#prayforsam

Eileen reaches across the table and grasps Sam’s hand. “They’re on a road trip, spending some time together.” She gives him a saucy smile. “You know, like the one we just returned from?” 

Sam grins at her smirk. “I know, I know. But,” he slides his phone across the table, his Messages app open. “I got a text from Donna saying they somehow ran into Dean and Cas at a winery in Napa.” 

Eileen reads the message from Donna, her eyes growing wide. “That’s… quite the coincidence,” she says, looking back up at him and sliding his phone back across.

“Right? But you saw what she said… Cas looked pretty trashed, and Dean might have been driving but he had been drinking as well.” He scrolled through the unanswered text messages to Dean. “I’m just worried they might have gotten into an accident.” 

His finger pauses in mid-swipe as an idea occurs to him.

“But… I might have another way of checking on him.” He stands and heads towards Room 78, where all of the magical paraphernalia recovered from Rowena’s house was stored. 

“Sam… wait.” Eileen jogs after him, grasping his arm to turn him around. “What are you going to do?”

Sam grins.

“I’m going to see if I can find a scrying spell.”

~~~***~~~

Sam sits at the storeroom table, the box containing all of Rowena’s journals sitting on the table next to him, and rifles through one of Rowena’s journals, searching for a spell. On his other side were the stack of journals he’s already gone through - five deep now. 

He knows Rowena typically used astral projection to spy on Crowley or her fellow witches, but with the breadth of knowledge she had accumulated in her extremely long life, he’s fairly confident she must have written down a scrying spell somewhere. 

Eileen had made it known she thought this might not be the best idea (“It’s an invasion of privacy, Sam.”) but when he explained that he was just going to use it long enough to make sure they were okay, she nodded and picked up one of the journals to help him search. Her stack was up to three, and was scanning her fourth when she stopped and tapped his arm.

“Sam, wait… I think I’ve found one.” Shoving the book across the table towards him, open to the page she’d been reading, she jabs a finger at a passage written there. “This one might work.”

Sam snatches the book up eagerly, reading through the spell, checking the ingredients required. He looks up from the page and grins.

“This looks like it might work - and we have all the ingredients!” Sam leans across the table to give Eileen a kiss in thanks, then stands and heads to the shelves full of ingredients to gather the items necessary for the spell, 

Eileen places the journals back into the box and re-shelves it before leaving the room. Sam watches her go, puzzled. Shrugging, he gathers the necessary ingredients and places them in a copper bowl. He returns to the table with the bowl in one arm and a highly polished, round obsidian mirror in his other hand. As he’s removing the contents of the bowl and placing them on the table, Eileen returns with a steaming tea kettle, teacup, and a stubby white pillar candle. 

Setting the items down, she picks up the journal with the spell and reads the instructions aloud.

“The first part is to prepare the mirror to receive images.” 

Following her instructions, Sam mixes the ingredients in the bowl, and setting a match to it, mutters the words listed on the page Eileen holds up for him. The obsidian mirror flashes briefly, a swirling mist flowing over it, then returns to its original state.

“Alright, part two.” Sam sets the obsidian mirror up on its stand, then lights a candle and places it in front of the mirror to where it’s reflecting within it.  

“And here’s part three,” Eileen, who has been adding other ingredients into the teacup, pours hot water from the teakettle and hands it to him. “The tea that will open your Third Eye.”

Sam nods his thanks and, blowing on the hot liquid to cool it, downs the drink. It is, of course, disgusting. “Blech,” he says when he’s done, setting the cup down. “Why do spells always make you drink disgusting stuff?” 

“Probably to discourage you from doing them,” Eileen responded with a laugh. 

Sam snorts. “You’re probably right.” He rubs his hands together and nods at Eileen. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Turning to face the mirror, he focuses on the candle flame’s reflection in the mirror, and thinks of Dean.

What he looked like the last time he saw him - his smile; his eyes crinkled in laughter, teasing him as he and Eileen were about to head out on their… hunt, yeah.

Slowly, an image began to form in the mirror.

But as the image began to coalesce, the sound reached him first; sounds being made with his brother’s voice.

And they were sounds he NEVER, EVER wanted to hear his brother make.

“Oh… oh no….” Sam gasps, as the image in the mirror snaps into focus - Dean laid out on a bed, on his back, naked as a jaybird; white-knuckled hands grasping the headboard above his head. 

Castiel on top of him, riding Dean for all he’s worth.

Sam immediately blows out the candle and slams the mirror face-side down.

“Oh my Go…” Sam cuts himself off, then turns to look at Eileen, who’s doubled over in laughter.

“SERIOUSLY?”

Eileen gets herself back under control enough to rise but not enough to talk.