Legacy, 2/2
Title: Legacy
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 16,457
Warnings: Canon-typical violence, AU from 13x12
Summary:
Sam's still searching for a way to save Mary and Jack from the apocalypse universe.
Rowena offers to help.
This will end well.
Part One
The next morning Sam got up as usual when his alarm went off at six. He showered and changed before fixing himself a cup of coffee and making his way back to the library.
Cas was already there, working his way through the stack of books that Sam had left. Sam just nodded his greeting before settling down at the same table and pulling a heavy tome towards himself. “Any luck on finding a way to incapacitate Lucifer?”
“No.” Cas admitted, setting his book down. “Donatello told me that you think he’s in heaven.”
Sam’s eyes shut reflexively against the memory of light before he forced them back open. “Rowena was showing me a scrying spell. Nearly burned my eyes out, but the light… it was heaven. I’m sure of it. Do you think the angels let him back in?”
“I don’t know. There was no love lost between Lucifer and the Host when he possessed me. But there are so few angels left, now. I’m not sure they could resist if he tried to take over.”
“Or if they’d want to,” Sam said.
“They know better than to believe his lies,” Cas insisted.
Sam bit back his immediate reply-“you didn’t”. After all, Castiel himself hadn’t known any better when Lucifer promised to help him defeat Amara. “You’re probably right,” he said flatly. “But it adds another kink in the plan. Now we have to figure out how to get into Heaven as well.”
“And it seems that Rowena took the Book of the Damned with her when she left.”
Sam groaned. “Great. I’m sure Dean was thrilled about that.”
Castiel closed the book he’d been combing through. “Sam.” He paused, seemingly searching for words.
Sam cut him off. “Cas, don’t worry about it.” He tried a smile, probably made it about halfway. “There’s more than enough to worry about.”
Castiel looked like he might have more to say, but they were interrupted by footsteps as Dean entered the library.
“Where’s the nutty professor?”
“Donatello is still asleep,” Castiel replied. “Though I see little resemblance between him and Eddie Murphy.”
Sam snorted, ducking the annoyed glare Dean sent him.
“Do I need to go wake him?” Dean asked. “Daylight’s wasting.”
“I thought he could use sleep. He finished the spell translation last night,” Castiel said.
“What?” Dean asked. “C’mon, Cas, you gotta lead with this stuff.”
Castiel was unfazed. “I didn’t think that it was very relevant, given that we still have no way to contain Lucifer.”
“We’ll figure something out. We’re not wasting any more time.”
While they were bickering Sam had made his way over to the notes strewn across the map table. The paper on top of one of the piles appeared to be the spell. It was relatively simple, the most exotic ingredient by far was the archangel grace. The rest they either had at the bunker or Dean had already picked up on one of his errands. Unsurprisingly, actual incantation was Enochian, which wouldn’t be a problem for Sam.
“Is that the spell?”
Sam looked up at Dean’s question, having missed his brother’s approach. “Yeah,” he replied. “It’s pretty straightforward. The only thing missing is the grace.”
Dean nodded, determination written all over his face. “It’s settled, then. Grab your Nikes, we’re headed to heaven’s gate.”
Sam shook his head with amusement. Cas gave him a look, but Sam waved it off. He didn’t feel like explaining references to 90s suicide cults.
Sam double checked the ingredient list and made a quick run to the storeroom to pick up the ingredients they wouldn’t already have in the Impala’s trunk. He stopped by his room and threw his duffel together. The angelic gate wasn’t that far, but you never knew.
As he left his room he heard Dean talking to Donatello in one of the ‘guest’ rooms, explaining their plan, telling the prophet to stay here. Judging by what he could hear of Donatello’s response the professor wasn’t fully awake, but Sam figured after the marathon translation session he’d probably be out for a few days. Sam picked up his personal journal from the library as they headed towards the garage.
The sun was still low in the winter sky when the Impala rolled her way out of the tunnel and onto the road.
Sam watched from behind cover as Castiel approached the playground. The angel had explained to them on the trip that angel radio had been quiet since their last encounter with Lucifer. If Sam was right, if Lucifer was in heaven, then they had no idea how he’d managed it, if he’d taken it by force or if the angels had surrendered. The angel blade was smooth and cold in his hand as he watched.
