32. Drastic Times, Drastic Measures

I think the one thing my brothers fail to forget is that, as a demon, I don't have the luxury of sleep. At least, that's what I believe, as I hear one of them try to tiptoe past my bedroom like they believe I'm asleep.

Rolling my eyes, I slide off the bed, padding out of my bedroom and down the halls. Two seconds into the trail, and I find myself following Sam. He doesn't have a sleepy shuffle to his gait, and he's dressed. Like he plans to sneak out somewhere.

I wait patiently, keeping quiet behind Sam. When he makes a few turns, I see that he's got some sort of box in his arms. I tilt my head in curiosity.

"Please tell me you've got a hot date someplace, and that's a box of kinky stuff," I say to my little brother.

Sam spins around, nearly dropping the box he has on the floor. "Josette, what the hell?"

"You really think you could sneak off, past a demon?"

"Don't remind me." He shakes his head. "What are you doing?"

"I can ask the same about you." I lean against the exit of the hallway as Sam stands in the bunker library.

"I found a case."

I nod, not convinced. "So it requires a box. And no mention of this to Dean or myself. Try again, Sammy."

He sighs through his nose. "Damn it. Get your keys."

I perk up. "Where're we going?"

"You'll find out."

"Do I at least get to know what's in the box?"

"Not until we get there, no."

I pout. "You're just no fun, Sam."

"We got to make this quick."

"I don't think Dean's gonna care that much about where we're going." I frown slightly. "Is this about the Mark?"

Silence is my response, and to me that's translated into "yes"; Sam just doesn't want to admit to it.

I grab my truck keys, and we both leave the bunker to climb in. I keep glancing at the box Sam is carrying. It's an awful big box.

"So, no kinky session with a girl, huh?" I tease my little brother. "Okay, I get it, you want to keep this hush-hush. But I'm going with you, I am driving you to where you need to go. That doesn't give me brownie points to know what this is about?"

"I told you, you'll understand when we get there."

"Okay, so if it's not a kink session, is it a date? Or is this an exchange?" Sam looks out the window. "I'll be a talkative bitch if it gets you to tell me why we're doing this."

Sam chuckles. "I'll tune you out, Jo. Let's not play that game."

I wrinkle my nose. "Suit yourself, Sam."

I park the truck in a restaurant parking lot. I keep close to Sam and feel a prickle of danger upon entering. Yes, restaurants are public places, but everything feels like a threat to me. Immediately, I seek out any other demons in the area. I see no true faces pop out at me, so that's a good sign.

"This way." Sam tugs on my elbow, propelling me forward.

Oh, you have got to be joking.

I give the redheaded witch a rather murderous glare, and I know Sam can see that. She notices our arrival.

"Jo," Sam mutters warningly.

"Sam—"

"You have to trust me on this." At this, I look at him. He's made his eyes big. Damn it.

"Don't pull that card on me."

"If you two could cut the sibling squabble, we can talk business," says Rowena, in her lilting Scottish accent.

"How did you contact her?" I hiss to Sam.

"That's not important."

"The hell it isn't!"

"Oh, wired lass, aren't you?" Rowena says, watching me in amusement. "Mm, yes, I know all about you."

"Should I even begin to ask how?" I sit beside Sam at the table.

"Fergus. Or, well, you'd know him better as 'Crowley'."

"I'm missing a piece here."

"Rowena is Crowley's mother," Sam mutters.

"Well, isn't that a plot twist."

"Yes, yes," Rowena says rather irritated, "it's the twist of the year. Now, let's get down to the real reason why we're here."

"Sam." I gesture. "Floor's yours." I sit back in my seat, fuming. I don't freaking believe this. Rowena, who I've had little run-ins with in the recent months, is mother to the King of Hell himself. What a messed up world.

"I don't trust you," Sam tells Rowena flat-out. "And...I never will."

"Ditto there," I voice.

"But I—we—need help, and this is right in your wheelhouse." Sam puts the box on the table and opens it.

"What is that?" I peek in to see a massive book.

"This would be The Book of the Damned."

"Oh, you mean the book that you told me you burned when apparently you didn't? You're starting to turn into Dean, Sammy, with these secrets." I grimace.

"You're one to talk. You didn't come out with your truth right away."

I roll my eyes.

"We need the Mark of Cain off our brother. Something tells me you can crack this book and find that cure. The only question is...will you help us?"

Rowena leans forward on the table. "Shall we discuss terms?"

"Wow, that was...easy," I say skeptically.

"Don't flatter yourself, lass. It's not because you're here as muscle to your brother."

I cross my arms. "Okay, so, you want to help out. What's your condition?"

