Rowena receives a call from a certain number that only ever rings when there's trouble. Why she doesn't just let it go to voicemail is a mystery she'll never unravel.
Also, sorry, forgot to mention that the incident Castiel and Sam told Mary about last chapter was the main plot of ep 11, s 12 titled Regarding Dean. It's an amazing episode, by the way. I highly recommend it if you're in the mood for having your heartstrings tugged on!
As she approached her front door, key and take away coffee in hand, Rowena took a moment to assess her day and mused that it'd been a good one. All things considered.
She'd started it off with a perfectly fried egg in a basket, followed by a relaxing post breakfast hour or so of tidying and magical home defense reinforcing. Then, fancying a walk about the sleepy little town she currently called home, hoping to give her new shoes a good breaking in, the witch had grabbed her purse, said a quick UV repellent spell, and been on her way.
Cutting through the little alley that separated her apartment building from the quaint, homey trailer park next door, Rowena smiled as every few steps brought with them the unmistakable crunch of glass being crushed underfoot.
It was really the feel of it more than the sound. Reminded her of Glasgow. Back before the city'd implemented basic sanitation protocols. And installed some bloody public rubbish bins.
Passing the perpetually uninteresting corner mart and taking the road to the outskirts of her semi-pastoral town, Rowena perked at the sounds that met her under-stimulated ears: the roar, rumble, and blat of at least a dozen large bore engines. All headed in the same direction.
Only a short minute later and she'd gotten herself within sight of the local dive bar, the main building of which sat neatly in the crook of a charming dirt crossroads, its quaint excuse for a parking lot newly spotted in large motorcycles parked alongside the normal clientele's dusty pickup trucks and old, nearly maintained muscle cars. Leather clad cyclists disembarking their faithful cromed and stainless steel steeds for the tempting invitation of a cold drink.
Standing across the way, enjoying the admittedly rather exciting view, Rowena'd spotted something quite unexpected sneaking in the swinging front doors, right on the heels of the town's visiting bike enthusiast club: a demon. The interloper easy to pick out for his completely commonplace attire, against the novel style of dress of the far more heavily muscled and tanned group. Outfitted as they were with their matching tasseled leather vests and large sparkling spurs and belt buckles.
And besides, even without the charred and blackened aura the fiend was positively oozing, Rowena had no trouble recognizing the look of a heartless bastard on the hunt for trouble. So, feeling rather generous that fine day, the witch swept in after the slinking cur, easily diverted his attention away from the bar full of clueless potential targets, and duped him into taking her up on a sporting 'hand or two' of poker.
Before the gaggle of motor enthusiasts had even ordered their second round of spirits, she'd won off the black eyed devil a small wooden box of Kennedy era Cuban cigars, a sachet stuffed to the brim with an astronomical number of genuine Ute peyote buttons, and one monkeys paw guaranteed good for three more wishes.
The way the demon'd fumed and demanded a chance to win back his 'goods' after every big stakes hand was entertaining in and of itself, but the real fun of their little game?
The fool'd been too busy losing to a wee, fresh-faced lass to notice said lass had been whispering a nasty little exorcism since they'd put up heir first antes.
By the time he had noticed, it was too late.
The cad was gagging on his own smoke before he'd even reached for the pigsticker 'hidden' at the back of his waistband.
One halfhearted shout of, "Oh my word, this man is choking!", and the bar was in enough of a tizzy that her spoils were slipped inside her purse and Rowena was slipped back out into the now fairly cloudy day. Intent on enjoying the rest of her walk.
Figuring she ought to save the cigars, psychoactive dried cactus, and cursed primate hand for some good trades down the road, she'd made a quick detour and dropped the illegal, controlled, and flea bitten things off at one of her magical accoutrements caches and been on her way.
Strangely, things hadn't gone downhill from there. Instead, the shoes she'd been out on a walk hoping to break in never even threatened to give her blisters, the eventual light rain hadn't made her hair frizz, and the new coffee shop she'd decided to give a shot had a pair of strapping barista she was definitely coming back to order from again.
Just as soon as she got her hands on a little more cash. So she could afford to tip the two the sort of money they so clearly deserved.
And then there was the fact that, since she'd moved into her one bedroom slice of heaven, she'd not been bothered nor threatened by even one disgruntled witch or warlock who inexplicably wanted her dead. And she'd been living out of the same flat for well over a month.
So it was with a feeling of accomplishment and a self-satisfied smile that she pushed open her door, walked over her enchanted threshold, and breathed in the smell of a well lived-in domicile.