Castiel stood next to the sandbox for several minutes. Sam wasn’t sure if he was communicating somehow, but eventually the pattern in the sand glowed with the piercing white light of heaven. As Sam blinked away the afterimages he saw an angel step forward. The vessel was a young black woman, dressed in the pantsuit uniform that the angels seemed to favor.
“Castiel,” the angel said, expression utterly blank.
“Who are you?” Castiel asked. “I don’t recognize you.”
“Father told me to bring you to him.” Her voice was light, but the inflection was monotone.
Silver glinted as Castiel’s angel blade slid into his hand. “Tell me who you are.”
Instead of answering the woman rushed forward. Sam and Dean broke from their cover as Castiel’s hands went up in defense. Angels tended to rely more on overwhelming their opponents with power than technique, but even given that her approach was sloppy. Cas could’ve stabbed her easily, but instead he angled his sword away from her, catching one of her wrists in his empty hand and using her momentum to spin her around, bringing the sword up under her chin.
Sam caught Dean’s eyes as they stopped on the edges of the playground. That was too easy.
“Stop!”
They turned and caught a woman running out from a nearby stand of trees. She had on a light colored suit and dark hair. She came to a halt several feet from Castiel and approached cautiously.
“Duma,” Castiel said.
“Castiel.” Her voice was low, cautious.
“We’re looking for the Morningstar.”
“I know.” She sounded resigned.
“Who is this?” Castiel asked, pressing his blade into the angel’s neck. “I don’t recognize them.”
“Rishon is new,” Duma said, her hands raised in the universal gesture of supplication.
“New?” Castiel echoed.
“Please, Castiel,” Duma pleaded. “There were so few of us. You know that.”
Understanding dawned on Castiel’s face. “This is Lucifer’s doing. He’s creating angels?”
Sam looked at Dean, whose incredulous expression matched Sam’s own feelings on the subject. Why would Lucifer create an angel? How would Lucifer create an angel?
“You let him in,” Castiel said, still addressing Duma, voice thick with betrayal.
“He’s helping!” She insisted. “We had no choice.”
Castiel pushed the angel in his arms away. The woman stumbled, righted herself, and stood calmly. What had originally seemed like normal angel lack of emotion now seemed decidedly empty. The new angel, Rishon, turned to Duma. “Father instructed us to bring them to him,” she said. Dark eyes turned to stare straight at Sam. “He wants this human alive.”
Cold fear washed down Sam’s spine.
Duma ignored the newborn angel, kept her gaze locked on Cas as she pleaded. “He’s promised to help fix our wings. Our wings, Castiel.”
“You can’t trust him,” Dean broke in.
“He’s already kept one promise,” Duma argued gesturing at Rishon, who stood like a statue on the edge of their conversation.
“And for this you would let him rule you?” Castiel asked.
Duma didn’t respond. She didn’t need to, Castiel’s tone said everything that needed to be said. Of course the angels would cave to Lucifer’s demands if it meant regaining their power, their position. Sam knew that Cas had hoped other angels would follow his acceptance of free will, but he’d been disappointed by his siblings again and again. Cas was probably at a disadvantage by having become a friend of the Winchesters. Where he seemed to think that humans were inherently more resistant to command than the angels, Sam knew the two weren’t all that different in the end. He’d known plenty of humans with little interest in bucking authority for a righteous cause.
Duma was saved from trying to respond by the sandbox emanating another pulse of light. Sam ducked his head away from the light just as a new voice echoed through the park.
“For what I can do they’ll give so much more than that,” Lucifer announced as he emerged from the portal. “For what I can do they’ve let me take our Father’s place. We will be so much more than he ever imagined.” Like a compass pointing north, Lucifer’s face tilted towards Sam. The devil’s vessel smiled.
“I thought you got over your daddy issues,” Dean quipped.
Lucifer lazily switched his focus to the other Winchester. “Like you did?”
Sam’s limbs tingling as the blood his adrenaline-fueled heart had pumped into them drained away. A fierce ache pulsed in his chest, though Sam was familiar with that one, he wrapped himself around it. That was Sam’s love for a brother who would put himself in Satan’s crosshairs if it kept Sam from harm.
Plan A had been Castiel’s and it had hinged on his confidence that the angels would help them.
For lack of a better plan, Sam and Dean had gone along with it. But in furtive glances across the Impala’s front seat they’d expressed their own reservations. There wasn’t really a Plan B. Their last encounter with Lucifer had confirmed that Cas was no match for a Lucifer full of stolen grace and with Rowena’s absence they were down their other big gun. They each had pairs of Enochian-inscribed handcuffs and were hoping that he wouldn’t have the juice to melt them.
