Christmas Fic Exchange: by jdl71 for candygramme
Still here? What? Don't you people have parties to go to?
Well, whatever. It's day five and we have a story about my delightful mother by jdl71
Written for the 2019 Crowley’s Christmas Fic Exchange
Gifter: jdl71
Giftee: candygramme
Beta: jj1564
Word Count: 3,048
Based on the prompt: Entering Rowena’s magic store has triggered the charm that passes all of Rowena’s magic onto Sam. Now he needs a familiar, and much to Dean’s annoyance, he’s been nominated for the job.
Character’s: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Mention of Rowena MacLeod
Warnings: Mention of Character Death, Grieving, Magic, Spell Casting
It’s All Familiar
While Dean had been saddened by Rowena's death, Sam had felt an emptiness within himself from the loss of her no longer being in his life. He knew it was strange to feel that way, having first seen her as their enemy. But somehow they had managed to become something akin to friends, protégé and teacher, and confidants, having seen Lucifer's true face and survived. Sam had grieved for her, as Dean had, in his own way.
When he had received the package from her, to be delivered only upon her true death at his hands, it had brought him to his knees. He had secluded himself in his room, cutting himself off from his brother as he gathered the willpower and then the courage to open Rowena's gift. He was astounded to find that she had gifted him with her magical life's work. And she had left it to him in hopes that he would carry on in her footsteps, knowing he would use what he found for good; to help those who needed to be saved.
With shaking hands, he held the small nondescript package in his hands, staring at it before he was finally able to slit the brown wrapping paper open to reveal a book. Tossing aside the wrappings, he opened the book to find a sealed letter addressed to him inside. He placed the book on his bed and carefully opened the letter. He sank down onto his bed, needing a moment to compose himself before unfolding the paper to read what had been written.
Sam,
My dear boy, if you're reading this, then I have met my true death, at your hands. Wipe those tears, they're useless. I’m already gone, and they will not bring me back, my dear Samuel. Whatever brought about my death, I'm sure, much to my annoyance, it was for the greater good. There are things in this world I had wanted to share with you; how magic can shape your destiny. Now is your time to discover this. Unfortunately, I will not be there to teach you, but this, my grimoire, is the next best thing. The first thing you must do, Samuel, is to go to my magical workshop - the directions to find it are listed below and you will need my grimoire to gain access. Without it, there will be dire consequences for any who try to enter it. Once there, with this book in hand, turn to page one and follow the directions for calling forth a familiar. Everything you will need, you will find among my possessions, which are now yours. After that, everything else will fall into place. I'm just sorry I won't be there to see it.
Take care of yourself, and that hooligan of a brother of yours,
Rowena
Once he had gotten his emotions under control, Sam made sure Dean was asleep, or at least in his room, before making his way into the bunker’s garage. He knew he needed to do this alone, even if it was only to see what Rowena had left him. He grabbed the keys to one of the many vehicles housed there, and got in. Pulling out his phone, he typed in the directions Rowena had left him into his GPS. Placing the letter and grimoire on the seat next to himself, he started the truck he had chosen and then drove into the darkness, hoping he would be back before Dean noticed his absence. The last thing he wanted was to explain things to Dean, things he really couldn’t explain to himself.
He pulled up to the building his GPS had led him to, parked and then cut the engine. He sat in the truck, looking up into the darkened windows, wondering which one had been Rowena’s. It seemed odd to him that she had a home, an apartment that she called her own. Sighing, he shouldered open the door, and then quietly shut it, hoping not to disturb anyone. With the grimoire in hand, he entered the building, taking the elevator up to the penthouse suite. That was something he wasn’t surprised about; Rowena always did like the finer things. Stepping out of the elevator, he walked the hallway toward the heavy-looking door, stopping in front of it as he took a deep breath, willing himself to move forward. He forced his hand out, wrapping his long fingers around the handle, only to feel a jolt of electricity run through his body when his hand connected with the metal doorknob. He pulled his hand back, shaking it from the sting and watched as the door swung open. With a backward glance to the hallway to make sure no one was following him, he stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind himself. He closed his eyes, getting himself settled, grounding himself before he took a few steps further inside. At first, his surroundings appeared to be an ordinary apartment. His lips quirked up into a smirk as he looked around, knowing that looks could be deceiving, especially when it came to Rowena.
His instincts told him that while the apartment looked like any other, whatever Rowena had left for him would be concealed. Gaining his confidence, he began to circle the room, looking for a hidden room, or at least a way in. Finding it, he took a step back as the false wall pulled away to reveal a room packed with spell components, charms, crystals and books he knew he would never have set his eyes on had it not been for Rowena’s death. He felt that all too familiar stab to his heart as he thought of her, hoping that in time the pain would lessen. Her death was just another in a long list of those they had lost to the life they led.
