Fic: Wish Not Change (Sam/Dean, R) part 2 of 3
Back to Part 1
****
Sam found him leaning up against another part of the wall that was in the shade of a tree that was growing in the convent garden.
“Hey, you okay, Dean?”
Sam sounded like he was underwater or asking the question from very far away. Dean swam back to himself, feeling like he was underwater himself. “Yeah, the sun just got to me,” he mumbled.
Sam took him by the elbow and steered him towards one of the Cafe du Monde franchise stores. “Let’s go get an iced coffee or something.”
As they walked a couple blocks, Sam’s hand now on his lower back to guide him through the crowds, Dean began to feel more like himself, fingering the foil-wrapped candle in his pocket. “Did you see anything interesting in the museum?”
“I did, yeah, on the other side of the wall from where the witch had her table, they had a display of some of the casket girls wishes. Actually, I want to go back and check something while you wait in line. Get me a beignet and any kind of cold coffee.”
Before Dean could agree or say anything, Sam was disappearing back down the street. Dean tried to ignore how warm his lower back felt where Sam’s hand had been and turned his attention back to the menu. He tried to remember if he actually liked the chicory coffee they served here or not. It had been a while since he’d had any.
****
A few minutes after Dean was seated at one of the outdoor cafe tables with their coffees and beignets, Sam returned. He was quiet at first but seemed to come out of it after he’d nearly finished the snack.
“I forgot how much I liked these things, they’re so much better than plain old doughnuts,” Sam said.
“You don’t even like doughnuts though,” Dean said.
Sam reached across the table and swiped his thumb slowly across Dean’s lip. Before Dean could say anything, Sam was sucking his own thumb clean of the powdered sugar he’d gathered up from Dean’s lips. Before he could stop himself, Dean returned the favor. Fair was fair right? The sugar swept off of Sam’s lips was indeed a million times sweeter. So was the dazed look on his brother’s face, it served him right pulling that kind of stunt.
Sam licked his lower lip slowly, almost like he was savoring the taste of Dean’s touch.
Dean made himself roll his eyes to break out of the aching pit of want he found himself stuck in all of a sudden. All he wanted was to investigate the taste of sugar inside of Sam’s mouth and that was not a thing he could want, much less actually do, in public…or ever.
As they walked back to their guesthouse, Sam kept touching him, guiding him through the crowd and Dean kept waiting for the next touch, almost breathless with the anticipation of it. Why was Sam acting this way? It was all so strange he wasn’t sure what to do with-
Oh. Shit.
His wish, the wish he’d made, it had come true.
From the second Dean had made the wish, Sam had been acting like they were indeed lovers or partners or whatever the hell you wanted to call it. That thing that shall not be named or whatever. Dean realized in that moment, that it hadn’t been right to wish anything like that, no matter how much he wanted it. Now he had to try and resist because Sam was obviously under a spell, right? Dean knew that it was not at all okay to just take this as a win and run with it.
Damn.
The rest of the evening, they walked around the neighborhood streets near the guesthouse as the night fell around them, still warm and humid. As they walked, they revolved around each other, always in constant contact, a hand on an arm, or on the lower back, even resting in a back jean’s pocket. It was exquisite torture for Dean not to take things further. The yearning for Sam’s touch had been a constant force in his life, but this was so far past that. There was intention behind it, every time they touched each other. Dean knew the war within himself was going to be lost at some point, he wouldn’t be able to resist for very long. He barely noticed the sights and sounds of New Orleans around him as they walked through the streets. His focus narrowed down to his brother in a dangerous way, he was lucky there weren’t any threats coming their way.
****
Later that night, Dean worried about whether he’d end up drowning in the river or not. He probably should have told Sam it was a possibility, just in case. He’d made the damn wish, and it sure as hell had been granted as far as he could tell. Sam’s warm body beside his in the twin bed was the evidence of that. Sam had insisted on curling up together on one of their beds to watch a documentary about the Casket Girls. Sam had fallen asleep before it had even ended and Dean hadn’t been able to get up the courage to move him. Dean felt like if he touched his brother’s body it would all blow up in his face. The whole wish thing would explode and wreck their life together the moment he laid a finger on his brother’s skin.
