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“I don’t like this.”
“So you’ve said.”
Castiel stares up at Sam’s restless figure out of the corner of her eyes so as to not be caught staring. She’s striking as always without trying to be. Her long brown hair is tied back in its usual french braid with a few rebellious strands pulled loose, framing her pensive face in the dim light of the streetlamp. She’s not as confident as she’s pretending to be. That’s what Castiel doesn’t understand. Why take the risk? She could drive them back to the bunker now and find a better solution to this witch problem elsewhere if only Sam weren’t so stubborn.
If her wings weren’t useless, Castiel could fly them back in an instant. Not that Sam would appreciate that any more than her many protests on the long drive over. Castiel sighs and resigns herself to keeping stride with the tall hunter in her once-white heels, just as stubbornly loyal as Sam is determined.
Above them, a relentless torrent of rain pounds against their shared umbrella, soaking the back of Sam’s old hunting jacket and Castiel’s trenchcoat. Because on top of everything else, it’s raining.
By the time the two of them sneak their way into the service stairwell of the grandiose downtown apartment building, Castiel is practically glowering—in “full wet cat mode” as Claire likes to say. She certainly feels like a wet cat in this instance, and not just because of the cold autumn rain weighing her clothes down.
Silently, they climb the stairs until they reach Level 13. How apt. Sam opens the door for her, ushering a reluctant Castiel to follow. At the end of a long black-and-white tiled hallway lies the very doorway she’d been dreading, and it’s at this point that she halts again.
“I don’t like it because this is Rowena,” Castiel clarifies. “The last time you saw her, she conned you into giving her a spell to make herself even more powerful, and that’s not mentioning that she was already strong enough to come back from the dead twice and turn me into an attack dog with a few words. And now you want to—,”
“Again, I wasn’t conned into anything,” Sam explains patiently. “I gave her that page out of the Black Grimoire because I wanted to. It’s… personal.”
Castiel furrows her brows, hurt. She stays where she is, dripping a puddle in the empty hallway.
Sam turns back with pleading eyes.
“Cas,” she sighs. “I’m doing this with or without you, but I’d rather have you. Please. For Jack.”
Castiel flinches at the mention of her son’s name. Of course, he’s the only reason she’s here at all. The only reason why she’d entertained the idea of driving eight hours south in her old yellow beetle (what Dean calls “the love bug”) to the home of a witch who’s double-crossed them several times over. Rowena is the absolute antithesis to what Castiel stands for. She’s a power-hungry loner out for herself, willing to screw over any friend or ally just to get the tiniest edge over her enemies, of which she has many. Why Sam thinks her help is more valuable than that of any other witch is beyond Cas, but she’s right about one thing.
They’re doing this for Jack.
For Jack. It’s the perfect thing to say to get Castiel’s feet inching forwards again. Sam smiles apologetically as they reach the door together.
“Sorry, Cas. I know this isn’t your favorite plan, but I really think this spell is our best shot at finding him,” Sam fidgets with the ends of her sleeves. “And for what it’s worth, I do trust her. And you. I mean, you’ll be there the whole time, right?”
“Of course,” Castiel agrees immediately. The thought of leaving Sam alone for a second in this place is abhorrent to her.
Sam smiles in that terribly endearing way of hers and rings the doorbell.
The two stand still as statues as they wait for the faint clacking of heels on the other side of the door to draw closer, until finally the black double doors open wide to reveal a most disarming figure.
It’s Rowena, of course, and that would be enough make Castiel anxious for potential conflict, but tonight she makes her appearance clothed in a sheer deep purple dressing gown sweeping to the floor in a trim of feathers—that and nothing else but a lacy black lingerie set clearly visible underneath. Her signature red curls cascade past her shoulders and softly bounce as she walks, giving her the false appearance of innocence as she leans towards them with a smile. Castiel’s head tilts in confusion as this is not her usual attire while Sam stutters out a failed greeting beside her, nearly choking over her words.
Frowning, Cas turns to look at her and is surprised to see her skin flushed pink. Is this offensive spell work? Already? The angel fixes her glare back on Rowena who simply tosses her hair back and laughs heartily.
“Hello, girls,” She grins like a cat with a mouse. “Come on in, don’t be shy now. My dear Samantha, you’re blushing like a virgin. Don’t tell me this is the first time you’ve seen a lady in her evening wear?”
