Everybody Hates Hitler Part 1

Lebanon, Kansas

The Impala pulled up outside of a bunker. Dean, Sam, and Angela got out of the car and walked towards the entrance of the bunker, which was built into a bank. The bunker appeared to be a two-story building above ground level.

"When's the last time somebody was in this place?" Angela asked curiously.

"Sixty-five, seventy years ago." Sam shrugged.

Dean opened the box and took out the key inside it. Sam, Dean, and Angela walked down a short flight of stairs to the door.

~/~\~

The three hunters entered and shined their flashlights over a railing at the level below them, revealing 1950s-style communications equipment.

"Son of a bitch." Dean breathed.

"Look at this," Sam smiled slightly. "Ham radio, telegraph, switchboard. This was their nerve center."

"Henry did say that they ran dispatch on their own team of hunters," Dean replied as he shined his flashlight on a table containing a chess board, ashtray, glass, and dirty coffee cup. "Wow. Halfway through their coffee and a game of chess—looks like whoever was manning the hub left quick."

"On the alarm that ended the Men of Letters," Angela replied.

Dean opened a switch box on the wall and pushed a lever, causing the lights to come on. Dean pushed another lever.

Sam's eyes widened. "Son of a bitch."

Dean joined Sam and Angela downstairs as they walked to the doorway of a large, attractively furnished room with bookshelves, polished wood floors, and wooden tables.

"Sammy, Angie, I think we found the Bat Cave," Dean commented in awe.

~/~\~

Dean walked into the 'Bat Cave' room, wearing a gray bathrobe and slippers. Books were spread over the tables. Sam leaned over reading two of them while Angela sat at the table.

"Morning." Dean greeted.

"Morning." Sam and Angela greeted simultaneously.

"The, uh, water pressure in the Letters' shower room is marvelous," Dean commented.

"I know," Angela agreed. "Really helps with the back pain."

Dean's brows furrowed. "You're still having back pain?"

"Dean, I'm carrying a watermelon-sized fetus." Angela deadpanned. "I'm gonna have back pain until this baby comes out. Which hopefully, is soon."

"Ah. Right." Dean nodded.

"I still can't figure out how we even have water… or electricity." Sam commented as he walked to the shelves to get another book.

"Yep, well, I am putting that under the 'ain't broke' column," Dean replied. "Listen, little brother, let's not go all geek on this stuff, okay?"

Sam raised his brows. "Geek?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I mean, don't—don't get me wrong," Dean started as he lifted a scimitar from a display stand. "This stuff is awesome, and it looks like they ran a real tight outfit here, but I'm just saying, you know, uh, don't think that they knew some big secrets that we don't."

Dean struck some poses with the scimitar while the couple had their backs to them. As they turned, Dean quickly straightened up.

"Dean… they were a secret society." Angela reminded.

"Which means that they made crap up and wore fezzes and sashes and swung around scimitars. They probably didn't even sharp…" he trailed off as he ran his finger along the blade and cut himself. "That's very sharp." He muttered as he placed the scimitar on the stand.

"Dean, look," Sam sighed. "I think we might have something here—something that could help us, help humanity. Henry certainly thought so. I mean, you know damn well we could use a break. What if we finally got one?"

The three hunters looked at each other for a moment, then Dean looked away.

"Are you gonna take off the dead guy robe?" Angela raised a brow.

~/~\~

Two Weeks Later

Dean walked into the main room of the bunker, carrying a duffel bag. Sam and Angela sat in front of his laptop at a table.

"Hey!" Dean called out.

"Hey!" Sam replied. "So… how's Kevin doing?"

"You know. He's okay, I guess. In his corner, hacking out his Da Vinci code—nothing actionable yet." Dean explained as he took a beer out of the fridge. "Garth says hi, by the way. And he has a gift for the baby. Anything from Cas?"

Angela looked at the beer bottle and sighed. "I miss beer." She muttered. "And no. Not a peep. Why? You?"

Dean shook his head. "No, he's, uh—he's not answering."

"Right. Well, uh, so we have been trying to chart out the Letters' network of hunters, their allies, uh, affiliated groups they worked with kept files on…" Sam explained as Dean sat across from the couple.

"Circa 1958?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. True. Uh, most are dead or defunct, but others—we're not so sure, and this one… you should definitely check out." Sam replied, putting a file with the Aquarian Star symbol on it in front of Dean.

Dean's brows furrowed curiously. "The Judah Initiative?"

"European team—they were active during World War II," Angela replied.

"Really?" Dean asked. "Hunters fighting in a war—that's cool."

"Not exactly hunters, n-not exactly fighting, but, uh…" Angela trailed off.

"Rabbis? Rabbis?" Dean asked, surprised. "Really?"