“You okay?” Sam asked, his breath moving hot against Dean’s ear.
“Just thinking,” Dean said.
“I know, it woke me up, it was like your whole body tensed up or something,” Sam said.
“Sorry, I just need to get up,” Dean said, crawling over Sam to get off the bed. He stowed away the laptop and exited the room to hide in the bathroom down the hall. He took a long, hot shower, unable to stop touching himself as he remembered how good it had felt to hold Sam and be held even though Sam had been asleep. He knew it was nasty just even thinking that after having made a wish, but it was also hot as hell having finally gotten to feel his brother’s hands all over him like that. Sam’s giant hands, uhhh, just the thought of them was enough to bring him off the rest of the way.
After about a half hour had passed, hopefully long enough for Sam to be deeply asleep, he crept back into the room and laid down in his own bed. It felt too big and empty and much too far away from Sam’s, but he knew he couldn’t let himself just fall into this trap face first. It was a beautiful horrible trap that he’d created for himself. It was all gone to shit, everything he’d ever wanted was right there, his for the taking, but not without erasing all the respect he’d finally gained for the value of Sam’s own choices. It was a fitful night filled with dreams of Sam running away from him, or Sam winding himself around him, all just Sam…Sam…Sam.
*****
The next morning, Sam woke up in his own bed, all alone and quite sad about it, but with a plan mostly formulated on how to proceed on the case. Sometimes it worked that way for him, cracking a case in his sleep, letting his subconscious mull over everything they’d found out the day before. He stayed in bed and reread all the case files on his tablet just to make sure he was really on the right track. He wondered if Dean had slept as badly as he had, the whole night he’d been aching to be wound around Dean like they’d been while watching that Casket Girls documentary.
Sam thought he knew that Dean would share the wish that Sam had made yesterday, the one that seemed to have already started to come true. But then there was the way Dean had bolted out of their bed last night, locking himself in the bathroom for ages. Sam worried that he had gone too far and wished for something that only he had truly wanted. Maybe it was better that they’d slept apart, just in case Sam had been wrong. He’d never want to take something from Dean like that, it would be wrong, and it wouldn’t mean anything. He suddenly wished he hadn’t wished for anything at all yesterday.
“We need to go see Madame Zee again,” Sam said as Dean entered their room balancing a tray of coffee and breakfast sandwiches.
“Well, good morning to you too, sunshine. That means we have until the afternoon then, want to go to a museum or something?” Dean asked, because that was what couples did, right? Did things their partner or whatever wanted to do.
Sam cocked his head at him, but didn’t answer Dean, not sure why he’d be offering to go to a museum. Dean usually hated anything like that, the only thing that was different was the wish Sam had made yesterday. Shit. “No, we’re going right after I finish eating this, but to Madame Zee’s apartment this time. We have to get this settled before she gets to anyone else.”
“I did it yesterday, the wishing thing, and I’m okay,” Dean said, shaking his boots towards Sam. “See, not filled with river water.”
“Haha, hilarious and yeah, me too about doing the wishing thing,” Sam said.
“So why are we so worried then?” Dean asked, looking surprised for a moment and then quickly hiding it with a one-sided grin.
“I’m guessing you weren’t…uh…wishing for children?” Sam asked, stomach plummeting with the thought that maybe that had been his brother’s wish. Instead of Dean wishing to be with him, what if he’d wished for kids? Dean had always wanted a kid, a family and all that entailed. Sam knew that, why had he forgotten that?
“What? No, I was definitely not wishing for that,” Dean said. “Kids are not a thing I want anymore, besides we’ve got Jack, right? That kinda counts as far as I’m concerned.”
“We…uh, yeah, we do have Jack, you’re right. The wanting kids thing, it’s the only commonality that ties all the drowning victims together, I read their files again to be sure. Just about all of them, the witnesses mentioned stuff about them being happy about having another kid or a first kid, or like Sue’s friend yesterday, getting an adoption to finally go through.”
“And a Casket Girl was wishing for a family or children too, and is mad now that tourists are getting her wish fulfilled? We talking a ghost possession here?” Dean asked, downing the rest of his coffee.
