Chapter Text
Twenty four hours. That was how long Sam had lasted before sending out an SOS text begging for an excuse to get out of the bunker. Rowena, bless her hexed heart, had been more than willing to call for ‘help’ that was just enough to need Sam, but not enough to need Dean. The youngest Winchester had bolted as quickly as he could politely get away with.
“So, I take it not all is well at the House of Winchester?” the witch drawled, offering him a glass of wine as he entered her apartment.
Sam thanked her and took a seat. “I don’t even know where to start,” he sighed. He took a sip and shook his head. “Yes I do.” He cleared his throat and bluntly said, “My dad’s back from the dead.”
Rowena paused her own sip. “Come again?”
“My dad’s back from the dead,” Sam repeated. “We found this wish granting pearl, you know, gives the holder its deepest desire? I thought Dean could use it to get rid of Michael, but apparently he had a deeper desire to have the whole family together so…yeah.”
The witch slowly put her glass down. “Your father’s back from death?”
“Yes.”
“The same father you ran away from at sixteen?”
“Yep,” Sam answered, with quite a bit of emphasis on the letter p.
Rowena’s eyes narrowed. “The same father who disowned you for going to college?”
Sam thought back to the handful of late nights he and Rowena had been through that had ended in mutual venting of frustrating events of their pasts. Apparently he had vented quite a bit. “Yeah.”
“The same father who…”
“Rowena, we know who the man is,” Sam interrupted.
The witch held up her hand in a placating manner. “My point is only that I’m surprised you lasted any length of time with a man like that.”
With a little snort, Sam shook his head. “We…I don’t know. He apologized, I apologized, he seems happy, Mom seems happy, Dean’s downright giddy…”
“But you’re not.”
Sam lowered his head. “No. I’m not.” He placed his glass down, eyes still averted. “Rowena, what’s wrong with me?”
The redhead scoffed. “Everyone has a great many things wrong with them, Samuel, you and me included. But being unhappy with blood relations is not a ‘problem’. You do not owe anybody allegiance out of bloodlines.”
“Yeah,” the man sighed. “I guess.”
“Don’t guess,” Rowena chided. “Samuel, who better than I knows the art of the dysfunctional family?”
Slowly, Sam looked up at her. He remained quiet, though, and let her speak at her own pace. Her tumultuous relationship with Crowley was one that would go down in history.
Gracefully picking up her own wine glass again, Rowena delicately swirled the liquid. “Were there a way to get my Fergus back from death,” she smoothly spoke, “we both know that I would take it. But that does not mean that we would ever do anything together, even with the both of us alive.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Sam knew it wasn’t a great answer, but he was really struggling with everything that had happened over the course of the last day. “It’s just that everyone else in my family is alive and happy, and I don’t know what to do with that.”
It was Rowena’s turn to wait as her younger friend pulled himself together. She knew that if she waited long enough, he would let his wounds out.
“I’ve never known them like this,” Sam confessed. “I’ve never seen my mother being nurturing. I’ve never seen my father being a caring partner. I’ve never seen Dean be like an eager little kid. But damn, apparently if you put all three of them in a room together, it’s early 1983 and things are great for them.”
“And what were you doing back in those days while the rest of them were apparently so happy?” the witch asked.
With a little snort, Sam answered, “Mostly drooling on myself. I was born in ‘83, so I wasn’t exactly an active participant at the time.” That earned him a small laugh from the witch across from him. “It’s like…they used to be a happy family, and my brain just can’t handle that concept.”
“I wouldn’t imagine it would,” Rowena said. “Didn’t exactly have an early childhood of bedtime stories and lullabies, did you?”
Sam shrugged. “Dean did the best he could.”
“And your father?”
Sam leveled a glare in Rowena’s direction before saying again, “Dean did the best he could.”
“Hm.” Rowena took a sip of her wine before placing the glass down on the table. “So essentially, I should expect to be receiving these sorts of requests on a regular basis?”
Looking almost shy, Sam responded, “If you don’t mind, then yeah. I just need to get away from them once in a while. It’s just too weird.”
That was only part of it, though, and Sam knew it. When he had seen how happy everyone else was, his mind, which had a nasty habit of going straight to the darkness, immediately began supplying him with the thought that they had all been happier before he had been alive. That somehow, if he had never been born, they could have stayed a happy family. Without him, Azazel would not have come for him, his mother would not have been caught by the demon, she wouldn’t get murdered, his father wouldn’t start his two decade crusade, and Dean would have grown up like any other kid.
It didn’t seem to matter what else he tried to focus on. He could not fully block out the thought that without him, they would have been a happy family.
And he needed to get away from them before he actually said it out loud.
/////
“So tell me about this gal your brother ran out of here for.”
Dean looked up as his father took a seat next to him. “Rowena? She’s, uh…” It suddenly dawned on the older Winchester brother that his father was not going to take the news that either of his sons, but especially Sam, was friendly with a witch. “We work with her from time to time.”