“I–I,” Sam coughs. “No. I mean, no it’s not. Thank you, Rowena.”
Sam quickly steps inside and nods to Cas to follow. Still tracking the witch suspiciously with her eyes, Castiel does so and only tenses a little when she hears the grand doors swing shut and lock behind them. She desperately hopes Sam is right on this one. Whatever she’s done, Rowena is still proving herself to be an intimidating presence for the hunter. Castiel must be on guard.
“Coats on the hanger and shoes on the rack,” Rowena cheerily instructs over her shoulder as she saunters past them. “This isn’t a roach motel.”
Castiel looks to Sam, hoping she’ll protest against losing the small advantage of being able to exit quickly, but instead finds herself reluctantly complying once she sees Sam doing the same. Cas’s discomfort grows as her bare feet lay flat on Rowena’s nice hardwood floor, slightly unbalancing her as she’s grown used to the feeling of heels in her long years inhabiting Jane Novak’s business attire. Having her feet unbent is almost a disrobing, let alone the nakedness she feels without her beloved trenchcoat.
She stands in the entryway of Rowena’s apartment like an awkward mannequin in just her blouse and trousers while Sam is already halfway inside, seeming perfectly comfortable in her socks and red cable knit sweater.
From a cozy sitting area, Rowena pours two hot cups of tea on a coffee table crowded with spell books and magic ingredients, seeming already well-prepared for the night ahead. With another disarming smile, she ushers Sam to take a seat at the large plush couch facing her, and Sam shyly accepts the silent invitation with a nervous smile of her own. Seeing her friend once again fall into the witch’s honey trap, Castiel forces herself to follow, wings flaring invisibly behind her. What a terrible idea this all is. Castiel should make them leave now, find another way to get what they need. She could partially reveal her true self in a blinding burst of light as a distraction and run away, hand in hand with her partner as if the whole trip never happened.
But once again, Sam stops her. She doesn’t even need to say a word—they just share a look from across the room, and Castiel knows that she is needed.
She takes slow, measured steps to the couch but doesn’t sit. She stands guard, watching Rowena intently. For her part, the witch barely acknowledges Castiel’s presence, happily busying herself with the tea setting. She is infuriatingly calm, considering the circumstances. Then again, why wouldn’t she be? She has Sam Winchester right where she wants her, shoeless in her apartment on a cold stormy night with her fireplace crackling warmly and quiet jazz playing on a record somewhere as rain pounds against the windows in endless sheets.
Rowena is on her home turf. These are her red-patterned walls, her bookshelves, her pink-tinted lamps filling the room with the scent of jasmine. She thinks she holds all the cards here. But Sam is far smarter than most give her credit for, and she has Castiel. She always has Castiel.
The angel intentionally reminds herself of this as Rowena finally offers her the cup of perfectly mixed tea. Before Sam can reach her hand out to accept, Cas intercedes.
“That won’t be necessary,” She says flatly.
Sam’s arm freezes, awkwardly half-outstretched.
Rowena smirks up at her. “Aye, you’re probably right. We’re doing enough drinking tonight, aren’t we?”
Sam flushes, and Cas bristles. “If that’s supposed to be a crude joke—,”
“Relax, dear. I’m only trying to lighten the mood. You’re so tense, both of you!” Rowena chuckles. “It’s not as if we’re bleeding a lamb!”
Castiel tenses further, ready with another retort, but a gentle touch stops her. Sam. Like that, the angel melts, deciding to trust whatever play she has in store. There’s usually some social context she’s missing anyways. Sam is always so good at reading what’s beneath the surface. If she still believes they’re safe to continue, she’ll keep trusting her for now.
“That’s right. Down, girl. We’re all friends here.” Rowena sips her tea, eyes sparkling playfully.
“Do you have the spell prepared?” Sam asks, quickly changing the subject.
Rowena gestures to the spread between them. “All gathered and ready for mixing. I assume you’ve brought your additions with you?”
Sam wordlessly dips a hand into her front jeans pocket to pull out a vial of clear viscous liquid. Castiel’s stomach turns, but she says nothing. It’s not her place.
“Siren venom. From the Men of Letters bunker,” Sam says flatly. She pulls out a second object, a folded up piece of paper. “And this is the incantation.”
“Credibly sourced, I assume,” Rowena hums, eyes trained hungrily on the promised page.