“That’s my working theory as of the moment, but I’m still not clear on how Madame Zee is granting all these wishes, it doesn’t seem related to the Casket Girl ghost idea,” Sam said.
“You got an address for her yet?” Dean asked.
Sam tossed a small piece of paper to him as he exited to use the communal bathroom down the hall. During his shower, Sam tried and failed to think of how it had felt last night, wound up around each other in the small bed. Falling asleep in Dean’s arms, his big strong arms that could hold him down and uhhh…that was all he needed. He switched the water over to cool and tried to calm himself down. This was going to be difficult to hide from Dean, he figured it would be showing all over his face, his lust and depravity, that he’d given in to and taken advantage of him after wishing for something that Dean hadn’t necessarily wanted too.
He wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror and stared at himself, schooling his expression into the usual one he presented to the world (and to Dean). Sam could tell he looked different, but he couldn’t tell exactly how. He stuck his tongue out at himself as he shaved. This was all getting a little ridiculous, but at least they hadn’t both drowned in the river last night. That reminded him-Dean had made a wish too. Sam wondered what it was, what wish would his brother have risked possible death by drowning to have granted?
****
It was within walking distance to the witch’s place, so they didn’t bother to drive. It was a bright morning, not too humid yet which was a nice change. Sam thought the city didn’t quite seem to be awake quite yet even though it was after nine. He was hoping that Madame Zee would be at home and willing to talk to them.
“You got the witch killing bullets in your gun?” Dean asked as they walked along the sidewalk bumping hips and shoulders, their hands brushing together the whole way. Very distracting, but the best kind of distracting, Sam thought.
“Yeah, got ‘em, but I forgot to bring the duct tape,” Sam said.
“Gotcha covered, these days I never trust witches not to start mumbling spells at us. Rowena made sure I learned that lesson well,” Dean said.
They soon reached the walkup apartment entrance and made it up the creaky wooden stairs to the top floor. There was no sneaking up on someone using those stairs. There was a small hand-written nameplate next to the apartment number which had the name: Rowan Zeekarian.
Sam knocked at the door, Dean standing close, his shoulder pressed to Sam’s until it finally opened. Sam thought they made a good solid blockade together.
Madame Zee looked very different standing in her apartment’s doorway, she seemed much smaller without all the jewelry and floating scarves. Her hair was still a greying brown curly mess, but her green eyes were curious and piercing.
“Well, hello there, darlings, I’m surprised to see you after those lovely wishes you made yesterday,” Madame Zee said.
“That’s why we’re here, Madame Zee,” Sam said, wondering if she actually remembered them and their individual wishes.
“You may call me Rowan, I only use Madame Zee as my stage name,” Rowan said, still standing in the doorway.
“Thank you, Rowan, we’re here in New Orleans, investigating a series of strange drowning deaths. It turns out that each person had been to see you the day that they died. You are in fact the only thing that links together all of the victims,” Sam said.
“Well, I wouldn’t know anything about any drownings, I never go down to the river myself,” Rowan said, crossing her skinny arms and planting her feet wide as if she could possibly stop them.
“Each of the witnesses we’ve spoken to recall seeing an extremely pale young woman, dressed in tattered old fashioned clothes near the person the night before they died. We have reason to believe you may be disturbing or connecting with the ghost of one of the Casket Girls,” Sam said.
“Ah, those poor poor girls, just looking for a better life, and ending up as-it’s too ugly to speak of. As far as I know, none of the rituals that I am using with my customers would be at all useful in calling up a ghost,” Rowan said.
“Would you be willing to share with us the source of the spell you use in your wishing ceremony?” Sam asked.
“A witch never reveals her sources,” Rowan said, uncrossing her arms to waggle one finger in a tsk-tsk motion.
“Listen lady, we can take you in, just with the evidence we already have. Cooperate with us here and now, maybe we can all avoid taking a trip downtown,” Dean said.
“Neither of you are actually FBI agents or officers of the law, you are something else entirely, perhaps even hunters given the boorishness. I have nothing at all to tell you, good day, sirs,” Rowan said, trying to close the door in their faces.
Sam’s booted foot prevented the door from closing. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to insist.”
