Part 1, Chapter 1
Part 1: The Sad Solution
Chapter 1
Springfield, Ohio
"You sure this is the right office?" Dean asked, eyeing the door.
"Simon Goldstein, like Bobby said," Sam answered, and knocked.
"He's a cryptography professor. Not theology, not ancient languages, cryptography. How the hell is he supposed to help us?"
Before Sam could answer, the door opened, revealing a slight Middle Eastern man in his early forties. He was clean-shaven, with longish hair pulled back in a neat tail, and was wearing a faded tweed suit over a maroon turtleneck.
"Office hours are ov--" He blinked. "...ah. You're not my students."
"Uh, no, sir, we're not," Sam said. "I'm Sam Anders, and this is my friend, Dean Thrace. We're students down at Kansas State University. We've got some questions about some work you've done."
Professor Goldstein eyed them for a minute, then stood back, holding open the door. "I've got some time. What have you been researching?"
The office was small, and more or less exactly what was expected of a college professor's office. Most of the walls were taken up by bookshelves, with a desk squeezed into one corner. The desk was remarkably uncluttered, with neat stacks of papers next to the computer. There were no family photos, or anything else identifiably personal, other than a picture of Goldstein with a Jack Russell terrier. There was a single window, with blinds that were down but open, letting in some early afternoon sunlight.
"When you were a student at Oxford," Sam said, shutting the door behind them, "you wrote a paper on the Instruments of the Passion. We had a few questions about it."
Goldstein blinked. "Huh. Not many people dig that one up."
"We're theology students," Dean supplied. "We're all about obscure old papers no one's ever heard of."
He arched an eyebrow. "I was studying Aramaic. The paper was linguistic, not theological."
"We know," Sam said. "But you raised some points not many other scholars do."
The professor held up a hand. "I think we can dispense with the theatrics, gentlemen." He smiled slightly. "You're not the first hunters who have contacted me. What are you looking for?"
They looked at each other, surprised that he had made them so fast. "How did you...?" Sam asked.
He shook his head. "Well, you're a little old for undergrads, you don't carry yourself like grad students, and if you were actually coming from another university looking for research help, you probably would have emailed me first instead of turning up, seemingly on a whim."
Well, that made an unfortunate amount of sense. Dean would be thirty-one in January, and even Sam wasn't as babyfaced as he used to be. After this--assuming it was even relevant--they should probably stop trying to pose as students when poking around.
"We're looking for the Weapon of God," Dean said, after exchanging another look with Sam.
Goldstein stared at him, visibly taken aback. "That wasn't in my paper."
"No, it wasn't," Sam said. "But we hear you're the person to talk to about it."
The professor was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, he was a great deal more guarded. "What, exactly, are you trying to banish?"
"Does it really matter?" Sam asked.
"It might."
"Look, you're supposed to be an expert on this thing," Dean said.
He sighed. "Expert might not be the right word. But I do know a few things about the Weapon. Enough to know you should stay away, at any rate."
"We can't do that," Sam said. "Just...do you know what it is? We can take it from there. I mean, is it the spear, a piece of--"
"Your information is off," Goldstein interrupted. "Let me guess what you know. 'One touch from the Weapon that slew the Lamb of God can shatter the mortal shell and return the Being inside to the place God designed for it.' Something along those lines?"
They exchanged another look, and then Sam nodded. "Yeah."
"You're working from a mistranslation," the professor said. "Which isn't exactly surprising. The original text is written in a very obscure dialect, only found in one other. But a better translation where you heard 'weapon' would be 'device,' or 'tool.' And the word you had translated as 'touch' should be 'kiss.'"
"That doesn't change the important part," Dean said.
Sam stared at the professor. "...wait."
"You're not looking for a spear," Goldstein said, quietly.
"The Weapon of God...is Judas?"
Goldstein nodded. "And, from what I understand, it's generally better to leave him alone. I assume that, if you're desperate enough to try and use him, you've already pissed off someone with a lot of power. Can you really afford another heavyweight's anger?"
"Yeah, well, we don't really have a choice," Dean said. "Do you know how to find him?"
The professor looked away. "He can be found with a basic tracking spell, I suppose. It's never worked before to my knowledge, but the principle should apply."
