Chapter Fifthteen: Sam

169 13 1
                                    

     They say never judge a book by its cover

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

     They say never judge a book by its cover. But if that book is supposed to be a good guy, then you judge the hell out of him. I convinced both of the Winchester men to have me stick around for a while, never truly leading on why I wanted to stick around. Even if I could tell Dean that Sam watched and wanted him to be turned, he wouldn't believe me.

We stopped at a quaint little food cart, Dean needed to stretch his legs, and get something in his stomach. Sam agreed to get the food for Dean. I remained in the car, watching from my position. I notice Sam reading the local newspaper, probably searching for a case. Dean on the other hand was on his phone, talking to someone. But sadly, I couldn't not hear him. My abilities have been wonky, using that much magic at the vamp nest nearly tipped me over. I needed to know what was happening to me. I dug my Grimoire out of my duffel bag next to me, and placed it within my lap. I stared at the leather bound cover, slowly sliding my hand across the texture. What could I possibly be missing?

I gripped the cover and a handful of the crisp yellow pages, opening it up half-way into the Grimoire. My power decline started the day I was awoken from my slumber. But I was thorough with the creation of the spell, and followed the steps correctly. So, the effects of the spell shouldn't be affecting me this way. I aimlessly flipped the pages of my Grimoire, as possibilities ran through my mind. Suddenly, my eyes skimmed something that was unusual. My eyes scanned the pages in front of me, and now that I see it, it was unnoticeable. In the seam of the pages, was a rip. A tore of tender paper, gone. I could feel my heart pounding against my rib-cage, as this was impossible. I had gone to great lengths to protect my family's spells, from Demons, Angels, Witches, even mortals. So how the hell is there a page missing.

I traced my index finger down the torn line of paper, feeling the edges grind across my finger. My Grimoire had never left my side, it was my most prized possession. What the page was, and what the contents it held - that I could not decipher. It wasn't indexed, it was a mess, but it never let me down when I needed a spell or information.

Suddenly, heavy set footsteps approached the car, which brought me out of my head. Dean and Sam gripped their respective handles, and opened their car doors before climbing in.

"We might have found a case," Sam instructed, tossing his gaze back to look at me. As I sat dead centre, so both the boys could see me. But I remain silent, my eyes never looking up from my Grimoire.

"You ok Abby?" Dean's voice now entered my ear drums, making me raise my gaze up from the pages, and meet his concerned expression.

"Yeah," I replied, but my mind was elsewhere, recalling the times I had left my Grimoire with someone. Bobby was of course out of the question, he wouldn't do it. Would he? Could I trust anyone? As the engine purred to life, my eyes drifted to that of Sam, obvious to me staring at him. Could he have been the one who ripped one of the pages out of my Grimoire? He's been acting odd since I've been back. Deep down I was hoping it wasn't him, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it was...

BoundWhere stories live. Discover now