As he stepped inside the room, he was hit by another jolt of electricity, this time, powerful enough to send him crashing to his knees. He panted out his breaths as he waited for the pain to subside and his vision to return. Once he was sure he would be able to stand, he forced himself to his feet, picking up the grimoire as he did. “Okay, Rowena, you’ve made your point. Now what?”
“Read the book,” Rowena’s faint-sounding voice called out.
With a shake of his head in understanding, he glanced down at the book and then flipped it open, turning to the page Rowena had indicated in her letter - Calling Forth a Familiar. He read and reread the directions; purify the area to make sure it had been cleansed of all negative energy, cast a circle using white candles, once inside the sanctity of the circle, light the candles, state your intentions by repeating the spell, clear the mind and think of the familiar you desire. Once this has been done, extinguish the candles, one by one. Then, wait until your familiar appears. The spell was easy, and the components needed to cast the spell were simple. He knew that by casting a ring of salt, the area would be cleansed. He searched for the salt, candles and matches among the rows of shelves that adorned the walls, finding them scattered throughout the workshop.
After gathering them together, he poured the salt out in a circle large enough that not only could he sit in, he would also be able to create the circle of candles. He placed the candles within the circle and then opened the book. He reread the directions, making sure he had everything he needed and he had followed the directions correctly so far.
Picking up the box of twelve-inch matches, he opened it, pulling one out and striking it against the box’s strike plate. He heard the familiar crackle as the spark caught, igniting the match. He worked quickly, lighting the candles before the flame burnt out. When all the candles were lit, he gently blew on the remaining burning portion of the match, placing it on the floor before picking up the grimoire again to read from. He closed his eyes, settled his rapid breathing, and hoped he was doing the right thing. Opening his eyes he began to read the spell, reciting the words written in Latin.
“Audite vocem meam, sicut ego mittitur hoc carmine.
Dico porro, meus familiaris, ut vult, et protege me in mea magicis opus.
Venit ad latus meum, et pignus te ad me idem facere.
Nunc vocare te, ostende te mihi.”
He closed his eyes, trying to picture the type of familiar this powerful magic would produce. Try as he might, every time he attempted to clear his mind, the image of his brother would appear. He shook his head in frustration, irritated with himself and the thought that he would have to perform the spell again when he was able to think clearly. With a sigh, he scrubbed a hand over his mouth and then lean forward to blow out the candles. One by one, he extinguished their flames and then stood, picking up the candles as he went to replace them to where he had found them.
“Well, that was a bust. Either you were screwing with me, Rowena, or I messed up the spell somehow,” he said out loud, hoping he would somehow hear Rowena’s voice again, directing him to another book or spell, something, anything. When nothing more happened, he sighed heavily and then made his way back out to the living room, triggering the release lever, causing the false wall to move back into place, hiding the work room.
Wearily he slumped down onto the couch, flipping through the grimoire, searching for anything that might help him figure out what he might have done wrong when casting the spell. It should have been easy to clear his mind. Frustrated when nothing jumped out at him from the pages, he tossed down the book, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep until he heard Dean’s worried sounding voice calling to him.
“Sammy!” Dean called out as he stepped inside the apartment he had tracked Sam to. He held his gun at the ready as he began to search, in case he needed to protect his brother. Carefully, he peered around the door to see his brother slumped down on the couch. “Sam!” he called again and watched as Sam startled at the sound of his voice.
Sam jolted up from the couch, turning to look at Dean as he walked into the living room, gun in hand. He looked around the living room and then at Dean in shock. “How . . . how did you find me?” he asked as his shock wore off. He knew he hadn’t left Dean the directions on how to find Rowena’s apartment. There was no way for Dean to know where he was.
Dean shook head as he slid his gun into the waistband of his jeans. “I heard your voice calling to me. When I couldn’t find you in the bunker, I got in the car and just started driving. I had just had this feeling. Something . . . something led me here.” Dean looked around the room and then at Sam. “Where the hell is here? Where are we, Sam?”
“Rowena’s apartment. More to the point, Rowena’s magical workshop,” Sam explained.
“You’re here why, exactly?” Dean questioned, eyeing him from head to toe making sure Sam was alright.
“Rowena sent me a package. It contained a letter instructing me to come here. I think . . . I think she somehow passed her magic to me.”
“Okay, so what’s that got to do with anything?” He saw the confusion on Sam’s face. “I mean, what are you doing here, why are you still here?”
“I found her work room hidden behind a false wall. And then I followed her directions in casting a spell.”
“You did what?” Dean asked in astonishment.
“Yeah, I . . . ah . . . I cast a spell to call forth a familiar,” Sam whispered, looking down at his feet and then his head snapped up as he recalled Rowena’s warning of dire consequences for those who entered without the grimoire. The one that had acted as a magical charm, triggering the transfer of magic. Dean had entered the apartment without an issue. That could only mean one thing. Sam took in a stuttered breath, exhaling with a whoosh, “Dean, I think you’re my . . .”
