That's A Real Life Bronze Age Priestess Sammy
Chapter 7
Please look at end notes for warnings.
"Maybe I'm not ready to hunt. But I am just trying to do the right thing, man, 'cause I'm so sick and tired of doing the wrong one."
Sam could feel the pain his brother's voice, but was helpless to do anything to alleviate it. His mind was constantly being bombarded with questions. Most of them along the lines of how much was it just Dean being angry and how much was it the Mark? Will Dean eventually end up becoming another Cain, a soulless immortal murderer with no remorse? However the most important question of them all, what will he do then? He didn't want to answer any of them, even if he could begin to. However he gets pulled out of his thoughts by the ringing of his phone. When Dean saw his brother grabbing it he asked who was messaging him so late at night.
"It's an email." He didn't add much after that, but continued to read. He had been waiting for this particular email for sometime but to be honest had forgotten about it what with the killer werewolves and all. "You won't believe what happened?"
"Now what?" asked Dean in a tired voice.
"I thought I could find more about Muwatti's tablet. Not sure if you remember but it was part of this Forgotten Empires exhibition at the Met, where they were showcasing Hittite art." Sam couldn't control his excitement. "I contacted the museum pretending to a Fed just to see what they can tell me and they just replied."
"And they're just admitting they're losing items now?"
"Dude, it's unbelievable how much of a shit show that has turned out to be. The entire exhibition was on loan from the Turkey's Committee on Conservation of Cultural Assets and now the Turkish government are personally insulted about the fact they just lost the tablet that had made deciphering the ancient language possible. Anyway the night you freed Muwatti, their cameras didn't record anything that happened."
Dean let out scoff, "I think Crowley definitely had something to do with that. He cleaned up the bodies of the demons I killed. For the best, I suppose. The museum geeks would have lost their minds watching not only a bunch of people getting slaughtered but also the whole thing of an ancient princess appearing from a flash of bright light."
That certainly would have been difficult to explain to the Turkish cultural attache. "Now get this, last night there was another break-in at the museum and they specifically targeted the same Hittite exhibition. But they didn't take anything. They just killed a bunch of guards, looked around at the artefacts and then simply left."
They had finally reached the motel, where they had left Muwatti before going off on the hunt. Dean pulled up in front their room and shut down the engine. He turned towards Sam and said, "That's definitely weird, but why are you so excited about a failed museum heist?"
"Cause whoever went in this time, didn't disable the cameras. That's what the museum just emailed me. Although the footage was heavily corrupted."
"Corrupted. As in….."
"As in demons."
"No, Sam. For the last time we are not calling Crowley." said Dean while he grabbed another beer before sitting down at the tiny kitchen table, joining Sam and Muwatti. He knew that Dean wouldn't agree with his suggestion of involving the King of Hell, but what choice did they have. One way or another he will get involved somehow, either when the brothers cave in and called him or when Crowley showed up offering them a deal, and in both scenarios he is going to be just as smug and punchable as ever. So why don't they just skip right to the part where they could have the answers to their questions.
"You don't think the demons from last night were sent by Crowley?" asked Muwatti. Since the brothers had entered the tiny motel room and told her about what happened at the museum, she had been incredibly quiet, especially after watching the grainy footage of demons prowling around the Met, their scaled-down minuscule black eyes staring at them tauntingly. Sam had to admit besides teaching her to read, their interactions were limited to him asking her if she was hungry or tired. He still hadn't figured her out. Not that there was a lack of information. Quite the opposite really. There were historical tomes written about her. Both on her life and on the theories behind her disappearance. She certainly was smart, she had to be, considering the fact that she was the co-ruler of an entire empire. Along with English she could speak fluent Turkish, German and French and could read and write almost half a dozen other dead languages. From what he had read up on her, she was the Chief Priestess or Tawananna for three emperors, her father and then two of her brothers. She has been exalted as excellent diplomat and stateswoman, and there's an entire school of historians that consider her to be an undiagnosed sociopath. Everyone agrees she was an effective and ruthless ruler of a warring state, just like her mother was before her. And then one day she simply disappeared just like her as well. The lost empress and the lost princess, historically poetic sure, but just tragedy following tragedy in reality.