"We'd need a piece of him in order to do that, though," Sam said. "Is there a summoning ritual or anything we could use?"
"Yes." He didn't elaborate.
"...do you know it?"
Goldstein sighed. "Yes."
When he stopped again, Dean asked, "Well, what is it?"
"You shouldn't do this," the professor tried again. "Summoning him will likely open a can of worms you don't want to deal with."
"Let us worry about that. What's the summoning ritual?"
When he didn't answer right away, Sam asked, "Why are you trying so hard to hide it? Is he a friend of yours, or something?"
"No," Goldstein said. "But you'd still be better off leaving him alone. Trust me."
"Just give us the ritual, and then it won't be your problem anymore. Please?"
"It will be my problem if something goes wrong, though. I'll still have given it to you."
"We can take care of ourselves," Dean said.
After a long moment, Goldstein sighed, and finally gave in. "You gather the necessary components in a circle with a five-foot diameter, then you say his name three times."
"That's it?" Sam asked.
"That's it."
"What are the components?"
"Difficult to source," Goldstein replied, with obvious reluctance, then turned and pulled a book off the shelf. He flipped through several pages, then said, "You need thirty drops of blood--ten from a man who has been broken, ten from a man of true devotion, and ten from a man who has slain unwitting."
Sam and Dean exchanged a look. It was such a small amount of blood, no one had to be seriously hurt or anything--it certainly wasn't particularly hard to get, even given the source requirements. "Anything else?"
"Yes," he said, and sighed. "You need a piece of silver."
Also not especially hard to get--they had a crapload of silver around, since so many things could be killed by it--unless...
Sam groaned. "I'm guessing it has to be his?"
"Yes." Goldstein shut the book, and turned back to them. "I have a class in an hour, and you have...whatever it is you're hunting to worry about. I'd tell you again to leave well enough alone, but I'm sure you won't listen."
"Thanks anyway," Sam said.
"Of course," Goldstein said, then crossed over to open the door to them. He hesitated for a moment. "Be careful. Please."
Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "Yeah, of course," Sam said. "And thanks again, for everything."
Goldstein nodded, then shut the door behind them without another word.
Next: Part 1, Chapter 2
Chapter 1
Springfield, Ohio
"You sure this is the right office?" Dean asked, eyeing the door.
"Simon Goldstein, like Bobby said," Sam answered, and knocked.
"He's a cryptography professor. Not theology, not ancient languages, cryptography. How the hell is he supposed to help us?"
Before Sam could answer, the door opened, revealing a slight Middle Eastern man in his early forties. He was clean-shaven, with longish hair pulled back in a neat tail, and was wearing a faded tweed suit over a maroon turtleneck.
"Office hours are ov--" He blinked. "...ah. You're not my students."
"Uh, no, sir, we're not," Sam said. "I'm Sam Anders, and this is my friend, Dean Thrace. We're students down at Kansas State University. We've got some questions about some work you've done."
Professor Goldstein eyed them for a minute, then stood back, holding open the door. "I've got some time. What have you been researching?"
The office was small, and more or less exactly what was expected of a college professor's office. Most of the walls were taken up by bookshelves, with a desk squeezed into one corner. The desk was remarkably uncluttered, with neat stacks of papers next to the computer. There were no family photos, or anything else identifiably personal, other than a picture of Goldstein with a Jack Russell terrier. There was a single window, with blinds that were down but open, letting in some early afternoon sunlight.
"When you were a student at Oxford," Sam said, shutting the door behind them, "you wrote a paper on the Instruments of the Passion. We had a few questions about it."
Goldstein blinked. "Huh. Not many people dig that one up."
"We're theology students," Dean supplied. "We're all about obscure old papers no one's ever heard of."
He arched an eyebrow. "I was studying Aramaic. The paper was linguistic, not theological."
"We know," Sam said. "But you raised some points not many other scholars do."
The professor held up a hand. "I think we can dispense with the theatrics, gentlemen." He smiled slightly. "You're not the first hunters who have contacted me. What are you looking for?"
They looked at each other, surprised that he had made them so fast. "How did you...?" Sam asked.
He shook his head. "Well, you're a little old for undergrads, you don't carry yourself like grad students, and if you were actually coming from another university looking for research help, you probably would have emailed me first instead of turning up, seemingly on a whim."
