May You Find Some Comfort Here, for unabashedbird
Title: May You Find Some Comfort Here
Recipient: unabashedbird
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~5656
Warnings: Mild show-level language, kind of borderline crack-fic-ish. Potential spoilers through Season 11, but particularly for Supernatural 8.18 and 11.12.
Author’s Note: All credit to the prompts, which were creative and fun - I kind of spiced one up with bits from others, hope you like! I’m also completely ignoring the cliff-hanger moments at the end of the S11 finale, as well as other minor canon probably so this is AU. Title comes from Sarah McLachlan’s “Angel”
Summary:Sam Winchester, Man of Letters, tries to solve with an unusual problem. Fortunately he has some unusual help. Curtain fic, approximately 7 years after the Season 11 finale.
These days most hunters had Sam Winchester’s number.
It was posted in secret places, handed off on scraps of paper with talismans and ammo. It could be found online if you knew your way around the dark web. That number was even in the emergency contact lists of some obscure government agencies, which once could find ironic given the Winchesters’ history with the law. Calling that number meant access to obscure rituals, out of the box thinking and most importantly, quick and efficient ways of making evil things dead. If you were lucky enough to have it and you didn’t use it you were a fool, mostly likely of the soon-to-be dead variety. Most hunters in North America had never heard of the Men of Letters and had no idea that they were calling one. They just knew there were no more reassuring words to hear on a desperate call then, ‘Sam Winchester, how can I help?’
Of course, there is always a smattering of fools, alive and dead. A few hunters who spit when the Winchesters were mentioned, who still blame Sam for various end of the world scenarios that had almost come to pass, who would burn the number spitefully if they managed to get their hands on it. These dissenters were mostly ignored by their brethren; there’s nothing like being shunned by a set of outcasts to really make you feel alone in the world. Their deaths went largely unmourned.
The phone number was a mystery, though. The area code didn’t exist, and not even the strongest psychics or best hackers had managed to get a read. Rumors had Sam Winchester living in every state of the union; more farfetched tales said Sam was dead and the number connected directly to heaven or hell. Sometimes a demon being exorcised would try to barter the location in order to escape their fate; no hunter ever took them up on it since, well, demons lie. With a few notable exceptions, no angel, demon or man knew where Sam Winchester was, and as long as that number was being answered that was pretty much just fine with everyone.
Which isn’t to say that Sam and Dean had no friends, those who knew the Winchesters’ true whereabouts and who could pass through the wards. Some could enter directly by their own angelic (or in the case of one disgruntled former ‘King of Hell’, demonic) power. A few trusted hunters - and a few exceptional others - had their own keys. So an actual knock on the front door of the Men of Letters bunker was normally about as rare as a Wendigo showing up on a beach.
When Sam heard the frantic pounding, it was the third time the bunker door had been knocked on in as many days.
He was understandably cautious as he cracked the door open, gun at the ready just in case. He would have been pleased to see the woman at the door if she hadn’t looked so upset. She also would customarily have just let herself in, so Sam knew this couldn’t mean anything good.
“Jody! What’s wrong?” he questioned. Sheriff Jody Mills, very part-time hunter and long-time friend, stepped aside, gesturing back towards the road. Sam blinked at seeing the sable and white border collie agitatedly pacing behind the invisible line that marked where the wards protected the bunker from uninvited supernatural guests.
“Sam, I don’t know how to...I know it sounds nuts, but that dog is Claire.”
“Oh, Claire,” Sam sighed. His expression spoke more of resignation than surprise, but Jody was too agitated to notice.
“I’m sorry about the knocking, I know I could have used my key but I wasn’t sure you were here and Claire was stuck and I couldn’t just leave her out here alone, not like this...” Jody’s rambling trailed off as Sam tucked the gun back into his waistband and pulled her into a hug.
“I know, Jody. It’s okay.” Sam let her go with a reassuring shoulder rub, then reached into his jacked and pulled out a dog collar etched with some symbols.
“Why do you have that? Why aren’t you shocked? Claire’s a dog!” Jody realized as her friend strode quickly towards Claire. “Sam? Care to share?” the retired sheriff called after him. Rather than answer, Sam crouched down and addressed the dog in a soft sincere tone, keeping the hand with the collar out of biting range.
“Claire, I’m sorry, please let me put this on you. It’ll get you past the wards and keep you...well, keep you hidden if anyone’s trying to find you. I wouldn’t ask you to wear it if it wasn’t necessary.” Claire gave a full body shake of displeasure and a faint woof, but then sat with a sigh and allowed Sam to fasten the strange collar. The etched glyphs glowed silver for a moment, then returned to normal. Standing from his crouch, Sam stretched until they all heard an audible pop. “Thanks, Claire. Damn I’m getting old.”
“Sam Winchester, what the hell’s going on?” Jody hissed, and he spared her a rueful glance before scanning the area around the bunker.
“Too much and nothing we should discuss right here,” Sam answered, his sharp eyes still surveying the area. Finally satisfied, he waved his new guests through the open doorway. “Let me get you guys settled and I’ll tell you what I know.”
“I have the feeling you already know more than I do,” Jody drawled suspiciously as she followed. “I haven’t been able to get in touch with Alex, Sam, has she called you?”
Sam winced. Alex was still as somewhat delicate issue between them. She had come to Sam a few years ago asking for his help after Claire had rescued her from yet another vampire attack. As often was the unfortunate case, her history with the vampires had left her somehow mystically vulnerable, and she just wanted to get that susceptibility taken away somehow so she could live a normal life. Sam’s research told him there were some spells that might do the job, but they required a true ‘white witch’ practitioner. The coven of witches that had helped them with Amara had each embedded Rowena’s resurrection spell prior to the confrontation and had thus fortunately survived. Sam had come to trust Clea as he’d worked with the coven over the years since, especially after they finally had cast Rowena out, and knew they could be trusted to help Alex. He hadn’t anticipated that Alex would find she had a latent magical talent and actually wind up joining the coven. Both Jody and Dean had been royally pissed at him for it, but Alex was happier than she’d ever been and that had gone a long way to mollifying her foster mother.
“The coven is trying to help. They got me the collars,” Sam tossed over his shoulder as he led her down the stairs, Claire bounding ahead. “We’re going to do everything we can to help Claire, Jody. Just try to relax and enjoy the Winchester hospitality.”
“No, if I wanted stale crackers and cheap whiskey I could have...” Jody trailed off as took in a bizarre and unexpected tableau. There was a black Affenpinscher curled up with a young German shepherd on a cushion near the table at the side of the room; both initially appeared to be asleep but blinked lazily as they sensed new arrivals. A chocolate Labrador retriever was currently exchanging friendly butt sniffs with Claire, and an old basset hound was lounging on another cushion in the corner, taking in the activity with an air of quiet resignation. “So, let me guess, you’ve opened an animal shelter in your super-secret monster-killing bunker?”
“Not hardly,” came a laughing response from out of view. Jody watched an unfamiliar African-American woman, tiny but with a strong presence, enter the room carrying a tray that had an honest-to-God tea set, complete with cubes of sugar in a bowl and a silver creamer. A young black woman dressed in traditional hunter jeans-and-flannel trailed unhappily behind with another tray filled with cookies and sandwiches. Sam hurried to the first woman and took the laden tray from her hands, earning a grateful pat on the cheek. “Why, thank you Sam, you’re a good boy,” she drawled.
