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—---------------------------------
There’s a sharp knock on the bunker door.
Dean glances up at Sam who stops working on his laptop and frowns, confirming that they weren’t expecting anyone. So Dean hops up from the library table, jogs up the steps, and whips open the bunker door.
“Rowena?!”
She pushes past him in her usual way, quickly coming down the stairs all while speaking rapid-fire. “Hello, good to be back amongst the living and all. I assume you heard I died? Shut your mouth, dearie.”
Sam nods numbly from where he’s stood up as Dean closes his mouth.
“Hmm, well, Lucifer may have thought he took care of me, but he’s certainly dumber than he looks.”
“And how exactly did you survive?” asks Sam, pulling out a chair for her as Rowena sets her bag on the library table.
She smirks. “A spell of my own devising.”
Dean catches up. “This wouldn’t happen to be the same spell you gave to Ketch, now would it?”
Rowena’s cheery demeanor slips for a moment, then is back again. “Oh, so he died too?”
Sam clears his throat. “Yeah, he was shot.”
“He’ll be looking for me, then.”
“Yup, was torturing a bunch of witches to find you not a couple weeks ago,” Dean supplies.
Rowena frowns. “Such a terrible boy.”
Sam shifts his weight. “So…not that we’re not glad to see you alive and all, just wondering why you’re here?”
“I’m looking for Fergus. I’ve tried calling him, even went down to Hell only to be told by some fellow with an awful accent that he’s gone. But I just don’t believe that’s true. What a stupid thing to call yourself, a ‘Prince of Hell’. Clearly Fergus was ousted and is hiding until he can gather his forces. I thought perhaps he might be here with you lot trying to lick his wounds and regrow his ego.”
When Sam and Dean are silent for a long moment, she prompts, “Samuel?”
Sam and Dean exchange a look. Then Sam swallows hard before saying, “He, uh…Crowley didn’t make it back.”
“He what?” Rowena’s face and voice do something ugly and Dean winces.
“He sacrificed himself for us. To keep Lucifer from coming back through a rift to an alternate dimension.”
Rowena is quiet for a long moment, her face bowed. Her shoulders shake a little, and Dean shifts uncomfortably, torn between offering comfort and fleeing. When she looks up, her eyes are red and her lips pursed. “Do you have a room I could collect myself in?”
“Of course,” says Sam quickly, then gestures toward the hallway leading to the dormitories. “The third one on the left is free. Take all the time you need. We have coffee if you want some. Tea, too.”
Rowena just nods, then turns and leaves the room. Sam and Dean go to the library to give her time in her room
Thirty minutes later and Dean is about to ask if they should check on her, or at least send Cas, when Rowena marches in, purple energy crackling, a familiar black book clutched in one arm.
Sam and Dean jump up from where trying to figure out how to bring Jack and Mary home.
“Rowena?” asks Sam, concerned.
“Woah, touch a plasma ball or something?” Dean quips, then leaps back when a bolt of the purple electricity snaps at him. “What the hell? Watch out!”
She focuses on Dean. “You took Fergus from me, deranged him like you did that angel. Now you’ll know the pain of losing the one you love most.”
Rowena then screams something, purple energy goes toward Sam and hits him in the chest, throwing his giant moose body backward.
Rowena smoke bombs the room and vanishes before Dean can grab a firearm.
Dean runs to Sam, shakes him, gently taps his cheek.
“Sammy?”
—---------------------------------
“CAS!” Dean shouts, cradling Sam in his arms. “HELP!”
When there’s no sight of a trenchcoat, Dean reluctantly leaves Sam, gently putting him back down onto the floor, and runs up the stairs to the rooftop garden Cas tends to whenever he’s at the bunker. He finds Cas sunning himself, shirt off next to the apple tree saplings. What should be a fun moment to be voyeuristic – to appreciate the glow on Cas’ skin almost like a halo, how breathtaking he is – is instead a moment of terror and fear. Cas turns to him and sees his face, must have heard him on the stairs.
“What is it, Dean? What’s wrong?”
Cas spends a few long moments with his hand over Sam’s body, his palm lightly glowing blue.
