So here it is, the big explanation – which came from a very interesting conversation I had with a spiritualist I went to see for past-life regression. We discussed the possibilities of this (and many other things) and I thought it lent itself to a story. Whether it would actually work in the real world or not I have no idea, but, for the sake of my ego, let's just say it does!
On with the story!
Chapter Eleven.
"Psychometry?" Sam asked, staring at his brother with a face wrinkled in disbelief. Dean nodded, eyes gazing straight ahead across the far-reaching fields of corn,
"Yep."
Sam however wasn't entirely satisfied with the explanation,
"An electro-magnetic field?"
Dean rolled his eyes, heaving a sigh and turning briefly to shoot his brother a wide-eyed glare,
"Dude," he hissed in exasperation, unwilling to admit just how much he'd missed the bickering, "Are you going to repeat everything I just said?"
Sam paused, blowing out a breath and turning to watch as beyond them the little house, yard and barn surged with police officers, Jed in the middle directing them enthusiastically and simultaneously making his statement. The one where he'd found the scene after hearing gunshots and then found the graves in the cellar. Fight between mother and son he was calling it and Belle was in no state of mind to disagree. Thank heavens for small mercies.
Sam shook his head quickly, at the same time letting out a short incredulous laugh that took some of the sentiment out of his apology,
"I'm sorry Dean I just – ," he paused again, trying to take it all in and shifting his position against the Impala as they both leant against it to watch the proceedings across the road, "I just can't image them knowing anything residual memories, or how you managed to work it all out."
Which wasn't a dig at his intelligence as much as it was a genuine admission – even a compliment – regarding Dean's sleuthing abilities. The older Winchester shrugged it off, casual as ever about his biggest achievements. Skirt-chasing? Yeah, that Dean could and possibly someday would write a book about, but saving people's lives? No big deal Sam, all part of the job etc, etc.
"Well," Dean began in much the same tones, "It didn't all come together until I saw the EMF meter going crazy in the car, after that – ," another shrug. No big deal.
Sam had sat quietly through most of the explanation, first listening to how all the metallic objects in the house had been tingling constantly, then how Dean had found what he later realised was an electro-magnetic field encircling the property, and finally Jacob Whittaker I's cross hanging around Sam's neck. From there psychometry – the belief that objects, especially metallic ones, harnessed the memory of their former owners – was a simple conclusion. Although even Dean had to admit, much like Sam, he was surprised that enhancing the magnetic field to increase the spiritual properties of the pendent had even occurred to such strange little people as Belle and Isaac. Still, that's what life did. Surprised you.
"So they killed the others because…" try as he might Sam was still wrapping his head around it.
"The pendent only really blocked out people's own memories – probably helped by whatever they hell they injected you with – to replace them altogether with Jacob's would probably have taken an electro-magnet the size of the White House. I guess after a while it just started to wear off."
He shrugged again, of course, I'm no scientist.
Sam smiled. He didn't have to be.
"Besides," Dean continued, "Since they killed the original Jacob in the first place, unlocking all his memories wouldn't exactly have been their best move. They only needed basic instincts like trust and loyalty."
Sam nodded, suddenly guilty he'd given those so freely to some other family. Even if he couldn't help it at the time. Luckily he remembered next to nothing, or else he imagined the guilt would have been worse. He'd had a good look at the bruises on Dean's face and the thought he'd been standing doing nothing when they'd occurred was not exactly something he wanted to relive.
Eventually however, a smile slid across his face,
"So," he began, grinning, "I remembered Metallica, huh?"
Dean snorted,
"And Iron Maiden."
"Yeah?"
"Well, you remembered Paul Di'Anno at least,"
Sam frowned,
"Who?"
"Paul Di'Anno," Dean repeated, "Original singer? You've heard of him Sam."
His brother's expression remained clueless,
"Never."
"What?! Come on dude! You're telling me you remember him mid-mind-melt and now, nothing?"
Sam's turn to shrug,
"I don't know what to tell you,"
Dean sighed heavily, shaking his head and turning to pull open the door to the Impala. He was not sticking around in Backwatersville any longer than they had to – which now that he had his brother back, was not at all. Sam followed his lead, still looking clueless and obviously searching his mental recesses for any conversation they might ever have had pertaining to Iron Maiden's lead singers.
It took him a second to realise that Dean wasn't moving. Usually getting into the car meant action and they'd be halfway down the road music blaring, but for some reason he hadn't even put the keys in the ignition. Sam frowned,
"Dean?"
"Here," his voice when he spoke was low, gruff even, one syllable speaking volumes in terms of emotion. Sam's frown deepened as Dean handed something across to him, small, folded up and a little battered around the edges. Sam opened it up cautiously, blinking in surprise at what he saw,
"Wha – when?" he stopped short, taking in the photograph of he and Dean from a couple of years before he had gone off to college, sitting in the back garden of, well, that part was anyone's guess really. He sure as hell couldn't remember, he doubted Dean could either. Sure, houses with gardens hadn't been too frequent in their childhood, but the ones they had rented still kind of blurred into one. He took a deep shaky breath, which Dean saw as his moment to come in,
"Dad had it," he said quietly, "I was…" another awkward shrug, nowadays used more as a punctuation mark than anything, "…I was waiting for the right time."
And after seeing you nearly die at the hands of a family of maniacs I decided now was it.
He didn't need to add that part. Sam already knew it.
"Dad had this?"
"Yep."
"Huh," It was a simple sound, part disbelieving, part-touched. He didn't even care Dean had kept it from him, what was the point? John was a sore enough subject at the best of times and, well, having been ripped from what was left of his real family by a pair of interlopers, Sam wasn't going to start a fight now. Although he made sure to file it away for later, if he bided his time he might even be able to influence where they stopped for dinner that night, using secret-photograph-related blackmail as his weapon. Not that Dean didn't usually give in to him on that and countless other fronts eventually anyway.
Sam looked up, smiling, taking in Dean's hesitance and reassuring him that there was going to be no bickering about it.
"Missouri was right," he offered instead, pausing for effect as Dean finally turned on the engine, "You were a funny looking kid."
Dean gave him the briefest of sideways glances, pulling onto the road with a snort,
"Hey, not so much of the kid. I was practically a man, besides look who's talking. You're what, fifteen in that photo? Already you're King Kong tall. Freak."
Sam sat back, letting the countryside flash by the windows, strangely comforted as Dean switched on Zeppelin in the background. Normality. Or, at least it was for them. It felt good to be back. Back on the road, back with Dean, back to the good old –
"How can you not remember Paul Di'Anno?"
Yeah, that too.
Highs, lows and everything else in between, he and Dean would always be one thing that topped anyone's claims otherwise, and that was stronger than all the supernatural crap in the world.
They were blood.
They were brothers.
They were the Winchesters.
Before I go I want to thank everybody who has reviewed and followed this little story of mine. I hope you all drop by and leave a final word or two!
I am already seven chapters into my new fic – which I've tried to make as episode-like as I can – but since I don't post until I'm at least ten chapters in (to avoid that thing where one chapter comes up and is never followed by anything else!) it'll be a week or two before I'm ready to upload like I did this one. Still, I might just post the first chapter to see if it gathers any interest or not, so I hope you'll look out for it and be as kind to it as you all were to this one!
And don't worry, if that one sucks, I've got plenty more ideas rattling around up here waiting to see the light of day…