Rowan’s face changed from a normal pissed-off old lady expression to one of calm and purpose, her lips began to move.
Dean’s arm reached out and slapped a piece of duct tape smack right down over her lips, his hand covering her mouth for good measure. Sam had her arms pinned behind her back and the door shut behind all three of them before she could even make a move to resist. Sam marched her over to an armchair and pushed her into it. Dean slapped the containment spell cuffs on her wrists. Her green eyes blazed with fury.
“Listen, Rowan. We know you’re using something that is causing people to drown in the river. Don’t you even care?” Sam asked.
Rowan nodded yes, but the fury in her eyes didn’t diminish.
“It’s possible you don’t actually know that what you’re doing is causing this, that’s why we haven’t wasted you already,” Dean said. “Tell us the source of those spell words, right the hell now and don’t try any more spell casting.” Dean ripped the tape from her lips.
“The words…I learned them from my coven. We had a very powerful witch visit us a while ago and she had an old spell book with her, she called it the Black Grimoire. She was trying to persuade some of us to join something that she called her Mega Coven. I thought it sounded ridiculous, but I managed to copy down one of the spells while she was busy interviewing one of my coven sisters. The words just sounded cool to me, like a language I should know.”
“So you don’t know what the words actually mean then? Why did you copy the spell down?” Sam asked.
“It seemed like my coven might need something as leverage, in case the witch didn’t leave us alone,” Rowan said.
“This witch happen to be about yea high, long curly red hair, whole lot of eye makeup, probably wearing an inappropriately fancy dress of some kind?” Dean asked.
Sam held in his laughter at Dean’s very accurate physical description of Rowena.
“Yes, she called herself Rowena, I remember it because I didn’t like that her name was so close to mine,” Rowan said. “At first I thought she was a dabbler like most of us are, but she really liked to show off. It was pretty fucking scary really what she could do. I thought she was way too powerful for one woman.”
“We know her, and we definitely know what you mean. But back to the spell, do you have it written down?” Sam asked.
“Both of you said the words yourselves, don’t you remember them?” Rowan asked with a sly smile.
“We’d rather get it straight from the source, if you’d just write the words down here and we’ll promise not to tell Rowena on you,” Sam said, placing his open notebook and a pen in her still-cuffed hands. Sam glanced up at Dean briefly to see his brother’s eyes full of the one question Sam couldn’t answer. Dean was probably wondering the same thing he still was, what did my brother wish for?
Rowan glared at him, her green eyes flashing.
“You start speaking a goddamn word and I’m slapping the tape back on, and this time I won’t be so careful not to get it in your hair,” Dean said with a growl.
Rowan started writing.
Sam took the notebook and pen back from Rowan and read over what she’d written. “This is definitely Black Grimoire stuff, I recognize the language.”
“Any idea what it says?” Dean asked.
“It’s something about souls,” Sam said, “I have to get my translation key and figure the rest out, hold on.” Sam pulled up one of the database files on his tablet and keyed in the words of the spell. ”It looks like this spell is harnessing the accumulated power of the Casket Girls’ wishes, as well as taking a small piece of each of your client’s souls.”
“Taking a piece of their souls? Like their actual souls?” Rowan asked, shock all over her face.
“Rowan, you need to stop using this spell, immediately” Dean said.
“I just thought it sounded cool and authentic, it’s not my fault,” Rowan complained.
“That’s the most irresponsible thing I’ve ever heard! I’ve changed my mind, we’re going to tell Rowena to come down here and deal with you!” Sam yelled.
“No-no that won’t be necessary, I get it. I’m sorry about the people’s souls, I really am. I’ll use something else instead, that I know for sure is harmless. But what about the rest of the wish ceremony, the touching the wall and the burning the paper parts of it? Is all that okay to still use?” Rowan asked.
“I think maybe skipping the wall would be good, just in case. And maybe trade with one of the other vendors for a different spot along the wall while you’re at it,” Sam suggested, still obviously seething.
“I’ll do it, I swear. I don’t want to be hurting anyone, that’s not what this is about for me,” Rowan said.
“Sam, can I talk to you alone for a second,” Dean asked.