“Yeah, thanks Sam,” the younger woman offered sarcastically as they both carefully placed the trays on the table. She muttered something about ‘tea parties’ and ‘fools’ that Jody couldn’t quite catch but from the rising color in Sam’s cheeks clearly wasn’t complementary.
“Now, Jody - do you mind if I call you Jody? ‘Ms. Mills’ seems a touch formal and you’re not here as the law,” the shorter woman chortled, drawing back Jody’s attention and waving her onward. “Now, you come on now, come on down here and join us.” As Jody slowly finished descending the stairs, Sam hastened to make introductions, knowing his friend was probably shocked to see him with any kind of company as much of a rarity as it was.
“Jody, this is Missouri Moseley, she’s an old family friend,” he said, and Jody found her hand enfolded in a warm, somehow comforting grip. She felt herself relax minutely and managed a smile.
“Jody’s fine, if I can call you Missouri,” she answered the woman’s previous question. Missouri gave her a gracious nod and a squeeze of her hand before releasing it.
“I’m Josephine if anyone cares,” the younger woman snarked. She didn’t offer Jody her hand, instead flopping into a chair and helping herself to one of the sandwiches. Jody smiled despite herself, the behavior more than a little familiar having raised two young women from teenagers.
“Josephine’s a hunter, Jody,” Sam elaborated somewhat unnecessarily, and then added with slightly less certainty, “she’s also a friend. Josephine, Jody and Claire have hunted with us in the past, and Claire’s like her daughter.”
Sympathy flickered in Josephine’s expression and she favored Jody with a solemn nod and a wave. Jody cleared her throat over a sudden lump at Sam’s simple but true expression of her relationship to Claire. Silence stretched to the edge of awkwardness before she managed to respond.
“Well, it’s certainly nice to meet more friends of Sam and Dean’s. Just wish it was under better circumstances.” Jody chuckled ruefully. “Although I’m not sure there ever are better circumstances with Sam and Dean.”
“It could be worse,” Missouri agreed, shaking Jody’s offered hand, her expression sympathetic and soothing. She shook Claire’s offered paw with a soft greeting, then cocked her head as if listening intently. She finally stood straight and addressed Jody firmly. “Jody, Claire wants you to know she’s okay, she says to ‘chillax.’” Josephine made a scoffing sound, slumping when Missouri’s keen glare turned towards her. “Josephine, you be nice, just because you don’t say ‘chillax’ don’t mean that someone else can’t.” As Josephine sullenly studied the table, Jody tilted her head towards Missouri and gave Sam a pointed ‘is she crazy?’ look.
“Missouri’s a psychic, Jody,” Sam reassured. “One of the best we’ve ever known.”
“Sam, don’t you make me blush now,” Missouri demurred, hiding her delight at the compliment by busying herself with the tea pot. Jody sank into the chair next to Josephine’s in a daze, and Claire settled more or less contentedly at her feet.
“Missouri’s able to communicate with the...” Sam hesitated and made a gesture around him.
“The dogs?” Jody finished, amused at the panicked look on his face at her words.
“Hunters,” Sam corrected hastily over a bark from the corner, “Hunters who were somehow transformed into dogs. Not actual dogs!” Jody accepted a cup of tea from Missouri with murmured thanks and lifted her eyebrow questioningly. Missouri sighed as she poured another cup.
“I’m no kind of dog whisperer, but I can more or less pick up their human thoughts.” Leaning towards Jody, she whispered, “They don’t want to admit it, but they’re running about 50/50 dog to human in their heads right now.”
“But that hasn’t changed, so we think it’s a good sign they’re not going full doggy,” added Josephine, who was sitting close enough to hear the quiet words. Missouri grimaced and looked towards Jody’s feet.
“Claire just reminded me that a dog’s hearing is better than mine, I apologize, Claire, wasn’t tryin’ to be rude.”
A sudden thought had Jody sitting upright with a stricken look, looking at the assortment of dogs in horror. “Oh my God, Sam, is Dean…?”
“What? No!” Despite himself Sam’s lips curled up in amusement. “Dean’s not here, he’s on a road trip with Cas, they’re in Seattle.”
“In Seattle? Hunting?”
“Sightseeing. Cas did say that Dean snuck EMF readers into the EMP museum but they didn’t pick up any signs that Hendrix or Cobain are lingering about. I can’t say he won’t find a hunt, this is Dean we’re talking about, but I figure as long as he’s with Cas he’s about as safe as he can be.”
“Good, that’s…good,” Jody sagged, absently reaching to scratch Claire’s head with a pang. She was relieved that Sam’s brother hadn’t been ‘dog-ified’ but wished the same could be said for her surrogate daughter. “So they were all hunters?” At a series of barks Jody amended, “Sorry, sorry, are hunters.” The chocolate Labrador retriever came trotting over to Missouri for pets and Josephine rolled her eyes, taking her own tea cup with a snort of amusement.
“Yes, you’re right, Joseph, introductions are in order,” Missouri said seemingly in agreement with the lab.
“Short stuff over there is Krissy,” Josephine grinned at the Affenpinscher’s whine. The German Shephard curled protectively around here offered a rebuking bark.
“Hush now, Aiden,” Missouri scolded, then added unnecessarily, “That rude boy is Aiden, he’s Krissy’s special friend. This friendly guy,” she said, giving the lab a pat and getting a licked face in return, “is young Joseph, and sulking over in the corner is his father Jebediah.” A low growl from the basset hound made her roll her eyes. “I’m sorry, he wanted me to tell you he prefers Jeb. Hush now, you fool, always called you Jebediah and m’not changing now.”
“Nice to meet...everyone,” Jody said uncertainly. “I’m Jody and this is Claire.” She smiled in spite of herself at the chorus of welcoming barks, but the mood quickly turned serious again. “Sam, do you know what’s happened to them? How we can fix it?”
“We’re still not sure. It could be a cursed object, a spell, a trickster maybe,” Sam sighed, rubbing his eyes. He looked exhausted, Jody noted, but that wasn’t an uncommon look for him. “I’m trying to narrow it down.”
“Well, whatever did this to Claire, any idea why it didn’t affect me?”
“We’re all asking ourselves that question. Krissy, Aiden and I, we were all hunting together, but I’m not a dog. We don’t know why,” Josephine offered.
“Joseph was hunting with his father as well,” Missouri chimed in as the lab licked her face again. “I was just helping them with some gris gris to deal with a poltergeist. I thought maybe it was because I wasn’t a hunter, but now I’m thinking something different.” She gave a pointed look to Sam, but he ignored whatever she was implying. He turned to Jody with a look she recognized as the one he got when he was determined to find answers.
“Can you tell us what you remember, Jody? Any details will help,” Sam gently prodded. She sipped her tea thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugged.
“Claire had just come back from a hunt in El Paso, just a salt and burn she said, and she wasn’t actively bleeding so I didn’t worry. Much. More than usual, anyway. She was same as always. Tired from the drive, went to sleep early. Then in the morning, I went to tell her breakfast was ready and there she was. Still in bed, but a dog.”
“What did you think? At that moment, when you saw the dog, what was your first thought?” Sam asked, and Jody didn’t even have to think about it.
