The Making of a Witch - Timestamp to SPN_J2 BB23
Title: The Making of a Witch
Author: meus_venator
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sam/Dean (implied)
Genre: AU, post 15x20 AU. Not a heaven fic.
Word count: 5.9k
Betas: fufaraw, onlythefireborn
Warnings/tags: witch!Sam, magical AU, DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN’T READ MAIN STORY - The Witch and the Wolfen (SPN_J2 BB23), MAJOR SPOILERS
Summary: How Sam came to his decision and who helped him along the way.
¤ ¤ ¤
Sam bit at his bottom lip, concentrating as the heavy porcelain coffee mug floated precariously across the kitchen, then back again. He’d been at it for hours now, and the mug seemed to be getting heavier and heavier.
He huffed out a breath. “How long do I…”
“Until I tell you to stop, Samuel. Now hush, I have work to do.” Rowena chided from her spot, curled up in a soft chair in the corner of the kitchen, reading. She’d had Sam move it to that spot specifically for her. After all, she said, if she was going to set aside several hours every day from her duties in Hell to oversee Sam’s education as a witch, she might as well be comfortable.
Sam squirmed on his hard metal chair, his ass aching after hours of sitting there. He scrambled to focus as the mug lurched threateningly.
“Concentrate.” Rowena’s high pitched warning echoed in his ears.
Sam ground his teeth and narrowed his gaze. No cup was going to get the best of him.
¤ ¤ ¤
He was beginning to hate this laughing dog mug, but he had to admit he finally had it streaming through the air smoothly. The thrift store find had reminded Sam of Miracle, so it had started as an easy buy. He’d been going through mugs at a bit of a rate, and he hadn’t wanted to steal anymore from the local diner. He sighed. Now, at what seemed like a million years later of watching this dog float back and forth, he wondered again why Rowena set him such a tedious, unending task?
As if reading his mind, Rowena chirped, “From that dramatic sigh, I see you’re second-guessing my teaching.” An arched scarlet brow followed. “I suppose you think you know better?”
“No, I’m not saying that! It’s just so damn boring.” Sam dropped his head back in frustration and the doggie mug dropped three inches before he was able to right it. Again.
“It’s an endurance exercise, as I’ve told you, Samuel. You need to be able to hold a spell for an unspecified period of time. How else can you be expected to walk and cast a spell at the same time? You must build up those mental muscles. Think of it as the magical equivalent of patting your head and rubbing your tummy at the same time.”
“I know, I know. It’s just boring.” Sam bit his bottom lip and brought the mug back up to its previous height.
Rowena dialed a rooster shaped timer and set it on the table beside him. “Well, I’m off! Keep this up for precisely three more hours, or until the cock crows”, She grinned slyly. “Then you can take a break. Ta for now.”
She blinked out of the kitchen, sending herself off to some hell day spa to get her nails touched up, or whatever other pampering she did while she wasn’t torturing him, Sam thought sourly. He groaned and closed his eyes, concentrating on the mug’s safe passage back and forth, back and forth through the kitchen. He could do this.
The pink flamingo mug bobbled then righted, as Sam flipped his 79th pancake.
“Tut tut, careful lad,” Rowena chided, tapping her nails on the table. “You must be able to do both activities as the same time.”
Sam furrowed his brow and concentrated on not burning the pancake. If he burnt a pancake he had to start over. This was already his second restart. And at this rate he’d never get to the required one hundred. The cup took the turn at the end wall and headed back in the opposite direction as Sam tried to keep track of how long it would take the second side to cook.
“Och, Sam! Look, look!” Rowena cried out. Startled, Sam spun his head toward Rowena as the mug hit the floor, shattering into a million pieces.
Rowena’s innocent smile was miles wide as she turned her tablet toward Sam. “Look at the darling scottie in the tartan! Isn’t that just the cutest?”
Sam groaned and headed to get the dust pan and broom.
“Oh, and don’t forget the pancake, dear one. I think it might be burning.”