Sam stepped into the kitchen with Dean.
****
Part 3
****
Sam found him leaning up against another part of the wall that was in the shade of a tree that was growing in the convent garden.
“Hey, you okay, Dean?”
Sam sounded like he was underwater or asking the question from very far away. Dean swam back to himself, feeling like he was underwater himself. “Yeah, the sun just got to me,” he mumbled.
Sam took him by the elbow and steered him towards one of the Cafe du Monde franchise stores. “Let’s go get an iced coffee or something.”
As they walked a couple blocks, Sam’s hand now on his lower back to guide him through the crowds, Dean began to feel more like himself, fingering the foil-wrapped candle in his pocket. “Did you see anything interesting in the museum?”
“I did, yeah, on the other side of the wall from where the witch had her table, they had a display of some of the casket girls wishes. Actually, I want to go back and check something while you wait in line. Get me a beignet and any kind of cold coffee.”
Before Dean could agree or say anything, Sam was disappearing back down the street. Dean tried to ignore how warm his lower back felt where Sam’s hand had been and turned his attention back to the menu. He tried to remember if he actually liked the chicory coffee they served here or not. It had been a while since he’d had any.
****
A few minutes after Dean was seated at one of the outdoor cafe tables with their coffees and beignets, Sam returned. He was quiet at first but seemed to come out of it after he’d nearly finished the snack.
“I forgot how much I liked these things, they’re so much better than plain old doughnuts,” Sam said.
“You don’t even like doughnuts though,” Dean said.
Sam reached across the table and swiped his thumb slowly across Dean’s lip. Before Dean could say anything, Sam was sucking his own thumb clean of the powdered sugar he’d gathered up from Dean’s lips. Before he could stop himself, Dean returned the favor. Fair was fair right? The sugar swept off of Sam’s lips was indeed a million times sweeter. So was the dazed look on his brother’s face, it served him right pulling that kind of stunt.
Sam licked his lower lip slowly, almost like he was savoring the taste of Dean’s touch.
Dean made himself roll his eyes to break out of the aching pit of want he found himself stuck in all of a sudden. All he wanted was to investigate the taste of sugar inside of Sam’s mouth and that was not a thing he could want, much less actually do, in public…or ever.
As they walked back to their guesthouse, Sam kept touching him, guiding him through the crowd and Dean kept waiting for the next touch, almost breathless with the anticipation of it. Why was Sam acting this way? It was all so strange he wasn’t sure what to do with-
Oh. Shit.
His wish, the wish he’d made, it had come true.
From the second Dean had made the wish, Sam had been acting like they were indeed lovers or partners or whatever the hell you wanted to call it. That thing that shall not be named or whatever. Dean realized in that moment, that it hadn’t been right to wish anything like that, no matter how much he wanted it. Now he had to try and resist because Sam was obviously under a spell, right? Dean knew that it was not at all okay to just take this as a win and run with it.
Damn.
The rest of the evening, they walked around the neighborhood streets near the guesthouse as the night fell around them, still warm and humid. As they walked, they revolved around each other, always in constant contact, a hand on an arm, or on the lower back, even resting in a back jean’s pocket. It was exquisite torture for Dean not to take things further. The yearning for Sam’s touch had been a constant force in his life, but this was so far past that. There was intention behind it, every time they touched each other. Dean knew the war within himself was going to be lost at some point, he wouldn’t be able to resist for very long. He barely noticed the sights and sounds of New Orleans around him as they walked through the streets. His focus narrowed down to his brother in a dangerous way, he was lucky there weren’t any threats coming their way.
****
Later that night, Dean worried about whether he’d end up drowning in the river or not. He probably should have told Sam it was a possibility, just in case. He’d made the damn wish, and it sure as hell had been granted as far as he could tell. Sam’s warm body beside his in the twin bed was the evidence of that. Sam had insisted on curling up together on one of their beds to watch a documentary about the Casket Girls. Sam had fallen asleep before it had even ended and Dean hadn’t been able to get up the courage to move him. Dean felt like if he touched his brother’s body it would all blow up in his face. The whole wish thing would explode and wreck their life together the moment he laid a finger on his brother’s skin.