“I thought, ‘I have to get her to Sam.’ It was like I couldn’t think anything else, I didn’t even think to call you, I just got in the car and drove here.”
“I felt the same thing,” Josephine chimed in. “We were on a werewolf hunt so we were sleeping in the daytime, that evening when I woke up and I saw Aiden and Krissy I didn’t even look around for what might have caused it. I didn’t grab clothes. I didn’t even look for Krissy’s keys to get the stupid bunker key. I just got us in the car and it was like the next thing I knew I was pounding on the bunker door like a goddamn damsel in distress. I still feel like an idiot.”
“I don’t think you should,” Missouri soothed. “The same thing happened to me, sugar. Now I am not known to be a hysterical woman, but I thought my heart was gonna beat out my chest when I found these two. All I knew was I just had to get us to Sam fast as green grass runs through a goose!” She handed a cup of tea to Sam and sighed. “Sam, honey, I know I said it before but I’m still worried we might be putting you in danger. I think it’s clear whatever’s going on here, it has something to do with you.”
“With my mother, actually,” Crowley drawled from the chair next to Sam, tea cup already in hand. Josephine had her gun out and cocked before Jody could put down her cup. All the dogs stood at attention, growling fiercely.
“Dammit, Crowley!” Sam swore, “How many times have we told you-”
“Don’t just pop in uninvited, blah blah blah,” Crowley sat back with a smirk. “I heard your rules, I just don’t care to follow. ‘Sides, brought my own tea, I like mine with a bit more zip.” He popped his lips together, shaking a flask and adding a healthy dollop to his cup.
“It’s okay, everyone,” Sam reassured, trying to deescalate the situation, “Crowley is a demon but he’s, um, harmless.”
“Bite your tongue, Moose!” Crowley protested. “I’m as evil as the day is long.”
“Be that as it may,” Sam said loudly over the still growling dogs, “please don’t attack him. Not at least until we hear him out.” At his pleading look, the dogs subsided and Josephine put away her gun with clear reluctance.
“Well I ain’t sharin’ my cookies with no demon,” Missouri snarled to Crowley’s further amusement.
“Madam, I assure you, your bickies are perfectly safe,” the former King of Hell serenely replied, sipping from his tea cup and smacking his lips with pleasure. “Ah, that hits the spot.”
“Out with it, Crowley, what has Rowena done, and why?” Crowley ignored him for a moment, still making a show of enjoying his tea and building the suspense. He finally looked around and rolled his eyes.
“Yes, alright, fine! It seems my dear sweet ginger whore of a mother managed to get herself trapped by some hunters,” he sneered. “The harridan is losing her touch since she lost her coven.”
“Your mother’s a witch? That explains so much,” Jody murmured and Claire’s tail thumped against her leg in agreement.
“That doesn’t explain why my friends now have collars and fur,” Josephine growled, her fingers clearly itching to put her gun back in Crowley’s face.
“Well, these particular hunters apparently have a grudge against you and Squirrel,” Crowley told Sam, “something about you almost ending the world. Mother wasn’t clear about which time.” Sam looked down and Joseph ran over to him, putting his head on his knee, his dark eyes showing sympathy. Sam gave him a small smile and began scratching his head as Crowley continued, “They had been looking for a witch, they wanted a spell, something that would find you. Fortunate wording as it turned out, Rowena loves those little loopholes.”
“She didn’t just tell them?” Sam wondered, mildly surprised.
“Hmmm, she could have, couldn’t she? My mother is mostly out for herself, but she has a strange sense of loyalty sometimes. Plus she knows your friend Chuck wouldn’t like it if she ratted you out. You know she’s still carrying a torch even after all these years.” Crowley shook his head in mock disbelief.
“That’s all well and fine, but could you hurry on to the part where your mother turned my daughter into a dog?” Jody pressed.
“Well, of course the hunters aren’t stupid enough to trust Rowena. She would have turned them into toads in a blink and they knew it. They have a way of controlling her, making it so any magic she does would do what they said, if not they’d know because she’d be suffering excruciating pain and eventual death. So the thing is, she was improvising, on the fly, trying to do a spell that wouldn’t kill her but still wouldn’t exactly work right either. I’m guessing the dog thing was to make sure she got your attention, Sam. Plus it does give you a bit of added incentive to rescue her toot-sweet.”
“But she can fix it, right?” Jody asked sharply and Crowley shrugged.
“She says she can, but she’s running out of time. She’s convinced them she’s temporarily tapped out but they’re going to make her try again, and she’s not sure she can stall next time,” Crowley’s flippant mask slid away and for a moment he looked grave, “She got this message to me so I could give it to you. Much as I despise the woman I don’t want to think about what it cost her.”
“Where?” Sam asked tersely.
“A cabin. On an island off the coast, Mother said. She illuminated some coordinates.” Crowley handed a folded paper map to Sam and he looked at it for a minute, his frown slowly fading and a smile taking its place. He quickly pulled out his phone.
“Dean, hey...what...the Space Needle? How many times...wait, never mind, just...Dean…listen, it sounds like you’re getting bored...yeah, there’s something, hang on,” Sam pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment. “Missouri, can you call Clea? Let her know what’s happening, she might be able to help with the rescue or the...you know...”
“De-canine-ization?” Crowley offered.
“Whatever,” Sam glared, then spoke into the phone. “Back...yeah, that was Crowley...just shut up and let me explain...”
Sam strode out of the room, Joseph unnoticed at his heels, and Missouri pulled out her own phone and glared at it for a moment before pushing a button on her contacts with a heavy sigh.
“Clea? It’s Missouri.” The psychic’s bright and clearly catty tone raised eyebrows from all the humans in the room. “Yes, yes, it has been a long time...well. you know, this and that...well, no, Sam wanted me to call, it seems this trouble was caused by a friend of yours, a witch named Rowena? I mean, I’ve always respected your willingness to work with all sorts, but...oh, dear, really? That sounds like it was terrible for you...yes, well, first apparently Dean and his friend need to rescue the woman, and Sam thought you and your other friends could maybe help...oh dear, I’m sure you would prefer to do that to Rowena, but I know you would never put personal revenge over helping…yes, I thought you would...”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Well, I can’t thank you enough for this one, lads,” Rowena gushed a week later. The rescue had been surprisingly easy, the bampot* hunters who’d held her no match for Dean Winchester with an angel and an entire coven of witches at his back. Her torturers had gotten off too easy for Rowena’s taste given what they’d done to her; she would have done far worse to them then an angelic mind wipe and a trip to the hospital. She could always visit them later while they were drooling on themselves and amuse herself with vengeance, she decided, the thought exceedingly cheering. The only downside was that no sooner was she rescued and she was clapped in iron shackles by none other than her rescuer himself! And she now found herself back in this dreary basement of the Men of Letters, dealing with the Winchesters yet again, not a whit of gratitude for what she’d already done on their behalf. And the place now smelled like dog, which was not an improvement. She would never understand Fergus’ taste in friends.
“The best way to thank us, Rowena,” Sam said through gritted teeth, and not for the first time, “is to undo the spell.” The younger Winchester was truly at his wit’s end. He had spent more than a week researching this problem. Clea and Alex had joined him and (once Alex had gotten a sufficient number of cell phone pictures of her sister in canine form) had spent every waking moment trying out various possible spells with the benefit of the Men of Letters references. In addition to handling his normal requests coming in from hunters and taking care of his unusual guests, he felt like he could sleep for the next month and not catch up. Although Dean had turned out to be a surprising amount of help, at least with the guests; apparently entertaining hunters who had turned into dogs was one of his brother’s special powers. Cas had left to try in person to get assistance from heaven but hadn’t been in contact since so he’d apparently struck out as well.