"The Letters' file on them is—is sketchy, but, apparently, they were hard-core saboteurs," Sam explained. "So, Angie and I ran a search on the Initiative's entire roster, and we got a hit—one Rabbi Isaac Bass. He was 17-years-old when he joined the Initiative and 85-years-old when he died… two weeks ago. In a college town back east, he was capped."

"Capped?" Dean frowned.

"Yeah." Angela nodded. "He was there doing research, and according to eyewitnesses, he spontaneously combusted."

"So… this is a case?" Dean asked, looking around the room as if he didn't want to leave. "I just got back." He sighed.

~/~\~

Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania

"So, you… worked with the late Rabbi Bass?" the librarian questioned.

Sam and Angela stood at the counter, talking to the same librarian who had spoken to Rabbi Bass. Sam wore jeans, a jacket, and a vest, and Angela wore a navy-blue maternity dress.

"We were research associates of Rabbi Bass, yes," Angela started. "We're trying to complete his last paper for publication. We'd just like to review was he was after here."

"Well, that would be quite a lot of material. He was here open to close for almost a week."

"Wow," Sam muttered. "Um, how about just the stuff he was looking at… you know, the day he, uh… caught fire?"

The librarian pursed his lips. "Does shorten the list a bit."

~/~\~

Two attractive young women in matching sports uniforms sat across a table from Dean, who was wearing a suit.

"He was a really nice old kook." The first woman noted.

"Really nice." The second woman agreed.

"Kook? How so?" Dean asked curiously.

"You know," the second woman started. "He'd talk a lot to us, to himself, to anyone who'd listen. He was always talking about this secret war that nobody knew was going on."

"Conspiracy stuff—he was obsessed with Nazis." The first woman added.

"But he said they were 'Special Nazis' You know, necromancers."

"Necromancers?" Dean raised a brow.

Aaron, a bearded young man carried a fruity drink with a pink umbrella in it and sat down at a table nearby. He appeared to be watching Dean.

"Yeah, like from that world of whatever-craft that my little brother is always playing."

"Nazi… necromancers." Dean muttered.

"It's sad isn't it—that old people have to go so crazy?"

"I know. It is sad."

"Hmm." Dean hummed.

Dean looked at Aaron, who was staring at him. The man smiled and raised a hand.

"You, um…" Dean trailed off as the man looked away. "I'm sorry. You, uh, you both saw the accident?"

"I can still hear his screams." The first woman replied.

"It was like the fire was alive, like—like it was attacking him."

"It was like watching the most awful movie of the most terrible thing you could possibly see."

"It was like that." The second woman agreed.

"Yeah." Dean nodded.

He looked at Aaron again. After meeting Dean's eyes for a moment, Aaron looked down at the table.

~/~\~

A woman pushing a trolley left Sam and Angela at a table with a box labeled 'FD113.' Sam, who wore white gloves, opened the box and took out 'The Explorer's Guide to North American Birds.'

~/~\~

Dean held up his FBI badge to the bearded young man. "Special Agent Bolan." He introduced, putting the badge on the table.

"Oh, really? Wow. I thought you were like a headhunter or something." Aaron laughed.

"This is the second, maybe third time I'm seeing you today? Why you following me, Gingerbread?" Dean questioned.

"Oh, so, we, um… we didn't have a thing back there, huh?" Aaron asked nervously.

Dean froze. "Back where? W-what, now?"

"I'm sorry, man. I—I thought—I thought we had a thing back at the quad, you know—a little 'eye magic' moment, and I saw you here," he explained as Dean picked up his badge. "And I figured I'd wait until you were done with your meeting and then maybe we might, uh…"

"Yeah. Uh, okay, but no—uh, no moment." Dean cleared his throat. "This is a… federal investigation."

"Is that supposed to make you less interesting?" Aaron flirted. "No. I—I'm sorry, man. I hope—I hope I didn't freak you out or anything."

"No. No." Dean assured. "I—I'm n-not freaked out. It's just a, you know… a federal thing. It's, uh… Okay…" Dean trailed off as his phone rang. "Citizen. As you were." He added as he walked away.

"You have a good night." Aaron smiled.

"You—you…" Dean turned back to the man and bumped into a table. "Have a—okay." He nodded as he left the pub.

~/~\~

Dean took out his phone. "Yeah." He greeted.

"Hey," Angela's voice rang through. "So we, uh, looked into the rabbi's research. It doesn't make a lot of sense," she paused. "Um, bird watching."

"Huh." Dean sighed. "Well, uh, the two very hot co-captains of the women's volleyball team agree that the rabbi's death was very unnatural. I think we still got a case."

"That would explain why we have something stuck to our shoes," Angela replied.

Dean frowned. "You being followed?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"That's weird," Dean replied. "I thought I was being followed earlier. Turned out to be a gay thing."

"What?" Angela asked, obviously confused.

"Nothing," Dean replied quickly. "You guys need a hand?"