“Can you mojo him back?”
Cas opens his eyes as his hand de-powers and lowers. “I’m sorry, but this is a very dark and resistant spell.”
“Is he at least going to live?”
“He is,” Cas confirms. “His heart and lungs are functioning fine, and I’ve set a stasis field up around him to ensure he does not starve or soil himself.”
A tiny sigh of relief. “And then?”
With another look at Sam, Cas just shakes his head. “It feels like it needs some kind of connection to break, but I don’t know enough witchcraft to be certain or even know what kind of connection is required. This is something out of my depth, I’m sorry.”
Dean presses. “You don’t know, or your angel powers just aren’t strong enough to know?”
A slightly hurt expression fleetingly crosses Cas’ face, then vanishes. “I do not believe even if I were at full strength that I could do anything more than I’ve already done.”
Accepting him at his word, Dean gets Cas to help him carry Sam to his room. They place him down on his bed, and Dean gently arranges his limbs so he looks more comfortable, even though he knows Sam won’t know that he’s done it.
“Guess you get a rest, Sleeping Beauty.”
Then they ransack the library searching for anything that mentions purple energy and curses like what’s affecting Sam, Dean trying to remember if there were any other relevant details. Cas says they probably need the Grimoire at least twice before Dean tells him to shut up and keep looking. He tries writing down whatever Rowena had screamed a few times, but then gives up, hoping his memory will be better if he stops fixating on it, but knowing that’s unlikely.
After a few hours of searching, Dean goes to get a beer and Cas follows him to the kitchen.
“We aren’t likely to find anything unless we know exactly what she’s done to Sam. It’s like searching for a disease without knowing the symptoms.”
Dean pops the cap off and drinks half the bottle in one swig. “Yeah, I know.”
Cas shifts uncertainty on his feet. Dean knows that move.
“What?”
“It may be prudent to call in someone for help.”
“Who?” Dean scoffs. “We’ve killed pretty much every witch we’ve come across. And those we haven’t aren’t exactly fans.”
Cas squints. “What about Max Barnes? His mother and sister were witches.”
“Hmm,” says Dean, considering. “You might be right. He’s not likely to be allied with Rowena and he’s the only person with any knowledge of witches we know who we haven’t ganked lately.” Dean takes another long drink and nods decisively. “Okay, let’s give him a call.”
—---------------------------------
It takes Max two days to reach them, as he’s on a hunt on the other side of the country. When he does finally make it through their front door, the library table is so covered in books that the table itself is no longer visible. Cas had taken to categorizing books based upon the primary sort of magic so that when Max gave them a better idea of what they were facing, they could immediately cure Sam. Dean had spent half his time helping Cas, and the other drinking, sitting at Sam’s beside and murmuring to him, and sleeping when he felt like he no longer could stand to be awake any longer.
Max sets up some herbs and stuff around Sam and gently chants, then the room lights up in a soft green glow, then goes dark, the herbs incinerated.
“What the hell was that?” demands Dean, confused.
“It’s an information spell.” Max picks up an herb. “This helps me know what is ailing Sam and what can be done about it.”
“I thought your mom and sister were the witches, not you.”
Max swallows. “Turns out you can learn to be a witch. And after they died, I felt like it was my job to keep up the family business. You know what that’s like.”
Cas pipes up. “Has it been difficult to learn?”
“Without making a demon deal for my magic, yeah.” Max pauses for a moment, seems to start a thought, but then changes his mind and finishes with, “Because besides that and being born a witch, there’s not much else you can do but painstakingly learn.”
“Well, what did the spell say?”
“The spell Rowena used requires familial love to break. And if it’s not broken in another five days, Sam will be like this forever.”
“You can fix him though, right?”
Max shakes his head. “No, familial love. Means it has to come from someone who loves Sam like a brother.”
Dean looks over at Cas, but Max interrupts before he can say anything. “Nope, he won’t do. I’m not entirely sure how angel power works, but I do know it won’t apply in this situation. You have to be the one to fix Sam.”
“God damn it.” Dean grimaces. “I’m gonna hafta become a witch, aren’t I.”
