Memoirs of the Supernatural - Phase 2 [COMPLETED]

Sigil 6

Cheerio.

Fancy some more stories?

The Winchesters stayed over for the night and we 4, Sam, Dean, Bobby and I talked about the demons and how I knocked the boys out of their socks last night with both the magic of the hex bags and what Sam believed a vision. First Bobby asked about the sacks, he wanted to know how I placed them and what was in them. He thought I was some sort of novice beginner who can't make a decent ward and accidentally draw the demon's attention. Too bad for them that I know my magic and I can prove this any time. Thanks to his suspicion Dean finally saw the light and stopped blaming me.

Next item in the menu was the "alarm" and we spoke about it for a very long time. I shared personal stories about Evan, Milton, Demy and my lonely years explaining how they are trying to help me. Sam said something that fascinated me. He told me about his visions and that it seems as if there were more people like him with powers.

At first they thought that there was a connecting pattern for all of them. Baby spontaneously ignites their mother on the exact day of turning 6 months old. Creepy. There was no way to test whether the theory fits me due to how nobody knew who my parents were. I was found on the church's steps when I was 7 months old. But if there was any truth in the concept I could see how my birthfather wanted me to get out of his life after killing my mom. Cruel but doesn't seem farfetched at all.

Later it became clear that the only thing these children had in common was their age, the starting date of the rise of their abilities and the Yellow Eye demon. While Sam and the rest of the possible psychics were 23 years old I was only 22 and my "ability" to hear conversations and receive warnings from people I've never met first triggered when I was 16 which was fairly a long time ago. I'm either extremely special or the 2 things (the psychic squad of the chosen and being a living telephone line) has nothing in common.

The next morning the Winchesters drove off leaving me at Bobby's without saying a word. Can't say that I didn't see it coming but I was expecting a farewell at least. They had things to take care of, jobs to be done and I was in the way. But then keeping me close was essential, or so it seemed. I had no ways of contacting them besides Sam's phone number which he gave me the night we spent all together at Bobby's. Sometimes I called him to hear from them, ask about his visions, whether if his headaches passed, if they have any leads, how is Dean holding up and to make sure if I can be of help in any way. Usually he took the later less of a serious offer but after Bobby realised that I was good at research both the Winchesters and the old man came around and let me assist. But the road there was slow.

First we went to see one of Bobby's friends called Pamela who was a psychic and a pretty darn good one. We hoped to learn how to tame my ability with her help. Even if it's not of natural source but someone's intentional doing we might find a way to shut it down just in case something goes wrong. Pamela had more experience in the matter than all of us combined and she was willing to give me aid.

Next Bobby taught me how to search for lore efficiently without electronical support because there are times when you can't access the internet and books are pretty much always around. His home was filled with different sources of old tales, legends and other kind of stories. Still, I could never wrap my head around how unorganised he was. All of his files, documents and other written records were in a piles in every corner of the house. There was no free surface what so ever. I almost forgot how does a bare table looks like; it was that bad.

And last but not least there was the interrogation. Not one case in particular, more like "the art" of questioning, torture and more of this good stuff what I have no stomach for. You see there were times when a hunter stopped by and left us a present to take care of. A werewolf, a vampire, demon, whatever you can trap, you name it. My job was to learn what hurts them and help Bobby in his inquisitorial mission since I haven't had the guts to do it myself. I wouldn't have agreed to any of this, because it was cruel and morally beyond questionable, but then actually lives depended on it and there was nobody else willing to get their hands dirty. Hunting is a serious business and this is our job.

Weeks passed, then months and I barely ever saw the boys. Sometimes they stopped by to say hi and when I didn't call for a week Sam or Dean dialled me instead. And about Dean, well, didn't get off on the right foot on the first go but later both him and I found out that we have a few things in common. We liked old school movies and music and I told him how I miss my guitar. Being at the garbage dump with nobody around was the perfect opportunity to pick up the instrument again and play melodies for fun. Lighting a fire in a rubbish bin, sitting under the clear sky with hundreds of rusty car bodies around me and singing Led Zeppelin songs was an unusually atmospheric picture.

(🎶Led Zeppelin - The Rain Song)

 I think sharing this thought with the older Winchester brother provided a tiny bit of nudge to the right direction especially considering how things turned around later.