Thanks again for the reviews WhiteEvil, Miss Tie, SomebodyWhoCares, and Sophie! I love reading reviews; knowing people are reading keeps me motivated to write up some more chapters. Now, without further adieu, here is chapter 10!
Flipping another page in the journal, I continued examining the contents written in the minute handwriting. It was an old journal; that much was easy to tell by the decaying pages. Half the entries were written with Latin passages which almost looked like they were spells. Occasionally I would stumble on a picture of something, usually drawn on the page like a sketch.
"I don't even know what I'm looking at anymore," Charlie mused to herself.
I glanced down the length of the wooden table that I figured had been where the Men of Letters had their meetings. Charlie was nose deep in a book but her right hand was raking continuously through her red hair.
"I understand encryption codes not dead languages," she mumbled.
I chuckled to myself which Charlie ignored as she continued to stare at the page in front of her. The smile fell from my lips the moment Sam's tall form entered the room though. It had been a few days since we had arrived and the brothers and I had argued about my deal with Crowley. Sam hadn't spoken to me since. He barely even looked in my direction whenever he entered the same room as me, just as he was doing now. My eyes continued to follow him despite that. I watched as he dropped a cardboard box onto the table beside Charlie—quite a ways from where I was sitting. I felt my stomach churn at the way he was giving me the cold shoulder.
Sam gingerly pulled the lid from the box and set it aside before gently pulling out a few notebooks and journals from within. Pulling the chair in front of him out, he slid into the seat without a word. His eyes began scanning the pages as a few strands of his hair fell into his face.
Charlie glanced over to Sam and gave a jump. Apparently she had been so intent on understanding the page in front of her, and Sam had entered the room so noiselessly, that she hadn't even realized he'd sat by her. She looked across the table to me and shot me an apologetic look. It wasn't much of a secret that Sam was upset with me.
With a sigh I fixed my attention back onto the journal in front of me and continued searching the pages for any mention about the Word of God tablets. I couldn't keep my mind from wandering back to Sam though. I would skim a few pages, find nothing, and see him flip a page out of the corner of my eye. The movement always caught my attention. Not once did he even acknowledge my existence as he sat just feet away from me. It was like that night in the motel earlier this week had never happened.
A sound down the hallway outside of the room caught the attention of all of us. Moments later Dean and Castiel were entering the room carrying plastic bags from Dean's food run. Castiel stiffly placed the bags of food onto the wooden table while Dean practically dropped them down and began digging into one and pulling out a bag of Doritos. He tore them open and plopped down into the chair opposite of Castiel before tossing chips into his mouth. He kicked his feet up onto the edge of the table and made himself comfortable; the contrast of Castiel's rigid posture across from him made the scene amusing.
"Find anything?" Dean asked between tossing chips into his mouth.
"Not yet," Sam's deep voice replied automatically, his eyes not even looking up from the journal in front of him.
Charlie shut the notebook she had been staring at for the last forty-five minutes and pushed it aside before pulling one of the plastic bags over to herself and digging into it. She smiled wickedly when she pulled out a package of Oreos and began tearing into them.
"Did you buy anything actually edible?" I asked Dean jokingly.
"The plumbing here might be wonderful but the kitchen isn't exactly top-of-the-line you know," Dean replied. He reached into the bag nearest him and began pulling out what looked like pre-made deli sub-sandwiches and began sliding them across to each of us. "Eat it," he said when he caught Castiel's eye.
I tore into my sandwich immediately, pushing the journal away from me a safe distance so I wouldn't ruin it somehow. Taking a bite, I glanced over and saw Sam still fixated on the journal in front of him. I chewed and forced myself to look away.
"Aren't you hungry, Sam?" Dean asked his brother, a look of concern on his face.
I glanced back at him. Between the strands of his long hair framing his face I saw his brows furrow in concentration. His eyes were darting across the page and back again as he read the words zealously.
"What is it?" Dean asked immediately.
He got up, his sandwich forgotten on the table now, and crossed over to his brother. Leaning over his shoulder to get a better view, Dean began reading just as fervently. After a minute the two exchanged looks with each other as if they were having yet another silent conversation. I was becoming used to these silent exchanges. Slowly, both of them turned their attention to me.
"What?" I asked nervously. I felt uncomfortable with how they were staring, especially since Sam hadn't looked at me in days.
Dean slid the journal towards me across the table. "Does this look familiar to you?" he asked me.
I pulled the book to me and saw a sketch immediately on the page with a lot of miniature writing beside it. The sketch was of a knife, or more correctly, a dagger. The blade was slightly curved and the handle was covered in intricate symbols. Along the blade itself there were symbols etched into the metal.
I felt as if someone had just punched me in the gut. Slowly, I reached into the holster around my calf and slid the dagger out of its place. Gently I laid it on the table beside the image. They were identical.
"This is insane," I breathed out, staring between the sketch and the real thing beside it.
"I thought it looked familiar," Sam said suddenly.
I looked up as he spoke and our eyes met. For once he actually looked at me.
"What do you know about that thing?" Dean asked, nodding his head towards the dagger on the table.
Charlie leaned in curiously, still taking bites out of her sandwich with wide eyes. Castiel leaned forward too, his tie falling into the pile of Cheetos on the napkin in front of him.
"Not much," I answered Dean. "My grandfather gave it to me. I know it's a family heirloom, but that's all he told me."
"You said, that night we first met, that he told you it could kill any demon?" Dean asked.
I nodded mutely and looked down at the journal in front of me. The handwriting next to the sketch was bunched together and hard to read.
"What's so great about it?" Charlie asked curiously.
"It's one of those lore objects hunters hear about," Sam explained to Charlie. "Supposed to be a myth."
"Like Samuel Colt's gun," I breathed out when realization finally hit me.
"Exactly," Sam said. "I've heard of that thing before. Bobby mentioned it to me a few times. That journal calls it the Witchblade, but Bobby called it Letum Mucro, which roughly translates to—"
"Deathblade," I finished for him.
"Right," he said, looking surprised.
There was a silence that engulfed the room where Sam and I continued staring at each other from across the table. Charlie broke the silence after a moment as she cleared her throat uncomfortably.
"I still don't get it," she admitted awkwardly. "What's so great about it?"
"The dagger itself has some sort of…magic or something on it, like with Colt's gun. It can kill anything," Sam explained for everyone. "But it only works for someone in your bloodline. The moment your family dies out, it's just a dagger."
"That explains the family heirloom part," I joked, still staring in awe at the dagger.
"This is why Crowley wants you," Sam said firmly as he tried to catch my eye. "This dagger can kill Abaddon, but it won't work for anyone else."
I stared at the metal blade glinting in the room light. I had always thought it was just an interesting dagger my grandfather had gotten from his father, but now after learning about what it really was? I felt like I couldn't touch it.
"I can't believe that I've been carrying around something this powerful for years," I said, my eyes still locked on the glinting blade, "and I was using silver bullets on shifters and beheading vampires when I could have just used that."
Dean let out an awkward chuckle; everyone's eyes seemed to be staring at the little dagger on the table that was more than it appeared to be.