“And I will,” Rowena retorted, flipping her hair, “I’ve already told you as much, I just...need to get my strength back a bit. I’ve been through an ordeal, you know,” she finished, sniffing dramatically.
“Please let me shoot her,” Josephine pleaded, earning yelps of protest from her hunting companions. Not needing Missouri to translate, she sighed. “I know, I know, I just...really need to shoot her.”
“Welcome to my childhood,” Crowley muttered, and Josephine stared at him for a moment.
“I’m starting to understand your life choices,” she marveled.
“Please, Cas and I spent umpteen hours in the car with her, if anyone is going to shoot her it’s me,” Dean groused. Absently he was playing tug-of-war with Krissy; he had convinced the sceptical dogs that play-time was perfectly okay as it was just to ‘keep their skills sharp.’
“Nobody is shooting her,” Sam commanded. “At least not until there are five more people in this room and five fewer dogs!”
Jody couldn’t help but pull Claire closer. They had all thought that once Rowena was rescued and back in the bunker they’d all be back to normal and this ordeal would be over. The witch wasn’t saying it but Jody knew how to read people and she could see it in her eyes: she had no idea how to reverse what she had done. Now she looked into Claire’s eyes and wondered if this might be a permanent thing. The dog’s eyes showed she shared her despair.
“I’ve told you,” Rowena’s voice was shrill, “I need just a wee bit o’ time.”
“Well, we don’t.”
Jody’s heart leapt at the familiar sound of Alex’s voice. Her other wayward daughter was pale, the circles under her eyes attesting to sleepless nights. Jody knew, though it would never be said, that there was nothing her two girls wouldn’t do for each other. They had more in common with the Winchesters than they probably suspected.
“Thank you, Lord,” Missouri cried as Jeb perked up, looking as excited as might be possible for a basset hound.
“You found something? And you’re sure can undo it?” Sam confirmed, like all of them almost afraid to hope.
“We can,” Clea assured, entering the room behind Alex and carrying a large bowl. “We just need a little blood from Rowena and we can get this ball rolling.”
“But of course, please, open a vein while you’re at it,” Rowena cried, dramatically thrusting out her shackled wrist.
“Can I do it?” Dean, Crowley and Josephine asked in unison, and Clea smiled at Rowena’s pout.
“Sorry, I’m calling witch’s privilege,” she said, brandishing a small blade. She turned to Missouri and said with false innocence, “Unless you’d rather do it, Missouri, you’ve always been so good at making things bleed.”
“Oh, no thank you, sugar. In matters of the dark arts I always defer to your expertise,” Missouri responded, the tight line of her lips the only sign of her dislike.
“I have got to know that story,” Jody whispered to Claire, who huffed in agreement.
“Ow!” Rowena exclaimed as Clea sliced into her palm and held it over the bowl. “There’s no need to be so rough, Clea!”
“Be quiet, you big baby,” the dark-skinned witch chided as she squeezed a sufficient amount of blood into the bowl. “Okay, that should do it. Alex, join me.”
“Does anyone else need to be anywhere in particular?” Jody asked delicately, clearly meaning the dogs.
“Just not under anything low like the table, when we’re done they’ll be back to themselves right away,” Alex said confidently.
“You might want to get some blankets, too,” Clea offered thoughtfully.
“Right. We’re not sure whether clothing’s comes with,” Alex added with a mischievous grin.
“I’d lose the collars, too,” Clea advised.
Half an hour later the collar-less dogs sat expectantly on top of blankets. Alex had finished setting up a casting circle and Rowena had been gagged for her constant criticism of their work. Everyone was on guard, anticipation heavy in the air as Clea gave her final instructions.
“What we’ve got here is a spell that purges unwanted spells. So the most important thing we need you do to is focus on your desire to be human again. You need to want it, everyone understand?”
“They do,” Missouri offered with the chorus of woofs that signified agreement. Clea took a deep breath and threw some small bones and bits of dog fur in with Rowena’s blood. She and Alex began chanting in ancient Sumerian. The lights began to flicker and magic flowed out from the bowl like a ripple, then a wave that washed over them all, felt rather than seen. And then it was over, and for a moment no one moved, afraid if they did the hunters who were now sprawled on blankets might lose their human form again.
“Well, that sucked ass,” Krissy finally remarked as Aiden gained his feet and then helped her up. Josephine approached them with a forced casual air, but then dropped her act as the three embraced, not caring about their audience. Jody was holding Claire close as the blond hunter murmured that she was alright, that everything was fine now. Alex went to them and faked a look of disappointment.
“Damn, you’re not naked, I still have room for more pictures.”
“I hate you, get over here,” Claire answered and the dark-haired novice witch joined the embrace of her chosen family.
Sam smiled as his gaze swept over the reunions before the sight of Jeb and Joseph wiped the smile off his face. The older hunter was kneeling before the Labrador retriever in disbelief. Joseph licked his father’s face, tail down in dismay.
“Why, Joey? What went wrong?” Jeb begged, tears streaming down his coffee-brown face. The dog’s head went down and he trembled, and Missouri approached them, her own tears shining on her cheeks.
“He’s happier this way, Jebediah. He hated being a hunter, never wanted that life. He just never knew how to tell you, didn’t want to be a disappointment to you. He loves you so much.”
Sam couldn’t help but look at his brother, who was watching silently, his emotions hidden to anyone who didn’t know him well. This was hitting a little close to home for both of them, but there was little they could do but watch the situation play out.
“You could have just told me, Joey,” Jeb sobbed, turning angrily to the psychic. “Hell, you could have told me, Missy, there’s no way you didn’t know.”
“It wasn’t my place to tell you,” Missouri rebuked softly. “You’re his daddy, I told him to just talk to you. I promise you, I never thought this was what would happen.” The hunter’s handsome face crumbled again.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Jeb cried, and threw his arms around the dog’s neck. “I’m sorry, Joey, I should have let you go, son, it should never have come to this. I was a miserable fool, and misery loves it some company, I guess.”
“He wants to stay with you, Jebediah,” Missouri said, “If you’ll let him.”
“Of course he stays with me,” the hunter replied fiercely. “He’s my boy. He’ll always be my good boy.”
“Well, that was a lovely soap opera, but if it’s all the same to you I’ll take my mother off your hands,” Crowley interrupted the emotional moment, clapping his hands and smiling at Rowena’s muffled protests. Sam looked at Dean and both Winchesters shrugged, and a moment later both demon and witch had disappeared. As Dean wandered over to join Jody, Claire and Alex, Sam shared a grateful nod with Clea and then made to join them.
“Answer your phone, Sam,” Missouri called a second before it started to ring.
Sam heaved a deep sigh as he took one last look to bask in the glow of accomplishment before gathering himself for the next crisis. He could remember a time he had felt like Joseph, a time when he was growing up where he might have made that same choice. Now he was older and wiser and he couldn’t regret this life he was leading, the people he would be helping just by picking up that phone.
