Chapter Text
The drive to Maine was blissfully uneventful. Cas and Benny took the backseats, while Dean drove and Sammy sat at his side. Well, slept, mostly. The kid was dead tired, and as Dean glances over him, he can’t help but wonder when he had last, properly rested. When Sam had last felt safe enough to deeply, properly sleep. He didn’t wonder about it too hard though, because he was sure he wouldn’t like the answer. Instead, he had Cas keep a close eye and use a little angelic mojo to keep away any nightmares. Living through that Hell was bad enough once, Dean would be damned if he let his brother suffer from it anymore in his sleep. While Sam slept, and Cas and Benny kept a careful watch, Cas over Sam, and Benny over the car in general, Dean called ahead to the hunter Cas had found. Marcus Miles, one of the few senior hunters Dean had ever met in his life, was an eighty year old widower, who could still wield a machete as well as he had when he was twenty. He had been a colleague of his father’s, but a good friend to Bobby, and when Dean had called him, he was greeted with all the warmth and friendliness you would have towards a well-respected member of your community, even though they had had very few dealings with each other directly. Dean had quickly explained the situation and Marcus had promised to be ready and waiting for Sam the moment they arrived, and, with the heads up about Benny and Cas, promised to not take a swing at either the vampire or the angel. This last bit had surprised Dean, given the well-earned suspicion most hunters had towards any kind of supernatural creature, but Marcus had just laughed.
“Boy, you and your brother may just be the damned best hunters I have ever seen in my admittedly too long life.” Marcus had said between chuckles. “Never seen instincts sharper than the ones you boys have. If you have a Fang and an angel with you, there is a damn good reason for it.”
“You think?” Dean had asked, unable to shake the surprise from his voice. Marcus snorted.
“I know how some of our kind think, Dean and I get your skepticism. If you were any other hunter, I would think you’ve gone insane. But it isn’t like you boys are just out there busting spooks, and cutting off ghoul heads, or lighting up wendigos. You are playing in a league head and shoulders above the rest of our acquaintances. Tangling with baddies not even our kind can grasp or understand. I won’t pretend to understand what sort of level you boys are hunting at, or how you got involved with forces old and powerful enough to trigger an apocalypse or two, but I have been hunting at enough of a level myself for long enough to trust my gut. And my gut tells me that you boys are the reason this world is still spinning, for one reason or another. So who am I to question your choice of companionship? Just as long as your angel isn’t in a smiting mood, or your fang in a biting one, anyone who calls you or your brother friend is welcome here.”
“Thanks, Marcus.” Dean had said gratefully.
“Anytime Winchester.” Marcus answered. “Let me know when you are here.” That call had been several hours ago, but Marcus’ words have been repeating in Dean’s head ever since. He was used to Hunter’s being wary of him, suspicious even, but downright hating Sam. A lot of them still blamed him for the apocalypse. Several of them had tried to kill Sam for his part in letting Lucifer out of the cage, some even having succeeded. So to find a hunter who not only wasn’t afraid of them, but… respected them, even trusted them, was something Dean didn’t know how to handle. Still, he was grateful. Sam needed to get that tattoo again, as quickly as possible. He knows Crowley isn’t bluffing, that he will be coming after Sam with everything he has, and Dean needs to give Sam every possible protection, especially from possession. He frowns, as he remembers seeing Crowley walking around in his brother’s body, hearing his voice over the phone… and he looks over to his brother’s sleeping form, sighing softly. It had been bad enough when he had been briefly possessed by the psychotic psychiatrist Doctor Ellicott. It had been worse when he was stolen by Meg, something he still hadn’t forgiven her for, despite their apparent new alliance, and it had been downright traumatizing when he had watched Sam say yes to Lucifer, when he watched, battered and bleeding and bruised, as Sam fought tooth and nail against the archangel for control over his own body. How many more times was Sam going to have to suffer being taken, being controlled, being used by supernatural forces? None, if Dean had any say in the matter. He looks over at Sam as they drive closer to Marcus’, studying the restful, peaceful expression on Sam’s face again. He knows it won’t stay there forever. Cas can’t keep the nightmares at bay forever. Sam will have to face what happened to him, what he was put through. Especially because, as far as he can tell, Sam is far from out of the woods yet. Crowley still needs to be dealt with. And Rowena will come after them as well, for her claim to Sam’s blood. Dean frowns as he remembers that. He still isn’t sure they made the right call, trusting Kali, but if Benny and Cas had the same instincts as he did, he at least felt better. And, with Sam putting his faith in him so completely, so totally, Dean needed to stick to his decision. He had to trust himself as much as his brother did, until Sam was grounded enough, recovered enough, to be the partner Dean was used to. Taking a deep breath, Dean refocused on the road, and just in time. Because a woman has appeared on the black asphalt, and Dean slams on the breaks, throwing himself and all the passengers forward as the impala skidded, finally coming to a stop inches away from the smirking red-haired woman. Cas and Benny both caught themselves on the seats in front of them, but unconscious as he was, Sam flew forward, and snapped back painfully as his seatbelt and Dean’s protective arm caught him and shoved him back into his seat. The sudden impact knocks the breath from Sam’s lungs and his eyes flash open as he gasps desperately, confused and wary.
