The Reaping [intro]
It wasn't often that he did this. Sam Winchester took one of the extra cars from the bunker and took off to meet someone. Normally he'd leave word with Dean where he was going or Cas would be there to inquire in his own indomitable fashion as to what was happening and what Sam was doing. He was heading to New Orleans and he was going by himself.
It wasn't the first time he'd been to the Big Easy and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. After spending the better part of the day driving, he pulled into town at night. The lights of the French Quarter weed twinkling almost like the stars above. He tried his best to blend in with the crowds but given how tall he was, that was a near impossibility. Up ahead in an area that some called The Cauldron, he saw her. Rowena MacLeod was sitting there at a table by one of the cafés sipping tea. She made eye contact with him and waved him over.
The Scottish Witch and Sam had a unique relationship. As many times as she died and came back from the dead, they both knew that the one who would kill her permanently was going to be Sam himself. The problem was, unlike Crowley, Sam liked Rowena. "Samuel! Have a seat lad!" She pointed to the chair across from her.
"You were pretty explicit in your message. I was to come alone and Tell no one where I was going." Sam took a seat. He didn't actually trust that Rowena wasn't setting him up for a fall but with his puppy dog eyes, he could actually get Rowena to tell him the truth any time he asked.
"Aye! That I did. There is a bit of a problem that I need your help with, Samuel. Your brother would be too quick to shoot first and ask questions later. But there is a problem that I can't handle on my own." She sipped her tea once more. "I've been instructing a young lady here in New Orleans in the art of witchcraft. Three days ago, I went to her home to find her, and Ah couldnae. She was gone."
Sam furrowed her brow. "You don't need me, you need the police." He told her before starting to get up. She rested her hand on his and just quietly looked at him. "Go on."
"Thank you." She inhaled sharply gathering her wits about her. "There is a very special magic here in New Orleans. It's referred to as Ancestral Magic. Are you familiar with it Samuel?"
"The Principle of Ancestral Magic, yes." He thought for a moment before his eyes opened wider. "Do they have the Harvest here in New Orleans?" He asked. He was a voracious reader of any books he could get his hands in even as a child. When they gained access to the Bunker, he began to read everything. He knew about Ancestral Magic and he knew about The Harvest. It was barbaric and he would be glad to help put it out of business.
"Aye, they do. Now you understand why I called you here." She reached into her bag and pulled a picture of a brunette out of there. She slid it over to Sam. "Her name is Heather Callahan. I'm afraid she might have been *chosen* to be a harvest girl."
Sam took the picture and studied it. She was a pretty brunette with big blue eyes. She'd been smiling in this picture. It was obviously taken during better days. "I'll find her, Rowena. I promise." In the process of the search, he would do what he could to stop the Harvest.
"Not all those who wander are lost;" - JRR Tolkien