LXXVII

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[Dark Dynasty]

Sam was down in the basement where he'd stashed Rowena. "Nothing? You've got nothing?! Rowena, it's been days! You said the codex would crack the code."

"I am an artist, Samuel," Rowena told him. "These things cannot be rushed. Perhaps if I weren't chained up... I'm really not at full strength."

"Yeah, and you won't be at full strength. No witchcraft. Look, I need the cure for my brother from the book, and if you're stalling..."

"Why on earth would I stall?! I want the Mark off your brother for my own protection! I want out of these chains and out of this pit, and I want you to hold up your end of the deal and kill Crowley. You do remember the deal, do you not, Samuel?"

"Believe me, I have no issue killing Crowley!"

"The problem is, the language Nadya used in the codex is damn near indecipherable. She was a gifted witch, but a selfish pig. Once she cracked a code, she then coded its secrets for herself."

"So... Now we need to break a code to... break a code?"

"Quick, aren't you?"

"Listen, Dean gets worse everyday. Get this done."

"You won't forget the grocery shopping, will you?"

"No."

Sam descended the steps into the bunker. Dean and Kennedy were sitting at a table in the library looking up the Styne family on the computer.

"Wow," Dean said.

"Hey," Sam replied.

"You look like crap on toast."

"I just haven't... really been sleeping well."

"There a woman you haven't mentioned?" Dean asked.

"A woman?"

"Well, I'm just saying. You weren't here when we went to bed last night. You've been running off on your own a lot these past couple weeks."

"I do that."

"You actually don't," Kennedy replied.

"Dean, Kennedy, we don't always do the exact same thing at the exact same time. Remember when you went off and snuffed that entire vampire nest by yourself?"

"Have you been snuffing vamp nests?"

"No, I-I... What is that? What are you doing?"

Dean glanced up at Sam. "So, those goons that were after the book, the, uh, the Stynes, well, the one that we killed said that he had a big family. So if there's more out there, Kennedy and I figure we should probably get to know as much as we can about them."

"And?"

Kennedy leaned back in her chair, wrapping her hands around her sleeping daughter. "Well, pretty much all we know is that they screwed with financial markets, helped Hitler get his start, along with God knows what else... probably disco. The horror. But you go back to the 1800s, trail goes cold. There's nothing in the research, nothing online. It's like the family just popped up one day."

"Families do not usually do that."

"No, they most definitely do not. Hasn't been a total waste of time, though. Dean and I think we caught us a case. There's a mention online of a murder in Omaha. Victim's eyes were cut out. Janitor runs in just as the killer jumps from the window."

"That's it?"

"Well, the window was on the third story," Dean replied. "Look, man, she and I are just trying to stay busy here, okay? Unless you have bigger fish to fry."

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