Legacy (Supernatural) [Rogue Trilogy] {3}

21. A Hand of God

21. A Hand of God

"Seriously, dude? We've got little money as it is, we can't just do coffee runs every other day!" I exclaim. I was looking forward to a morning cup of coffee in the bunker kitchen, but apparently, Sam beat me to it and downed the rest of the batch.

"Calm down, Jo," says Sam, not looking up from his computer. "It's just coffee."

"It's something that helps me tolerate my two knucklehead brothers." Dean walks into the kitchen. "Don't bother, Dean. We're out."

"There was a half a bag yesterday!" he protests.

"I killed it," Sam speaks up. "Hey, did you know the Nazis had a special branch devoted to archaeology?"

"Little early for Nazi trivia, especially without caffeine."

"Amen," I mutter.

"It's called the 'Ahnenerbe'," our little brother explains, "there were sites all over Germany, and then as the Nazis increased their territory, they started popping in Poland, Finland, uh, North Africa..."

"Yeah, how is this more important than our coffee situation?"

"'Cause I found something. I mean, we need something. Magic. A weapon strong enough to give us a shot against Amara. So, I've been looking outside the lore in history. And I found this, the Vichy Memorandems. They were Nazi communications that puzzle historians to this day. And they speak of a super weapon obtained by the Ahnenerbe, said to be strong enough to win the war."

"Yeah?" I ask curiously. "What was it?" I go to the fridge, shuffling things around.

"Well, these memos refer to it as 'The Hand of God.' I mean, that was sort of a catch-all term for several objects he touched in Earth in Biblical times. But they're believed to contain traces of His power."

"Yeah, well the Nazis believed in a lot of things," says Dean.

"Dean, Lucifer's caged. God's MIA, the only beings strong enough to battle Amara are gone. If we're gonna fight her, what better way to arm up than with an actual dose of His power?"

"Okay, so you said the Nazis got their hand on one of these, uh, hands?"

"Right."

"Well if it was so powerful it could win them the war, why didn't it?" I ask from the fridge. "Guys, this thing reeks. Do either of you throw out anything?"

"Because they lost it," Sam says, completely ignoring my second question. "En route to Berlin, it was stolen. The Nazis searched high and low for the thief, but they never found their prime suspect, uh, here—Delphine Seydoux. French mistress to a high-ranking Nazi. Thought to be a French traitor, 'til she killed her German lover, and made off with the weapon."

"Allied spy?" Dean guesses. "French resistance?"

"That's what the Nazis thought," says Sam. "But their investigation led them to a different conclusion. That she was an 'un femme de lettre'."

"English, Sammy," I say, ducking out of the fridge.

"A Woman of Letters."

"Yeah, you guys go ahead and research, I'll clean this nasty thing out before experiments start to grow and come alive."

It takes me a good half hour of throwing things out and trying not to throw up my guts in the bunker kitchen. I can't bring myself to scrub the thing clean, I run out of the kitchen before the putrid air suffocates me.