"There's only one thing you could possibly do for me that I can't, at least presently, do for myself. Kill my son. He's expecting it from me. Already has his stinking minions on high alert. And if you're wondering how a mother can get to the point of wanting her own son—"

"No, we're really not," Sam cuts her off. "We'll do it. We'll kill Crowley. First things first—can you read the book?"

"Of course I can. I'm likely the only witch alive who can understand such old, dark magic. Just not in its present form."

"Oh well, then," I say shortly. "Drink's on us." I shut the box, with The Book of the Damned inside.

"Hey, neither of you are going anywhere. I'm your mortal enemy. I've tried to kill you and your brother—your brother as recently as last month. You wouldn't have come to me if I wasn't your last resort. You're desperate. You can stop pretending you're not."

"Thank God, a savior," I mutter as my phone buzzes.

"How rude. Now, I can't read the book in its present form, but there is someone who could. Nadya. Grand coven witch."

"Where do we find her?" I ask reluctantly.

"You don't. She's dead. Long ago. Murdered for her life's work. Her decryption, formulas, her codex...That you can find. Bring me Nadya's codex, and I'll...break this text right open and give you your cure."

"Where do we look?"

"If I were you, I'd start at home. Who do you think murdered Nadya and stole the codex in the first place?"

Sam and I look at each other. "The Men of Letters."

"Uh, that might need to be put on the backburner, Sam," I say, reading the text. It's Dean: Sam with you? Hitting a nest in Tulsa. Join if you want. "Sounds like Dean's calling us in."

* * *

Turns out Dean's invitation isn't a call for backup, it's just an offer. By the time Sam and I get there, the nest is completely taken care of. Sam and I are a little mad at Dean for going solo like he had. So, there's a little bit of bitterness when we get back to the bunker.

Dean's retired to his room. Sam and I have been combing through catalogs and files to find the codex for The Book of the Damned.

"Got something," says Sam, pulling out an audio tape reel.

"Time to share, little brother," I say, picking a side of the set of headphones. Sam gets the tape rewound and then plays it.

"Please let's come to order. Men of Letters meeting minutes—May sixteenth, nineteen-fifty-six. On the matter of Cuthbert Sinclair expulsion. This is hardly your first offense, Cuthbert. You've been cited for disciplinary infractions seven times in the course of your tenure. This...enchanted vault of yours, this...Werther box. A warding so potent it achieves a theoretical rate of...in your own words, ninety-eight percent lethality."

"Extreme measures were warranted," says a new, familiar voice. Even though Sam and I only met Cuthbert once in our lifetime, we remember him. "The coven's desperate to get the codex back. The Werther box works."

"All too well, I'd say. Working in secret, embarking on this project without oversight...you left two fellow Men of Letters vulnerable to your most potent magics. Fletcher and Martinez were members in good standing. Fletcher chanced upon the box and died in two hours. Martinez heroically tried to shut it down. We found him dead on the floor beside the box, his wrists cut."

"I already apologized for that accident. I refuse to do so again. Why are you all so small-minded? Hmm? We were brought here to do great things. To take risks, to bring the fight to the monsters of this world. And yet, to a man, you choose instead to moulder in these stacks. You are not men. You are not men. You're librarians, nothing more."

"Before we rule on what is to be done with you, I'm prepared to give you a chance to secure our leniency. Tell us how to shut it down. The box is still in St. Louis with the code. It's still a danger."

"Let me tell you what you can do with your leniency, Markham. You know, I saw the writing on the wall. I knew you cowards would shut this project down, which is why I built it the way I did. There is only one way to silence the Werther for good. Let's just say Martinez was on the right track. I doubt you lot have the guts, but you're welcome to die trying."

"Now I get why the Men of Letters outed him," I mutter. "This dude is a nut."

"Markham," says a new voice, "would you have us keep trying?"

"The box is to be interred and guarded where it stands, in perpetuity. Bury it."

The second Sam cuts the tape off, he goes to one of the shelves, picks out a book, and flips through the pages. I'm putting the tape away as he scribbles something on a notepad—most likely the address to the Men of Letters St. Louis location.

"So, what's our plan?" I ask Sam.

"I'm going to see if Rowena can give us a spell that will break the one that's over the Werther box. Get the truck ready to go."

"You got it." I head back out to the truck as Sam runs off to call Rowena.

I'm not happy about this unlikely alliance. It's unstable to me. Rowena is an enemy to us, she can easily turn. I don't trust her as far as I can probably throw her. This is insane.

But I guess insane is what we Winchesters do best.

**The title pretty much explains where we are.**