“Came from a crossroads demon who considered himself a collector of rare magic, and the intel was good. That, and he burned alive trying to keep it as leverage,” Sam offers.
“Oh did he now?” Rowena grins. “How ever did you manage to save it in time?”
At this, Sam’s blush returns. “Just a little fireproofing charm I picked up from the grimoire. Nothing special.”
“Nothing special?” Rowena gasps. “You’ve been studying up, you little messer! Tell me—does big brother know?”
“He doesn’t own me,” Sam protests. “And not that it’s any of your business, but yes. It’s not a big secret. I’m just learning a few tricks here and there when I find something useful. I’m not going full witch, so don’t get your hopes up.”
“Oh, sure. Wouldn’t dream of it.” Rowena winks. “Are we all ready to get started then?”
“Not yet,” Castiel inserts herself. “We haven’t discussed what it is we’re doing.”
Sam sends her a questioning look, but she stands firm. There will be no gray areas about what exactly is to happen tonight, not while she’s here.
Rowena snorts in amusement. “Well, I don’t know about that. The instructions did sound rather clear over the phone…”
“The spell is one thing, but we have a few more details to settle. Person to person.” Castiel insists.
Rowena shrugs and gestures for her to go on.
Emboldened, Castiel continues. “I will remain here the entire time. If anything happens that has not been explicitly agreed to, it will be my personal mission to put a stop to it. Lay a finger on Sam Winchester without her consent, and I will smite you where you stand.”
“Cas.” Sam sputters.
Rowena merely laughs with a toss of her hair. “My, what a fierce little guard dog you are. Fine, stay if you like. I’ve never minded an audience.”
“Second,” Castiel continues, ignoring the dig. “This is not sex. This is an errand. We’re not friends. We’re barely allies. So don’t get any ideas about tonight meaning anything.”
At this, Rowena’s smile does drop a bit. The playful gleam in her eyes dims, and the stretch of her lips becomes something artificial. “Obviously. I’d never allow the greasy calloused fingers of a hunter inside of me. The best you lot can hope for is a taste of my cum and the opportunity to thank me for it. Oh, wait.”
Sam abruptly stands, startling them. “Sorry, I need a minute.”
Head down with her arms folded tightly across her chest, Sam beelines for the bathroom, leaving the conversation without another word.
The silence without her is deafening. And uncomfortably sober. Castiel swallows.
“I’m… sorry,” She forces out. “About the friend comment. That was perhaps needlessly cruel.”
Rowena eyes her, considering. “Why apologize? You clearly meant it.”
Castiel feels her wings twitch in irritation. “Well, you didn’t have to take out your hurt feelings on Sam. She did nothing wrong.”
Rowena sighs, lowering her head. “I suppose you’re right. I just…” She laughs suddenly, stopping herself. “No, forget that. I don’t owe you an explanation.”
Castiel narrows her eyes. “Fine. I don’t need one. I’m going to check on Sam.”
“Yes, go to your master,” Rowena says bitingly. “But don’t pretend your pathetic fawning loyalty to her is born of some unselfish service to the greater good. I know what your bleeding heart is after. Everyone knows. Everyone except you.”
At this, Castiel is truly confused. What deception could she be referring to? Her loyalty to Sam could only ever come from her vow to protect humankind, seeing as Sam is one of its sworn defenders. Sam is a greater good in of herself. What other reason could there be for Castiel to devote herself entirely to her? What a waste of time this is. Castiel sighs, deciding she has no patience left for a witch’s riddles and instead gladly takes her chance to leave the room.
But her journey is cut short as soon as it’s begun with the reappearance of Sam, stopping her in her tracks. And she is a sight to behold.
Sam’s hair has been taken out of its signature braid, left falling in loose waves down past ample breasts made prominent without the barrier of a bra. Her sweater is gone, leaving only a thin white tank top to cover what little is left to the imagination. No jeans either—just small lace panties with a little feminine bow on the front, hugging her toned form. Castiel averts her eyes, silently cursing herself for staring. If she stares, she’s no better than the witch.
In any case, the two of them are utterly silenced by her.
Sam calmly walks to the center of the room before turning to face both women as if prepared to give a speech. Castiel tentatively lifts her gaze to meet Sam’s eyes, which shine with unwavering resolution. Perhaps it’s old angelic instinct, but seeing her in this light makes Castiel want to fall to her knees in submission. She doesn’t, for the sole reason that it might make her friend uncomfortable. But the instinct is there.