Now they just had to get them on him.
With Dean’s snark as a cover, Sam moved in.
Steps away, cold fire washed over him and froze him in place.
“Really, Sam?” Lucifer drawled, turning. Dean took the opening to charge, but with a wave he was thrown to the ground. Dean grunted as he struggled against invisible bonds. Castiel landed on his back a second later.
“You insects could have just holed up in your fort, but instead you’re here. Why?”
Sam ground his teeth together, sealed his lips shut tight. He took deep breaths through his nose. Steeled himself.
Lucifer stepped towards him.
“Tell me, Sam.”
Lucifer’s smile was edged with the promise of violence.
Sam said nothing.
Lucifer clenched his fist and knives burned cold through Sam’s chest. Lucifer’s power still held him in place, but it let him sink to his knees in pain. Of course it did.
“Tell me why you’re here, Sam.”
Dean was shouting, but Sam couldn’t make out his words. Even without the words, Sam knew what his brother was saying. He would be trying to capture the devil’s attention, refocus it away from Sam.
Lucifer wouldn’t take the bait. Sam knew Lucifer, maybe knew him better than anyone else in existence. Or at least anyone outside the Cage. Might know him better than Sam knew his own brother. Lucifer toyed with his food. Lucifer played favorites.
Sam slanted a look at the spectators. Duma at least had the decency to look slightly green. Rishon’s face showed nothing. Sam wondered if they even understood what pain was. Castiel and Dean were pinned to the ground. Sam met his brother’s eyes. It’s okay, he tried to say. He’d done this before. He’d done it for years. He could do this.
Lucifer chuckled, catching Sam’s attention.
“You know what?” He drawled. “I could keep playing this game, but it’s not as fun when I’ve already won.”
Sam knelt, bowed over his aching body, but managed to raise his head.
“You’re here to steal my grace,” Lucifer said.
Fuck.
“You want to save poor, sweet Mary, so you got that idiotic prophet to translate a spell from the Demon Tablet. Am I getting warmer?”
A sob escaped Sam’s chest before he could push it all back down. All of his determination, all of his resistance, for nothing. Lucifer already knew.
How did he know?
“Who told you?” Castiel asked.
“Oh, your prophet spilled the beans to Asmodeus,” Lucifer replied. “And Asmodeus told me before I ripped him to shreds. Can you believe that little jumped up Prince of Hell thought he could take me down? Thought he could kill an archangel?”
Iron flooded Sam’s mouth. He’d bitten through his cheek.
They’d never had a chance. Betrayed.
Asmodeus was dead. Sam wondered idly what that meant for Ketch. The ex-Man of Letters had that cockroach quality that all of their worst enemies seemed to share. But he’d never really faced Lucifer before.
They were so screwed.
Sam tongued at the split in his mouth. Blood. The ground beneath his knees was grass as far as he could reach. Drawing a banishment sigil was out.
“Listen, I’m willing to help,” Lucifer said, voice venom and honey. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up. I have exactly what you need.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial that shone like a star.
“The spell requires grace from an archangel,” Castiel said.
“Yup.” Lucifer popped the ‘p’ gleefully. “Asmodeus managed to dig one of them up too. The archangel blade. Needs an archangel to wield it.” He turned back to Sam. “Apparently brother Gabriel was much better at acting than I’d ever given him credit for.”
A glance at Duma’s anguished face was confirmation enough.
“I also know that Mary wasn’t the only one you wanted to save from that washed out wasteland. So how about I let you up and we use this to save my son?”
Dean looked just as torn as Sam felt. They couldn’t trust Lucifer. But working with him would buy them time. Sam nodded.
Dean grit his teeth. “Fine, let us up and we’ll help.”
Lucifer smiled indulgently. “I don’t think so. One of you can play fetch. I’ll keep the other two as security. Collateral.” Again he turned towards Sam. “Would you be a dear and go get what we need?”
Sam felt the bonds release him. He stood on shaky legs.
The Impala was close, the playground had a small parking lot filled with signs that outlined the thousand rules visitors were expected to follow. Sam wondered if any humans actually still came to the playground. He hoped none would show up now.
He returned carrying the box full of ingredients. Lucifer gestured at the ground before him.