¤ ¤ ¤
The concentration games became more and more intricate. Added to a full course load of spell work, reading and herb lore Sam was constantly busy. Even with all the tricks and tasks Rowena threw at him, Sam got better - eventually. He had to admit, Rowena was a good teacher. All her work focusing his concentration came in more than handy as he moved on to conjuring even the smallest of spells. But the whole process was taking so long. He felt like he was dying here, spinning his wheels playing witch when all he wanted to do was hunt - to find a new Dean, one that needed him so he could start living again.
And tired as he was by the end of each day, the nights were worse. Helpless to speed up the mastering of his new craft he was left to stew over what if’s and what might have been’s - how he could have done things differently, how he could have stopped Dean from dying, or how it should have been him who died. A million versions of Dean’s death playing over and over in Sam’s mind on a too-clear loop. That shaft of metal may as well have pierced his heart, too, for all the pain he felt.
Sam woke for the third tire that night, startling awake from another series of horror filled dreams watching helplessly as his brother died. He rubbed at his chest as he tossed the blankets off restlessly. He scrubbed wearily at his face. If he could just get away, start fresh, start over, maybe things would be different. It was coming up on the second anniversary of Dean’s death, but the ache there hadn’t subsided in the least. Sam was beginning to suspect it never would.
The dainty, translucent tea cup glided through the air, hovering for just a second in front of Rowena before settling gently on the matching saucer in front of her without a rattle or bump. A three level brunch tray filled with cucumber sandwiches and sweets trailed behind, followed by a dainty pitcher of milk, a small plate of lemon slices, and a bowl of sugar cubes. All settled in perfect precision as Sam unfolded his napkin.
The teapot gently rose, and Sam arched a brow at Rowena, “Shall I? -”
Rowena nodded and clapped gleefully, as the teapot poured just the right amount of tea in the cup and settled back down in its place.
“Well done, Samuel.” She smiled as she picked up the milk and added just a skosh more along with two sugar cubes. “You’ve come so far.”
“Far enough?”
Rowena took a measured sip of her tea and dabbed her lips gently on her napkin as she eyed him. “Maybe.”
“What’s there to think about, then?” Sam sighed and shoved up from his seat, rattling the dainty china as he started to pace up and down the Bunker’s library.
“I just want to go. It’s time. I’ve done all you’ve asked. I know the work, Rowena.” He spun around to face her. “Don’t you get it? I just can’t be here any longer. It’s killing me.”
“You know why, Samuel. I need to be sure you have fully considered what you are about to do.”
“Considered!” Sam raked his hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s all I do. All I think about. And it’s killing me. I want out of here. I know there’s got to be a Dean out there that needs my help. A Dean I can actually still help.”
“And that’s it? All there is to it?” Rowena tilted her head.
“You know I realize the consequences.” Sam rubbed at his temple and then covered his eyes in exasperation.
“Do you? Do you really?” Rowena set her cup down and stood, coming around the table to hold Sam’s free hand. “Because eternity is a long time to be alone, Samuel.”
Tears were running down between Sam’s fingers. “But I miss him now! I want to hold him, touch him, hear his voice.” A wave of anguish washed through him. He was shaking, weeping openly as he slid to the floor. “It’s not fair. We had so little time.”
“I know, sweet boy. I know.” Rowena bowed and kissed his head. “I just don’t want you regretting this decision forever.”
Rowena sighed heavily and passed Sam a tissue. “Besides, before I can officially declare you a witch, we must see how you do in action.”
¤ ¤ ¤
Being a hunter witch was harder than it looked.
The ghost flew past Sam, almost taking off his head in the process.
“The spell, Samuel! Use your spell!” Rowena cried from the other side of the room.
Sam kept swatting at the ghost with the crowbar he’d brought. “You’ll never become a witch if you keep resorting to old habits,” Rowena scolded.
Sam huffed and clenched his fists. The hunter ways just seemed so much more efficient. He searched his mind madly for the spell he needed.
“Inquietum spiritum, i mitto te ad damnationem tuam. Sine te igni…”
The ghost screamed and rushed full force at Sam. He threw himself onto the floor, the crowbar held instinctively over his head. The ghost barreled through the steel and dissipated into the night air.
“Oh my lord.” Rowena rubbed her temples. “That was the perfect spell if you wanted to send a demon to its rest. What did you do wrong, Samuel?”