“Listen,” Sam begins, as if the two entranced women could do anything else, “What I’ve agreed to is my choice. I’m here because I want to be. For the spell to find Jack, yes, but also because I trust you. Both of you.” She holds intentional eye contact with each of them in turn. “If I was really against it, there are a hundred other plans I could’ve made, but I chose this one. Because, somehow, I’m lucky enough to know a natural-born witch who’s seen my darkest fears without turning away and an angel who experienced them firsthand.”
Sam fixes her gaze on Castiel directly, and she nearly melts on the spot. “Cas. I know you want to protect me, and I will always be grateful for that, but you can’t speak for me. Tonight’s spell is more than just an errand, and I think you know that.”
Castiel looks down, feeling the first stirrings of shame in her gut alongside petty jealousy.
Sam continues, “It’s also more complicated than just sex, but to say it means nothing isn’t true. That’s why you’re here too, you know. You’re more than just a spell ingredient, Cas. You’re the closest thing I have to a partner. I’d still want you here even if all you did was watch over me.”
Castiel looks up again, eyes wide. To be held in such high esteem by a soul of such virtue, such candor… it’s more than she deserves. Once again, she is caught in the arresting thrall of Sam Winchester, able to do nothing but accept her honest confession as new gospel. So in lieu of words, Castiel offers a silent bow of her head, pleased to receive a small smile from Sam in return.
That smile. Those lips could raze cities, she is certain. She continues covertly admiring them as Sam turns next to Rowena.
For the witch, she has this to say; “And Rowena… I’m sorry about how this whole thing started. You’re doing us a favor, I know that. I don’t blame you if you’d rather cut your losses here and call it a night, but selfishly, I hope you don’t. There’s no one else I—,” Sam swallows. “Well, you know.”
Like magic, Castiel sees the cunning centuries-old witch visibly soften under the weight of Sam’s words. Her tense shoulders relax, and her sharp eyes lose a bit of their defensiveness. There are more words unspoken between them—more secrets that Castiel craves knowledge of—but nothing more need be said aloud for Rowena to make up her mind.
“Nonsense,” She grins, trying for sardonic but coming off painfully genuine. “I couldn’t have you running off to some other natural-born witch who doesn’t give a damn about the hair on your pretty head. Even if you do come with some rather irritating luggage.”
Sam snorts. “Rowena.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll make nice,” the witch huffs.
Sam focuses her gaze on Castiel next. “Cas?”
The angel stands to attention, determined to not let her beloved partner down again. “I swear to remain cordial.”
“Thank you. Both of you.” Sam sighs, then leans over the table to pick back up the vial of siren venom.
Castiel watches tensely as she rolls it between her fingers in deep thought, taking her time before speaking again. Rowena watches too, her own expression unreadable. Outside, the rain continues to pound against the glass windows like another anxious heartbeat in the room with them. It is moments like these that cause Castiel to wonder if her absent Father is more involved than He appears, having a flair for the dramatics making the sky pour rivers over their anticipation.
Finally, Sam breaks her silence. “After I drink this, I don’t know what I’ll be like. I know what the effects are of receiving a siren’s venom directly, but without that siren present, it might not be exactly the same. It’s not like there’s been studies on this.” She laughs nervously. “It’s fair to say I might be more relaxed? Siren victims often have spiked oxytocin levels, so…”
“Samantha dear, please arrive at a point,” Rowena teases.
Sam’s cheeks flush pink again. “The point is, I’m laying this all out now because after I drink this, there’s no going back. I likely won’t be able to say no to anything or pull away if I need to. So I need to make it clear now what it is I’m signing up for.”
The room sobers again as Castiel and Rowena both nod seriously.
Sam nods too, appearing to bolster her courage. “Right. Good. So,” She takes a deep breath. “I’m gonna drink this, say the first incantation, then lay down on that couch and wait for the venom to kick in. Might only take a few seconds, I don’t know. After that, Rowena,” she moves to address her directly, “like we talked about, you’re going to—um, you’re going to cum in my mouth. I need to drink that. Then, I’ll say the second incantation, and Castiel—,” She shifts towards her, “You’ll let me drink your saliva, and then I’ll just need to say one last incantation before bleeding onto Jack’s diary. Spell over.”