Dean’s eyes widened as Sam’s words registered with him, understanding what Sam was about to say, he cut him off. “No, Sam . . .”
Sam stood staring at Dean, mouth gaping open as he tried to comprehend how this had happened. He had expected a black cat, as cliché as that was, or possibly a dog, to be his familiar, not his own brother. This was something he had never heard of happening. He wondered if Rowena’s magic had anything to do with it.
“So what, you’re a witch and I’m your . . . familiar?” Dean practically spat the word out as he asked his question. “Somehow I what, got nominated for the job?”
Sam shrugged his shoulders as he sat down and opened the grimoire, flipping back to the page containing the spell, “Looks like,” he commented as he scanned the page, confirming he had spoken the right words.
“That ginger bitch, she always did have a sick and twisted sense of humor,” Dean griped.
Sam looked up at him, pulling his eyes away from the grimoire in his hands. “No, Dean, I don’t think so. I think this was her way of always making sure we were together. No matter what, she knew you’d be the only one who could truly protect me. The only one I’d really trust, not some cat or dog.”
Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Dean glared at Sam. “This is so messed up. Rowena had to get the last laugh in, didn’t she!” Dean stood there, staring at Sam. “So, what am I supposed to do, go fetch you some eye of newt, a unicorn horn, or some crazy shit like that?”
Sam threw a bitch face at Dean in annoyance before he took a breath. “No Dean, a familiar is treated as a partner, not a gofer.”
Dean gave him a sceptical look. “Yeah, right,” he spat out. He was angry over this, and right now Sam was the only one he could take it out on. The one he wanted to throttle was dead.
Sam closed his eyes as he tried to figure out a way to explain things to Dean; why this had happened and how Rowena played a part in it. “Dean the role of a familiar is critical to a witch. It's an unbreakable bond. Like the one we already share. I think Rowena understood that. I think she understood the love we have for each other better than anyone else,” Sam explained, trying to soothe his brother’s irritation. He could only imagine how angry Dean was over this. He, himself, had been shocked. Not only were they brothers, they were now forever linked by a magical bond.
“You’ve got to fix this!” Dean bellowed.
Sam flipped through more pages of the grimoire, only to snap the book shut. “I don’t think I can. There’s no spell in there to undo this. It looks like we’re stuck like this.”
“So help me, Sam, if you think I’m going to call you ‘Master’, I’ll beat your ass!” Dean huffed in annoyance.
Sam gave Dean a dimpled grin. “Oh, come on, you might actually enjoy it.”
Dean glared at Sam before he turned and walked out of the apartment, muttering under his breath how he was going to have a seance with Rowena and tell her just what he thought of the situation he and Sam were in now. He stopped long enough to glance over his shoulder to find Sam standing in the doorway of the apartment, looking like Dean had just kicked his puppy. He took a calming breath, reminding himself that this wasn’t exactly Sam’s fault. When Sam had cast the spell, he had no idea this would actually happen. Turning, he gave Sam a smile. “You coming or what?
Hearing Dean’s words, Sam returned the smile. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure if . . .”
Dean held up his hand, cutting Sam off. “Come on, let’s go home and figure this out. So, does this mean we’re immortal?” he asked as he turned and started from the elevator.
All Sam could do was chuckle as he caught up to his brother. “I don’t think it works like that.”
“Whatever,” Dean huffed as he got in the elevator, followed by Sam.
They were silent on the ride down, each eyeing the other, looking to see if somehow they were different now. They parted when they made it to the parking lot, each starting for their respective vehicles.
Feeling tense, Sam was the first to speak. “It might be kinda cool to be immortal,” he admitted as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, kicking his left foot at the pavement as he waited for Dean’s response.
“Now you’re talking, Sammy!” Dean replied with a mischievous grin directed at Sam. He watched as Sam opened the door to the truck before opening his. “Hey,” he called out, getting Sam’s attention. “Whatever happens because of this spell, we’ll figure it out together.”
Sam nodded in agreement, “Yeah, okay, thanks Dean. I’ll meet you back at the bunker.”
“See you at home,” Dean replied as he got into the Impala. He waited until Sam had pulled out of the parking lot before he started the car. “You better have known what you were doing, Rowena. Because, so help me, if he gets hurt, I’ll figure out how to resurrect you just so I can kill you myself,” he said as gave the building one last look from the rear view mirror before starting his drive home.
END
*English to Latin using Yandex Translate:
Hear my voice as I cast this spell.
I call forth my familiar to aide and protect me in my magical work.
Come to my side and pledge yourself to me as I do the same.
I now summon you, reveal yourself to me.