“You okay?” Sam asked, his breath moving hot against Dean’s ear.
“Just thinking,” Dean said.
“I know, it woke me up, it was like your whole body tensed up or something,” Sam said.
“Sorry, I just need to get up,” Dean said, crawling over Sam to get off the bed. He stowed away the laptop and exited the room to hide in the bathroom down the hall. He took a long, hot shower, unable to stop touching himself as he remembered how good it had felt to hold Sam and be held even though Sam had been asleep. He knew it was nasty just even thinking that after having made a wish, but it was also hot as hell having finally gotten to feel his brother’s hands all over him like that. Sam’s giant hands, uhhh, just the thought of them was enough to bring him off the rest of the way.
After about a half hour had passed, hopefully long enough for Sam to be deeply asleep, he crept back into the room and laid down in his own bed. It felt too big and empty and much too far away from Sam’s, but he knew he couldn’t let himself just fall into this trap face first. It was a beautiful horrible trap that he’d created for himself. It was all gone to shit, everything he’d ever wanted was right there, his for the taking, but not without erasing all the respect he’d finally gained for the value of Sam’s own choices. It was a fitful night filled with dreams of Sam running away from him, or Sam winding himself around him, all just Sam…Sam…Sam.
*****
The next morning, Sam woke up in his own bed, all alone and quite sad about it, but with a plan mostly formulated on how to proceed on the case. Sometimes it worked that way for him, cracking a case in his sleep, letting his subconscious mull over everything they’d found out the day before. He stayed in bed and reread all the case files on his tablet just to make sure he was really on the right track. He wondered if Dean had slept as badly as he had, the whole night he’d been aching to be wound around Dean like they’d been while watching that Casket Girls documentary.
Sam thought he knew that Dean would share the wish that Sam had made yesterday, the one that seemed to have already started to come true. But then there was the way Dean had bolted out of their bed last night, locking himself in the bathroom for ages. Sam worried that he had gone too far and wished for something that only he had truly wanted. Maybe it was better that they’d slept apart, just in case Sam had been wrong. He’d never want to take something from Dean like that, it would be wrong, and it wouldn’t mean anything. He suddenly wished he hadn’t wished for anything at all yesterday.
“We need to go see Madame Zee again,” Sam said as Dean entered their room balancing a tray of coffee and breakfast sandwiches.
“Well, good morning to you too, sunshine. That means we have until the afternoon then, want to go to a museum or something?” Dean asked, because that was what couples did, right? Did things their partner or whatever wanted to do.
Sam cocked his head at him, but didn’t answer Dean, not sure why he’d be offering to go to a museum. Dean usually hated anything like that, the only thing that was different was the wish Sam had made yesterday. Shit. “No, we’re going right after I finish eating this, but to Madame Zee’s apartment this time. We have to get this settled before she gets to anyone else.”
“I did it yesterday, the wishing thing, and I’m okay,” Dean said, shaking his boots towards Sam. “See, not filled with river water.”
“Haha, hilarious and yeah, me too about doing the wishing thing,” Sam said.
“So why are we so worried then?” Dean asked, looking surprised for a moment and then quickly hiding it with a one-sided grin.
“I’m guessing you weren’t…uh…wishing for children?” Sam asked, stomach plummeting with the thought that maybe that had been his brother’s wish. Instead of Dean wishing to be with him, what if he’d wished for kids? Dean had always wanted a kid, a family and all that entailed. Sam knew that, why had he forgotten that?
“What? No, I was definitely not wishing for that,” Dean said. “Kids are not a thing I want anymore, besides we’ve got Jack, right? That kinda counts as far as I’m concerned.”
“We…uh, yeah, we do have Jack, you’re right. The wanting kids thing, it’s the only commonality that ties all the drowning victims together, I read their files again to be sure. Just about all of them, the witnesses mentioned stuff about them being happy about having another kid or a first kid, or like Sue’s friend yesterday, getting an adoption to finally go through.”
“And a Casket Girl was wishing for a family or children too, and is mad now that tourists are getting her wish fulfilled? We talking a ghost possession here?” Dean asked, downing the rest of his coffee.