No immediate response follows Sam’s announcement, which she gives with the same practiced authority as a flight attendant. She must have rehearsed it to herself in the bathroom somewhere between losing the bra and the braid. Castiel flushes, shoving down the mental image.
For all Rowena’s flirty bravado at the start, she appears just as shy as Sam now, and Castiel is not much better. It’s silly. This should be nothing, just another ritual like any other. They’re lucky in a way that the only reliable spell in the world for tracking down a nephilim doesn’t require a bloody sacrifice or a laundry list of ingredients that are impossible to get. It couldn’t be more simple, more convenient. But still, it’s not nothing. Sam is right. Tonight will change things between the three of them, whether they like it not.
Human intimacy is not an experience so easily controlled. Six years after her fall, Castiel is still learning to accept that. Angels are built to command complete control of themselves and their vessels, but since losing her grace, Cas has realized what it truly means to be governed by one’s own body. Even with her grace long since restored, she’s unwittingly kept many of her acquired human impulses, including attraction. That one is the most inconvenient. It flushes her cheeks, quickens her heart, tightens her lower regions uncomfortably. Tonight, they’re especially… insistent. Castiel resolves to maintain control as Sam’s friend and protector, no matter what confused signals her vessel’s body is sending her.
“Understood,” Castiel answers finally. “We will follow this plan precisely. I swear on my life.”
Sam smiles appreciatively, sending her pitiful heart fluttering.
Now both of their eyes are trained on Rowena. The witch sighs with undeniable fondness. She has eyes only for Sam.
“My lovely, paranoid Samantha. You have no idea, the power you hold,” She says softly. “You have nothing to worry from me. I’m at your service as much as you’re at mine.”
The two share a look with meaning beholden only to them.
Then, Sam uncaps the vial. “Well, that’s it then.” She smiles at Cas and Rowena in turn. “See you on the other side.”
Castiel fights the urge to intervene as Sam downs the clear liquid in a single go, taking the siren’s venom like a shot. This is fine. It’s fine. We have a plan, Cas soothes herself in the privacy of her mind. It doesn’t make what they’re doing any less absurd, but the reminder that they can always back out comforts her just enough to not grab Sam’s hand and make a break for it. Instead, Cas remains dutifully still as her partner recites the first of the three incantations and then slowly settles back into Rowena’s plush couch, swaying a little as she sinks into its pillows.
Castiel watches her carefully.
There seems to be no change at first. Sam appears relaxed, but her gaze is lucid, and she’s not throwing herself at either one of them the way she probably would if the siren were present. Castiel wouldn’t think a single thing was out of place if it weren’t for her response to what happens next.
Rowena moves first, consciously pulling her dressing gown tighter across her chest as if that could do anything with the semi-sheer material revealing all. She stands, striking an alluring figure backlit by the fireplace. One would never guess that she was the shortest lady in the room with how she holds herself. She is a statue of power. In spite of herself, Castiel must admit to being transfixed as she takes a step closer to the couch. But that’s nothing to compared to Sam’s reaction.
The hunter’s keen eyes snap to attention at Rowena’s approach, but instead of focusing the way they do on a hunt, they slowly gloss over—lose their intelligent shine. Usually, Sam’s mind is an alert machine, ever-whirring with thoughts and theories and analysis as she observes in the world around her. It’s almost unconscious, something she can’t help. Cas has always been a little in love with that quality of hers.
There is none of that now. Rowena takes a single step, and Sam leans forward like a plant inclining toward sunlight. When Rowena stops, Sam whines. The once-strong hunter stumbles gracelessly off the couch and crawls on hand and knees to the witch’s feet, rubbing her face against her legs the way a cat greets its owner after a long separation. Her long brown hair sways with the movement, shifting the folds of her robe to be more open. Rowena is still at first, unreactive in her surprise, but soon melts beneath the desperate display of worship—of need.
“Oh, you poor dear. We’re going to give you what you need, alright?” Rowena soothes in a softer voice than Cas has ever heard from her.
Sam whines again, more insistent as her nuzzling turns to kisses along Rowena’s calves, her knees, her—the witch stops her before she can travel higher to the sensitive slopes of her thighs. Sam nearly sobs as Rowena’s perfectly manicured fingers move to cradle each side of her head to keep it still. Despite how gentle the hold is, Sam’s eyes tear up as if they were iron shackles. She makes no effort to resist despite how badly she must want to continue kissing her. She simply cries, powerless as a child.