“What… what’s happening?” Sam asks.
“Trouble.” Dean growls angrily. “Stay here.” He puts the car in park and climbs quickly from the drivers seat, as Benny and Cas both exit the car as well, coming to flank him. Ever the insolent rebel, Sam ignores his brother’s instruction and opens his own door, stepping out into the chilly air. “Rowena. What are you doing here?” Sam studies the woman, the witch, in front of him, curious despite himself. So this is the one Crowley has been so desperate to kill.
“I could ask you the same thing.” Rowena answers, still smiling smugly. And as curious as he is, Sam is also wary. He had seen that kind of malicious glint in her eyes in too many of their enemies. Cas, seemingly sensing the same kind of ill intent as Sam, steps closer to him, resting one hand protectively on Sam’s shoulder as Benny steps up beside Dean. “Really, Dean. I would have expected you anywhere but Maine, after your… crash landing.”
“We’re sight-seeing.” Dean snapped, dislike and mistrust radiating off of him. Yeah, she had helped him free Sam, and given them the distraction they needed to escape, but it wasn’t for Sam. Rowena was purely self-centered, and she knows that Sam is the only one who can take her out. Add that to her penchant for witchcraft and the sadistic cruelty Dean could see in her, and he steps closer to his brother, half hiding him from her view. “Your turn.” Rowena snorts softly.
“Of course you are.” She murmurs, almost to herself, before her eyes find Sam’s. He shifts slightly under the witch’s gaze, uncomfortable by the… desire, in her eyes. Not a lustful desire, exactly, but more like… greed. Envy. It reminded him of the way Yellow-Eyes used to look at him. The way Lucifer had looked at him. The way Crowley looks at him. Instead of shivering and curling up on himself in the fear Sam can feel seeping through him, he lifts his chin higher, standing taller. The witch’s smirk grows as she sees the defiance and challenge in the young man. “Well Dean, I would have thought that was obvious. I came to collect on our deal.” Her words were for the eldest Winchester, but she never moved her eyes from Sam, and she can see the distaste, and almost anger, as it sweeps across his face at the mention of their deal.
“What, you couldn’t wait a few days?” Dean snarls. Rowena raises her eyebrows, finally looking back towards Dean.