“Sam Winchester. How can I help you?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
THE END
*bampot=idiot
Recipient: unabashedbird
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~5656
Warnings: Mild show-level language, kind of borderline crack-fic-ish. Potential spoilers through Season 11, but particularly for Supernatural 8.18 and 11.12.
Author’s Note: All credit to the prompts, which were creative and fun - I kind of spiced one up with bits from others, hope you like! I’m also completely ignoring the cliff-hanger moments at the end of the S11 finale, as well as other minor canon probably so this is AU. Title comes from Sarah McLachlan’s “Angel”
Summary:Sam Winchester, Man of Letters, tries to solve with an unusual problem. Fortunately he has some unusual help. Curtain fic, approximately 7 years after the Season 11 finale.
These days most hunters had Sam Winchester’s number.
It was posted in secret places, handed off on scraps of paper with talismans and ammo. It could be found online if you knew your way around the dark web. That number was even in the emergency contact lists of some obscure government agencies, which once could find ironic given the Winchesters’ history with the law. Calling that number meant access to obscure rituals, out of the box thinking and most importantly, quick and efficient ways of making evil things dead. If you were lucky enough to have it and you didn’t use it you were a fool, mostly likely of the soon-to-be dead variety. Most hunters in North America had never heard of the Men of Letters and had no idea that they were calling one. They just knew there were no more reassuring words to hear on a desperate call then, ‘Sam Winchester, how can I help?’
Of course, there is always a smattering of fools, alive and dead. A few hunters who spit when the Winchesters were mentioned, who still blame Sam for various end of the world scenarios that had almost come to pass, who would burn the number spitefully if they managed to get their hands on it. These dissenters were mostly ignored by their brethren; there’s nothing like being shunned by a set of outcasts to really make you feel alone in the world. Their deaths went largely unmourned.
The phone number was a mystery, though. The area code didn’t exist, and not even the strongest psychics or best hackers had managed to get a read. Rumors had Sam Winchester living in every state of the union; more farfetched tales said Sam was dead and the number connected directly to heaven or hell. Sometimes a demon being exorcised would try to barter the location in order to escape their fate; no hunter ever took them up on it since, well, demons lie. With a few notable exceptions, no angel, demon or man knew where Sam Winchester was, and as long as that number was being answered that was pretty much just fine with everyone.
Which isn’t to say that Sam and Dean had no friends, those who knew the Winchesters’ true whereabouts and who could pass through the wards. Some could enter directly by their own angelic (or in the case of one disgruntled former ‘King of Hell’, demonic) power. A few trusted hunters - and a few exceptional others - had their own keys. So an actual knock on the front door of the Men of Letters bunker was normally about as rare as a Wendigo showing up on a beach.
When Sam heard the frantic pounding, it was the third time the bunker door had been knocked on in as many days.
He was understandably cautious as he cracked the door open, gun at the ready just in case. He would have been pleased to see the woman at the door if she hadn’t looked so upset. She also would customarily have just let herself in, so Sam knew this couldn’t mean anything good.
“Jody! What’s wrong?” he questioned. Sheriff Jody Mills, very part-time hunter and long-time friend, stepped aside, gesturing back towards the road. Sam blinked at seeing the sable and white border collie agitatedly pacing behind the invisible line that marked where the wards protected the bunker from uninvited supernatural guests.
“Sam, I don’t know how to...I know it sounds nuts, but that dog is Claire.”
“Oh, Claire,” Sam sighed. His expression spoke more of resignation than surprise, but Jody was too agitated to notice.
“I’m sorry about the knocking, I know I could have used my key but I wasn’t sure you were here and Claire was stuck and I couldn’t just leave her out here alone, not like this...” Jody’s rambling trailed off as Sam tucked the gun back into his waistband and pulled her into a hug.
“I know, Jody. It’s okay.” Sam let her go with a reassuring shoulder rub, then reached into his jacked and pulled out a dog collar etched with some symbols.
“Why do you have that? Why aren’t you shocked? Claire’s a dog!” Jody realized as her friend strode quickly towards Claire. “Sam? Care to share?” the retired sheriff called after him. Rather than answer, Sam crouched down and addressed the dog in a soft sincere tone, keeping the hand with the collar out of biting range.
“Claire, I’m sorry, please let me put this on you. It’ll get you past the wards and keep you...well, keep you hidden if anyone’s trying to find you. I wouldn’t ask you to wear it if it wasn’t necessary.” Claire gave a full body shake of displeasure and a faint woof, but then sat with a sigh and allowed Sam to fasten the strange collar. The etched glyphs glowed silver for a moment, then returned to normal. Standing from his crouch, Sam stretched until they all heard an audible pop. “Thanks, Claire. Damn I’m getting old.”
“Sam Winchester, what the hell’s going on?” Jody hissed, and he spared her a rueful glance before scanning the area around the bunker.
“Too much and nothing we should discuss right here,” Sam answered, his sharp eyes still surveying the area. Finally satisfied, he waved his new guests through the open doorway. “Let me get you guys settled and I’ll tell you what I know.”
“I have the feeling you already know more than I do,” Jody drawled suspiciously as she followed. “I haven’t been able to get in touch with Alex, Sam, has she called you?”
Sam winced. Alex was still as somewhat delicate issue between them. She had come to Sam a few years ago asking for his help after Claire had rescued her from yet another vampire attack. As often was the unfortunate case, her history with the vampires had left her somehow mystically vulnerable, and she just wanted to get that susceptibility taken away somehow so she could live a normal life. Sam’s research told him there were some spells that might do the job, but they required a true ‘white witch’ practitioner. The coven of witches that had helped them with Amara had each embedded Rowena’s resurrection spell prior to the confrontation and had thus fortunately survived. Sam had come to trust Clea as he’d worked with the coven over the years since, especially after they finally had cast Rowena out, and knew they could be trusted to help Alex. He hadn’t anticipated that Alex would find she had a latent magical talent and actually wind up joining the coven. Both Jody and Dean had been royally pissed at him for it, but Alex was happier than she’d ever been and that had gone a long way to mollifying her foster mother.
“The coven is trying to help. They got me the collars,” Sam tossed over his shoulder as he led her down the stairs, Claire bounding ahead. “We’re going to do everything we can to help Claire, Jody. Just try to relax and enjoy the Winchester hospitality.”
“No, if I wanted stale crackers and cheap whiskey I could have...” Jody trailed off as took in a bizarre and unexpected tableau. There was a black Affenpinscher curled up with a young German shepherd on a cushion near the table at the side of the room; both initially appeared to be asleep but blinked lazily as they sensed new arrivals. A chocolate Labrador retriever was currently exchanging friendly butt sniffs with Claire, and an old basset hound was lounging on another cushion in the corner, taking in the activity with an air of quiet resignation. “So, let me guess, you’ve opened an animal shelter in your super-secret monster-killing bunker?”
“Not hardly,” came a laughing response from out of view. Jody watched an unfamiliar African-American woman, tiny but with a strong presence, enter the room carrying a tray that had an honest-to-God tea set, complete with cubes of sugar in a bowl and a silver creamer. A young black woman dressed in traditional hunter jeans-and-flannel trailed unhappily behind with another tray filled with cookies and sandwiches. Sam hurried to the first woman and took the laden tray from her hands, earning a grateful pat on the cheek. “Why, thank you Sam, you’re a good boy,” she drawled.