“Did your angel tell you the spell was a one-hitter?” Lucifer asked as Sam knelt at his feet to unpack the box. When Sam glanced up he continued. “The portal snapped closed behind me like that.” He snapped his fingers and Sam couldn’t repress the instinctive flinch.
“If you go through you’ll be trapped,” Sam mumbled. They hadn’t known. If that was true, their plan was even more doomed than they’d previously thought.
“But I also know that my son can open these portals. He just needs guidance. He’s a real chip off the old block. Powerful.”
“His name is Jack,” Sam ground out. “And he’s nothing like you.”
“Oh, Castiel told me all about him. How soft and sweet he is. We’ll see.”
Sam glanced over at Duma and Rishon. “What about your new creation?”
Lucifer followed his gaze lazily. “Oh, her? A good first try. Not much personality, but I don’t mind. She’s obedient, and that’s what matters. Unfortunately creation takes a lot out of you. But there’s no rush.”
Sam finished compiling the ingredients. “It’s ready.”
Lucifer crouched down across from Sam, close enough to touch. Sam locked down his muscles, even as they tried to flinch away. Lucifer dug out the vial of Gabriel’s grace and upended it into the bowl, the white light descending like mist.
The invocation was Enochian.
“Ma re fa do, em lah. Ka de em lah.” He pointed to his left, Lucifer’s right, even as his other hand went to his jacket pocket. “Ka de em lah!”
Jagged light cracked into existence. Lucifer stepped toward it and Sam threw down the hex bag. “Manete!”
Lucifer jerked to a halt. “Really, Sam? You think this will hold me?” He raised a hand and Sam choked on blood as familiar power ripped through him.
“No,” Sam groaned.
“What’s that?” Lucifer said, stopping his onslaught to give Sam space to breathe.
“Distraction,” Sam said from behind clenched teeth.
Lucifer spun back just in time to see Dean disappear through the portal, which popped shut behind him.
“No!” the Devil screamed. “No!” He turned back to Sam. “You’ll pay for that.” With a thought the hex bag on the ground burst into flames and Lucifer’s hands were bunched in Sam’s coat. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
The world spun as Sam was thrown through the air. He hit the ground and rolled, gasping for air that had been forced out of him by the impact. There was a scuffle from behind him, grunts that he recognized as Cas. He used the cover provided by the ground to draw his pocket knife and run it across his palm.
Now for the hard part.
He rolled until he could see Lucifer. The devil had Castiel by the front of his trenchcoat and was raining blows down on the angel’s face. Duma had turned her head away but Rishon looked on impassively.
“Hey,” Sam said, gasping for breath. “Don’t you ever get tired of losing to us?”
Lucifer’s gaze snapped back to Sam, focusing like a laser. He threw Cas to the side, sending out a wave of power with his outstretched hand to keep the angel still and stalked forward. That wouldn’t do. Sam needed more.
“Jack already hates you,” Sam ground out as Lucifer advanced. “He knows who you are and he hates you. He’ll never be like you.”
Lucifer raised a hand, clenched his fist, and agony sprouted deep in Sam’s chest.
Yes.
The pain made it hard to catch his breath, but he forced the syllables of the spell out breathlessly.
Nothing.
Another wave of pain ripped through him.
Focus, Sam.
He gasped as another wave of pain rolled over him and used the breath to shout, forming his scream into sounds, words.
There.
Suddenly he could sense it, almost see it. The power was tangible, stretching from Lucifer’s clenched fist, stabbing into Sam’s ribs. He focused on that spot, where it entered him, and pulled.
“What are you doing?”
It was like a sweater unraveling. Or maybe the reverse of that. The power was familiar to Sam, he’d wielded it once. He tugged and it pooled in a spot inside of himself that he’d once occupied himself, forced down and quiet while the devil rode him. The power drew into the same spot Sam had forced Lucifer himself years ago and miles away in Stull with nothing but his own dogged strength and the love he felt for his brother.
“Stop!” Lucifer was screaming, but Sam wouldn’t.
The grace felt different sliced free of the Morningstar. It sat like an ice cube in his chest, in his soul, but instead of the frostbite burn it was refreshing, cool water on a hot day.
Sam pulled until there was nothing left. It took an eternity. It was an instant. His eyes were open but unseeing. There was nothing else but power as it flowed into him. It roared in his ears. He was burning up with it, he was freezing cold. His skin was stretched tight around it. He couldn’t move or he knew he’d burst open like ripe fruit, split at the seams.