“And risk you boys slipping off the face of the Earth, before I had a chance to collect?” Rowena tsks in disappointment. “Here I was hoping you were smarter than other hunters, Mr. Winchester.” Dean scowls at her, mostly out of frustration because them disappearing before Rowena could track them down had in fact crossed his mind several times. Smiling in a self-satisfied at the look on his face, Rowena turns back to the Boy with the Demon Blood, the Boy King, Lucifer’s perfect vessel, and she studies him with interest. On the surface alone she can see why he would be a threat. Ill as he may be right now, there is potential for incredible strength in his hulking form. Tall as he is, and with his frame, Rowena can see he had been an incredibly dangerous hunter at the peak of his health. A lifetime of hunting the supernatural has no doubt left the boy clever, quick, and lethal. But it is what is under the surface that interests the witch more. The blood that even from here she can sense the power in. The psychic energy that is like a big red flag over the kid’s head, drawing in anything even remotely supernatural. And, with the centuries of magic imbedded in her, she can even see the metaphysical scars he carries. The lingering blackness of Hell that clings to his soul, his psyche. Contrastingly, she can also see the light around both as well, as warm and protective as the darkness is cold and destructive, showing the sheltering embrace of a soul that has been to Heaven. There is also an odd… space, around the boy’s soul. As if it had been roughly ripped from the body at some point, damaging that little protective section of the human body where the soul resides, so that even though the soul has been replaced, it will never quite fit the same way it did before. Seeing these scars, these differences in the young man she had been hearing about for decades now, Rowena quickly concludes that the stories and rumors she had long dismissed as hyperbole and myth were in fact completely accurate. Her curiosity in the young man destined to kill her grows with every second she spends examining him, but she holds it in check. With the other hunter, the vampire, and the angel, she isn’t in any place to strike just yet, although she definitely plans on seeing the young hunter again, on her own terms and much more privately. She has a feeling they have quite a bit to discuss. In the meantime, however… she clears her throat, tilting her head and trying to soften the smirk on her face into a smile. “You must be Samuel. It is a pleasure to meet you, at last.” She addresses Sam properly, offering her hand. Sam studies her, every hair on his neck standing on end as a feeling of wariness and unease spreads over him. He glances coolly at her hand, before taking half a step back.
“And you must be Rowena… Crowley has a bit of a grudge against you.” Sam says quietly, watching for her reaction, trying to gauge just how dangerous this witch is. Why Crowley wants her dead, and if she holds what Crowley tried to force him to do against him. She laughs, a curious gleam in her eyes as if she is in on a private joke.
“Oh yes.” Rowena agrees. “Yes, we have a… long history. I am sorry that he has felt the need to drag you into our little feud, but I believe I can handle things from here. Once I get what I came for, I will be on my merry way.”
“Right. My blood.” Sam says flatly. He glances once at Dean, a short, questioning look. Every instinct he has is telling him to take the witch out. After all, they have the witch-killing gun on them, and, even as Sam thinks it, he sees Benny shifting, holding the gun loosely at his side. But Dean meets Sam’s eyes and gives him one small nod, while gently gripping Benny’s wrist slightly, restraining him.
“Exactly.” Rowena says, seemingly ignorant of the silent conversation taking place. “Not to worry, Samuel, it is just a small amount.” She reaches into her pocket, withdrawing a silver knife, and a small vial, about the same size as a standard test tube that one might find in a chemistry lab, except in this case carefully scrawled over with runes and symbols. Sam’s stomach twists nervously, but he bites his tongue. If Dean thinks this is the right move, Sam will trust him.
“Just get it over with.” Dean snaps at her, though he keeps his eyes on Sam, and he tries to smile reassuringly. “We have places to be.” He adds harshly, glaring back at her.
“Yes, yes of course. Your… sight-seeing.” Rowena rolls her eyes, stepping towards Sam. “Your arm, please, Samuel.” Sam takes a deep breath, reluctantly rolling up the sleeve of his arm and offering it to the witch, even as he meets and holds his brother’s gaze. Cas’ protective hand tightens reassuringly on Sam’s shoulder, and Benny looks pointedly away. Part of Sam wonders if having him here for this, for any kind of bloodletting, is a good idea, but he squashes the thought almost immediately. If it wasn’t safe for Sam for Benny to be here, Sam is positive Dean would have sent him away already. Dean watches Rowena intently, hating letting anyone, let alone an evil witch get that close to Sam with a blade, but knowing they don’t have much of a choice. They need to let her at least think she is getting what she wants, so that they will have the time to get her off their tail. Rowena gently takes Sam’s arm, her knife cutting swiftly into his flesh, although she notes with mild surprise that he doesn’t so much as flinch. Not even the quietest hisses of pain escape from Sam’s lips, and as she glances at his expression while she holds her vial to collect from the now bleeding cut, she studies his indifferent, almost bored expression. She supposes as a hunter that he must naturally have a high pain tolerance. Or, at the very least, after his time with her son, he will have one now. “There.” She smiles as she fills the vial, and steps away from the hunter, corking the tube of blood swiftly and studying its contents for a moment before she pockets it. “That wasn’t so bad was it?”
