Work Text
Rowena was awake just long enough following Michael's departure to see Jack's golden light and mighty wings fill the War Room like Lucifer's never could have dreamt to. Oh, she thought, this is how the boy is supposed to be. Nothing like his father's magic. Nothing like anything she's ever felt. All his. Then the singing of grace faded and her head connected with the concrete steps once more, bringing darkness, swift and silent. *** Rowena's brain awoke before she did, her body slowly taking in and cataloging information about her surroundings. Her hair was no longer pulling at her scalp, so it must have been taken down. A sheet and a heavy, scratchy blanket lay over her body and under her arms- not the bedclothes of a hospital or one of her hotels. The air was sharp, but lacked the antiseptic scent of a hospital (though Rowena had done her best to avoid setting foot in one ever since that terrible time in the eighties). She could hear a clattering of movement and breath to one side of her- someone watching over her? Maybe Sam. She squinted one eye as surreptitiously as possible and could make out a tall, slim figure- dim blue of old jeans, square brown as common as it came, orange shirt that made her want to drag the man into a kiss and also made her want to set his bedroom on fire. Sam. Definitely Sam. She forced a deep breath in through her nose to let him know she was awake. He turned toward her from the drawers he'd been fiddling with. "Rowena. Hey." His long arms dragged a stool over and folded himself onto it, the hasty metal scrape against hard floor enough to make her cringe. Her head was pounding. She needed water. "What does a girl have to do for a glass of water, huh?" Sam's expression shifted from concern to relief as she responded with a full, grammatically correct sentence. "Of course," he muttered, "You must be parched. Be back in a minute." Giant arms and legs unfolded again. Rowena got the distinct impression that he was restless, like he'd been worried about something and her waking up was either a distraction or the solution. What could he be worried about- Jack? She'd seen the wings and the golden light, but no more than that and a lot could happen very badly, very quickly when it came to magic. Especially angelic magic. Now she was worried on the poor dear's behalf. She wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten that power- had he taken in some of Michael's grace and if so, how come Sergei's grace-and-spell procedure hadn't worked no never mind that now, there was also the new layer of the soul-magic those idiots had made him do, perhaps that had something to do with it. Sam came back with a glass of water. He set it on the bedside table and helped prop her up on the pillows before he folded himself back onto the stool. Like a big dog that couldn't sit in its owner's lap as it had as a pup. Rowena gulped down several swallows of tap water before she put the glass back on the table and turned her attention to Sam. "You're fussing like a mother hen," she teased him. He rolled his eyes at her and she made her face turn serious. "What's bothering you now, Samuel?" "Nothing, Rowena," he said, exactly as he'd said that Dean was fine and Jack was fine and they were all being oh so careful. "Nothing like nothing nothing or nothing like nothing's wrong with your brother nothing?" He sighed and his lips fell into a faximally of a smile- wide, lipless, really more of a grimace than anything. "Nothing like nothing nothing." "How is your dear brother doing." Sam's head dipped down. "As far as I can tell? He's doing okay. He's taking it pretty hard though- Maggie and the others- he thinks it's his fault that it happened. Which is nuts- I mean- the only reason Michael got out was because he was beaten unconscious by an Ancient Greek Myth. And he's treating it- getting beaten up in a fight- like it's the gravest sin he's ever committed." "Well that's ridiculous," Rowena said as lightly as possible, "We both know his most egregious sin is not marrying the angel." Sam smirked at that- a quick tug at one cheek that revealed a dimple usually hidden by stubble or scowling. "Tell me," she commanded him, though Sam Winchester wasn't hers to command, "How is the boy?" "He's good. Better, actually- back to fully powered-up nephilim son of an Archangel." "I know. I saw that much before I hit my head again. I hadn't realized he was so yellow. Or so powerful." A proper smile now, pressed there by Rowena calling Jack "yellow". "Yeah. Kind of blew my mind, first time Dean and I met him. Did I tell