“Yeah, thanks Sam,” the younger woman offered sarcastically as they both carefully placed the trays on the table. She muttered something about ‘tea parties’ and ‘fools’ that Jody couldn’t quite catch but from the rising color in Sam’s cheeks clearly wasn’t complementary.
“Now, Jody - do you mind if I call you Jody? ‘Ms. Mills’ seems a touch formal and you’re not here as the law,” the shorter woman chortled, drawing back Jody’s attention and waving her onward. “Now, you come on now, come on down here and join us.” As Jody slowly finished descending the stairs, Sam hastened to make introductions, knowing his friend was probably shocked to see him with any kind of company as much of a rarity as it was.
“Jody, this is Missouri Moseley, she’s an old family friend,” he said, and Jody found her hand enfolded in a warm, somehow comforting grip. She felt herself relax minutely and managed a smile.
“Jody’s fine, if I can call you Missouri,” she answered the woman’s previous question. Missouri gave her a gracious nod and a squeeze of her hand before releasing it.
“I’m Josephine if anyone cares,” the younger woman snarked. She didn’t offer Jody her hand, instead flopping into a chair and helping herself to one of the sandwiches. Jody smiled despite herself, the behavior more than a little familiar having raised two young women from teenagers.
“Josephine’s a hunter, Jody,” Sam elaborated somewhat unnecessarily, and then added with slightly less certainty, “she’s also a friend. Josephine, Jody and Claire have hunted with us in the past, and Claire’s like her daughter.”
Sympathy flickered in Josephine’s expression and she favored Jody with a solemn nod and a wave. Jody cleared her throat over a sudden lump at Sam’s simple but true expression of her relationship to Claire. Silence stretched to the edge of awkwardness before she managed to respond.
“Well, it’s certainly nice to meet more friends of Sam and Dean’s. Just wish it was under better circumstances.” Jody chuckled ruefully. “Although I’m not sure there ever are better circumstances with Sam and Dean.”
“It could be worse,” Missouri agreed, shaking Jody’s offered hand, her expression sympathetic and soothing. She shook Claire’s offered paw with a soft greeting, then cocked her head as if listening intently. She finally stood straight and addressed Jody firmly. “Jody, Claire wants you to know she’s okay, she says to ‘chillax.’” Josephine made a scoffing sound, slumping when Missouri’s keen glare turned towards her. “Josephine, you be nice, just because you don’t say ‘chillax’ don’t mean that someone else can’t.” As Josephine sullenly studied the table, Jody tilted her head towards Missouri and gave Sam a pointed ‘is she crazy?’ look.
“Missouri’s a psychic, Jody,” Sam reassured. “One of the best we’ve ever known.”
“Sam, don’t you make me blush now,” Missouri demurred, hiding her delight at the compliment by busying herself with the tea pot. Jody sank into the chair next to Josephine’s in a daze, and Claire settled more or less contentedly at her feet.
“Missouri’s able to communicate with the...” Sam hesitated and made a gesture around him.
“The dogs?” Jody finished, amused at the panicked look on his face at her words.
“Hunters,” Sam corrected hastily over a bark from the corner, “Hunters who were somehow transformed into dogs. Not actual dogs!” Jody accepted a cup of tea from Missouri with murmured thanks and lifted her eyebrow questioningly. Missouri sighed as she poured another cup.
“I’m no kind of dog whisperer, but I can more or less pick up their human thoughts.” Leaning towards Jody, she whispered, “They don’t want to admit it, but they’re running about 50/50 dog to human in their heads right now.”
“But that hasn’t changed, so we think it’s a good sign they’re not going full doggy,” added Josephine, who was sitting close enough to hear the quiet words. Missouri grimaced and looked towards Jody’s feet.
“Claire just reminded me that a dog’s hearing is better than mine, I apologize, Claire, wasn’t tryin’ to be rude.”
A sudden thought had Jody sitting upright with a stricken look, looking at the assortment of dogs in horror. “Oh my God, Sam, is Dean…?”
“What? No!” Despite himself Sam’s lips curled up in amusement. “Dean’s not here, he’s on a road trip with Cas, they’re in Seattle.”
“In Seattle? Hunting?”
“Sightseeing. Cas did say that Dean snuck EMF readers into the EMP museum but they didn’t pick up any signs that Hendrix or Cobain are lingering about. I can’t say he won’t find a hunt, this is Dean we’re talking about, but I figure as long as he’s with Cas he’s about as safe as he can be.”
“Good, that’s…good,” Jody sagged, absently reaching to scratch Claire’s head with a pang. She was relieved that Sam’s brother hadn’t been ‘dog-ified’ but wished the same could be said for her surrogate daughter. “So they were all hunters?” At a series of barks Jody amended, “Sorry, sorry, are hunters.” The chocolate Labrador retriever came trotting over to Missouri for pets and Josephine rolled her eyes, taking her own tea cup with a snort of amusement.
“Yes, you’re right, Joseph, introductions are in order,” Missouri said seemingly in agreement with the lab.
“Short stuff over there is Krissy,” Josephine grinned at the Affenpinscher’s whine. The German Shephard curled protectively around here offered a rebuking bark.
“Hush now, Aiden,” Missouri scolded, then added unnecessarily, “That rude boy is Aiden, he’s Krissy’s special friend. This friendly guy,” she said, giving the lab a pat and getting a licked face in return, “is young Joseph, and sulking over in the corner is his father Jebediah.” A low growl from the basset hound made her roll her eyes. “I’m sorry, he wanted me to tell you he prefers Jeb. Hush now, you fool, always called you Jebediah and m’not changing now.”
“Nice to meet...everyone,” Jody said uncertainly. “I’m Jody and this is Claire.” She smiled in spite of herself at the chorus of welcoming barks, but the mood quickly turned serious again. “Sam, do you know what’s happened to them? How we can fix it?”
“We’re still not sure. It could be a cursed object, a spell, a trickster maybe,” Sam sighed, rubbing his eyes. He looked exhausted, Jody noted, but that wasn’t an uncommon look for him. “I’m trying to narrow it down.”
“Well, whatever did this to Claire, any idea why it didn’t affect me?”
“We’re all asking ourselves that question. Krissy, Aiden and I, we were all hunting together, but I’m not a dog. We don’t know why,” Josephine offered.
“Joseph was hunting with his father as well,” Missouri chimed in as the lab licked her face again. “I was just helping them with some gris gris to deal with a poltergeist. I thought maybe it was because I wasn’t a hunter, but now I’m thinking something different.” She gave a pointed look to Sam, but he ignored whatever she was implying. He turned to Jody with a look she recognized as the one he got when he was determined to find answers.
“Can you tell us what you remember, Jody? Any details will help,” Sam gently prodded. She sipped her tea thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugged.
“Claire had just come back from a hunt in El Paso, just a salt and burn she said, and she wasn’t actively bleeding so I didn’t worry. Much. More than usual, anyway. She was same as always. Tired from the drive, went to sleep early. Then in the morning, I went to tell her breakfast was ready and there she was. Still in bed, but a dog.”
“What did you think? At that moment, when you saw the dog, what was your first thought?” Sam asked, and Jody didn’t even have to think about it.
“I thought, ‘I have to get her to Sam.’ It was like I couldn’t think anything else, I didn’t even think to call you, I just got in the car and drove here.”