Well, that made an unfortunate amount of sense. Dean would be thirty-one in January, and even Sam wasn't as babyfaced as he used to be. After this--assuming it was even relevant--they should probably stop trying to pose as students when poking around.
"We're looking for the Weapon of God," Dean said, after exchanging another look with Sam.
Goldstein stared at him, visibly taken aback. "That wasn't in my paper."
"No, it wasn't," Sam said. "But we hear you're the person to talk to about it."
The professor was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, he was a great deal more guarded. "What, exactly, are you trying to banish?"
"Does it really matter?" Sam asked.
"It might."
"Look, you're supposed to be an expert on this thing," Dean said.
He sighed. "Expert might not be the right word. But I do know a few things about the Weapon. Enough to know you should stay away, at any rate."
"We can't do that," Sam said. "Just...do you know what it is? We can take it from there. I mean, is it the spear, a piece of--"
"Your information is off," Goldstein interrupted. "Let me guess what you know. 'One touch from the Weapon that slew the Lamb of God can shatter the mortal shell and return the Being inside to the place God designed for it.' Something along those lines?"
They exchanged another look, and then Sam nodded. "Yeah."
"You're working from a mistranslation," the professor said. "Which isn't exactly surprising. The original text is written in a very obscure dialect, only found in one other. But a better translation where you heard 'weapon' would be 'device,' or 'tool.' And the word you had translated as 'touch' should be 'kiss.'"
"That doesn't change the important part," Dean said.
Sam stared at the professor. "...wait."
"You're not looking for a spear," Goldstein said, quietly.
"The Weapon of God...is Judas?"
Goldstein nodded. "And, from what I understand, it's generally better to leave him alone. I assume that, if you're desperate enough to try and use him, you've already pissed off someone with a lot of power. Can you really afford another heavyweight's anger?"
"Yeah, well, we don't really have a choice," Dean said. "Do you know how to find him?"
The professor looked away. "He can be found with a basic tracking spell, I suppose. It's never worked before to my knowledge, but the principle should apply."
"We'd need a piece of him in order to do that, though," Sam said. "Is there a summoning ritual or anything we could use?"
"Yes." He didn't elaborate.
"...do you know it?"
Goldstein sighed. "Yes."
When he stopped again, Dean asked, "Well, what is it?"
"You shouldn't do this," the professor tried again. "Summoning him will likely open a can of worms you don't want to deal with."
"Let us worry about that. What's the summoning ritual?"
When he didn't answer right away, Sam asked, "Why are you trying so hard to hide it? Is he a friend of yours, or something?"
"No," Goldstein said. "But you'd still be better off leaving him alone. Trust me."
"Just give us the ritual, and then it won't be your problem anymore. Please?"
"It will be my problem if something goes wrong, though. I'll still have given it to you."
"We can take care of ourselves," Dean said.
After a long moment, Goldstein sighed, and finally gave in. "You gather the necessary components in a circle with a five-foot diameter, then you say his name three times."
"That's it?" Sam asked.
"That's it."
"What are the components?"
"Difficult to source," Goldstein replied, with obvious reluctance, then turned and pulled a book off the shelf. He flipped through several pages, then said, "You need thirty drops of blood--ten from a man who has been broken, ten from a man of true devotion, and ten from a man who has slain unwitting."
Sam and Dean exchanged a look. It was such a small amount of blood, no one had to be seriously hurt or anything--it certainly wasn't particularly hard to get, even given the source requirements. "Anything else?"
"Yes," he said, and sighed. "You need a piece of silver."
Also not especially hard to get--they had a crapload of silver around, since so many things could be killed by it--unless...
Sam groaned. "I'm guessing it has to be his?"
"Yes." Goldstein shut the book, and turned back to them. "I have a class in an hour, and you have...whatever it is you're hunting to worry about. I'd tell you again to leave well enough alone, but I'm sure you won't listen."
"Thanks anyway," Sam said.
"Of course," Goldstein said, then crossed over to open the door to them. He hesitated for a moment. "Be careful. Please."
Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "Yeah, of course," Sam said. "And thanks again, for everything."
Goldstein nodded, then shut the door behind them without another word.
Next: Part 1, Chapter 2