Sam waits until Dean is in his room, and then double checks that his own door his locked before he dials the number; he knows he could go to Dean and tell him just how awful all this makes him feel, and he knows Dean would listen, but Dean can’t get it– through no fault of Dean’s own– and Sam needs to talk to someone who understands the feeling.
“Samuel, how lovely to hear from you,” Rowena’s voice travels through the phone, hazy and velvet, and Sam has never been happier to hear her voice. He can’t be bothered to heed Dean’s warning that she isn’t their friend; right now she’s what he’s got, and he believes in her anger as much as he believes in his own.
“Rowena,” he says, “please tell me that spell worked.”
There is a long pause on the other end of the line, filled with Sam’s hammering heart and the gentle static fuzz, the anticipation, the fear that never goes away, before he practically hears Rowena’s smile along with the words, “Don’t you worry, Sam– I won’t make his death quick.”
Five sentence fic: Sam finds out Lucifer is back and powering up. He doesn’t know who to talk to about what he’s feeling. He calls Rowena.
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