“That’s my working theory as of the moment, but I’m still not clear on how Madame Zee is granting all these wishes, it doesn’t seem related to the Casket Girl ghost idea,” Sam said.
“You got an address for her yet?” Dean asked.
Sam tossed a small piece of paper to him as he exited to use the communal bathroom down the hall. During his shower, Sam tried and failed to think of how it had felt last night, wound up around each other in the small bed. Falling asleep in Dean’s arms, his big strong arms that could hold him down and uhhh…that was all he needed. He switched the water over to cool and tried to calm himself down. This was going to be difficult to hide from Dean, he figured it would be showing all over his face, his lust and depravity, that he’d given in to and taken advantage of him after wishing for something that Dean hadn’t necessarily wanted too.
He wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror and stared at himself, schooling his expression into the usual one he presented to the world (and to Dean). Sam could tell he looked different, but he couldn’t tell exactly how. He stuck his tongue out at himself as he shaved. This was all getting a little ridiculous, but at least they hadn’t both drowned in the river last night. That reminded him-Dean had made a wish too. Sam wondered what it was, what wish would his brother have risked possible death by drowning to have granted?
****
It was within walking distance to the witch’s place, so they didn’t bother to drive. It was a bright morning, not too humid yet which was a nice change. Sam thought the city didn’t quite seem to be awake quite yet even though it was after nine. He was hoping that Madame Zee would be at home and willing to talk to them.
“You got the witch killing bullets in your gun?” Dean asked as they walked along the sidewalk bumping hips and shoulders, their hands brushing together the whole way. Very distracting, but the best kind of distracting, Sam thought.
“Yeah, got ‘em, but I forgot to bring the duct tape,” Sam said.
“Gotcha covered, these days I never trust witches not to start mumbling spells at us. Rowena made sure I learned that lesson well,” Dean said.
They soon reached the walkup apartment entrance and made it up the creaky wooden stairs to the top floor. There was no sneaking up on someone using those stairs. There was a small hand-written nameplate next to the apartment number which had the name: Rowan Zeekarian.
Sam knocked at the door, Dean standing close, his shoulder pressed to Sam’s until it finally opened. Sam thought they made a good solid blockade together.
Madame Zee looked very different standing in her apartment’s doorway, she seemed much smaller without all the jewelry and floating scarves. Her hair was still a greying brown curly mess, but her green eyes were curious and piercing.
“Well, hello there, darlings, I’m surprised to see you after those lovely wishes you made yesterday,” Madame Zee said.
“That’s why we’re here, Madame Zee,” Sam said, wondering if she actually remembered them and their individual wishes.
“You may call me Rowan, I only use Madame Zee as my stage name,” Rowan said, still standing in the doorway.
“Thank you, Rowan, we’re here in New Orleans, investigating a series of strange drowning deaths. It turns out that each person had been to see you the day that they died. You are in fact the only thing that links together all of the victims,” Sam said.
“Well, I wouldn’t know anything about any drownings, I never go down to the river myself,” Rowan said, crossing her skinny arms and planting her feet wide as if she could possibly stop them.
“Each of the witnesses we’ve spoken to recall seeing an extremely pale young woman, dressed in tattered old fashioned clothes near the person the night before they died. We have reason to believe you may be disturbing or connecting with the ghost of one of the Casket Girls,” Sam said.
“Ah, those poor poor girls, just looking for a better life, and ending up as-it’s too ugly to speak of. As far as I know, none of the rituals that I am using with my customers would be at all useful in calling up a ghost,” Rowan said.
“Would you be willing to share with us the source of the spell you use in your wishing ceremony?” Sam asked.
“A witch never reveals her sources,” Rowan said, uncrossing her arms to waggle one finger in a tsk-tsk motion.
“Listen lady, we can take you in, just with the evidence we already have. Cooperate with us here and now, maybe we can all avoid taking a trip downtown,” Dean said.
“Neither of you are actually FBI agents or officers of the law, you are something else entirely, perhaps even hunters given the boorishness. I have nothing at all to tell you, good day, sirs,” Rowan said, trying to close the door in their faces.
Sam’s booted foot prevented the door from closing. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to insist.”