He turned his head towards where he thought Castiel had been. He could feel each vertebrate grind as his head swiveled. He could burn the world. He could burn up with it.
There was nothing but Sam and power.
There was nothing but power.
A pinch on his neck that felt more sharp than painful and the tide went out.
The power drained away. The feeling came back to the tips of his fingers, his toes.
He blinked and could see again.
Castiel stood in front of him, sealing a vial that glowed like the sun. The power looked so small. Sam gasped with its absence. He was empty. He was Sam again and he was empty.
A cool hand pressed against his throat and Sam could feel Cas's grace stitch up the wound.
Drained, he ended up on his hands and knees. He gasped. He wasn’t sure when he’d last drawn a breath. Without the power to sustain them his lungs now demanded air.
A long time passed and Sam spent it behind closed eyelids. He wasn’t sure when they’d shut. He knew he should open them, Lucifer was still alive, the other angels couldn’t be trusted, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t.
When he finally opened them again things had changed. Lucifer sat on the ground. His hands were bound behind him, probably with the Enochian cuffs. Sam couldn’t feel his in his pocket anymore, so that made sense. Lucifer looked angry, sitting there, but he also looked small. Human. Sam couldn't detect a shred of grace left in him, none of the tinnitus and toothache that Sam associated with his presence.
He also looked a little roughed up.
A flash of red and Sam was drawn to the bowl of ingredients. Rowena was crouched over it.
There was a presence at his side. Sam looked. It was Cas. Sam tried to struggle to his knees, Castiel moved in to grab his shoulders, holding him up with his characteristic strength.
“Sam?” Cas asked, voice wary.
Sam nodded. He was Sam again. He continued to take in the scene. Duma had her arms around the newborn angel, but Rishon didn’t seem to be fighting it, didn’t seem to care what was happening to her creator. Didn’t seem to feel anything about the events unfolding before them.
“Are you feeling well?”
Sam considered the question. He felt used up, burnt up, and hollow. But he didn’t hurt. In the grand scheme of things, he’d felt much worse. He nodded.
Castiel’s mouth twisted into something ugly. “Sam. Please say something.”
“Oh,” Sam replied. “Sorry.”
Relief washed over the angel’s face. He moved in and tucked himself up against Sam’s side, letting the human lean heavy on him. Sam was grateful; holding himself up took a lot of energy.
“Rowena?” Sam asked. He could talk, but it was better to keep it simple.
“She says she tracked us,” Cas answered.
“I’m protecting an investment,” Rowena added.
Sam decided to let that go. He didn’t have the energy to translate.
Rowena was just finishing up the spell.
“Does she need the incantation?” Sam asked Castiel.
“I heard you last time,” she replied.
“It’s Enochian.” Sam thought that was important to point out.
“And what kind of witch would I be if I hadn’t picked up Enochian by now?”
She dropped in the bottled up grace. Sam could feel it slide free from where he sat. Action at a distance.
Rowena chanted softly, gaining power as she went. A rift opened up in front of her. Sam tried to struggle to his feet and Cas gripped his arms to help him, but before he could even make it the portal flashed and a figure appeared as it sealed up behind them.
Sam felt something rip open in his chest.
The figure wasn’t Dean.
A moment later his brain caught up with his eyes and he tried to feel relieved.
It was his mom.
Mary’s face was bruised, but she was alert, taking in her new surroundings with a hunter’s eye. Her attention immediately went to Lucifer in an instinct that Sam would never have wished on her. Perhaps she could tell the devil was drained, though, because her consideration shifted to her son.
Lucifer laughed. “Oh, this is rich. You got Mommy dearest back, but no brother.”
Sam tried to ignore him. It wasn’t easy. They’d spent a lot of time together; Lucifer knew where all of Sam’s weak spots were. The biggest ones all began and ended with Dean.
Mary crouched next to Sam. She and Castiel spoke, but Sam missed what they said as Lucifer continued to drone on.
“You’ll need me to try again. Hopefully Michael won’t have ripped Dean to shreds by then.”
Mary laid a cool hand on Sam’s cheek and it snapped his focus to her. She gave him a watery smile even as Lucifer’s words tore into a place that his power couldn’t. She smiled. “It’s okay, Sam. Just wait.”
So they waited.
Sam was still struggling with time, but it was probably only minutes later that he could feel power building. It started small, a buzz in the back of his teeth, but it built swiftly until his ears popped with the pressure.