Sam shook his head and sat up. He knew immediately what he’d done. He’d mixed up the word damnation with rest and fire with light. He groaned in frustration and spat out, “Inquietum spiritum ego mitto te in requiem tuam. Admitte te ipsum ad lucem et pacem invenies.”
Sam rose to his feet. “I know this.”
“And that is why we practice. Think of it as training to be a hunter. You weren’t instantly good at that now, were you?”
Sheepishly Sam shook his head.
“Well, there’s bound to be some bumps. We’ll get there, Samuel, but you need to embrace your magic and stop leaning on old habits.” The warning scream of the ghost returning had Sam spinning on his heel to face the oncoming spirit. “Inquietum spiritum ego mitto te in requiem tuam. Admitte te ipsum ad lucem et pacem invenies. Inquietum spiritum ego mitto te in requiem tuam. Admitte te ipsum ad lucem et pacem invenies.”
He cried into the rush of wind the ghost brought with it. At first Sam thought the spell was still not right, but then the ghost wavered and and in a flash of blue light she was gone. The freezing chill in room dissipating.
“Ach, one down, a dozen more and we’ll have something. Let’s go, shall we Samuel?”
¤ ¤ ¤
Sam’s next task was to take out a nest of vampires.
Rowena paced back and forth in front of him in a striking emerald green ball gown with matching high heels as she delivered last minute instructions. Her lips twisted in a moue of distaste as she spotted his demon blade strapped to his side. “Samuel, you are a witch now. You will not be needing that barbaric device. What is the good of all your training if you go Neanderthal on me in the middle of a spell?”
Rowena rolled her eyes when Sam only crossed his arms and refused to comment.
“Very well then, have it your way, but don’t get yourself killed being distracted by hunter ways. This is not a complicated spell; it’s more a matter of positioning than anything. You must find the center of their nest so that all are caught in the light. Use your invisibility and night vision spells to get in position, and then cast quickly. You’ll become visible as you start to chant the spell.”
“And why do I become visible again?”
“Well, a young witch such as yourself can’t be expected to hold three major arcana spells at the same time,” Rowena sniffed haughtily. “That kind of magic takes years of practice.”
Sam pursed his lips, not mentioning the demon blood and visions he’d been heir to. “And where will you be during all this?” Sam arched a brow at his tiny tutor.
“Oh, I’ll be waiting out here, dear, under the shade of that large oak over there. I just had my nails done. You won’t find me clambering around some dark, filthy barn. Now off you go.”
Sam surveyed the old barn the vamps were hiding in and slipped through a side door into the nest. He hoped Rowena’s spell dampened more than just his appearance because vampires had an excellent sense of smell.
As he moved deeper into the building, he became more and more appreciative of the night vision spell Rowena had taught him. How much easier his and Dean’s life would have been with an ability like this at their disposal. No more depending on hinky flashlights that gave out in the rain or got knocked out of their hands in the middle of a fight. Yeah, these two spells were definite keepers.
He found the vamps easily enough, holed up in the basement, all the windows blocked, the stench of blood and death thick in the air. He carefully made his way downstairs, demon blade drawn. The farther in he went the more restless the sleeping vampires became. As he had reached the middle of the basement, one vampire shot upright screaming, “Human!”
The words of the spell rushed from Sam’s mouth in practiced precision. “Lucem affer, affer dolorem, vince haec lamia in alium campum.” More and more vampires were fumbling awake, but Sam noted none of them seemed to be looking at him. As he chanted he concentrated on holding the invisibility spell in place while he funneled power to both it and the light spell he was conjuring.
A phosphorous-like blast of light erupted from his hands as the spell kicked in. Startled, Sam barely had the presence of mind to close his own eyes and move his arms in a sweeping radius, illuminating the entire basement in a blinding flood of white. Next time, he thought, he was going to ask Rowena exactly just what to expect.
Squinting through the blinding radiance, he could make out vampires turning to burning pyres and then ash before his eyes. As the light began to fade, he saw one half burned vampire climb out from beneath a mound of blankets. The arch of Sam’s knife cut its head off in one clean blow.
Sam wiped his knife off and slid it back into its sheath with a satisfied grin. No matter how much magic pumped through Sam’s blood, he would always be a hunter at heart.
Rowena could do her. Sam was doing him.
