...Constance? You smartass!”

“You tell us.”

“I mean, maybe... maybe I made some mistakes. But no matter what I did, Constance, she never would have killed her own children. Now, you get the hell out of here! And you don't come back!” Joseph’s face shook in anger and grief, then he turned away. Marion and Sam walked back to the Impala.

“Guess you got pretty good at this stuff, too.” Marion said.

“Thanks. Now, let’s spring the idiot and we can burn Constance’s bones and get back to Paolo Alto.” Sam said, pulling out his cell phone.

Supernatural Tag- @letsby