Another rift appeared, the door opened from the other side.
The first figure through this time wasn’t Dean either, it was Kevin Tran. Sam felt his heart seize with guilt and hope and despair. But the rift stayed open.
Another pulse of power and Dean was standing in the park, his hand wrapped around Jack’s wrist.
“Close it!” Dean roared.
Jack scrunched his eyes shut and the portal vanished with a crack.
For a moment everyone was frozen by the silence left in the portal’s wake. And then there was movement
Sam, bracketed between his mother and Cas, saw Dean assess his condition. Sam tried on a weak grin and a nod, which seemed to be enough for his brother.
“Right,” Dean said with a nod of his own. He reached into his jacket as he strode forward.
Lucifer saw him coming and tried to squirm away despite his arms being trapped behind him by the Enochian handcuffs.
Dean caught him easily and hauled him up by the front of his shirt, pressing the tip of the angel sword into his chest, just below his heart.
“No!”
Sam looked over to see Duma moving forward, Rishon at her side. Cas stood, his own angel blade slipping back into his hand as he moved to intercept her, but Duma didn’t attack. Sam struggled to his feet, braced by Mary.
“Please. There are so few angels remaining. He’s the only one who can help.”
Dean hesitated.
Lucifer picked up on the hesitation. “I’m the last archangel left. We don’t have to be enemies.”
Sam looked from Duma to Rishon, the first new angel in what appeared to be millennia. The vessel’s face was attractive, but her expression was blank, even at the sight of her creator being held at swordpoint. Lucifer, the rebellious son, who desired only obedience from his own creation.
Jack had made his way over to Sam’s side, filling in the gap Castiel had left, but not close enough to touch. Sam grabbed his shoulder, giving him a quick once over. Jack slumped at the touch. He looked healthy enough. Physically, at least.
Sam met his eyes and for all his inexperience and innocence, he seemed to understand. Jack shook his head and moved in close, helping to support Sam, who was still wavering slightly. Jack’s arm wound its way around Sam’s waist and squeezed tight.
Sam looked back at his brother to find Dean waiting, looking back at him.
Here, in the space between the brothers, in the seconds between action, here was real power. Different than the kind Sam had siphoned from Lucifer, but no less heady.
Choice.
Sam could forgive him. Lucifer’s taunts about their similarity have always stung for their truth. Sam’s been fighting for forgiveness for years. Maybe for his whole life.
Sam nodded.
Lucifer was still trying to weasel his way free as Dean drove the sword home. He died midsentence, missing the moment when his silver tongue failed him. He died as one of the things he hated.
He died human.
Dean dumped the body and made his way to his family, Castiel trailing along at his side. “Sam, you okay? What happened?”
“He used the spell,” Rowena said as she approached them. The alternate Kevin Tran followed behind her.
Sam nodded. “The spell from the Book of the Damned. For negating demon power?”
Dean frowned. “It worked?”
“I kind of winged it,” Sam admitted. He could see Dean working up to a solid bout of terrified anger, which he decided to head off at the pass. “How did you guys get back?”
Sam wasn’t expecting Dean’s face to tinge red. “Jack stepped up.”
Sam had just decided to let that go when Jack spoke up at his side. “I couldn’t find this universe again. But then Dean showed up!”
“And how did that help?” Rowena broke in, instincts clearly sensing a story.
“Motivation,” Dean supplied quickly.
Jack wasn’t as quick on the uptake. “I used Dean’s connection to Sam. Did you know they’re soulmates? Hi, I’m Jack.”
Rowena’s head tilted. “Are they now. It’s lovely to meet you, laddie.”
“Oh, no,” Dean cut in. “This? This right here? Not happening.”
Feeling more steady, Sam stepped away. Cas had wandered off a moment before and he was standing next to Duma and Rishon.
“You’ve doomed us, Castiel,” the guardian said.
“Lucifer always hurts more than he helps,” Sam broke in. “But I’m sorry.”
Castiel shook his head. “You don’t need to be sorry, Sam. You’re right. He would’ve created an army of angels loyal only to himself. And he wouldn’t have stopped at conquering heaven.”
Duma grabbed at Castiel’s arm. “That boy, that’s his son?”
“Yes. Jack.”
“The Nephilim could help instead. He’s powerful, that much is obvious.”
Sam frowned. “Jack is still new to his powers.”