"Yes, please. Got someplace quiet?"

"Visitor's parking—the boonies. I'll park in the back. 30 minutes." Dean replied as he got into the car.

~/~\~

Sam and Angela walked to the trunk of the Impala. Angela fumbled with the keys and deliberately dropped them.

"Baby, can you pick those up for me?" Angela faked a sheepish smile.

Sam nodded and crouched down to pick up the keys. Dean walked up behind a large man, who was crouching in the bushes watching Sam and Angela.

"Hey, pal." Dean greeted.

The large man stood up, towering over Dean, who swallowed nervously. Dean yelled as he went flying through the air. He crashed into the Impala, breaking a side window, and fell to the ground.

"Dean?" Sam asked, his eyes wide.

Dean groaned as the large man stepped out of the bushes and headed for Sam and Angela. Sam opened the trunk of the Impala and took out a machete. He stood in front of Angela protectively and swung the knife at the man, and it got stuck in his forearm. Dean rolled over onto his front on the ground and raised his head to watch. With an effort, Sam pulled the knife free. The large man grabbed Sam by the throat and lifted him off the ground.

"Stop!" Angela pleaded. "Please!"

"Stop." A man's voice commanded.

The large man immediately let go of Sam. The bearded young man, Aaron, from the campus pub walked up.

"Oh, my spleen." Dean groaned.

"What the hell is that?" Angela demanded.

"He's a Golem," Aaron replied. "Well, he's my Golem."

"Right." Sam breathed.

With a grimace, Dean flopped onto his back.

~/~\~

Aaron opened the door to his house. The Golem pushed him aside into the house. Aaron and the three hunters followed.

"The rabbi who was murdered, Isaac Bass—he was my grandfather," Aaron explained. "That's why we're here. When you guys started to follow up on his case, we started following you."

"So, wait," Dean frowned. "What you're saying is that you and me—why, uh, didn't have a moment?"

Aaron scoffed. "No, man. I was tailing you."

"Told you I was being followed. He was my gay thing." Dean told Angela. He looked back to the bearded young man. "It was really good. You really had me there. It was very smooth."

"Yeah, well, smooth is just about all I got." Aaron sighed. He looked up at the Golem, who was staring at him. "What?"

The Golem just grunted and walked away.

"Yeah, that's right. Keep walking… you Chia Pet." Aaron grumbled.

The Golem just made another noise.

"So, that's a Golem?" Sam raised his brows.

"Yes." Aaron nodded. "Shaped from clay and brought to life by rabbis to protect the Jewish people in times of—I don't know—general crappiness."

"And he's yours?" Angela asked.

"Hardly." He scoffed. "My grandfather left him to me. I'm the last surviving descendant of the members of this… thing, this… Initiative."

"The Judah Initiative?" Sam asked.

"Right, and he—

The Golem showed up directly behind the three hunters, growling. "Who?!" he yelled, causing them to jump. "Who are they to know about the men of Judah?"

"It's okay," Dean assured. "We are the good guys."

"W-we're hunters," Sam cut in. "Uh—Sam, Dean, and Angela Winchester. We know about the Judah Initiative because our grandfather was a Man of Letters."

"Yes." The Golem nodded. "The rabbis knew the Men of Letters."

~/~\~

Aaron handed beers to Sam and Dean, then handed a water to Angela.

"Thank you." Dean nodded.

"Thanks." Sam and Angela smiled.

"Take a seat. So… your grandfather was into all this supernatural stuff, too?" he asked.

"Yeah, grandparents, mom, dad, a truckload of cousins—the whole family was lousy for it. Angie comes from a long line of hunters who, apparently, worked with the Men of Letters." Dean explained. "But we… never had a Golem."

"Right. Yeah. We, um, we grew up in it, but you… didn't?" Angela asked.

"My grandfather's adventures, the Initiative, the Golem, the war—they were the stories that he told me when I was a kid. I thought it was make-believe. So did my parents—you know, fantasies to help him cope with all the horrible stuff he'd seen," he explained. "But every once in a while, crazy old Grandpa Bass would come back by on one of his trips, hand me a $20 savings bond, and say, 'one day, you'll inherit the mantle.' Sure enough, a few days after he died, this big box shows up at my apartment. He always said I'd know what to do. Which was crap, because when I opened that box, this big, naked, potato-faced lunatic wakes up and goes crazy!"

The Golem stared out the window, frowning. "I didn't… go crazy."

"You trashed my entertainment center! And my waterbed."

"This boy knows nothing, observes none of the mitzvahs, labors on Sabbath, dines on swine." The Golem explained.

"Everybody loves bacon!" Aaron defended.

"He's no rabbi." The Golem shook his head. "Yifalchunbee!"

Aaron rolled his eyes and held up a hand. "Oh, don't start with that stuff again."