“I felt the same thing,” Josephine chimed in. “We were on a werewolf hunt so we were sleeping in the daytime, that evening when I woke up and I saw Aiden and Krissy I didn’t even look around for what might have caused it. I didn’t grab clothes. I didn’t even look for Krissy’s keys to get the stupid bunker key. I just got us in the car and it was like the next thing I knew I was pounding on the bunker door like a goddamn damsel in distress. I still feel like an idiot.”
“I don’t think you should,” Missouri soothed. “The same thing happened to me, sugar. Now I am not known to be a hysterical woman, but I thought my heart was gonna beat out my chest when I found these two. All I knew was I just had to get us to Sam fast as green grass runs through a goose!” She handed a cup of tea to Sam and sighed. “Sam, honey, I know I said it before but I’m still worried we might be putting you in danger. I think it’s clear whatever’s going on here, it has something to do with you.”
“With my mother, actually,” Crowley drawled from the chair next to Sam, tea cup already in hand. Josephine had her gun out and cocked before Jody could put down her cup. All the dogs stood at attention, growling fiercely.
“Dammit, Crowley!” Sam swore, “How many times have we told you-”
“Don’t just pop in uninvited, blah blah blah,” Crowley sat back with a smirk. “I heard your rules, I just don’t care to follow. ‘Sides, brought my own tea, I like mine with a bit more zip.” He popped his lips together, shaking a flask and adding a healthy dollop to his cup.
“It’s okay, everyone,” Sam reassured, trying to deescalate the situation, “Crowley is a demon but he’s, um, harmless.”
“Bite your tongue, Moose!” Crowley protested. “I’m as evil as the day is long.”
“Be that as it may,” Sam said loudly over the still growling dogs, “please don’t attack him. Not at least until we hear him out.” At his pleading look, the dogs subsided and Josephine put away her gun with clear reluctance.
“Well I ain’t sharin’ my cookies with no demon,” Missouri snarled to Crowley’s further amusement.
“Madam, I assure you, your bickies are perfectly safe,” the former King of Hell serenely replied, sipping from his tea cup and smacking his lips with pleasure. “Ah, that hits the spot.”
“Out with it, Crowley, what has Rowena done, and why?” Crowley ignored him for a moment, still making a show of enjoying his tea and building the suspense. He finally looked around and rolled his eyes.
“Yes, alright, fine! It seems my dear sweet ginger whore of a mother managed to get herself trapped by some hunters,” he sneered. “The harridan is losing her touch since she lost her coven.”
“Your mother’s a witch? That explains so much,” Jody murmured and Claire’s tail thumped against her leg in agreement.
“That doesn’t explain why my friends now have collars and fur,” Josephine growled, her fingers clearly itching to put her gun back in Crowley’s face.
“Well, these particular hunters apparently have a grudge against you and Squirrel,” Crowley told Sam, “something about you almost ending the world. Mother wasn’t clear about which time.” Sam looked down and Joseph ran over to him, putting his head on his knee, his dark eyes showing sympathy. Sam gave him a small smile and began scratching his head as Crowley continued, “They had been looking for a witch, they wanted a spell, something that would find you. Fortunate wording as it turned out, Rowena loves those little loopholes.”
“She didn’t just tell them?” Sam wondered, mildly surprised.
“Hmmm, she could have, couldn’t she? My mother is mostly out for herself, but she has a strange sense of loyalty sometimes. Plus she knows your friend Chuck wouldn’t like it if she ratted you out. You know she’s still carrying a torch even after all these years.” Crowley shook his head in mock disbelief.
“That’s all well and fine, but could you hurry on to the part where your mother turned my daughter into a dog?” Jody pressed.
“Well, of course the hunters aren’t stupid enough to trust Rowena. She would have turned them into toads in a blink and they knew it. They have a way of controlling her, making it so any magic she does would do what they said, if not they’d know because she’d be suffering excruciating pain and eventual death. So the thing is, she was improvising, on the fly, trying to do a spell that wouldn’t kill her but still wouldn’t exactly work right either. I’m guessing the dog thing was to make sure she got your attention, Sam. Plus it does give you a bit of added incentive to rescue her toot-sweet.”
“But she can fix it, right?” Jody asked sharply and Crowley shrugged.
“She says she can, but she’s running out of time. She’s convinced them she’s temporarily tapped out but they’re going to make her try again, and she’s not sure she can stall next time,” Crowley’s flippant mask slid away and for a moment he looked grave, “She got this message to me so I could give it to you. Much as I despise the woman I don’t want to think about what it cost her.”
“Where?” Sam asked tersely.
“A cabin. On an island off the coast, Mother said. She illuminated some coordinates.” Crowley handed a folded paper map to Sam and he looked at it for a minute, his frown slowly fading and a smile taking its place. He quickly pulled out his phone.
“Dean, hey...what...the Space Needle? How many times...wait, never mind, just...Dean…listen, it sounds like you’re getting bored...yeah, there’s something, hang on,” Sam pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment. “Missouri, can you call Clea? Let her know what’s happening, she might be able to help with the rescue or the...you know...”
“De-canine-ization?” Crowley offered.
“Whatever,” Sam glared, then spoke into the phone. “Back...yeah, that was Crowley...just shut up and let me explain...”
Sam strode out of the room, Joseph unnoticed at his heels, and Missouri pulled out her own phone and glared at it for a moment before pushing a button on her contacts with a heavy sigh.
“Clea? It’s Missouri.” The psychic’s bright and clearly catty tone raised eyebrows from all the humans in the room. “Yes, yes, it has been a long time...well. you know, this and that...well, no, Sam wanted me to call, it seems this trouble was caused by a friend of yours, a witch named Rowena? I mean, I’ve always respected your willingness to work with all sorts, but...oh, dear, really? That sounds like it was terrible for you...yes, well, first apparently Dean and his friend need to rescue the woman, and Sam thought you and your other friends could maybe help...oh dear, I’m sure you would prefer to do that to Rowena, but I know you would never put personal revenge over helping…yes, I thought you would...”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Well, I can’t thank you enough for this one, lads,” Rowena gushed a week later. The rescue had been surprisingly easy, the bampot* hunters who’d held her no match for Dean Winchester with an angel and an entire coven of witches at his back. Her torturers had gotten off too easy for Rowena’s taste given what they’d done to her; she would have done far worse to them then an angelic mind wipe and a trip to the hospital. She could always visit them later while they were drooling on themselves and amuse herself with vengeance, she decided, the thought exceedingly cheering. The only downside was that no sooner was she rescued and she was clapped in iron shackles by none other than her rescuer himself! And she now found herself back in this dreary basement of the Men of Letters, dealing with the Winchesters yet again, not a whit of gratitude for what she’d already done on their behalf. And the place now smelled like dog, which was not an improvement. She would never understand Fergus’ taste in friends.
“The best way to thank us, Rowena,” Sam said through gritted teeth, and not for the first time, “is to undo the spell.” The younger Winchester was truly at his wit’s end. He had spent more than a week researching this problem. Clea and Alex had joined him and (once Alex had gotten a sufficient number of cell phone pictures of her sister in canine form) had spent every waking moment trying out various possible spells with the benefit of the Men of Letters references. In addition to handling his normal requests coming in from hunters and taking care of his unusual guests, he felt like he could sleep for the next month and not catch up. Although Dean had turned out to be a surprising amount of help, at least with the guests; apparently entertaining hunters who had turned into dogs was one of his brother’s special powers. Cas had left to try in person to get assistance from heaven but hadn’t been in contact since so he’d apparently struck out as well.