“We can help. We can teach him!”
Castiel seemed to be giving it some thought, and Sam trusted his judgement, at least to an extent. Maybe it wasn’t the worst idea. Still. “We can talk to him. It’s up to Jack, I won’t let you force him into anything.” He glanced over at Rishon, who was standing quietly to Duma’s side. “What about her? Will she be okay?”
Duma looked at the young angel and if Sam wasn’t mistaken there was a fondness in her gaze. “She’s still very young. Lucifer didn’t provide much direction. We can help her.”
“Return to heaven,” Castiel said, a hint of command in his voice. “We’ll be in touch.”
Accepting their orders, at least for now, they retreated to the sandbox and with a pulse of light were gone.
“Hey, Sammy. You wanna do the honors?”
Sam glanced over to find Dean waving a container of salt at him. “I sent Jack to fetch the lighter fluid. How about we light the sucker up?”
It wasn’t really a hunter’s funeral, more akin to a standard salt-and-burn. Sam insisted they move him away from the playground, into the woods a bit. He sprinkled salt liberally over the corpse. He wondered if anything had remained of the man Sam only knew as Nick. He tried not to think about whether anything remained of Lucifer himself. Castiel, when he died, had seemingly been sent to the Empty that Billie insisted would be the final resting place for the Winchesters. Sam tried not to imagine spending eternity in the same realm as Lucifer, even if they were largely unaware of it. He tried not to think of other possibilities. Cas believed he’d been brought back from that hollow place by Jack.
Sam turned to the boy at his side. “Hey, Jack. How are you doing with all this?”
Jack shrugged as Dean doused Lucifer liberally with the lighter fluid. “Is… is it okay that I’m not sad?”
Sam only nodded as something lodged in his throat.
Jack continued. “I never really thought of him as my father. I wondered about him, when I learned that he was. But then I learned about the things he’s done. The things he’s done to you. To all of you.” He shook his head. His voice was firm. “He’s nothing to me.”
Sam wrapped an arm around Jack’s shoulders and pulled him in tight.
“Okay,” Dean said, finishing up. “Any last words for the bastard?”
“Good riddance!” Rowena said. She waved a hand at the body and flames erupted from it, sending everyone back a step from shock and heat.
After a moment of staring at the roaring blaze, Kevin spoke up. “Can I ask a dumb question?” Sensing their answer, he continued. “Who the hell are all of you?”
It took a while to sort everything out. In the end they called Linda Tran and told her what had happened. It wasn’t easy for her, but she agreed to meet with this alternate Kevin, who had lost his own mother years before in the apocalypse world. It wasn’t a happy ending for either of them, but it wasn’t a bad one either.
The team spent the first night crashing in a couple of hotel rooms and ordering pizzas. Rowena left before that, insisting that her idea of celebration involved at least one Michelin star and sheets with a much higher thread count. She had surprised Sam with a hug, but it was probably just so her whispered “thank you” wasn’t overheard by the rest of the group.
Cas and Sam both agreed to let Jack settle in and grow into his powers a bit before they would try to bring up the idea of creating more angels. He deserved some time to be a kid without the pressure of all of heaven.
A few days later they made their way back to the bunker. Team Free Will: three Winchesters and one and a half angels.
Shut up in his room, Sam reached into his inner jacket pocket. He’d felt Rowena place something there when she hugged goodbye, but he hadn’t wanted to look at whatever it was around Dean. He could tell that it wasn’t a hex bag, at the very least.
It turned out to be a small, round compact mirror, like someone would use for makeup. When he snapped it open there was a post-it note stuck to the inside of one half.
Scry me
❤Rowena
Sam went for his journal.
It was hard, asking for this. Mostly because he knew that Dean wouldn’t agree. He argued with his brother all the time, but he didn’t seek out arguments like he had when he was younger. For years he’d mostly chosen he path of least resistance when it came to their relationship.
But Sam wanted this. And he thought they might be in a place where he could ask.
“Rowena wants to teach me magic.”
Sam and Dean were sitting around the library table. They’d finished dinner and had each popped open a bottle of beer. Donatello had returned to Oklahoma. Mary was resting and recovering, Cas off somewhere doing Cas things. It was just the two of them.
To Sam’s amazement, Dean’s voice remained calm. “Does she.” It didn’t seem like much of a question.