—---------------------------------
Max makes it just under three days with them before he gives up on Dean.
“You’re too emotional! Remember what I said? Emotions matter. If you approach a spell with anything but peace and confidence in your heart, it won’t work, particularly this countercurse.”
“What, is this the Force and I’m Anakin?” Dean looks down at his bowl of spell ingredients and the piece of parchment beside it and snickers.
Max blinks at him. “Uh, sort of, yeah.”
“We’re down to just two more days and I haven’t made any progress, so of course I’m going to be feeling frustrated and worried. What do you expect?” asks Dean, wanting to throw his hands up and walk away, but seeing Sam just over Max’s shoulder, he knows there’s no way he can.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Dean, but I don’t think you’ll make it in time.”
Dean grits his teeth. “I’m not giving up. We still have time. I can make myself emotionless.”
Max just shakes his head. “The thing is, I don’t think you can. Besides, I’ve stayed too long – there’s something I really need to take care of elsewhere that I’ve left too long.”
And no matter how much pleading or begging Dean does, Max leaves him and Cas, acting a bit cagey the entire time he’s packing up.
“Well, that’s going to be something we’re gonna need to investigate at some point.”
“Indeed,” replies Cas, the first words he’s spoken in some time since Max’s arrival and subsequent efforts at teaching Dean how to use magic.
Dean scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. “Just you and me now, huh. Got any ideas on how to make me emotionless enough to get this stupid stuff to glow?”
“I believe your fear of the time limit is what is keeping you from being calm.”
“Can’t exactly forget the giant ticking clock over Sammy right now.”
“No, but perhaps if you meditated or did yoga –”
“No.” Dean cuts Cas off firmly. “I’m not a hippy.”
“And some sort of relaxation drug would not be passable?”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Again, not a hippy.”
Cas frowns. “The type of control required for this spell may not be possible for you to achieve.”
“Wow, way to have some faith in me. You and Max both suck at being supportive..”
“You likely need rest, Dean.”
Dean tries not to blow up at Cas because that would only prove his point. “Cas, this isn’t going to work with you trying to ‘motivate’ me and me trying to get this dumb bowl of plant stuff to glow like Rapunzel’s hair from Tangled. Unless I can ‘sing the song’ just right, ain’t gonna happen.”
“Then perhaps it would be better if I returned to the library and kept researching familial spells and how to break them. Since it seems like I am not helping here.”
“Yeah, sounds like a good plan,” agrees Dean, then goes back to trying to calm himself, ignoring the disappointed and frustrated air that Cas leaves behind as he heads back to the library.
—---------------------------------
With just under 24 hours left, Dean finally taps into the right feeling.
It’s really the exhaustion that does it. He’s so tired he lets himself not be afraid or angry or terrified for a moment, and the plants glow faintly yellow. The shout he lets out draws Cas in. Of course, the glow is gone by the time Cas shows up, but he’s able to describe the place he sort of went to mentally well enough for Cas to suggest how he can get there again.
From then on, the plants glow a few more times, but nowhere as bright as Max’s or Rowena’s magic. Dean knows the brightness of the glow matters, that it needs to be blinding if they are going to save Sam.
“I guess I’m just a shit witch, huh.”
“You’re not, Dean. Magic is difficult and you are quite stressed.”
“Sure doesn’t seem difficult when someone like Rowena does it,” grouses Dean, knowing he’s getting out of the good headspace, but needing a moment to bitch.
“If Rowena tried to hunt like you do, she would be quite awkward and probably fail. It’s something you learn and spend time getting at. And Rowena has had plenty of time to practice – more than most. You are being forced to work advanced spellwork without even a beginner’s baseline.”
“I know, it just feels like I’m failing Sam so much right now, you know?”
“You’re not, Dean. Nothing could be further from the truth.” Cas walks over and gently places a hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezes, the warm happy feeling he gets when Cas does this growing in Dean and he has to close his eyes against it because it’s too good, too wonderful. He’s so tired, so worn down by trying so hard, and it’s so good to have Cas here with him, even if he’s been a dick to him this week, because without him, there’s no way he could manage to keep summoning the strength to push his love for Sam forward over and over and into the plants. It would be easy to just push his love for Cas there, too, would be so easy to maybe–
Cas gasps and Dean opens his eyes to find the flower and plant bits glowing the brightest they have been yet.