you about that? There I was, expecting a baby- like, an infant- and here instead is this mostly-grown kid, butt-naked, gold eyes, asking for his father." "His father?""He thought his father was Castiel. Not that I knew it at the time. I was thinking 'shit! Lucifer's kid isn't a fucking infant and he's asking for Daddy how the hell am I going to handle this?' and then Dean barged in, took one look at the kid, shot him point blank. Jack got red in the face and started screaming- like the infant that he should've been- and- his screams were magic, you know? Just- waves of it- Lucifer never fucking had that, I remember what his magic felt like. And yeah, it was- bright yellow, like a brand new day." He smiled to himself again, the smile he made when he struck upon something dreadfully ironic. "I think He thought of Jack as this second chance or something. Right. Jack is exactly the opposite of what He wanted in a kid. He talked a big game sometimes about rebellion and shit, but deep down? All He wanted was to be obeyed." Sam shook his head and strands of hair fell into his face. "What a fucking toddler." "He's dead, Samuel. You told me Dean killed Him." He sighed and passed a hand over his head. "You're right. He's dead. What He wanted from Jack doesn't matter anymore." "It does to the boy." Rowena raised her eyebrows at him. "What your father wanted from you and Dean still keeps the both of you up at night or at the bottom of a bottle, and he was a right arse who you were constantly fighting." An eyebrow flicked to say 'fair enough.' They sat there, quiet for a moment before he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees as his gaze fixed itself on her face. "How are you feeling? Really, Rowena." She scoffed at him. "Really, I'm fine, Samuel. If you need to go fuss over the boy or your brother, be my guest. I can occupy myself." "Cas is fussing over Dean and they're both smothering Jack. Cas is burning everything he tries to cook and Dean's doing damage control. I think we're all covered. Guess you're stuck with me." This smile was soft, gentle. Unusual from Sam and unusual in its direction towards her. They sat there quietly for a little while longer. She couldn't quite tell what he's thinking about. Rowena knows Sam pretty well at this point- they met what? four years ago?- but he's been guarded in terms of facial expressions from the outset. She wonders why that is- hunting and needing to be a good actor, being a son and dealing with his arsehole father, being the idiot who set Lucifer free, being the poor schmuck that stopped Him at the cost of his sanity. She wonders what being Lucifer's vessel taught him about himself. She knows what briefly being Michael's has taught her. "Was that what it was like?" Rowena asked him softly. "Hm?" "Being Michael's vessel- can it even compare to what being His was like for you?" "I don't- know." Samuel says it like he's given it some thought, on the really bad nights. "I think they're just two different experiences. I was stuck in a body, then in a cage, with a rabid, pissed-off, toddler of an archangel. For a really long time. Michael is- was- from what little he ever said to me, he's- was- just a different beast entirely. Was he worse? I don't know. I pray to God I never will." She sat there, in the dreadfully uncomfortable infirmary bed, taking in what he told her, forming her own opinions on what it all means. "Well, regardless, Sam Winchester. You resisted the Devil- twice?- and that makes you strong whether he was worse than his brother or not." She smiled a little weakly at him, faltering at the memory of grace humming in her, chasing around her magic in a way that rubs her wrong from where she's sitting in the bed. The smile he gave her in turn was just as shaky. Like maybe he remembered what it was like to be filled up on an atomical level with a malevolent cosmic being's very self and essence. Maybe that keeps him up, too. Rowena already knows it'll keep her up. She offered him a pale, tiny, perfectly manicured hand. He took it in his own massive paw. She laced their fingers together and he brought the tangled mess to his lips, just a simple, gallant peck of his mouth to her fingers. They stayed like that for a few hours, until they were ready to face another day. Another Godforsaken day on God's green Earth. Later they'd have to talk about the hunters that Michael killed- let people know, find a place to put the ashes of the bodies Sam's already burned. But for right then, they sat and talked about nothing and felt nothing but Oh. It's nicer with you here.