"Yifalchunbee!"

"Enough! Please! Quiet time!" Aaron pleaded.

"Alright," Sam cut in. "What was that? What was he saying?"

Aaron shrugged. "It's Hebrew for something like 'take charge,' but I have no idea what he means. Look, I grew up in Short Hills. I cheated my way through Hebrew school. I never really listened to my grandfather, what he was saying."

"So, wait—he just sends you this—this Golem and expects you to work it out?" Dean frowned.

"He didn't get much time to prepare me, I guess. My parents—they did everything they could to prevent him from screwing me up with all his crazy talk." Aaron explained. "See, after the war, my grandfather spent the rest of his life trying to track down something called the Thule Society."

"The Thule Society. Right." Angela nodded. "They were Nazis."

"Nazi necromancers," Dean added.

"N-necro-who?"

"Uh, necromancer—uh, witches, sorcerers, dark magic, mostly with dead people," Sam explained.

"Okay," Aaron replied uncertainly. "All I know about the Thule is that they were this twisted, secret fraternity, hell-bent on world domination, that sponsored the early days of the Nazi Party. My grandfather said The Judah Initiative was started to fight them."

"And the Thule murdered your grandfather, boy." The Golem glared. "Find them so I can do my work!" he roared as he smashed a side table.

"Hey! Hey! We're renting here! Renting." Aaron reminded.

The Golem walked into the kitchen silently.

"Look… I think my Golem's right." Aaron sighed. "My grandfather—he left me this message on my machine the day he died, and he said that he had found something that the Thule were willing to kill him for. He said he was hiding it here in plain sight. He left me this weird—I don't know—equation." He explained as he took a piece of paper out of his pocket. "It's not a phone number or an address or coordinates—Q-L-6-7-3-W-3-8?" he shrugged, handing the paper to Dean.

"Is it a combination?" Dean asked as he handed the paper to Sam.

"Oh, it's a call number," Sam noted. "Library of Congress—their filing system. They use it in college libraries. Uh, Q-L-6-7-3—that… that's sciences. Uh… birds, I'm guessing. Let's go."

Sam and Angela headed for the door. Dean just smirked at Aaron.

~/~\~

Sam, Dean, Angela, Aaron, and the Golem walked into the library. Dean was holding his lockpick.

"What, do you guys just break in wherever you go?" Aaron asked.

"Yeah, well, our dad wanted us to have a solid career to fall back on, just in case this hunter thing didn't pan out," Dean replied.

"Okay, so if I'm right, then I think your grandfather switched manuscript FD113 out of the archives," Sam commented. "I'll be right back."

Sam ran up the stairs as Dean and Angela sat down at the bottom of said stairs.

~/~\~

Sam walked past bookshelves on Level 2 and found the section he was looking for. Just as he took the red ledger off the shelf, he was hit at the top of his jaw with a dart. He pulled it out with a grunt. The skin turned a dark purple and he winced, groaned and blinked as if his vision was blurring. He staggered back against the bookshelf behind him, then started to unsteadily walk away with the ledger.

"I owe you thanks." A man with a German accent commented as he stepped out from behind a bookshelf. "The rabbi got me this far, but you… took me all the way. Now, give me the ledger."

Sam kicked a trolley at the man and staggered away. "Help!"

Dean and Angela looked around at Sam at the top of the stairs.

"N-necromancer!" Sam stammered.

Dean looked at Angela and Aaron. "Stay here!"

Dean ran up the stairs as Sam fell on a landing partway down the stairs. Dean noticed the large purple bruise on Sam's jaw and neck.

"Crap." He muttered.

Suddenly, a dart hit Aaron in the chest, causing him to grunt in pain.

"Dean!" Angela exclaimed. "Hey, big guy," she looked up at the Golem. "They're both gonna die unless we get whoever cast the spell."

The Golem ran up the stairs as Dean crouched with a hand on Sam's back.

"Come on. Come on." Dean helped Sam up.

Dean touched Sam's face where the dark purple discoloration was spreading. Aaron lied down on his back on the floor, breathing shallowly. Angela knelt down and carefully removed the dart from his chest.

Suddenly, Dean and Angela heard a banging noise upstairs and looked up. Dean pointed his gun up at the flight of stairs. The Golem dragged the German man partway down the stairs, dropping him onto the landing.

"Long live the Thule." The German man said weakly.

The Golem immediately broke the man's neck. The discoloration on Sam's face and neck faded and he opened his eyes. Angela quickly rushed over to her husband, concern obvious on her face.

"Or not." Dean shrugged.

A/N: Hey guys! I have some extra time today, so I figured I'd post an extra chapter this week! Also, I saw the new Season 14 promo and I already have so many ideas brewing in my head for that installment! I really hope you guys liked this chapter :) And thank you for the recent reviews. Love you guys xoxo.

~Emily