“What the hell?”
Cas removes his hand and the glow fades. “What were you thinking of right now?”
Dean prevaricates. “Just, uh, just that I’m glad I’ve got you here to deal with this with me. Could be doing this all alone, you know.”
“You were thinking of me?”
“Er, yes?”
“In what way?”
Dean panics. “The usual way. You know, like how I see you as a brother.”
Cas’ eyes narrow. “It would appear that your familial love for Sam can be boosted by familial love for others.” There’s a bitter edge to Cas’ voice, but before Dean can comment on it, Cas just nods. “I believe you know what you must do now.”
And then he exits Sam’s room hastily, leaving a confused Dean in his wake.
—---------------------------------
Figuring out how to make the ingredients glow brighter turns out to be only half of the battle. The spell apparently also requires a certain amount of energy from the caster – Dean manages a few more glows before passing out and nearly spilling everything. He’s more careful after that, putting the bowl on a little table within an arm’s length.
But as the hours drag on and the glow doesn’t intensify any despite his lip splitting spontaneously and one of his eyes going bloodshot, Dean starts to worry that maybe Max was right about him not making it in time.
He makes a quick trip to the bathroom and the kitchen for water, then hunkers down again in Sam’s room. His watch says he has only six and a half hours left. Dean sighs, scrubbing his hands over his face.
So the ingredients glow when he thinks of Cas and how much Cas has helped him and how much he appreciates Cas being in his life. Maybe he just needs to think of everyone else in his life who has been there for him.
Dean closes his eyes, trying to center his mind like Max taught him, trying to filter out anything that isn’t here and now. Then he focuses on all of the people he can think of who have been vital to him in one way or another, starting with those like Kevin and Charlie and going to Bobby and even sometimes Meg and Crowley.
But when he cracks open his good eye to see how bright the bowl’s glow has gotten, he finds it dark.
“Fuck!” he swears, opening both eyes and huffing in frustration. “What is it? What do I need to do?”
The metal bowl mocks him with its silence.
Dean stands up and paces around. It’s been almost a half hour since he was able to get any activity on the ingredients. So, either he’s running out of gas – which given how weak his legs feel right now might be a real possibility – or he’s doing it wrong.
He falls back down onto the chair and puts his palm to his forehead. The beginning of a headache is pressing on his temples. How is he supposed to concentrate like this, all alone and frustrated? Dean wishes Cas would come back, but he’s off in the library being huffy for some reason.
Unbidden, the image of Cas on the rooftop returns to Dean’s mind. He’d looked so ethereal, otherworldly up there. Somehow, being shirtless had made him seem more approachable than ever. Dude was already practically naked whenever he took off the trenchcoat, so seeing him without a shirt had been something else. Wouldn’t it have been so nice had things been different if Dean could have joined Cas up there, helped him tend to the various herbs Dean had insisted they needed for cooking, the giant purple coneflowers that Cas had planted for pollinators? Instead, he’s here in Sam’s room, staring at a bowl of chopped salad and hoping it will light up.
It would be laugh-worthy, his life, if it wasn’t so fucking stupid.
Dean glares at the bowl, his expression softening as he looks beyond it at Sam. He gets up from the chair and walks over to the bedside, checking once again to make sure Sam is breathing and doesn’t look like he’s in any kind of pain.
“What are we gonna do, Sam? What am I gonna do?”
Sam helpfully says nothing.
“Cas keeps trying and here I am, messing it all up per usual. Think I hurt the dude’s feelings earlier and I don’t even know why. I do that a lot, don’t I? Hurt him when I don’t mean to.”
Dean pats Sam’s shoulder. “I’m hurting you, too. By not figuring this out. Too bad it’s not role reversal, because you’d have this figured out in a minute. But I guess Rowena knew that, didn’t she. Had to make us pay. Because we took away someone she loved. Despite all the shit she constantly gave Crowley and he gave her, they did love each other deeply. Guess it goes to show you can really hurt someone and still care about them and…wait a second.”
