" Hey, guys !Having a club meeting without me ? "
As Dean clapped Cas on the shoulder, the angel's eyes fell on the shelves directly behind Sam, who turned quickly.
Dean rested his hand where it was and Cas nodded when Sam touched a small leather bound book. He pulled it from the shelf and opened it. "The Secret of Poetry" was printed on the cover page along with a hand written number. He said the words aloud.
Dean's gaze shifted between the two men as he asked, " Fellas, what the hell just happened, here?"
Castiel remained silent and looked to Sam. To his credit, Sam remained amazingly calm, on the outside. Inside, however, he was a quivering mess. Dean had been on edge as they were running out of options and both brothers feared there may be only one possible end to this story.
Dean had asked his brother to stop looking, stop trying, in essence, stop wasting, what he believed, was the little time they had left. All Sam wanted was to save Dean and he couldn't stop trying. But each time they were disappointed, it became more difficult for Dean to hang on. In truth it became more difficult for them all.
Sam wanted to be careful with what he told Dean. Lately, he had been quick tempered and uninterested in any talk of a cure, especially since killing Cain was supposed to do the trick. But, his reaction to discovering the book encouraged Sam to believe that maybe this had promise. Sam looked to Cas.
"Yes, I believe there is something in that book that we need."
Dean closed his eyes and taking a big breath in, he blew it out slowly, an effort to keep himself under control. He opened his eyes and took another big breath before speaking.
'If this is another...if you think ...Dammit Sam !, I asked you to let it go "
Dean's voice had started out very loudly but by the time he was done, he was almost whispering. He saw a look on Sam's face that hit him like a physical blow to the gut. He turned his back and spoke softly, unable to take the hope he saw from his brother's face.
"Ok, Sam, what is it?"
"Cas thinks this book is gonna tell us what we need to know."
Dean turned back around and positioned himself in place to create a triangle of the three men. "Really? A poetry book ?" He paused and gave his brother a look like he had just told him that unicorns were real.
Then he smiled and looked at Sam like maybe unicorns were real. He said, "So, what? We're gonna read some limericks and the Mark is gonna run screaming from my arm? 'Cause I'll tell ya it did feel a little itchy for a minute, there."
Sam's smile was small but genuine. Whether Dean was speaking truthfully or not, he didn't know. But, hearing him make one of his smart ass remarks without the undertone of disguising fear or despair was refreshing. It felt like the real Dean and Sam hadn't had too much time with that guy lately.
Sam reopened the book and turned to the page whose number had been written under the title. They had no idea what this page would tell them.
Maybe it would be nothing. Maybe it would be the answer. Maybe it would be promising. Maybe it would be devastating.
The page contained one poem without a title. Unable to keep his academic curiosity at bay, Sam studied the poem. He believed it to be epic, a story telling piece. He studied the structure of it. It wasn't 'The Odyssey', for sure. They certainly didn't have time for that. It was less than a dozen lines and he noticed something else unique about it.
He told his brother to grab a pen and then he spoke the first letter of each line. It struck him that they were bold and twice the size of the rest.