"So, the teachers at the girls' school are all back to work," Dean says. "It's like nothing ever happened. That's all the victims in Ohio."
"Well, no mention of the Massachusetts murder either." Sam's still peering at his laptop, but it's clear there's nothing to be found. "No Fiona, no angry ghost. Looks like history's back on track. Thank you, Gavin."
"Yeah, but... I can't put a check in the win column just yet. This has all been too easy."
"It is a little too perfect, isn't it?"
"Hey, Sam? Think you could find a list of the crew and passengers from the Star?"
Sam frowns. "Probably. Why?" His fingers tap at the keys without waiting for an answer. "Yeah, here's a crew list and passenger manifest. Oh. Oh." He looks up at Dean, eyes wide. "Gavin isn't listed as the captain."
Dean nods. "And I bet Fiona's not on the passenger list either."
"Jesus." Sam leans back and runs his hands through his hair. "I just assumed Rowena set up the spell to put them back on the ship. It didn't even occur to me..."
"That sneaky little witch," Dean laughs. "She sent him back early. Fiona's not a vengeful spirit because she didn't die on the ship! Neither of them did!"
Sam laughs too, but it's a little uneasy. "That's... that's kind of dangerous, right? Messing with history like that?"
Dean looks around him and shrugs. "Bunker's still here. Internet's still here. Beer still exists. I'd say everything's okay." He waves his half-empty bottle. "Speaking of beer... we're out. I'm gonna go on a beer run. You wanna come with?"
But Sam doesn't answer. He's still staring at the computer screen. "Dean... You've got your wallet on you? Look at your money."
"Dammit, I've got money. I'm not asking you to pay. I'm just asking if you want to go."
"Dean. Shut up and look at your money."
Dean sighs his best long-suffering sigh, pulls the wallet out of his pocket, and takes out a bill.
. . . . . . .
Rowena arrives so quickly, it's almost like she was hanging around nearby, waiting for their call.
"What the fuck is this?" Dean growls, waving the pale purple bill in her face.
She smiles. "Isn't it lovely? I never did like American money. So boring and green."
"I repeat. What. The fuck. Is. This."
"Why, it's just what it says it is. A five pound note."
"For the United Caledonian Colonies of North America." Dean slams the bill onto the map table.
"Well, most folk just call it Caledonia, or UCCNA, but yes. These great united colonies."
"With a picture of Queen Elspeth."
"Ah, bonny Queen Elspeth. Such a charming lass. Looks a bit like me, don't you think?" She turns her head to display her profile. "The nose? And the eyes?"
"And it's purple."
"Only the fiver. If you had a hundred, which I assume you don't, you'd be in for a real treat. It's a lovely shade of blue, with a portrait of the great Gavin MacLeod himself. Did you see the back? They all have a St. Andrew's Cross."
"Christ." Sam collapses heavily into a chair. "What did you do, Rowena?"
"What did I do? You two are the ones who decided to challenge time itself! I simply made the best of it." She lowers herself into a chair at the map table and smooths her skirt demurely. "Yes, I'll admit, I may have given you the impression that I was sending Gavin back to the Star. And I was sorely tempted, when I saw how strongly Fergus was opposed to it. But he was such a sweet boy. And do you know what he was doing, all those years, alone in America? After you tried to kill him and his father abandoned him in the wilderness? He was studying. He wanted to make something of himself. And now he has."
"I'll say," says Sam, returning to the computer. "Gavin MacLeod, born 1700, died 1790. Under his leadership, Clan MacLeod rose to become the ruling family over Scotland, and then the entire United Kingdom, including the colonies in the New World. The colonies being what we used to call the United States and Canada."
"What the fuck, Rowena," Dean barks, reaching for a bottle of whiskey. "What were you thinking?"
She gazes dreamily at the map table, tracing the contours of Caledonia with a well-manicured fingernail. "What I was thinking was that Gavin was a good boy with a strong-minded woman beside him and a great deal of useful knowledge in his head. A boy like that can accomplish things. It would have been a shame to send him back to board that ship and have them both drown, when I could send him back a bit earlier and let them thrive. And look at all he's accomplished! With his knowledge of history, he was able to prevent so many of your American tragedies. There's been no 9/11, no Civil War, no World Wars -"
"Wait," Dean interrupts. "Does that mean I didn't kill Hitler?"
"I'm sorry, dear." Rowena frowns sympathetically. "Adolf Hitler was an 83-year-old retired art teacher when he died in his sleep. But you did still kill all your monsters, if that makes you feel better."
Sam looks around. "The bunker is still here. So the Men of Letters still existed."
"That's right, Samuel. Your Men of Letters, in the new world and back home, still existed. Although a little less... ruthless in the old country. The kings and queens of Scotland have never accepted such enthusiastic wholesale murder of the supernatural and practitioners of the dark arts."
"Oh, let me guess." Sam rolls his eyes. "You've been popping back in time to advise these kings and queens and make sure they don't come down too hard on anything magical and unexplained. Especially witches."
She giggles. "Guilty as charged. It really is a win-win situation, don't you think?"
"No," Sam glowers, "I don't think. You can't do this, Rowena. You've got to go back and set things right. You can't just change history like this!"
"Can't I, Samuel? Look around you. You've got peace and prosperity. Free healthcare and education." She idly twirls a lock of fiery hair around her finger. "Right now, you've got Justin Trudeau as the Prime Minister of Caledonia. Who was the President of the United States when you woke up this morning?"
Sam opens his mouth to speak and then slowly shuts it. He turns to Dean, who shrugs and slides him a filled glass. "The whiskey's better, too."
"Well, then." Sam lifts his glass and taps it against Dean's. "God save the Queen."