John settled into his chair. “So she’s a hunter?”
“More a consultant,” Dean explained, trying to find the line between truth and protecting his brother. “You know, like Missouri?”
John nodded. “She pretty?”
Dean choked slightly on his beer. “What?”
With a smirk, John said, “Your brother lit out of here like his ass was on fire. I like to think that whoever he’s ditching us for is hot. You know, since he ‘doesn’t need backup’ on this one.”
Still feeling the effects of his earlier sputter, Dean cleared his throat. “No, no, it’s not…not like that. Sam and Rowena aren’t, like, together .” He grimaced and shook his head. “And if they are, I don’t want to know about it.”
“So she’s older, then?” John followed up. “And Sam’s really just helping her out?”
“Older than I am,” Dean confirmed, leaving out the fact that it was by nearly three centuries, “and yes, if she says she needs Sam’s help, then she just needs his help. Probably reaching something on a high shelf.”
“And she couldn’t use a stepladder because…?”
“Dad, I’m begging you, please let me scrub the idea of Sam and Rowena from my brain,” Dean begged. “Yes, okay, she’s a hottie, but trust me, there ain’t love in the air when the two of them are together.” There’s magic in the air , he thought, but literally, it’s magic. Do not tell Dad about the magic. Do not tell Dad about the magic. Do. Not. Tell. Dad. About. The. Magic .
John shrugged. “If you say so.” Taking a sip of his own drink, he shook his head. “It’s just so weird to know that I’ve been gone for so long. How your mother managed to swing back into it I’ll never know.”
Dean shifted his gaze off to the side and pretended that thinking about that didn’t hurt. “If it helps you feel any better, she didn’t just bounce back in either. You shoulda’ seen her when we introduced her to cell phones.”
“I’ll bet,” John laughed. “Seems she’s been doing well, though.”
“Sure does.”
John studied his firstborn carefully. “You got something to say?”
“No, sir,” Dean responded automatically. “Just thinkin’ that if you got questions about Mom comin’ back from the dead, you should probably ask her.”
“I’m gonna,” John said, still studying his son.
Dean struggled to not squirm under his father’s intense gaze. He took another sip, quietly wishing that whatever Rowena needed help with had required both of them so he could get some space. Then again, anything that required more than one Winchester ran the risk of summoning all the Winchesters, and hoo boy was he not ready for his father to meet the likes of Rowena MacLeod.
Whatever John was thinking, he decided to let it go for the moment. “So your mother said that you’re making dinner tonight?” he asked.
Dean nodded. “Yeah.”
“You a better cook than your mother?”
With a scoff, Dean answered, “Isn’t everyone?”
John chuckled. “Your mother’s a good woman, and she’s a wonderful wife and mother, but god, the woman could not cook if her life depended on it.”
Something occurred to Dean in that moment. They had spent most of the day reminiscing about the last time they had all been together as a family thirty years ago, with only highlights of what Sam and Dean had been up to in the last few years. Nothing they had said had actually led to a conversation about Mary being a long term hunter in her own right, let alone that she was usually functioning as a solo agent apart from them.
As far as Dean knew, especially from what he had witnessed when he and Sam had gone back to the past, John was completely in the dark about Mary’s extracurricular activities. Neither Sam nor his mother had let the conversation slide in that direction, and Dean found himself wondering if that was a happy accident, or if the other two had figured it out early on and had been deliberately skirting around it. He wouldn’t put it past either of them to maneuver around a conversation in the name of avoidance. Hell, Dean was doing it himself.
“So tell me about the angel,” John asked, taking a drink.
Dean shook his head slightly as he tried to get back into the conversation. “Cas? He’s…man, how do I put this? He’s the most literal person you will ever meet.”
John leaned back in his chair. “That an angel thing?”
With a scoff, Dean said, “Not even a little. We’ve met tons of angels. Ain’t none of ‘em like Cas. Most of them have been dicks. They got sarcasm, though. Cas? Sometimes you gotta tell him if something was a joke or meant to be taken as a euphemism. Funny as hell to watch him try to puzzle shit out sometimes, though.” Dean chuckled lightly as he added, “You shoulda seen the look on his face when I tried to explain Bugs Bunny to him. He asked if we were looking for an insect rabbit hybrid.”
“Good to know,” John responded with a little laugh of his own. “So if most of the angels have been dicks, why’d this one get a chance?”
Dean shrugged. “Cas is…dude’s different from the others. He’s gonna do what he genuinely thinks is the right thing, not what someone else just tells him is right. I mean, the biggest difference between him and most of the others is his belief in free will. Not a lot of angels believe in that.” He took a swig of his own beer. “Weird as hell sometimes, though,” he laughed. “Might take you a while to get used to him.”
“John?”
The oldest Winchester beamed as he turned and looked in the direction his dear wife had called from. “In here!”