¤ ¤ ¤
And so the countdown continued. Rowena kept Sam busy with hunt after hunt. Dean would have been proud - she was channeling their greatest hits, wendigo, vamps, succubus, djinn, even a demon who had gotten on Rowena’s bad side. Sam had ganked them all, one after the other, using spells he’d carefully researched while following Rowena’s advice.
They returned to the Bunker after taking out a werewolf. Sam sagged onto one of the Men of Letters sofas, exhausted. He was covered in gore and maybe werewolf poo. All he wanted was to shower and sleep for a week.
“Oh Samuel, that was glorious!” Rowena twirled in the center of the room, her fuchsia gown a fluorescent blur. “Your spell timing was perfect. Truly, you’ve come so far.”
“Far enough now?”
“Just one final hunt. A graduation test, if you will.”
Sam gazed at her tiredly.
“A witch. Your final test will be to vanquish a witch.” Rowena preened.
“Let me get this straight: you want me to take out one of your own?”
“Ouch, not one of mine. And if he was a true witch, he would be one of our own now Samuel. But no, he’s no longer one of ours. A vile creature Gideon Mc Lannister is, preying on young witches through the ages, sucking the very power from their bones and tossing them away. Usually, I consider my own kind off limits, but this man.” Rowena sniffed dramatically, “Well, let us say we’d be doing humanity a huge service to be rid of this one.”
“And do you have an idea where this Gideon is? Your demon network seems pretty efficient in hunting things down.”
“Yes, they are surprisingly good at that, aren’t they? But this time it’s been rather confusing. There have been reports of his death from several sources, but then he seems to keep on killing. I don’t know what magic he’s using, but he evades everyone that comes for him. The one thing we have in our favour? He’s been easier to suss out than normal. He’s killing humans and he’s been careless about covering his trail. Probably collecting ingredients for a spell.”
“So, you really did save the best for last.” Sam eyed Rowena, “And if I do this, and we get him then that’s it? I’ll be done jumping through hoops for you?”
Rowena leaned up and patted Sam’s cheek gently. “Last one, I promise.”
Sam barely had time to throw his witch-killing grenade before he was slammed against the wall with a flick of the witch’s hand. He grunted in shock and slid to the floor.
“Oh, dear lord,” Rowena breathed peeking up from her hiding place behind a red velvet chaise, “He seems to have grown much stronger these last few years.”
Sam scrambled out of the rubble of the smashed plaster and lathe and scanned the room for the witch. He was gone, probably moving deeper into the abandoned mansion where he’d set up shop. “You don’t say. Did you see if I got him at all?”
“No, I barely had time to find shelter myself.”
Sam dusted himself off, coughing plaster dust as he went to inspect the blast site. He spotted droplets of fresh blood on the floor and track in the dust. “I got a little bit of him. Come on!”
“But the whole point of this Samuel, is to get him with your magic. Not your hunter skills. You need to start using your spells.”
“Right, I’ll get right on that when he’s not kicking our asses.”
“Now, Samuel…I’m just trying to prepare you for what’s out there.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Come on.” He held out his hand to help Rowena from the floor and nodded following the trail of the prints and blood drops.
Using his light spell, Sam followed the witch’s trail through a labyrinth of hallways, eventually ending up in what might have been a large ballroom, but was presently being used for storage of many large pieces of furniture, some boxed, some under drop cloths. His light caught on a reflection. A large mirror in a gilded frame in a corner of the room had half its drop cloth pulled off. Two bloody handprints were on either side of the mirror. Looking closer, Sam realized the hand prints were directly over top of two identical sigils.
He held his light closer. “Looks Enochian, sort of. Nothing I recognize. You, Rowena?”
Rowena stood on tip toes and eyed the bloody symbols.
“It’s not a language, it’s the symbol for Loki. A very ancient one, and see this extra line work? It was called the Double Luck sign.”
“Double Luck of what? Power?”
“I don’t know, Sam. But it might be one of the reasons he’s been so blasted hard to kill.”
Sam took note of the large pool of blood at the base of the mirror. “Whatever happened here, our guy was in bad shape by the time he arrived.”