Mind whirring, Dean spins around to look at the bowl. Could it be that simple?
He walks over to the table and spins the bowl holding the spell ingredients around. Then Dean takes in a deep inhale, then lets it out slowly.
So, he loves Sam, there’s no question about that. He loves him, but maybe it’s okay if he loves other people as much. People like Mom. And Donna and Jody. And Benny. And Charlie. And Claire. And Bobby. And…
All while he’s thinking this, the ingredients are glowing, brighter and brighter. Dean’s heart skips a beat in excitement. But the glow isn’t quite maximized, and Sam isn’t exactly waking up. The glow is brighter than it’s ever been but he knows he has to give just a little more.
There’s really only one other person in Dean’s life that he loves as much as Sam. And he’s been so afraid to admit it to himself, so afraid. He can’t admit it. Doesn’t dare admit it. Admitting that would be too scary, too much.
The growing glow in the plant bits starts to fizzle, so Dean pushes through.
He does love Cas. Capital L loves him. Has for a long time, but has kept it at bay, been too chicken shit to do anything about it. And now, for the first time, he really lets himself feel it, lets himself be awash in the joy and bliss of loving someone else so much that it fills you up.
The resulting glow is blinding, and Dean has to shut his eyes and throw a hand over them as he finally speaks his truth and lets it out into the world for better or worse.
Blinking, trying to get his eyesight back, Dean completely misses the fact that Sam is awake again until he hears a raspy, “Dean?”
Dean rushes over to Sam. “Sammy?”
“What happened?” asks Sam, trying to sit up.
“No, don’t do that yet. You’ve been asleep for like a whole week, not moving.”
Sam listens, letting his head fall back onto the pillow. “A week?”
“Yeah, Rowena whammied you. In a few more hours it would have been permanent. Sleeping Beauty forever.”
Glancing around the room, Sam refocuses on Dean. “How’d you fix it?”
“Er, managed to get help from Max to reverse things.”
“Where is he? I want to thank him.”
“He actually left a couple days ago. Turns out I’m frustrating to teach.”
Sam laughs. “Yeah, I could have told him that. Wait, teach? He taught you to do spellwork?”
“Maybe,” admits Dean reluctantly.
“You had to become a witch to save me, didn’t you?” Sam’s tone is teasing, but his face is surprised.
“I didn't become anything, okay.” Dean shifts on his feet. “Besides, the spell had to be completed by someone with familial love, so you know, not really many options there.”
“You totally are witch material now!”
“Just be glad I didn’t have to kiss you or something to make you wake up.”
That shuts Sam up immediately. “Ugh, yeah.”
“And now if you annoy me, I have a way to get you to leave me alone.”
Sam rolls his eyes.
Slipping into caretaker mode, Dean says, “Let me get you some water. I bet you’re thirsty.”
Dean tries not to dwell on exactly why the spell worked while he retrieves the water, alerting Cas to Sam’s wakefulness on the way, pleased to see the two most important people to him both okay when he returns to Sam’s room.
—---------------------------------
Max has a surprise of his own when Dean calls to update him. A day later he brings Rowena to them, completely drained, Grimoire in tow.
When she sees Sam sitting at the library table, the same chair in which he’d been a week earlier before she’d cursed him into oblivion, she stops walking immediately, her mouth gaping open in shock.
“Samuel? But how?” she asks as Max hands the Grimoire over to them.
Everyone looks at Dean, who just shrugs.
“But you’re too emotionally constipated to have fixed him. How did you find a way around the countercurse?”
“Didn’t,” says Dean, proudly. “Fixed him all up myself.”
Max guides Rowena to a chair and gestures. “Go on, tell them what you told me.”
Rowena looks very small in that moment, a strange thing because for a woman with as small of stature as she has, Dean would never previously have called her small.
“I was wrong. And I’m sorry.”
Cas raises an eyebrow, while Sam looks at her consideringly. Dean purses his lips.