But now, in the twenty first century A.D. she was also clueless and naive, to a fault, to the brand new world around her. And he was sure also absolutely scared shitless. From what Dean had told him, he couldn't imagine living in that tablet world for all those years. Cut off from the life she once had and only being able to hear the world around her melt away and disappear. All the while she was still caged in a world of dark nothingness that forced her to be only a mute spectator. And even when she did get out, she found that her entire life was simply reduced to objects that could be dug up, studied in a sterile environment and then preserved behind glass. That and her last day were the only things he ever shared with him, saying that the rest wasn't his to share. If and when they find everything there was to know about her curse and how it relates to the Mark on his brother's hand, nothing would change for her. There was no home for her to go back to, because her home is an archaeological site in Turkey now. Dean had taught her how to Google, and according to the search history on their laptops she only seemed to search about Hattusa and the Hittite empire. How did it fall? When was it abandoned? Where did the Hittite people go afterwards? She had so many questions about her lost life. He was without Dean for six weeks and he rapidly lost control over his sanity, whereas she lost her entire world and way of life. Sometimes he couldn't help himself but stare at her and wonder how had she not gone insane? How was she not undergoing existential crisis every waking hour?
It was painfully obvious that unlike him, Dean had no problem talking to her, interacting with her, enthusiastically telling her about about his favourite music and food and movies. The important stuff, as Dean calls it. She had even started addressing the Impala as a 'she' and calling it 'Baby'. Pretty soon she is going to start singing Led Zeppelin songs from memory too, if his brother had anything to do with it.
Maybe it was the dream jumping or dream sharing or whatever it could be called, that enabled the two of them to open up to each other. It wasn't just about trust, it was like they really understood one another. Or maybe it had to do with the fact that Dean was willing to treat her as a person with real feelings and not just a case that they had to cross off their list. He knew, the rational part of him absolutely knew, that she didn't get herself cursed and then suffered absolute complete misery for over three thousands years, just so she could be part of the Winchester brand of disfunctionality. But there was always fucking something. The other shoe always dropped when it came to them. Someone or something wanted her cursed, alive but cursed, in fact living through all of that was the curse, but did that someone or something even know or could've even guessed what would happen between the clay tablet and the Mark? If it had been Cain and not necessarily Dean, who broke the tablet, would the same thing have occurred? Could it easily have been Cain that would have fed her his home cooked meals and not Dean trying to convince her that his cheeseburgers were the pinnacle of culinary art so she shouldn't even bother trying other cuisine?
He had been so engrossed in his mental tirade that he forgot that Muwatti had asked him a question. He cleared his throat and said, "No, I don't think Crowley sent those demons last night. He's not one to leave a mess. And why would he do something like that? You were with him for weeks and only yesterday he wanted more answers."
"Don't be so sure about that." said Dean, "Back when I was still, you know, a demon and travelling with Crowley, he kept calling her princess. I didn't think of it much then, since I thought he was being his regular condescending self, assigning nicknames to everyone around him. But now that we know that you really are one," he said while pointing towards Muwatti, "and the thing about angels being interested in your mother and not having a single clue how both of you could simply disappear, Crowley definitely knows a lot more."
"Which we why it would be better if we just call and ask him directly. Look, you're not any closer to figuring out anything about the curse through the dreams yet. Right now getting as much as information we can, is what will put us on the right track." After being hounded by so many questions these past few days, if there was even a slim chance of getting answer to any of them, Sam was going to pursue it. He needed this. Dean must have sensed that as well, because he reluctantly agreed and told Sam to call Crowley. After saying a quick thanks, he got up to grab his phone from his bag, which was near the beds. They had flung their bags aside when they came into the room. He dialled the number and waited, but could still hear Dean and Muwatti talking.
"You said Crowley assigns nicknames to everyone. What are yours?" She asked his brother. He awkwardly scratched his nose and let out a nervous chuckle, before replying to her, "It's based on this cartoon, those shows for children on TV. Sam is moose and I am squirrel." Why aren't you picking up Crowley? Is he still butthurt about how they parted ways last time? She must not have had any idea what those animals looked like because Dean was soon showing her pictures of them on the laptop. "Actually the squirrel thing makes sense." With shock clearly in his voice, Dean asked her what did she mean. "I have seen you eat, Dean. You clearly look like this creature with an overstuffed mouth."
The brothers had finally agreed to call Crowley, who took very little convincing to come over. Things had a habit of accelerating with the Winchesters, didn't they? Or maybe the correct term would be spiralling down. However one thing was certain, change was inevitable for them. Sometimes good and sometimes bad. Sometimes fast and sometimes slow. But change always happened. Unlike her little world in the clay tablet. Nothing ever changed there. Not even her. She wasn't just cut off from the world but also she was robbed of any change. She couldn't even feel anything. She didn't hunger. She didn't thirst. She didn't feel pain. She tried to feel pain, like the time she clawed out the flesh on wrists just to end her life. She must been scratched at her skin for hours with just her nails, until the tendons were broken and she could feel bone. She had paused for just one moment, she had blinked only once maybe twice and then she had healed. No, she went back to how she was when she first entered the tablet. Because change wasn't allowed. Her flesh had healed and the pool of her own blood that she had been sitting in was gone. She could've made a second attempt, but she didn't. Dying is a form of change and that could never be possible there. There wasn't much to do in that tablet. Maybe just keep walking. She might have walked for years, just to see if there was an end. There wasn't. The terrain didn't change.