Sam scanned the area, trying to pick up the witch’s trail. It had obviously been a favorite site of his because there were several sets of tracks going in and around the room. Ignoring the confusing footprints, Sam focused on the blood trail.
It only led them a little further, but far enough. They found Gideon in a bedroom.
It looked like he had been camping out there a while, abandoned take out food bags, clothing, and miscellaneous debris filling the squalid space. He was lying on the remnants of a large ornate canopy bed, clutching his side whimpering. The witch bomb had definitely caught him. He cursed when he saw them enter and his lips moved as he rushed to conjure a spell.
“Sam!” Rowena cried.
Sam centered himself and the burn spell began to spilled from his lips.
“Ure dura, lucida urere, urere cineres, Os nullum vitae indicium.”
Fire, was the one guaranteed way to kill a witch. Gideon’s spell blasted out, sending Sam and Rowena flying, but Sam had already finished his spell and the bed Gideon lay on erupted in flames.
Surrounded by fire, wounded, Gideon tried to crawl from the bed, but his clothing ignited as the flames rose and engulfed the canopy. He shrieked in a pained, panic howl. They could hear him try to start a new spell, but the supernaturally charged blaze overtook him in seconds.
Sam and Rowena watched as the fiery pyre swallowed the bed and its occupant. Sam cast a second spell to limit the fire’s damage, not wanting to bring the whole house down around them.
Within minutes Gideon was no more than a memory. They looked at the charred remains and then at each other.
“Why do I think that was too easy? This can’t be over.” Sam murmured.
“Aye,” Rowena glanced around nervously, “I think you’re right.”
“I think I know what’s going on.” Sam cried as he spun on his heel and set out at a run toward the ballroom with the mirror. He barely heard Rowena’s “Wait, what? Samuel?” But he didn’t stop to explain. He knew in his gut what was happening. He arrived in time to see a figure dart across the floor toward the mirror. Sam didn’t think, didn’t hesitate just focused on the running man and chanted as he continued like a freight train toward the same destination.
“Ure dura, lucida urere, urere cineres, Os nullum vitae indicium.”
Gideon skidded to a stop in front of the mirror, his clothing already starting to burn. Sam didn’t stop, though; he barreled into the witch, knocking him sideways just before both hands touched the sigils. Sam pulled his demon killing blade from his thigh holster. Maybe witches only died permanently from fire, but not having a head must slow them down a bit, he reasoned. Gideon was trying to rise from the floor. He was screaming, lines of flame appearing up and down his black track suit just as Sam reached him. The witch had begun to chant so Sam took one mighty swing and Gideon’s head rolled from his body, whispery cries still coming from his mouth. The room grew heavy, thick with the reek of burning ozone as the decapitated witch tried to gather a new spell.
Rowena arrived in the room, out of breath and wheezing, voice almost muffled by the spell. She called out. “The head, Sam, the head! You need to burn it, too.”
But Sam was already stalking over to the still - mouthing head and kicked it back against the body, now completely in flames. The head ignited instantly. The growing weight in the room strained like the fabric of the universe was going to tear. Sam’s ears popped, and suddenly he could hear again. The room was clear and light as the malignant spell Gideon had been trying to cast dissipated. Sam didn't even want to know what that might have been.
“Now it’s over.” Sam grimaced as he surveyed the blackened body.
“So that’s how the sneaky bugger has been avoiding us for so long,” Rowena mused. “He’s been sending copies of himself out to do his dirty work. I just hope there aren’t more copies out there.”
Sam shook his head. “Somehow, I don’t think so. Gideon wouldn’t want too many copies of himself out there, more chance of discovery and too much competition for himself if the copies got out of control. But even if there is one more, their time is counting down. No where to double up anymore now.”
“Aye, true that.”
Sam side-eyed the witch. “And you didn't have any idea that’s what he was up to?”
“Ach, Sam. This was your test, not mine. A girl can’t share all her secrets.” Rowena smiled at him sweetly and patted him on the arm. “Besides, you’ve done it, you’ve passed the last test. Maybe not using a hundred percent witch skills, but then you are a hunter born and bred. Close enough for me, anyway. You’ve proven you can survive on your own.”
“And I can leave anytime I want? No more hoops to jump through, other than dimensional ones?”