Mary entered the room. She had a clear smile on her face, but Dean could tell that it was not fully genuine. She glanced at her son briefly, her concern shining in her eyes, before turning back to her husband. “Missed you,” she softly said.
John was on his feet and sweeping her up in his arms within seconds. “Missed you more,” he happily said, giving her a kiss. “God, I can’t believe we’re all back together again!”
Mary kissed him back, though not quite as enthusiastically. “Speaking of all back together, where’s Sam?”
“Oh, Rowena needed an assist, so Sam went to help her,” Dean offered.
Looking curious, Mary asked, “Anything we should be aware of?”
“Nah,” Dean assured. “If Ro thought it required more than one of us, she would have asked for more than one of us.”
“Still, it’s worth keeping an eye on,” Mary stated. “When a witch of that caliber needs help…”
“Witch?” John interrupted. His gaze fell on his firstborn, his concern mixing with anger as he demanded, “Sam is helping a witch ?”
Well this is blowing up spectacularly , Dean thought, fighting to keep his old instincts of making himself smaller in the face of his father’s anger from flaring up. “Dad, Rowena’s on our side,” he assured.
John dropped his arms from around his wife and began to march toward the front door.
“Where are you going?” Mary demanded.
“To bring Sam back here.”
Dean could feel his anger building. “Oh, yeah, because with you in this mood, we’re totally going to let you go talk to Sam and Rowena.”
“Just what in the hell is that supposed to mean?” the father demanded.
Dean scoffed. “Yeah, ‘cause you really don’t know.”
Mary, her own frustration building, put her hands on her hips and stated, “Well I don’t know. What the hell is everyone’s problem right now?”
John stared at his wife. “Sam’s with a witch ,” he said in a condescending tone.
“Yeah, I know,” Mary returned. “Rowena’s helped us on some pretty big shit. She’s not going to hurt Sam.”
Dean’s brain supplied a less than helpful comment about how really, Sam was the danger to Rowena since, well, they knew how the witch’s book was going to end. It didn’t seem like the time to bring that up, though, so the hunter kept it to himself.
He wondered just how much he was going to be keeping things to himself with his family around…
“I’ll get Sam,” Dean volunteered, eager to just get away from the conversation. “I ain’t chompin’ at the bit for a fight right now, so he’ll come with me. You two talk while I’m gone.”
He didn’t wait for either of his parents to respond before walking briskly toward the garage for Baby. As he got the engine going, he found himself wondering if whatever his brother was working on needed assistance, assistance that would take a long, long time.
/////
“Wait, do you really think that could work?”
Sam was leaning over the table, looking at what Rowena had laid out. Apparently the witch had been putting her time to remarkably good use.
“In theory, I don’t see why it wouldn’t,” the redhead responded. “Granted, nothing like this has ever been attempted in the history of, well, anything, but I’ve checked it over a few times, and it looks like it might just be the trick we need.”
“Rowena, this is amazing!” Sam laughed.
“Let’s not get too excited,” the witch cautioned. “I’d still like you to do your hyper-critical critiquing of it. You know, do your scholarly assessments. I am gifted, Samuel, but it is possible for even me to make an error. Unlikely , but possible. I’d like you to give it a once over before we attempt this.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “What do you think I could find that you couldn’t?”
Rowena gave him a playful smile. “Well that’s the question now, isn’t it?”
“Rowena…”
“Samuel,” she interrupted, “you’re a far cry from my level, but you are not without your own impressive knowledge of magic. And you are talented at finding areas that might need further assessment. You ask questions that I might not have thought of before.”
Suddenly more serious, she added, “Given that we will likely only get one attempt at this, I really don’t want to put anything more to chance than we absolutely need to.”
He wholeheartedly agreed with her there. Magic of this caliber should never be taken lightly. It would probably take him days to go over every aspect of what was before him, but he didn’t mind. If anything, he felt excited by it.
Sam opened his mouth to express his thanks to the witch for her work when there was a sudden and harsh knocking on the door.
“Rowena! Sammy! Open up!” Dean called out.
The two magic users exchanged a curious glance.
“Any idea what your brother’s doing here?” the redhead calmly asked.
Sam shook his head. “I told him no backup was needed,” he answered, moving toward the door. “And if something was really wrong, he’d have called or texted or something. He wouldn’t just show up.”
The tall hunter paused for a moment and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He had been curious if he had accidentally silenced the device and had missed something critical. But no, it was on, and there were no missed calls or messages.
“Sammy!” Dean called out again, with another bang on the door. “Open the damn door! And your pants had damn well better be on when you do!”
Where Sam’s face was immediately flushed scarlet in embarrassment, Rowena’s showed mischief. As the hunter before her went to the door, she brought up her hand and pulled together a little bit of magic.
She might not be the villain anymore, but that did not mean that the girl did not like to have herself some fun.