Sacrifice – chpt 7 – s.n. fic.
by: sifi
--
Dean knelt at the sixth crate digging through styrofoam peanuts, bubble wrap and plastic air packs with one hand while the other held his cell phone to his ear, "…I don't think so Sam… I mean I've got a pile of artifacts to go through here… and I wouldn't know the difference between Babylonian and Akkadian if my life depended on it… I think you should be doing this digging and I should be in the library…" he paused and sat up straight, "…did I really just say that?... Sheesh," he shook his head.
"Dude you don't have to recognize or interpret the languages…"
"Well thank God for that… I mean where the hell is Daniel Jackson when you need him? Probably off planet somewhere…" he muttered answering his own question.
"Who?" Sam asked on the other end of the line.
"Nevermind… I mean Sam there's things here… bronze cylinders with scrimshaw …stories on 'em, it's like heiroglyphics… I can't read any of this stuff…" he set the most recent acquisition on the floor and took several pictures of it with his phone.
"Who expects you to be able to read it? Look we both know most of the stories and myths from that time were pictorial, it wasn't uncommon to have scrimshaws that relayed fables and histories, you're getting pictures right?" Sam asked.
"Yeah… I'm getting 'em… dude we have got to get this thing back…"
"I know… right now though we have to figure out who or what we're dealing with… Why the hell am I stuck inside Etemenanki, whoever he was…and just what the hell was that entity that asked for your help…and can we trust it…" Sam added that last softly.
"I trust mine more than yours Sam… but it said it gave you the vision so there must be something you can get from this Etemenanki's perspective… what is it with Eddy's? I mean it's ETE but it's still Ete… jeez man talk about history repeating itself…" he stopped short and drew a breath as a spark seemed to ignite in his mind.
"Oh man…"
"Oh man…" they said together.
"Dean you don't think…? I mean these are Akkadian, Babylonian people… you don't think they've been tied to that thing all this time?"
"What? and they're trying to re-live the whole thing?" Dean asked feeling it wasn't quite right.
"Or trying to stop it from happening again… which would explain why your Mr. Misty would've been the one giving me the visions IF he's the benign one…"
"You don't think it's…Nebuchadnezzar?"
"…Nebuchadnezzar…" they said together again.
"Dude you're creepin' me out…" Dean huffed.
"Tell me about it…Dean… oh man… Dean…" Sam breathed hard on the other end of the line and Dean thought that somehow, he could almost feel the sudden onset of his little brother's anxiety, "I told you I didn't like this one Dean… I told you it felt too big…" his voice was edged but at least it wasn't jagged. Sam was holding together just like Dean knew he would.
"Calm down Sammy… just stay calm okay… we handle this just like anything else… of… biblical proportions…oh man…" he sighed and sat on his heels.
"Dean?" Sam said softly.
"Yeah…"
"We have to go back to the beginning… the case that brought us here…"
"Emil Fredericks," Dean nodded.
"Yeah… look I'm not that far from his office, once I've gotten everything I can over here, and after my appointment with the administrator of the Antiquities department at the museum I'll get into his office and see what I can find out…"
"Alright good…" Dean nodded and rubbed his eyes as a crate on the far side of the storage room caught his attention and he moved hastily to it scowling, "Huh…"
"What?" Sam asked.
"Not sure yet… get whatever you can Sammy… I'm sending the pictures to you so you can print 'em off… if I find something I'll call you 'kay?"
Sam nodded, "Yeah… likewise… otherwise I'll see you back at the motel… hey Dean?"
"Martin, I know…" he checked his watch, "…he said he'd go right to the motel… hey Sam?" he asked tracing the stenciling on the side of the crate.
"Yeah?"
"I can't believe I'm going to say this… but if you get back there before me, and Martin's there… be careful around him… for all we know he could have…"
"Dean he's a kid! Whatever it was that tore the servants apart to the four winds and shattered those…people…his family…was a hell of a lot more powerful than a nine year old boy!" Sam protested and even though his voice held incredulity, even Dean could tell that a part of him was unnerved that only this boy had come away unscathed so far.
"I'm just saying…" he could almost feel Sam nodding his head in silent and somewhat unwilling agreement and he had no trouble seeing his little brothers' expression in his mind's eye.
"I know… and … you're right… just be careful yourself okay?"
"Yah shure yew betcha… talk to you in a little bit Sam," Dean closed his phone and finally grasped the crate, pulling it out into a clear spot on the floor and wedging the end of the pry bar under the nailed down top. "Great I ask for Daniel Jackson and I get O'Neill, two L's, instead…Yah shure yew betcha schnookums…" he snickered then addressed the crate before him, "Not that you care one way or the other… so… let's see just who Martin Turnbull Sr. is huh?" he asked the emptiness around him and when he received no protest, continued to pry the lid off the past.
--
"Hey Marty! head's up!" one of his team mates shouted as the hard quilted ball socked him smack in the face, sending him falling back on his butt. Half a dozen boys from his team broke into riotous laughter as he sat up grinning like he'd been caught peeking under the Christmas wrapping paper. He shook his head and accepted Josh Farmer's hand to return to his feet.