“Uh, yeah,” Sam agreed, a bit thrown by his brother’s response. “And I want to learn. I think it could be helpful, she knows a lot more than just curses, you know.”
Dean nodded, took another swig of his drink.
“I’m not asking you to trust her,” Sam continued. “I’m asking you to trust me.”
Dean looked at him for a long while. Sam wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for. Was he looking for the boy who had let Ruby turn him around? Was he looking for the man who’d released The Darkness?
Did he see something else?
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Sam parroted dumbly. “Wait, really?”
Dean nodded. “Could be useful.”
Sam’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Christo?”
That did the trick. “Oh, come on,” Dean said, annoyed. “You’re really that surprised? We already use magic all the time, Sam. Maybe I wish you didn’t want to learn from another evil witch, but she helped us. Maybe I was wrong about her.”
Sam raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
Dean slumped back into his chair. “She sent me a note, okay. A letter. Magic-ed it into my damn duffel. She has no respect for privacy, but she made a couple good points. And if we're wrong, I trust you'll do the right thing.”
The part of Sam that craved information burned to find out what the letter had said, but he opted for some strategic discretion.
“Thanks, Dean.”
Sam hadn’t been lying when he’d made his case for learning magic to Dean. But he’d left out a few of his own misgivings. Sitting with Rowena in one of the bunker’s labs, sorting through some spell ingredients, Sam finally gave into them.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because your precious Men of Letters wouldn’t know the difference between nightshade and a potato.”
Sam smiled, unwilling to defend the Men of Letters’ filing system after having dealt with it himself. “No, I mean, why are you teaching me this? Teaching me magic.”
“Because it hurts to see you two bumble your way through basic spellwork. It’s amazing it hasn’t backfired on you before.”
Accepting that he wouldn’t get a clear answer out of her, Sam returned to the task. They worked in companionable silence.
“I’ve been thinking about my legacy,” Rowena said some time later. “I didn’t before. I’ve lived for over 300 years, there didn’t seem to be any reason why I wouldn’t be around for at least a couple hundred more. And then there was Fergus. But now he’s gone and I’ve been murdered twice in as many years. The things I’ve done, seen. It seems a shame to leave nothing of it behind.”
It made a certain sense to Sam. He understood pride. But… “Why me?”
“Well, my most recent recruitment efforts haven’t gone so well. And I’m persona non grata among most of my kind.”
“So you figured, what? You’d just tutor your enemy instead?”
“Are we enemies?” Rowena asked in a tone about as close to innocent as she could probably manage. “I thought we’d put all that unpleasantness behind us.” She glanced over and caught the look Sam was giving her. “And we had a common enemy.”
“And now?”
She set down the scale she’d been fiddling with. “I think in some remote… sickeningly moral way, you remind me a bit of myself.”
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
“As if I relish comparing myself to you, you lumbering plaid monstrosity.”
Sam barked out a laugh despite himself. “Yeah, I’m not really seeing the resemblance.”
She sobered surprisingly quickly, fixing him with a steady gaze. “You grew up in a situation you despised, one where you never fit in, one that you did everything in your power to escape. You had powers that others feared.”
Sam had to look away. “If you know that then you know I had power, once. And because of it, Lucifer got free. I’m the reason he was even around to kill you. Why would you give me enough power to do it again?”
“Far be it from me to interfere in your self-loathing, my dear, but it’s a bit conceited, isn’t it? I’ve heard this story, all of my son’s underlings went on and on about it. And by their telling Lucifer didn’t go free because you had power, he went free because you were tricked.”
“It was still me.” Sam had accepted that fact the moment he’d cracked open the devil’s cage.
“It wasn’t, though. Not really. It was, from what I understand, a great, grand conspiracy of angels and demons using your powers for their ends. Unless you're telling me that you wanted to release Satan upon the world?”
“What? No, of course not! I thought I could stop it.”
“There, you see?” Rowena said. “That wasn’t you.”
Sam nodded, somewhat uneasily. He hadn’t allowed himself to make any excuses for his actions in that dark, horrible year. He’d needed to take responsibility, to fix that mess. It had propelled him forward through his guilt and misery, straight into Lucifer’s cage.
And certainly he’d made mistakes. But maybe… maybe he didn’t need to take all the blame. Sam had been craving forgiveness for most of his life. Maybe he could start there.
Rowena reached over and gave him a patronizing pat on the cheek. “The whole point of having power, my dear giant, is that you get to decide how to use it.”
End.