“And I will,” Rowena retorted, flipping her hair, “I’ve already told you as much, I just...need to get my strength back a bit. I’ve been through an ordeal, you know,” she finished, sniffing dramatically.
“Please let me shoot her,” Josephine pleaded, earning yelps of protest from her hunting companions. Not needing Missouri to translate, she sighed. “I know, I know, I just...really need to shoot her.”
“Welcome to my childhood,” Crowley muttered, and Josephine stared at him for a moment.
“I’m starting to understand your life choices,” she marveled.
“Please, Cas and I spent umpteen hours in the car with her, if anyone is going to shoot her it’s me,” Dean groused. Absently he was playing tug-of-war with Krissy; he had convinced the sceptical dogs that play-time was perfectly okay as it was just to ‘keep their skills sharp.’
“Nobody is shooting her,” Sam commanded. “At least not until there are five more people in this room and five fewer dogs!”
Jody couldn’t help but pull Claire closer. They had all thought that once Rowena was rescued and back in the bunker they’d all be back to normal and this ordeal would be over. The witch wasn’t saying it but Jody knew how to read people and she could see it in her eyes: she had no idea how to reverse what she had done. Now she looked into Claire’s eyes and wondered if this might be a permanent thing. The dog’s eyes showed she shared her despair.
“I’ve told you,” Rowena’s voice was shrill, “I need just a wee bit o’ time.”
“Well, we don’t.”
Jody’s heart leapt at the familiar sound of Alex’s voice. Her other wayward daughter was pale, the circles under her eyes attesting to sleepless nights. Jody knew, though it would never be said, that there was nothing her two girls wouldn’t do for each other. They had more in common with the Winchesters than they probably suspected.
“Thank you, Lord,” Missouri cried as Jeb perked up, looking as excited as might be possible for a basset hound.
“You found something? And you’re sure can undo it?” Sam confirmed, like all of them almost afraid to hope.
“We can,” Clea assured, entering the room behind Alex and carrying a large bowl. “We just need a little blood from Rowena and we can get this ball rolling.”
“But of course, please, open a vein while you’re at it,” Rowena cried, dramatically thrusting out her shackled wrist.
“Can I do it?” Dean, Crowley and Josephine asked in unison, and Clea smiled at Rowena’s pout.
“Sorry, I’m calling witch’s privilege,” she said, brandishing a small blade. She turned to Missouri and said with false innocence, “Unless you’d rather do it, Missouri, you’ve always been so good at making things bleed.”
“Oh, no thank you, sugar. In matters of the dark arts I always defer to your expertise,” Missouri responded, the tight line of her lips the only sign of her dislike.
“I have got to know that story,” Jody whispered to Claire, who huffed in agreement.
“Ow!” Rowena exclaimed as Clea sliced into her palm and held it over the bowl. “There’s no need to be so rough, Clea!”
“Be quiet, you big baby,” the dark-skinned witch chided as she squeezed a sufficient amount of blood into the bowl. “Okay, that should do it. Alex, join me.”
“Does anyone else need to be anywhere in particular?” Jody asked delicately, clearly meaning the dogs.
“Just not under anything low like the table, when we’re done they’ll be back to themselves right away,” Alex said confidently.
“You might want to get some blankets, too,” Clea offered thoughtfully.
“Right. We’re not sure whether clothing’s comes with,” Alex added with a mischievous grin.
“I’d lose the collars, too,” Clea advised.
Half an hour later the collar-less dogs sat expectantly on top of blankets. Alex had finished setting up a casting circle and Rowena had been gagged for her constant criticism of their work. Everyone was on guard, anticipation heavy in the air as Clea gave her final instructions.
“What we’ve got here is a spell that purges unwanted spells. So the most important thing we need you do to is focus on your desire to be human again. You need to want it, everyone understand?”
“They do,” Missouri offered with the chorus of woofs that signified agreement. Clea took a deep breath and threw some small bones and bits of dog fur in with Rowena’s blood. She and Alex began chanting in ancient Sumerian. The lights began to flicker and magic flowed out from the bowl like a ripple, then a wave that washed over them all, felt rather than seen. And then it was over, and for a moment no one moved, afraid if they did the hunters who were now sprawled on blankets might lose their human form again.
“Well, that sucked ass,” Krissy finally remarked as Aiden gained his feet and then helped her up. Josephine approached them with a forced casual air, but then dropped her act as the three embraced, not caring about their audience. Jody was holding Claire close as the blond hunter murmured that she was alright, that everything was fine now. Alex went to them and faked a look of disappointment.
“Damn, you’re not naked, I still have room for more pictures.”
“I hate you, get over here,” Claire answered and the dark-haired novice witch joined the embrace of her chosen family.
Sam smiled as his gaze swept over the reunions before the sight of Jeb and Joseph wiped the smile off his face. The older hunter was kneeling before the Labrador retriever in disbelief. Joseph licked his father’s face, tail down in dismay.
“Why, Joey? What went wrong?” Jeb begged, tears streaming down his coffee-brown face. The dog’s head went down and he trembled, and Missouri approached them, her own tears shining on her cheeks.
“He’s happier this way, Jebediah. He hated being a hunter, never wanted that life. He just never knew how to tell you, didn’t want to be a disappointment to you. He loves you so much.”
Sam couldn’t help but look at his brother, who was watching silently, his emotions hidden to anyone who didn’t know him well. This was hitting a little close to home for both of them, but there was little they could do but watch the situation play out.
“You could have just told me, Joey,” Jeb sobbed, turning angrily to the psychic. “Hell, you could have told me, Missy, there’s no way you didn’t know.”
“It wasn’t my place to tell you,” Missouri rebuked softly. “You’re his daddy, I told him to just talk to you. I promise you, I never thought this was what would happen.” The hunter’s handsome face crumbled again.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Jeb cried, and threw his arms around the dog’s neck. “I’m sorry, Joey, I should have let you go, son, it should never have come to this. I was a miserable fool, and misery loves it some company, I guess.”
“He wants to stay with you, Jebediah,” Missouri said, “If you’ll let him.”
“Of course he stays with me,” the hunter replied fiercely. “He’s my boy. He’ll always be my good boy.”
“Well, that was a lovely soap opera, but if it’s all the same to you I’ll take my mother off your hands,” Crowley interrupted the emotional moment, clapping his hands and smiling at Rowena’s muffled protests. Sam looked at Dean and both Winchesters shrugged, and a moment later both demon and witch had disappeared. As Dean wandered over to join Jody, Claire and Alex, Sam shared a grateful nod with Clea and then made to join them.
“Answer your phone, Sam,” Missouri called a second before it started to ring.
Sam heaved a deep sigh as he took one last look to bask in the glow of accomplishment before gathering himself for the next crisis. He could remember a time he had felt like Joseph, a time when he was growing up where he might have made that same choice. Now he was older and wiser and he couldn’t regret this life he was leading, the people he would be helping just by picking up that phone.
“Sam Winchester. How can I help you?”
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THE END
*bampot=idiot