"Dork… what was that? A side trip to Uranus?" he asked.
"Up Your anus Josh…" he joked shoving his best friend playfully.
"You wish…"
"I guess I did kinda space out there…"
"Hey whatever man… you still kept it out of the net… that's all that matters at the end of the game…hey you wanna come over and play some video games?" he asked.
Martin nodded then stopped, "Hold on… we've got some…company for a couple days… lemme just make sure it's okay…" he dug through his backpack and brought out his cell phone while the rest of the guys passed them, heading back into the school or dispersing among cars parked and waiting for them. Many of them slapping Martin on the back with joking praise for a good save, even if it was with his face.
"Dean?... it's Martin… uh, would it matter to you if I go hang out at my friend Josh's house for a few hours?" he asked and received a curious look from his best friend.
Josh had never heard of anyone in Martin's family named Dean.
"31 East Frontage…" he relayed Josh's address and listened for a moment before frowning, "…No, we're not allowed off campus for lunch why?... Really?... You don't think it could've been… you know… that… guy we ran into the other night?" he asked painfully conscious of the strange looks his best friend was shooting at him, "Well, no… you can check with the office… they're pretty… uptight about stuff like that…okay…"
"Hey! Hey see if you can stay the night, we can get a jump on the party…" Josh suggested in a stroke of brilliance, "Come on ask!" he urged even though Martin held up a finger and scowled.
"I suppose… oh yeah… no, they won't care…and it is Friday night so no school tomorrow…" Martin added, "I mean if you don't mind… no it's cool… really…" he grinned and gave the 'okay' sign to Josh who danced a little victory dance. "I'll text you their number… okay… thanks Dean…" he smiled hugely and hung up then 'high fived' Josh.
"So who's this Dean guy anyway? Family or family friend?" Josh asked slinging his gym bag over his shoulder as they too headed toward the line of parked cars.
"I wish he was family…" Martin grinned.
"Race ya?" Josh challenged and tore across the lawn with Martin at his side laughing right in step with him.
--
Sam sat on the edge of the chair, his body visibly tense, almost perfectly straight. His book bag in his lap, clutched to his chest while his eyes told anyone who cared to notice that his head wasn't exactly with his body at the moment. At a glance, the occasionally frightened little boy that he'd once been could be seen beneath the exterior of the grown man, he looked like a child called to the principal's office for some unknown offense.
It's too much… it's just too big… isn't it bad enough we have to deal with the things we do? I mean one or two pre-Christian deities… okay… I mean Cernunnos… Morrigan… and it's not like we really had anything to do with them… they're not ours… we've got enough to contend with when it comes to the standard baddies and Big Bad…we need this like we need a hole in the head…I wonder if he knew what he was getting us into when he sent us these coordinates? Did he have a clue? Does he EVER have a clue when he sends us somewhere what he could be sending us into? Probably not… that would be just like him…but…maybe not, we're not talking about some restless spirit here we're talking about… sheesh… catastrophe of literally biblical proportions!
"Mister Edwards…" the voice at the door said sternly, as if she'd called to him at least once, maybe twice before.
"Sorry… just thinking…" he smiled wanly and felt the warmth of the woman's smile in return. He was forgiven for being distracted.
"Right this way please," she led him into Esther Tilter's office where he grinned warmly, quite pleasantly surprised by the neither matronly/frumpy nor troll-like appearance of the woman.
"Mr. Edwards… it's a pleasure to meet you…" her voice was cultured and reminded him of butterscotch, her hand was warm and just a little rough, indicating plenty of time in the field.
"Miss Tilter… thank you for seeing me on such short notice…" he smiled and sat in the chair closest to the wall.
"I must admit I'm quite intrigued… you said some of these artifacts were headed to the museum through the Turnbull estate?" she asked.
"Yes… the Turnbull's were gracious enough to allow me to take some pictures for my paper…"
"Which is on what again?" she asked sitting in the chair beside him as he drew out a fairly hefty sheaf of printer paper with color photos on them.
"Babylonian culture, Biblical myth vs. Anthropological evidence… I'm fascinated by the myths but I'm not a linguist…" he shrugged apologetically and blushed a bit.
"Which is where I come in?" she smiled welcomingly.
"Yes ma'am," he nodded.
She fanned the pages of pictures and frowned slightly, "Camera phone?" she asked.
Sam blushed deeply and nodded, "Access to the artifacts came as a very pleasant surprise… I'm lucky I've got a camera phone…is that going to be a problem?"
She smiled easily and laid her hand atop his, "I don't think it'll be too big of a problem, I mean all you need is a basic translation… it's not as if the fate of the world hangs in the balance or anything… just your grade point average right?" she teased and somehow managed to miss the relief that swept across the young Winchester's face.
"Right," he nodded tightly and could've sworn he heard his neck creak with the motion.
--
tbc
expositional and a little slow but... necessary..
chapter 8 is fermenting
please let me know what you're thinking.
Thanks.
sifi.