Rowan’s face changed from a normal pissed-off old lady expression to one of calm and purpose, her lips began to move.
Dean’s arm reached out and slapped a piece of duct tape smack right down over her lips, his hand covering her mouth for good measure. Sam had her arms pinned behind her back and the door shut behind all three of them before she could even make a move to resist. Sam marched her over to an armchair and pushed her into it. Dean slapped the containment spell cuffs on her wrists. Her green eyes blazed with fury.
“Listen, Rowan. We know you’re using something that is causing people to drown in the river. Don’t you even care?” Sam asked.
Rowan nodded yes, but the fury in her eyes didn’t diminish.
“It’s possible you don’t actually know that what you’re doing is causing this, that’s why we haven’t wasted you already,” Dean said. “Tell us the source of those spell words, right the hell now and don’t try any more spell casting.” Dean ripped the tape from her lips.
“The words…I learned them from my coven. We had a very powerful witch visit us a while ago and she had an old spell book with her, she called it the Black Grimoire. She was trying to persuade some of us to join something that she called her Mega Coven. I thought it sounded ridiculous, but I managed to copy down one of the spells while she was busy interviewing one of my coven sisters. The words just sounded cool to me, like a language I should know.”
“So you don’t know what the words actually mean then? Why did you copy the spell down?” Sam asked.
“It seemed like my coven might need something as leverage, in case the witch didn’t leave us alone,” Rowan said.
“This witch happen to be about yea high, long curly red hair, whole lot of eye makeup, probably wearing an inappropriately fancy dress of some kind?” Dean asked.
Sam held in his laughter at Dean’s very accurate physical description of Rowena.
“Yes, she called herself Rowena, I remember it because I didn’t like that her name was so close to mine,” Rowan said. “At first I thought she was a dabbler like most of us are, but she really liked to show off. It was pretty fucking scary really what she could do. I thought she was way too powerful for one woman.”
“We know her, and we definitely know what you mean. But back to the spell, do you have it written down?” Sam asked.
“Both of you said the words yourselves, don’t you remember them?” Rowan asked with a sly smile.
“We’d rather get it straight from the source, if you’d just write the words down here and we’ll promise not to tell Rowena on you,” Sam said, placing his open notebook and a pen in her still-cuffed hands. Sam glanced up at Dean briefly to see his brother’s eyes full of the one question Sam couldn’t answer. Dean was probably wondering the same thing he still was, what did my brother wish for?
Rowan glared at him, her green eyes flashing.
“You start speaking a goddamn word and I’m slapping the tape back on, and this time I won’t be so careful not to get it in your hair,” Dean said with a growl.
Rowan started writing.
Sam took the notebook and pen back from Rowan and read over what she’d written. “This is definitely Black Grimoire stuff, I recognize the language.”
“Any idea what it says?” Dean asked.
“It’s something about souls,” Sam said, “I have to get my translation key and figure the rest out, hold on.” Sam pulled up one of the database files on his tablet and keyed in the words of the spell. ”It looks like this spell is harnessing the accumulated power of the Casket Girls’ wishes, as well as taking a small piece of each of your client’s souls.”
“Taking a piece of their souls? Like their actual souls?” Rowan asked, shock all over her face.
“Rowan, you need to stop using this spell, immediately” Dean said.
“I just thought it sounded cool and authentic, it’s not my fault,” Rowan complained.
“That’s the most irresponsible thing I’ve ever heard! I’ve changed my mind, we’re going to tell Rowena to come down here and deal with you!” Sam yelled.
“No-no that won’t be necessary, I get it. I’m sorry about the people’s souls, I really am. I’ll use something else instead, that I know for sure is harmless. But what about the rest of the wish ceremony, the touching the wall and the burning the paper parts of it? Is all that okay to still use?” Rowan asked.
“I think maybe skipping the wall would be good, just in case. And maybe trade with one of the other vendors for a different spot along the wall while you’re at it,” Sam suggested, still obviously seething.
“I’ll do it, I swear. I don’t want to be hurting anyone, that’s not what this is about for me,” Rowan said.
“Sam, can I talk to you alone for a second,” Dean asked.
Sam stepped into the kitchen with Dean.
****
Part 3