Author: Kat Lee
Character/Pairing: Rowena, Crowley/Dean
Challenge/Prompt: 1_million_words Say What Friday: It's amazing what you can accomplish if you do not care who gets the credit." -- Harry Truman
Warning(s): Cannon Character Death, Spoilers
Word Count: 930
Date Written: 18 May 2018
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Kripke, not the author, and are used without permission.
She sits in the dark that used to wrap around her like an old, familiar blanket. She sits in the darkness where she used to feel power and solace. The night used to be her home. It didn’t matter where she was, in Scotland, in this newer country, or in some place in between. It didn’t matter if she was on the physical plane or in a place where no other could see her yet she could see them. It didn’t matter. The night had brought her power and comfort and solace, and now all she has left is the first.
Even so, she doesn’t have enough to power to do the one thing she still aches to do. She can not save her Fergus. She can not save her dear, sweet boy for whom she never realized she actually felt love while he’d still lived. He killed himself! He killed himself to save bloody Dean WInchester! She doesn’t care what they say. They can say he did it to save both Winchester boys or to save the world. She knows the truth: He did it for one reason and one reason only: He did it to save bloody Dean Winchester.
And she was nowhere to be found when he had needed her the most. It doesn’t matter that she was clawing her own way back from Death. She never would have bothered if she’d only known what she was coming back, or rather to whom she wasn’t coming back. Silent tears stream down Rowena’s tired, haunted face in the midnight hour. Why had she never realized what was in front of her the whole, bloody time? Why had she never realized how much she loved him? Why had she never truly tried to help him, to love him as a mother should?
And now she can’t. Now he’s taken from her forever. There’s no guarantee she can even find him in Hell when she goes back there. If there was, she would’ve already ended her own miserable, pathetic life. But they say he was destroyed, completely destroyed, all to save that blasted Dean. She should kill him and yet -- Yet she seems powerless to fight against the Winchesters now. She can cut Sam, scrape him up good, but not kill him. Dean . . . She can’t even harm him, not really, which is the same reason why she can not kill Sam.
Her son, for all his good and bad, died to save the blasted mortal, and she won’t kill what he died for. She won’t destroy the reason he surrendered his life. Dean’s the reason her Fergus is dead. Yet if she kills him, she’ll be destroying the one good thing Fergus did with his life. She can not destroy that. She can not destroy his legacy. She can not destroy what he loved most in this world.
Yet the pompous windbag doesn’t even know Fergus loved him. He thinks he died to save them both while Sam, Rowena knows, suspects the truth. She’s heard it said that it’s amazing what one can accomplish if one doesn’t care who gets the credit. Fergus no longer cared about the credit for anything, not for running Hell or for saving Earth or for anything at all. He certainly didn’t care about Sam Winchester beyond making sure Dean’s cherished brother didn’t die and rip out his heart. He cared only for Dean. He died only for Dean. But the facts remain that dying for Dean meant saving the world, and her boy died a hero.
A bloody hero!!! After all she’d taught him!!! She should be angry, and at first, she was. But now all that remains is her sorrow and grief and anger at herself. She should’ve been a better mother. She should’ve taught him so much more. She should’ve shown him that it was possible to tell someone you love them without bloody dying for them!
But she had never done that, had she? She had never once showed Fergus true love. If she had, maybe he would have lived. Maybe he wouldn’t have thought he had to die to prove his love. Maybe he’d still be alive, with her here now, and she could show him all the love of which she’d never even realized she was capable. But if horses were wishes, beggars would ride. Rowena knows she could have the world begging for her forgiveness, especially now while the Winchesters are too absorbed in saving their own dear mommy from the other side to be able to stop her.
But she no longer wants the world. She wants only her wee boy back. She wants only one last chance to prove once and for all that she did love Fergus, to let him know that he may have gone to his grave thinking no one loved him but it wasn’t. Dean might not love him, but she did. She always would. She’d give up all of Earth, Hell, and the in between just to tell him that, regardless of rather or not he believed her, but she’ll never get the chance.
She’ll never be able to tell him that she loved him, and as she howls through the night, Rowena knows, no amount of tears will bring him back or make a difference. She can’t reach him now. She can’t tell him. And she’ll go to her own grave alone, always loving her boy and never getting a chance to tell him. Now that, she realizes, sobs shaking her, is the greatest Hell any mother will ever know.