“You’re a grown man, Samuel. You can do what you think is right.”
They spent a little time making sure the burning of Gabriel’s second body didn’t spread. They also tried to burn the mirror. Like most cursed or God objects, it refused to be destroyed, so Sam carefully wrapped it in several dropcloths and tied it with rope handholds to avoid accidentally touching it and duplicating himself as he carried it to the Impala. He knew just the corner of the cursed objects room back at the bunker it would fit nicely in.
¤ ¤ ¤
After thinking about it for a few days, Sam set a date for his departure. He knew his education as a witch still required work. But it was the kind of work that only practice in the field could provide. He settled on a three month deadline because he knew he’d need that time to collect everything he’d need.
It was a harder job than he thought, figuring out how to stuff the Impala with everything to start a new life. He started by adding a removable rack to the roof of the Impala. Dean would have hated it, but Sam knew he’d need every square inch of storage; and a trailer, Rowena said, was out of the question. He’d already stretched the spell as far as it could go, by insisting on taking the Impala with him, but going without it had been a non-starter.
¤ ¤ ¤
The time passed quickly. Sam sorted through the hundreds of volumes of lore and spell work at the Bunker deciding what he could live with and without. He made decisions on technical equipment he would need on worlds that might or might not have electricity. Each day he woke he had a new checklist of items to procure. He became a fixture at the local post office, picking up packages coming in from all over. He explained it away as part of his thesis he was in the middle of writing. Then suddenly the three months became three weeks, then three days, and finally the day.
Sam woke that morning with a feeling of absolute calm. He’d thought about this decision for so long. Even though he knew she thought he hadn’t considered it at all, he also thought about Rowena’s warnings as well. He knew he had finally come to the right decision.
¤ ¤ ¤
He was in the car pool tightening the straps on the roof rack’s tarp when Rowena appeared near the door to the garage. He hoped he’d thought of everything. He knew he’d never know for sure.
“So, it’s time then?” She clasped her hands loosely before her.
Sam turned and half-smiled at her. “Yup. We’re finally here.”
“You’re sure?” She looked searchingly at him.
“I’m completely sure.” His smile fell away and he shook his head. “Rowena, I have to thank you for all…”
“No, no need for that Samuel. You don’t need to thank me. It’s been a pleasure training such a worthy candidate into the craft. I always knew you’d make a fine witch. And you have.” Rowena delicately brushed what might have been a tear from her carefully lined eye. “I have a parting gift for you.” Her hands were suddenly filled by a silk-wrapped bundle which she gently pressed into Sam’s hands.
He carefully pushed the silk back to reveal a leather-bound tome.
“Rowena!” Sam stared at it in shock. “This is too much.”
“Och, none of that. I have the damn thing memorized anyway. It’s a great starter grimoire. And every great witch needs a great grimoire. I made a small change to the cover, though. It might have started life elsewhere, but it’s yours now and bears your family seal.”
Sam stared down at the Men of Letters signal embossed in the leather.
“You earned it.”
Sam looped his free arm around her small scarlet-clad form and hugged her gently. He kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”
“Well, off you go then. No need to tarry, make an old witch cry.”
Sam nodded and leaned in through the open Impala window and placed the grimoire on the passenger seat. “There is just one last thing I need to get.” He said as he disappeared back into the bunker.
Rowena huffed as she daubed at a few more tears, “Boys, always dragging things out.”
A minute later Sam returned wearing a different jacket. Ach, the vanity of the boy, she thought. He nodded at her as he climbed, unspeaking, into the Impala. The door squeaked as he settled into the driver’s seat. She watched as he pulled a small vial of archangel’s grace from his pocket just as they’d rehearsed. Rowena had given him a full canister, although she wouldn’t say who the donor or donors were. Sam hoped at least some of it was Lucifer’s. Now, it was all safely divided into individually weighted, world-hopping sized portions, the rest safely stored in the Impala’s trunk.
He started to chant the spell he and Rowena had worked out to transport between dimensions. It was an amalgam of the Richchesters’ and Rowena’s dimension-shifting spells. He uncorked the small vial of archangel grace as he began to chant.