And then her accursed phone had to ruin the moment with a banshee loud wail for attention. A wail which repeated ad nauseum as she hurried to set down her take away cup so that she could dig to the bottom of her purse for the blasted, screaming, vibrating thing.
The moment she had the phone out in the open she accepted the call and pressed the speaker to her ear.
"Samuel, it's been far too long, dear," she said as soon as the lines were connected. "Tell me, what problems of world ending magnitude do you need me to solve for you this time?"
"Hi, Rowena, uh, listen," requested a voice somehow lacking even its usual gossamer thin thread of confidence, "we were hoping you were available to consult on a project. You see, there's this... problem- uh, a magic problem, or more like a puzzle, maybe, and-"
"It's Dean," the voice of Castiel blurted, cutting off the Winchester before he'd even had a chance to finish his opening statement.
"Oh, and what sort of trouble has the endearing lump gotten himself into since last we spoke?" Rowena asked, just a tad surprised when she caught herself hoping it wasn't anything too serious.
"He is possessed by the archangel Michael," Cas, again, said before his tall friend could get a word in edgewise.
"Oh?" She prodded, not liking the sound of that one bit. Nor the way her skin had threatened to crawl at the mere mention of the heavenly scourge. The closest living equivalent to a certain evil entity she was not suddenly checking the corners for.
"Yes, but that's not what we've called about," the angel continued.
"No?" The witch prompted, forcing her shoulders to relax at the inadvertent reassurance.
"No. You see, Michael —not our world's; the one from Apocalypse World— has essentially been imprisoned within Dean who in turn has imprisoned himself within a ma'lak box that we call the Room. Michael recently grew restless and desperate enough that he gravely injured the both of them in a bid to force us to remove them from the Room. After his gambit proved successful, he proposed to Sam, his favored among us, an alternative arrangement: Bind him to another vessel, seal his destructive powers, and allow him to live a peaceful, free life."
"...And you believe him? That he's turned a new leaf and is willing to live under those conditions?" Asked the witch, all dubiousness and raised eyebrows. And only barely elevated heart rate.
"Weirdly enough," came again the unmistakable voice of Samuel Winchester, "I do. Believe him. He hates the Room bad enough that he'd do just about anything to not have to live in there anymore. We have him sigil bound to a hospital bed with exactly zero escape attempts to prove it too."
"He hasn't attempted to kill any of you? Aside from poor Dean, of course?" The witch asked, eyebrows furrowing at the terrible thought.
"Yeah, the weird thing about that is, he was actually protecting Dean. It was like he was trying to smite only himself, but couldn't keep Dean from getting hurt in the process," Sam supplied, voice both impressed yet unspeakably sad.
"So you're telling me an archangel grew a conscience and that you'd like to reward that turn of heart with a body all his own?" Rowena clarified, not sure she had the story straight just yet.
"Yes," came a jumble of voices, bouncing off each other and echoing through her speaker as if through some sort of tunnel.
"And where do I supposedly come into this diverting fairy tale?" Asked the witch whose curiosity had finally banished the last of her unease.
"We were hoping that you could come in and consult on-"
"I need your help with preparing Michael's new vessel," Castiel said, once again cutting off the hapless hunter. "The necessary spellwork is proving too advanced."
After a careful moment of consideration, Rowena double checked that the handheld device's microphone was at optimal distance and posed the most important question available to a woman in her rather unique position.
"What's in it for me?"
"Uh, we have relics and- and stores of magical artifacts and-"
"And cash. Untraceable."
Liking the way the angel was thinking, the witch moved a lock of hair out of her face with a small flip of her head and offered in her most professional voice, "I'll be there first thing in the morning."
"Thank you. We will have lodgings and payment prepared. We anxiously await your arrival."
And at the sound of an argument blooming to life on the other end of the line, the call was terminated and Rowena was left as befuddled as she'd ever been following a call from the Winchesters. Or their angel, for that matter.
But, reminding herself that she had a plane to catch, the Scott simply gave a disapproving tut and stowed her phone. Then she hung her purse from its hook by the door and made for her overnight bag. Knowing she had plenty for her little trip already packed and tucked away for just such a rainy day.
Haha, good old Rowena, ready to help whenever the call comes knocking! XD
Next chapter will feature a well rounded ensemble of Castiel, Sam, Mary, Rowena, and maybe even a sneak peek at the angelic reason for her visit!