“Shhh, hush now,” Rowena shushes gently. With a tenderness that Castiel didn’t know she was capable of, Rowena runs her fingers through Sam’s hair, massaging her scalp. Now Sam is the one who melts, eyelids drooping shut with pleasure as she easily surrenders to the touch.
Rowena says something, but Castiel doesn’t hear it, mesmerized as she is by the display in front of her.
“Feathers,” she snaps again, breaking her from her trance.
Reluctantly, Castiel redirects her attention to Rowena.
“We need to move her back to the couch where she’ll be comfortable,” Rowena hisses quietly as if afraid to alert Sam. It’s a pointless concern, as the hunter is currently immobilized by mere petting.
Castiel considers the request. “You are correct, but what is the issue? You can simply ask her to move, and I’m certain she would.”
Rowena scoffs. “Aye, it’s not her assent I’m worried about. I’m afraid the poor thing will fall over herself trying to get back up. You saw how she tumbled off the couch in the first place.”
Right. Sam doesn’t appear to be the most coordinated in her current state. And it’s Castiel’s job to keep her safe for as long as she’s like this. Standing at soldier’s attention, the angel marches over to the devastatingly beautiful putty version of the woman she’d sworn fealty too and kneels by her side. She lays a hand on Sam’s shoulder, tapping her gently in the hope that she’ll open her eyes. No luck. Cas glances up at Rowena, and the witch sighs, getting her message. She pulls her fingers from Sam’s hair, resulting in another desperate whine of protest, but also the opening of her eyes to realize that Cas is now beside her.
“Sam—,”
She doesn’t get a single word out before Sam’s lips are on hers, pressing with need. Castiel falters, still very unpracticed in the art of kissing despite her two previous attempts (now years in the past). But her hesitance to respond doesn’t deter Sam in the least. The hunter cradles her face as she kisses harder, tender but firm as she holds her in place. And Cas surrenders, her heart weak for Sam in any situation but especially now. Thoughts of everything but her lips and tongue disappear until they’re suddenly ripped away.
Castiel has to blink hard a few times to come back to herself before realizing what’s happened. Sam is moaning pornographically with Rowena’s fingers back in her hair, now pulling instead of petting. She’s the one who yanked them apart, Cas realizes. She would be cross if not for the way Sam is obviously enjoying the show of force.
“Let’s focus, dears,” Rowena lightly reprimands. “On the couch.”
As predicted, Sam rushes to obey, her body a mess of long clumsy limbs as she attempts to move where she’s directed with all the grace of a newborn calf. It’s lucky that Cas is there to steady her when she does. The angel winds a protective arm around Sam’s waist as she carefully lifts her to her feet; still, she almost falls again but is stopped by Rowena supporting her shoulders. Truly, it’s a two-woman effort to steer Sam’s gangly body back onto the safe cushion of the couch, and they both release a relieved sigh when it’s done.
They regard each other then, accepting for the first time that they’re a team in this. They’ll need each other, like the sober version of Sam warned them they would.
Rowena tightens her lips, offering Cas a simple nod of acknowledgement before addressing the needy thing below her. Adorably, Sam has been tugging at the ends of her dressing gown in a bid for attention, squirming impatiently where she lies splayed out on the cushions. Yet another greedy hand searches for Cas, grasping air when she’s too far away. It’s a miracle to witness. Neither one of them will get the chance to see Sam like this again, she’s sure.
So Cas offers Sam a hand to hold while Rowena pins the other by her head along with a light scolding for her impatience. Sam is entirely unrepentant. She only gazes up with wonder at the half-dressed vision above her—her bouncing red curls of hair and her black lingerie set, now entirely exposed by Sam’s successful tearing off of the gown. Sam stares with shameless attraction, appreciating Rowena fully.
“Are you ready, love?” Rowena asks. She’s balanced on her knees, one on either side of Sam’s body with her core hovering just above her ribs. Not daring to touch down yet. “Do you remember what you came here to do?”
“I love you,” Sam blurts out in response. The words are spoken loud and clear, not slurred in the slightest. Though her eyes are still glassy, they remain locked on Rowena’s. “Love you every time you call. Miss you when you’re gone. Wanna kneel for you and drink your cum and be yours. Want everyone to know I belong to you.”
Rowena shudders, fighting a flood of emotion. Her tears are blinked away so fast, Castiel wonders if she imagined them.