“Aliam partem quaerimus animae nostrae. De mundo nullo congruens mate. Hunc mundum reperi et ibi nos salva salva. Aliam partem quaerimus animae nostrae. De mundo nullo congruens mate. Hunc mundum reperi et ibi nos salva salva. Aliam partem quaerimus animae nostrae. De mundo nullo congruens mate. Hunc mundum reperi et ibi nos salva salva. Aliam partem quaerimus animae nostrae. De mundo nullo congruens mate. Hunc mundum reperi et ibi nos salva salva.”
(We search for the other half of our soul. On a world with no matching mate. Find this world and deliver us there safely.)
Sam kept repeating the worlds as the grace filled the interior of the Impala. He continued to chant as the grace flowed out along the lines of the Impala and began to ripple and blur. Soon the whole car was one shimmering ripple and Rowena could barely make out the Sam-shaped silhouette in the driver’s seat. She could still hear Sam’s voice though, as it continued to rise in volume.
Then there was a popping sensation followed by a sudden whoosh that sent her hair streaming around her face, as air rushed to fill the void where the Impala once sat. Rowena let out the breath she hadn’t known she was holding. Sam was gone.
Rowena stood there staring at the now empty space, her heart strangely tight. She would miss this Winchester, this boy, this fledgling witch. They had somehow moved from frenemies to good friends over the years, one of her only few.
“I’ve got my fingers crossed for him.” A voice mused from behind her.
Rowena whirled, and saw Sam -, her Sam, she realized - leaning against the car pool door a shy smile on his face.
“You’re here!” Rowena rushed over and hugged him. “How are you here Samuel, and if you’re here - . Who did I just say goodbye to?”
“You said goodbye to me. Or a slightly newer copy of me.”
Rowena stared at him.
“We used Gideon’s mirror…I used Gideon’s mirror last night, to make a perfect copy of myself. He’s the one that left in the Impala.”
“Why you. I thought you were the one that wanted to go?”
“It’s what seemed fair. We talked it out, he and I. I did want to go, but all I could think about since I started this ball in motion, was who would meet Dean in heaven? My Dean, that is. Like you said, I could have an eternity to regret not meeting my Dean. He, on the other hand was free to leave. I’ve got this Dean covered. He can go on and find his own, free of guilt.”
“But what will you do now? I thought you hated it here.”
“I do, I did. But somehow just knowing that a version of me is out there, trying to help a Dean have a better life, is good enough. I wasn’t sure it would be, but I think it will.” Sam nodded thoughtfully. “And as Sam and I talked, it came to me, that I have a whole new set of skills now, and maybe before I meet my Dean in heaven I can put those skills to work instead of moping around the Bunker. Besides, I have some good friends that would miss me if I left. Right?”
Rowena gave him a crushingly tight hug. “Aye, you surely do, Sam Winchester, you surely do.”
¤ ¤ ¤
He’d dreamed of Dean the other night. Dean, waiting for him in the field in heaven, a blanket and a box of fireworks at his feet, a soft smile on his lips. And when they walked toward each other, arms wide in greeting, he wasn’t a little boy like he had been in the memory. They were both full grown. Their lips touched in the tenderest of kisses.
“Missed you Sammy-boy. What took you so long?” Dean grinned against his cheek and began to roughly unbutton the layers of flannel each of them were wearing.
Tugging and pushing until there was a trail of clothing on the grass ending where both had tumbled onto the blanket gasping and moaning impatiently, each finally were able to touch skin.
They made love under the warm star filled sky and then watched endless fireworks, Sam nestled in Dean’s arms satisfied and complete.
FIN
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Latin translations used in story (if anyone is interested):
restless spirit i send thee to thy damnation. Let yourself be led to the fire.
Inquietum spiritum, i mitto te ad damnationem tuam. Sine te igni.
restless spirit i send thee to thy rest. Let yourself be led to the light and find peace.
Inquietum spiritum ego mitto te in requiem tuam. Admitte te ipsum ad lucem et pacem invenies.
Bring the light, bring the pain, vanquish these vampires to another plane.
Lucem affer, affer dolorem, vince haec lamia in alium campum.
Burn hard, burn bright, burn to ash and bone, no hint of life.
Ure dura, lucida urere, urere cineres, Os nullum vitae indicium.