Cowboys and Angels

31. The Vessel

"Because they lost it. 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? French resistance?"

"That's what the Nazis thought. But their investigation led them to a different conclusion. That she was an "un femme de lettre."" Dean looked blankly at Sam. "A Woman of Letters."

Sam and Dean were looking through drawers and books, researching.

"Who knew the Men of Letters had European chapters?" Dean said.

"Maybe it wasn't an entire chapter, just an asset, you know?" Sam guessed.

"Yeah, and letting women join way back in the forties? I just never got the impression that they were so big on gender equality, you know, it's right there in the name."

"Well it was World War II. Kind of an all-hands-on-deck situation, you know?"

"Yeah, Rosie the Riveter. Cool."

"Here we go. This report was written by Clifford Henshaw, a bunker-based Men of Letters back in 1943. It's the right era. But it's in French." Sam began using a translator as Dean appeared, drinking a beer.

"Well?" Dean pressed.

"Hey. So it's definitely about Delphine. Her name's at the top of every page. Check this out. Transcriptions. From transatlantic cables between Clifford and Delphine."

"What'd they say?"

"Give me a second. Web translation's kind of buggy."

Dean took a swig of beer and Sam noticed. "Seriously? Dude, it's like noon."

"Uh, well you drank all the coffee, so what are we supposed to drink, water?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Look at this. They were making arrangements to get the artifact out of Europe to keep it safe. Henshaw pulled some strings with a Man of Letters in the OSS to requisition an active US submarine to transport Delphine and the weapon back to the States. Back to here."

"The Bunker?"

"Yeah."

"So it's been here the whole time."

"Uh.... " He searched some more. "No. It never arrived. The USS Bluefin came under German attack midway through its trip across the Atlantic, the sub was sunk, the ship and its contents haven't been recovered to this day. Great. It's lost."

"Or is it?"

"Yeah, I'd say so. I mean, tides took the wreckage, submersibles have been trying to locate it for years. I mean if James Cameron and his Avatar billions can't find it..."

"Yeah, but - we have something James Cameron doesn't have."

INT. HELL - DAY

Lucifer watched as several demons wheel in an assortment of medieval-looking weapons. She walked over and took one, looking disappointed.

"That's all of it?" Lucifer asked.

"Yes ma'am," a demon replied. "The requested weaponry from your crypt. Does it please you?"

"Spare me."

The demons left. Lucifer approached Crowley and poked him with a staff.

"How are your wounds, doggy?" Lucifer asked in a mocking tone.

"They are... no less than I deserve," Crowley replied.

Lucifer scratched Crowley's head and crooned. "Aww, you're scared of your Mistress. That's a good doggy." She grabbed Crowley's ear and pulled his head up. "But it's an act. I broke you, but um..." She smelled him. "Yep, I can still smell it, you've got that delectable little whiff of defiance, you're just playing, huh? Waiting for your moment to retake the throne? Am I right?"