Now everything had changed. Drastically. Going from absolute stillness to pure chaos in a flash. She still didn't know how to feel about that. Could she ever feel anything? She did feel hungry. She did feel pain. She may even be able to die now. Did she want to die?
She could definitely feel now without a doubt, however the only thing she did feel now, was tired. For so long she had only felt the most painful thing there was, time and isolation. In the first few days she was out, she certainly felt other things. Relief for finally getting out. Wonder over….everything really. A bit of fear as well about the uncertainty that was now her life. But soon enough there was only exhaustion. It had reached the point where she didn't want to get up in the morning. She was finally out, part of the real world, and all she wanted to do was sleep. At least then she could be back at Hattusa, feel that familiar red sands between her toes, be among her people, eat all of her favourite dishes, listen to all those familiar songs, basically live the only life she had lived. She didn't just want to escape the tablet, she wanted to go back home. But her home had changed. Drastically. It was an empty, abandoned, destroyed, and ravaged ruin. And here she was, the same as ever. Even the people who knew, really knew her, as a person and not some dry history lecture, were gone. She was the only one left. Homeless. Changeless. Feeling tired. As well as still feeling the time and isolation. She spent the whole of the future or history or whatever you want to call it, locked out from it, and now that she was free, all she wanted to dream about her past.
But she couldn't. Not really. There were questions that needed to be answered. The Winchesters tried, they really tried, however many times during her days with them, she could see the question in their eyes, after going through all that, how is this woman not completely absolutely insane? Maybe she was. However there were still so many questions. By them. By her. Did she even want the answers? She should. Right? The biggest question on mind was why. They clearly wanted to hurt her, to stop her, but why did they choose this method? Why not just kill her? Did they forget what they did? This whole thing wasn't very well planned either, considering the tablet was already in her chambers. They came to trap her but didn't even bother bringing anything. Why?
She could remember everything about her life, right down to the placement and texture of the bricks of the walls. However when it came to that day, her last day, her memory spectacularly fails her. Much to the frustration of both the brothers. She didn't understand why they just can't talk to her, instead of talking over her, or even worse talking behind her, if their intentions are truly to find more about her curse, like that keep saying it is? Is it an intimidation tactic? Was their giant physiques and mastery over a vast range of weapons not enough? Is she admitting they kind of scare her? Maybe. Yes, she can command Dean to body tackle Sam anytime she wants, but having no idea why or how she and the Mark are connected, she didn't want test the fragile connection. Yet. And also the fact that they haven't actually threatened her. Yet. She was locked up for no reason and released for no reason in a time that constantly leaves her disorientated, safe to say she's a little paranoid.
But why? Why can't she remember what happened that day? Why is she only able to grasp at tiny fragments from that day? She needed to remember. Right? Then again, why was there a part of her that was preventing her from remembering it?
Why can't she just remember?
Why does she need to remember?
Something about that day frightened to her very core. And not just because she ends up getting trapped in the tablet. During her life, she had to face all manners of problems and disasters. Wars. Plague. Assassinations. Her mother's disappearance. Her twin's disappearance. More wars. Both her father and eldest brother dying in the plague. Traitorous nobles. Taxes. Her remaining brothers threatening civil war. Living through all that was relatively easy when compared to reliving that one memory.
Throughout her life, she had always clung on to the lessons from anni. When anni disappeared, they were the only things that made life liveable and now in the twenty first century, A.D. that is, they had become even more precious.
Every Hittite child was made to fear one thing, The enemy crossing their borders and arriving at their gates and the capital falling. However anni told them, her children, for them those words weren't just fears but a warning. The warning of something that they can never allow to happen. That was the price of their position. That was their birthright. Their duty. Failure to heed the warning or choosing to walk away from it, only results in death. Death of their people. Death of the empire. And their deaths as well. The only way to prevent that, was to do exactly what she and atti had always done, survive. It doesn't matter how hard it is. It doesn't matter how much it hurts. It doesn't matter how tired you may get. The only thing that matters is survival. Survival at any cost. Survival of the empire. Survival of the capital. Survival of self.
So as much as she may want to give up and as much as she only wants to dream away her chance at a second life, she can't. Anni's words inside her head won't let her. Anni's memories in her dreams won't let her. Maybe that's the thing she should cling to. Since the empire and the capital are long gone. And she was the only one left. Survival at any cost.
Warning of suicidal thoughts and attempted suicide.