With Rowena comfortably checked in to her underground bed and breakfast, the witch is ready to knuckle down and solve the Winchester's newest potentially world ending conundrum.
Castiel just hopes she's not going to treat him like her own personal bellhop for her entire stay.
Rowena's 'utterly divine' pot of tea turned out to be hexed. Or enchanted. Or otherwise tampered with.
Cas could tell.
Because if it hadn't been, Sam and Mary would never have listened to the witch when she told them to 'Get some rest, dearies. We'll take it from here.'
But the suddenly quite tired humans had nodded agreement and shuffled off toward their respective quarters. Almost as if compelled by some sort of invisible, magical force.
Still, Castiel let them go without protest, seeing as there was no disputing the fact that they did in fact need the rest. Desperately.
The dark circles under their eyes were reaching worrying radius and Cas wasn't interested in seeing just how far they would grow unchecked.
Giving the witch who'd obviously tricked the humans into drinking some sort of sleeping potion a knowing look, one which she simply batted her lashes at in a mockery of feigned innocence, he pointed back to the plans he'd sketched out the night before and began the grueling task of keeping up with the other's arcane computations.
After approximately a half hour spent largely muttering to each other in Vulgar and Late Latin, the witch looked up from the diagram she'd been sketching for the angel's edification and posed a question. In modern English.
"Castiel, is it normative of your kind to rely upon sleep as a source of rejuvenation?" Her casual tone and out of the blue subject throwing Cas for a moment.
"Uh, no, not generally. I've grown rather accustomed to the regenerative few hours every now and again, but other angels consider it not but a 'human waste of time'."
"Hm," the witch said with a nod, looking very much as if she were mulling over something of grave import.
"Has your archangel 'grown accustomed' as well?" The words she eventually landed upon.
"No, he too considers it an activity far, far beneath him," Cas informed, realizing with her slight frown that their consultant was woefully unfamiliar with both the subject and indeed the being she was being asked to consult upon.
"Then why, if I may ask, was he fast asleep when we went to see him earlier?"
"Hm, that would be the exhaustion," said the angel, nod solemn but sure. "You see, it was not long after he posed to Sam his proposition for a vessel of his own, Michael allowed the brothers to speak."
"But that's not possible," the witch protested, voice every inch as incredulous as her expression. "Dean's poor soul's so banged up I don't expect it'd be able to keep his body going on its own. Not without medical intervention."
"That was my assessment as well, but from what Sam relayed to me of the incident, I've ascertained that Michael, essentially, pooled what energy his recovery to that point had afforded him and performed a delicate though risky miracle. But he must have miscalculated the strain it would take on his regenerating system, because he fell asleep soon after and I've not seen him awake since."
"...Well, that certainly clears up a few things," the witch said with a twist of her mouth.
"Speaking of Michael, it's past time he was checked on again," Cas said as the thought belatedly occurred to him, feeling it in his joints when he rose from his seat with a tired upward shove.
"Oh, yes, that's quite a while to leave such an entity unattended," Rowena said as she followed suit. Staying strangely, amicably silent as she walked alongside Castiel out the kitchen, through the halls, and down to the only place inside the bunker with angel warding near as strong as that of the Room itself.
Cas was befuddled though when, just as they'd about arrived, Rowena stepped ahead and stopped between him and the entrance to their medical ward. Giving him an assessing look up and down as she barred his way.
"Isn't it a shame, Castiel, that an angel of your talents would be subject to hours on end inside a working environment as hostile as that?" The woman asked, waving behind herself to indicate Michael's warded lodgings.
"It would be a shame for any angel to be subjected to such against their will, yes, but I have chosen this as the safest and most effective and indeed efficient mode of-"
"Do your hunter friends know how draining it is on you? Or, if they do, do they truly care? Because just a passing whiff of that depleted divinity and I'm worried. About what you're doing to yourself."
The lack of any sign of duplicity on the witch's face had Castiel blinking. Not accustomed to plain speech from the woman. Nor to anything so compassionate as concern, of all things.
"I'll tell you what I've told them, every time they've asked: I'm fine," he promised with a demonstrative shrug. "I wouldn't risk overextending-"
"Oh, but you would, my dear," insisted the witch. "Any one out of the three of you would. Maybe not for your new archangel, but for Dean?" She concluded, head canting in an exaggerated way to one side as she studied the angel.
"You- You mustn't judge them harshly; neither Sam nor Mary possess the insight necessary to assess such unnatural things. They're concerned, and their concern is appreciated, but if I don't give this my all..."
"Dean and the archangel may slip even deeper into their coma," Rowena supplied. To which, Cas gave a nod that he hoped hadn't looked quite so resigned as it'd felt.
"I am the only one of us who can help them to heal. Therefore, I will do what I must and I will do so gratefully and without complaint," Castiel insisted, chin rising in challenge when one corner of the witch's lips curled upwards.
"Well, no matter how 'gratefully' you'd throw yourself once more unto the breach, I'm afraid there's no need. After all, your savior has arrived and your quaint little angel tomb just so happens to have nary an effect on her," the witch boasted with a self-confident raise of one brow.
"Rowena," Cas started with a worn shake of his head, "this is a complicated and delicate process involving both a heavily traumatized human body and soul as well as an angel's battered grace."
"You think I haven't dealt with 'complicated' before?" The woman asked, expression confident as ever.
"I'm just not sure that you understand the gravity and delicacy of the situation," Castiel admitted, keeping his manners in place as much as possible.
"Well, I'm not sure you understand the extent of my abilities," she challenged, eyes flashing with just a hint of indignation. "For example: I can see exactly how this whole mess has effected you and Samuel and his mother and I can tell you for a fact that that level of stress is not sustainable. The three of you would've burnt yourselves out if you'd kept on the way you were."
"We didn't have much of a choice," the angel informed, feeling his proverbial feathers ruffled at the judgmental tone.
"No, you've had choices," insisted the witch. "Me, for example," she said with a wave at her snappy, shimmering vestments. "You could've called me from the beginning. Or at least before the three of you near keeled over from pure pigheaded stubbornness."
"That's uncalled for," Cas insisted, his disquiet deepening at the criticism.
"No, Castiel, what's uncalled for is the way you martyrs are comfortable treating yourselves," the witch said with a shake of her head. "I mean, working yourselves half to death, watching one of your own waste away under angelic possession, all because you still can't bring yourselves to trust me?"
The look of hurt that flitted unbidden across the woman's colorful face had Castiel moving to refute the allegation, but his mouth stuck where it was when he realized that, at least in his case, Rowena was absolutely right. In fact, after all they'd been through, Cas doubted he'd ever be ready to truly trust the woman.
He gave her a defeated shrug in answer.
"Well, at least you're being honest with yourself now," Rowena said with a prim readjusting of her shoulders. "And, tell the truth, I can't blame you for the lack of faith. I'll be the first to admit, I've given you plenty reason over the years. But my point stands: You three need me and it's a good thing you called when you did. Now, be a dear and let me handle this round."
Then, without so much as a backward glance, the witch whisked herself around, blew on through the medical ward, and disappeared into the angel warded tent. Leaving Cas with nothing to do but pull up the least uncomfortable chair he could find and settle himself for what would likely prove an uncomfortable, long wait.
Oh my gosh, Rowena cares? About Castiel?! If that's not out of character, I don't know what is! XD
Next chapter will once again feature our favorite Scottish witch as well as a certain recovering archangel!
P.S. Thanks so much for reading! I hope that everyone out there is doing well and that this update was able to help brighten your day just that little bit! :D