Abandoning her previous gentleness, Rowens grips Sam’s chin and tilts it upwards, exposing her neck. Sam groans in response.
“You didn’t answer my question, pet. Do you know why you’re here?”
Sam only moans louder.
Rowena’s grip tightens. “Try again.”
Castiel’s wings flare defensively, prepared to intervene, but Sam finds her words just in time.
“‘m here to lick your pussy ‘til you cum. Then, I’ll drink it all and lick you clean.” Sam wets her lips. “Please. I’ll be good. Wanna be good for you.”
Rowena smiles, pleased. “You already are, darling. I think you’ve earned your reward now.”
Sam lights up in obvious excitement. Her right hand squeezes Castiel’s hard as Rowena crawls up to center herself above Sam’s mouth, already open wide in anticipation. She carefully lowers herself, starting to untie the ribbons holding her thin lace panties together, when Sam suddenly surges forward and sucks at her through the barrier. Rowena curses with a shudder, weak to Sam’s wet mouth already working her over with hungry desperation. Sam licks over her panties without a care for them being in the way. She simply sucks, unbothered as Rowena struggles to get them off.
When she finally does, Sam releases a happy moan and dives right back with the same devoted fervor. She licks between Rowena’s folds like the cat with the cream, humming to herself at the taste. She even digs her nose in to inhale her deeply, huffing her like a drug as her tongue stays busy worshiping her warm throbbing pussy. Rowena can’t help but rock against her, stifling cries of pleasure as Sam works relentlessly beneath her.
Sam, for her part, doesn’t appear to feel the labor at all. She’s happy right where she is, licking the same sensitive spot on Rowena’s clit again and again with the flat of her tongue, taking breaks to suck on her red pussy lips releasing a steady stream of precum. She doesn’t want to miss a drop.
She’s breathtaking like this, Castiel thinks. A soul so used to putting herself last for the wellbeing of others, now given permission to chase her own pleasure with reckless abandon. She’s not sure how, but they have to find a way to do this again. Sam deserves this taste of paradise.
Meanwhile, Rowena is growing restless. Her cunt is spread wide now, completely exposed with the only barrier left being Sam herself. She’s unconsciously grinding on her face, spreading her pussy juices across her nose and cheeks while chasing more friction. Poor Sam is trying to catch it all, not wanting to lose her promised nectar, but their rhythms are falling out of synch.
Castiel realizes she is needed. Not letting go of the hand in hers, she moves to the end of the couch behind Sam’s head and uses her other hand to gently nudge her lips open wider mid-lick. Sam obediently lets herself be led, stretching her jaw to its limits for her beloved Rowena.
“Good. Keep your tongue out.” Cas praises. “Rowena, you should try riding her. That would offer more friction.”
Rowena laughs in flustered delight. “Oh, are you playing sex coach now, angel? Had no idea you were this invested.”
“We both want the same thing,” Castiel explains easily. She slides a delicate finger past Sam’s lips to wrench them open further, making her gasp. “Don’t stop. Use her to get off. I’ll make sure she doesn’t miss the climax.”
Rowena whimpers, rejoining her clit to the perfect wet heat of Sam’s mouth with a cry. Sam keeps obediently still as the witch rolls her hips against her, relishing the slide of her tongue between her folds and gasping every time it brushes her pussy lips. Cas’s knuckles caress her too, adding another layer of feeling to the experience. Although she hadn’t meant to join in this way, Castiel can’t say she minds the thrill of getting to control Rowena’s orgasm like this. It’s a natural continuation of the power play between them, with Sam acting at the toy getting batted around. For the first time, Rowena lifts her hooded gaze from Sam to Castiel as the realization seems to hit her at the same time.
Castiel’s eyes remain steady, a challenge. Rowena smirks back.
With a rough snap her hips, she grinds her cunt harder against Sam’s hardworking tongue, wildly chasing her own pleasure as Sam’s eyelids flutter with ecstasy. They keep at it until Rowena whimpers with the need to feel stimulation from the inside too, and then she slows down to let Sam lick her way back in her walls. She does so eagerly, pairing her ministrations with a loud suck against her entrance that reverberates through the room.
Castiel shivers, feeling her own wetness acutely.
Sam keeps sucking hard with every lick, determined to gulp down everything that Rowena’s pussy has to give, wet and throbbing against her.