“Are we done here?” Sam asks instead, ignoring her question, as Cas already moves, touching the cut and healing it as quickly as Rowena caused it.
“For now.” Rowena smirks, winking at him. “But I’ll be seeing you again Samuel.” Before any of them can respond, she disappears, gone as immediately as she had first appeared in the road.
“Well… that didn’t sound ominous at all.” Benny says after a moment, as Sam and Dean exchange wary looks.
“I thought it was very ominous. It sounded like she isn’t done with Sam yet.” Cas says, confused. Benny simply sighs, shaking his head.
“Come on.” Dean growls impatiently, turning back towards the driver’s seat of the impala. “Marcus is waiting for us, and we need to get you protected again, ASAP Sam.” Sam, Benny and Cas all return back to the car, and Dean quickly takes off again, his eyes flicking to Sam as he rubs his arm subconsciously. Though the wound is no longer there, Dean knows Sam can still feel it, and he can read the wary hesitation in his eyes, and the beginning of guilt. “Hey… don’t.” Dean warns him. Sam glances at him nervously.
“What if we were wrong?” Sam whispers doubtfully. “What if Kali lied?”
“Then we’ll deal with it.” Dean promises. “But now our deal with the witch is done. And if she tries to come after you again or tries anything even remotely Wicked Witch of the West like, you and I will take her down. Just like we always do.” The brother’s look at each other, and in perfect sync, they each smile softly and look away. Benny and Cas watch, Cas with warmth in his eyes, and Benny with open curiosity, at the silent, and easy communication taking place in the front seat of the car. The way Dean calmed Sam with seemingly hardly any effort. The absolute trust in Sam that radiates from him. Dean, more calm and hopeful than Benny had ever seen him and than Cas had seen in a long, long time. Sam, shockingly composed, and put together considering the condition he had been in as they pulled him away from the hospital of nightmares. Cas knows, perhaps better than anyone, how strong Sam is on his own, and Benny would never bet against Dean Winchester in anything, but there was a quiet strength in the brothers when they are together that held both vampire and angel in deep fascination. Beyond the muscles, and the resilience and the training, the endurance and skill and sheer stubbornness. In the quiet of the impala, as it drove steadily towards the waiting hunter, there was an indefinable sense of permanence, or rightness, maybe. Something undividable, and unbreakable. A force of nature that existed, wand continued to exist, regardless of what was in their way. Dean savored every minute of the drive. The comfort of his friends at his back, and his Baby rolling confidently, determinedly forwards second only to the joy, the relief of having his baby brother safe in the seat beside him. And even as Cas contemplates the passing road, and Benny listens intently to the blaring rock music, as Sam drifts off against the window, still clearly exhausted and emotionally overwhelmed, Dean feels his world finally settle back into place. Of course, that is when his phone rings. With a heavy sigh, he pulls it from his pocket, checking the number before he answers. “Kevin?”
“Dean hey.” Kevin’s nervous energy came through even more clearly than usual over the phone.
“Is everything okay?” Dean asks quickly. “Are you safe?”
“Yeah, yeah me and Meg are great. Er, maybe better than great. We, uh… we found something. Something big, in the tablets.”
“Big how?” Dean asks.
“Big like world-changing big.” Kevin says excitedly. “Dean… I think I figured out how to shut it down. Shut him down.”
“What?” Dean asks frowning. “Shut who down?”
“Crowley, Dean.” Kevin answers. “His whole operation. Demon deals, hellhounds, possessions, we can stop it all.”
“What… what do you mean?” Dean says slowly. “Kevin, what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about closing the Gates of Hell. Forever.”