“You lot weren’t to blame for what happened. My grief was blinding and I was angry. I wanted you to feel the pain I was feeling, I was angry that Dean had caused my Fergus to feel so acutely that he was willing to sacrifice himself for you both and the world. I wanted you to know that family can stab you in the heart and leave you bleeding out the way it has for me.”
Dean laughs. Everyone turns to look. “You didn’t need to curse Sam for me to know that. We all know that better than pretty much anyone in the world.”
“Hmm, I suppose.” Rowena frowns. “But I am still shocked that you were able to stop being so repressed long enough to work any magic at all.”
“Don’t underestimate me when it comes to my family, lady.”
“Still, the countercurse requires familial love to start, which I knew you would readily admit to, but the additional love that needed to be recognized and spoken for the true power of the spell to work, that I truly believed would be beyond you.”
Dean shifts uncomfortably in his seat as everyone looks at him with varying degrees of understanding on their face.
“Bravo to you for admitting how you feel about everyone in your life. You’ll make a fine witch yet. Perhaps I could give lessons to you and Samuel.”
Huffing a sarcastic laugh, Dean gets up from the table. “Yeah, right. Well, if we’re all done with the feelings part of this discussion, I have some dishes to clean in the kitchen before making dinner. You’re saying to eat, right Max?”
And although he thinks he makes a smooth exit, he can still feel Cas’ eyes following him the whole way.
—---------------------------------
Dean finds himself in Cas’ garden instead of the kitchen, as there were no dirty dishes to be found in the kitchen (no doubt Cas had already gotten to them), and he needed some fresh basil for the dish he had planned. But instead of grabbing the basil and heading back in, he sits down on the bench he’d built Cas after seeing him sitting on the concrete admiring his garden one too many times. He looks over the garden, at the saplings that Cas had grabbed during walks in the wood because they would have been shaded out and died, all the flowers he’d planted from native seed mixes for pollinators, and of course his herb plants for jujuing up pizza night.
Cas finds him weeding around the oregano a few minutes later.
“All plants are good, Dean. None can really be classified as weeds.”
“I know, but we do want oregano at some point, right? Because this dandelion is going to choke it out soon if I don’t get it now.”
Cas seems to accept his logic, because he sits down on the bench and closes his eyes and lets the sun hit his face. Dean joins him on the bench, but can’t help but stare. Cas has always been beautiful to him in a manly way, but now that he’s allowed himself to really look, Cas is gorgeous. His face is handsome in a way Dean has rarely admitted to himself that men can be, and it’s more than that – there’s a whole being under that face, within that body, that is the most beautiful thing he’s ever known, that he’s lucky to have gotten to know.
Cas slowly blinks his eyes open and shifts his gaze to Dean who does not look away. Something of his inner thoughts must be written on his face, because Cas’ face softens.
“Oh.”
“Oh what?”
“It wasn’t just familial love you felt that made that spell work. What Rowena was talking about – you speaking the truth of other love you feel in your life – it was more than just the love of a brother.”
“Yeah. It, uh…” But so many years of keeping it quiet still weigh heavily on Dean and he can’t get the words out. So he just ends up kissing Cas.
From there comes more kissing and a little bit of grinding (doesn’t quite lead to anything just yet, this thing is too new for them, so kissing and a little body pressing is enough for now, plus the bench is an uncomfortable place to have sex), flushed faces, happiness, too. Dean ends up holding Cas’ hand and doesn’t even comment on how girly it is.
“You were afraid of this. Why?”
Dean laughs a little. “You were afraid, too.”
“Yes, I was. When I first began to feel things, I knew what I felt for you, whether because of our bond or not, was deeper than anything I could have felt for anyone else. But you kept calling me your brother or implying your feelings for me were simply familial, so I remained quiet.”
“And I was a giant chicken who didn’t want to scare you off. But, now,” Dean croons, “I put a spell on you and now you’re mine. You can’t stop the things I do, I ain’t lyin’”
“You haven’t enspelled anyone, Dean.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Dean snuggles closer. “Love saved the day, and magic was involved. And had I not made some actual magic, the metaphorical sort might not be on the table. Pretty sure I enspelled you.”
And Cas just rolls his eyes and leans in for another kiss.