“Oh Samantha, my darling girl. My good girl,” Rowena gasps. “I’m close, baby. I’m—,”
Sam buries her face in her cunt as deeply as she can, leaving no room to breathe. Rowena cums with loud cry, shaking as she unravels. She falls forward into Castiel’s chest, and the angel lets her. Rowena gasps, her head resting heavily between the gentle slopes of Castiel's silk-covered breasts. Cas carefully removes the hand keeping Sam’s mouth open and sets it in Rowena’s beautiful red hair instead, stroking it gently. Rowena sighs in satisfaction. Truce, Castiel thinks with amusement.
Glancing down, she notices Sam’s lips still attached firmly to Rowena’s entrance and hears swallows as she gulps down every last drop of cum that she can. Rowena trembles against her, oversensitive. Still, Cas doesn’t let her pull away until she’s sure that Sam has gotten all she needs for the spell to be successful.
Finally, they part.
Castiel kneels to meet Sam face to face again, trying not to be affected by her cum-covered cheeks and red swollen lips. They have business to attend to.
“Sam, it’s time for the second incantation,” Cas reminds her.
Sam blinks slowly, then stutters out, “Tapadh leibh.”
Rowena gasps. Castiel briefly wonders why until she translates the words in her head. Thank you. Sam just thanked Rowena for her cum in her own native tongue of Scottish Gaelic. That must have been what the first incantation meant too, though in the melodic language of sirens. That means what comes next will be Enochian. Thank you. Thank you for your saliva.
God help her, Castiel is not ready for this.
But fortunately, or unfortunately, Sam is not of the same mind. Pliant as a sheep, she tilts her head back and opens her mouth wide again, ready to receive another helping of bodily fluids. In spite of herself, Castiel hesitates. Why is she so shy all of a sudden?
She feels a hand caress her back soothingly, feels lips press softly against her neck.
“Go on. She’s aching for it.” Rowena whispers against the shell of her ear.
Castiel shivers and leans forward. She locks eyes with Sam, who stares up at her adoringly. Ready and willing. Cas can’t help but drop a chaste kiss on her forehead before pulling back and finally allowing her saliva to drip down into the open receptacle beneath her. Sam moans as it touches her tongue, wordlessly begging for more. Indulgently, Castiel feeds a final string into her beloved partner’s mouth, watching with fascination as it slides down to the back of her throat and disappears with a swallow. Fuck.
Sam shuts her eyes and smiles, blissful.
“Xarathas aethel,” she whispers, and Castiel cums on the spot.
She falls back into Rowena’s waiting arms just as she had fallen into hers, and together they watch the magnificent woman who unravelled them both stand and walk to the table where the final part of the spell lies in wait. Her steps aren’t uncoordinated anymore; in fact, she appears to be completely lucid as she draws the ceremonial blade over her palm and mumbles the final incantation over Jack’s journal, which comes alive at the sizzle of her blood on its cover.
“She’s a goddess,” Rowena breathes rapturously.
“Yes,” Castiel agrees, blasphemy be damned.
Once the deed is done, Sam turns back to them with her more familiar sheepish-looking smile back on her face.
“Thanks, guys. If the spell worked, my dreams tonight will reveal his location, so all we have to do is wait,” She explains again.
It’s unbelievable, how fast she’s recovered. How could she have re-focused so quickly? Castiel was not the one to ingest siren venom, and yet she’s a fragile mess after what they’ve just done. At least Rowena appears to share her feeling, because she laughs incredulously.
“Darling, you’re something else.” She sighs. “Sleep here tonight. I have a California King with far too many pillows.”
Sam blinks in surprise. “Oh, are you sure? Earlier, you said you were worried about us overstaying our welcome, and Cas, I know you wanted to get back on the road early—,”
“I changed my mind,” Castiel and Rowena both unwittingly say in unison.
They exchange an odd look as Sam bursts into laughter at their expense.
“Alright, then. You won’t hear me complaining.” She chuckles. “Is it alright if I use the shower to—,”
Again, the two practically fall over themselves to give their enthusiastic consent, and that’s how they end up staying the night at Rowena’s, three in a bed. Even the angel who doesn’t sleep but is suddenly very interested in the process (read: excuse to snuggle).
How very fascinating this night turned out to be. Yes… fascinating.
(Castiel makes a mental note to never question Sam’s choice of allies again.)