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The thing is- somehow, it’s an easy choice. To give up her magic to save the world; to save Dean, and Castiel. To save Samuel Winchester.
It feels, a little sickeningly, like she’s been barreling towards this choice since she met him. From that moment their hands had touched over the Book of the Damned in that tiny restaurant and sparks had slithered through her blood at the contact. Like she’d sealed her fate the moment she’d met his solemn yet pleading eyes and made a deal with her mortal enemy.
She stares at the page in the book, at the spell that the Rowena MacLeod of three years ago would have burned the world down around her before performing. Her skin heats, and when she looks up, Sam is looking at her with worry pinching his brows. Worry for her. Worry if she was okay, worry if they’d make it out of this- and, because she knows him, likely worry of what he’d dragged her into.
Agonizing, aching love tears through her chest as she offers him a half-smile of assurance, and the pinched worry abates from his expression. Her answer cements just a little more within herself at the earnestness that replaces the worry, and Sam makes his way over to her, squatting before her with his hands resting gently on her knees. She feels his warmth even through the fabric of her dress.
“You doin’ okay?” he asks, and she can’t help the way the corners of her mouth quirk upwards. Rowena nods and lifts a hand to cup the side of his face, stomach swooping when he readily leans into her touch.
“Are you?” she asks quietly, and the dimple in Sam’s cheek appears as his eyes soften up at her. He nods as well. “I’ve an idea. Gather everyone.”
_
It’s just them, in the stone crypt, and Rowena is glad for that. Somehow, the intimacy of losing her magic- of giving it up readily like this- feels like something only he should witness.
Their hands are clasped, binding them, and she’s glad for his touch. It grounds her, centers her, and Rowena lets her eyes slip shut as she begins to channel her magic into the crystal set between them. She hadn’t told Sam that the central part of her plan involved draining the latent magic from her body, the essence of her immortality, into the quartz crystal, so it would attract the remaining ghosts before they threw it into Hell to implode.
Rowena feels herself slowly weakening as her magic lessened and lessened, the crystal glowing brighter and brighter as it absorbed more and more of her power. Her grip on Sam’s hands gradually loosened as she felt herself growing dizzy- Sam’s fingers curled harder around her hands, and tugged.
“Rowena- what’s happening?” he asked, and she offered a small, tired smile.
“The spell,” she answers. “It requires the entirety of my magic to work.”
Sam’s mouth gapes open, and then he began to frantically shake his head. “No- no, no, Rowena you can’t…it’s your magic! You’re a witch! What if it kills you?”
“It won’t, love,” she answers, though the slow thud of her heart did beg to differ. “It will merely strip me of my immortality- of my latent power.”
“There has to be another way-”
“This is the only way, Samuel,” she cuts him off, and squeezes his hands tenderly. “This is the only way to save the world. To save your brother. To save you.”
Sam blinks, tears falling down his cheeks.
“I can’t ask you to do that for me,” he gets out, voice rough. Her smile is soft.
“You didn’t have to,” she replies, and lifts one hand to touch his jaw, then grip his chin between two fingers. “This is my choice. I am choosing you, Samuel. For the first time in my life…for the first time, I want to make the selfish choice. You are my selfish choice.”
The last of her magic drains from her, and her breath catches as the crystal shines like a beacon. She lifts it in both hands, feeling the radiant heat of her magic- when she stumbles heading for the door, Sam’s arms are around her, steadying her. They walk together.
As they walk, souls swirl through the air and into the crystal, trapped in the quartz. Its glow turned red, and by the time they reach the crevice’s edge, it’s vibrating in her hands. Rowena drops it into the earth, and Sam tugged her into him behind a stone statue as the crystal erupts, shielding her with his body as the implosion happened- then the entrance of Hell sealed itself, leaving behind only grassy earth.
Rowena feels Sam’s heart hammering through his chest, and she looked up at him- found him already looking down at her, his expression a myriad of emotions. The most prominent, though, is the aching, burning love she felt in her own heart. Sam’s hand gently touched her face.
“How do you feel?” he asked, and Rowena assessed herself, considering for a moment, before she turned her face into his palm, kissing the center of it tenderly.
“Human,” she whispers. Sam’s mouth on hers steals any other words she might have said, but she doesn’t mind- lets him steal her breath, his hand in her hair and her palms feeling his strong, steady heartbeat.
They’re both panting when they part, and Sam nudges his nose along hers, lingering in her airspace as she clutches him as close as possible.
“Will you help me remember?” she asks, and Sam blinks in question. “How to be human?”
Sam nods once before he’s kissing her again, frantic and hot and desperate. Rowena’s heart races, alive and wild and free, and she kisses him back with matched intensity in the warmth of the sunshine, the grass soft at their knees.
Human, and alive, Rowena smiles against Sam’s mouth.