Chapter 12 - Personal Space
Dean went back to his own bed half an hour later leaving Faith to have a semblance of alone time with her thoughts. After the waves of fear and sadness subsided embarrassment settled in and Dean knew it was his time to step away.
He drifted in and out of sleep until the next morning when he woke to country music playing in his head.
Not this again!
Faith's response was quick.
Fine, what's your preference? Wait, let me guess. How about Guns N' Roses, Sweet Child O' Mine?
That'll work.
Dean smiled and stretched under the covers. Faith was in the kitchen making pancakes, but the distance between their minds was not so far.
Sam had run to the store early that morning and was already sitting at the library table researching on his laptop.
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Faith was angry and Dean knew it before he even walked into the kitchen, but she wasn't angry with him. She was angry with herself. The circle of thoughts that she kept pushing away were slipping through the ever fading barrier between them.
Why did that have to happen during all of this? I mean, I guess it's not like I can control it, but my reaction! Seriously! I must have looked like a helpless kid last night. He probably thought...you know what, enough. Stop doing this to yourself. Freak out when this mess is over. Pity party later, pancakes now.
Faith was humming along to Hotel California when Dean reached the coffee pot. "Morning." His gravelly morning voice echoed through the industrial sized kitchen.
"Morning." Faith echoed quietly, intentionally singing the words to the song in her mind to prevent her thoughts from rehearsing the scene from last night and the continual scolding she kept circling back to.
"Is that pancakes?" He asked already knowing the answer.
"Sure is. First ones are ready now. Grab a plate." She put several on his plate with a pile of sausage and avoided eye contact at all costs. "Can you call Sam in here?"
"Sure."
Sam walked through the door before Dean could put his plate down, "Well, I've got good news and bad news."
"Let's hear it." Dean said placing his plate on the kitchen table.
"Good news is I just got off the phone with Professor Markham at the Cleveland Art Institute who knows a lot about Egyptian artifacts and can probably tell us what the writing says…"
Faith was thrilled, but the realist in her understood that the bad news was about to offset this incredibly good news.
"And the bad news?" Faith and Dean questioned in unison.
"It seems there was a break in at the museum in Seattle that damaged several artifacts including the ring." Sam and Dean both looked rightfully ashamed. "And those artifacts are not going to be on display at the Cleveland Museum of Art when the exhibit opens in the morning."
Faith stepped in, "And do we know where they are housing the damaged items?"
"At the moment, no. However, Professor Markham is going to make some calls to his contacts at the museum in London and see if he can get the pieces transferred to the university. He said if the damage isn't to bad then he might be able to repair some of it."
"Then it's not all bad news. We're just in another holding pattern until we hear back from the professor."
"He said he would call as soon as he heard anything."
"Sounds good. But how did you get in touch with a professor on a Sunday? And even more importantly, how the hell did you get him to tell you all that information?"
Dean piped up, "Well, when people think you're the FBI they'll tell you pretty much anything."
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It was early afternoon and Sam was pacing the floor with a few loose pages in hand from the handwritten journal Faith was reading. Dean had just stepped to the kitchen for a refresh on beers. Faith could hear him listing snack choices in his mind as he rummaging through the cabinets.
Faith sat up in her chair and pushed Dean's snack list to the side so she could re-read the last paragraph again. Dean came through the kitchen door and spoke just as she looked up to call Sam's attention, "What did you find?"
She sighed in exasperation. Why you gotta steal my thunder?
"Seriously, you're gonna do that right now? What's the news?"
"No need to snap, jerk!"
The endless stream of consciousness between them was beginning to wear thin.
Sam looked on with a touch of amusement in his eyes, "So, what've you got?"
You look hot when you get mad.
Faith took a deep breath and firmly pushed Dean's thoughts aside, refusing to answer because she felt the same about him. "I think I found our problem and solution right here. Archeologist and Men of Letters enthusiast, Obadiah Lane, ran into a similar situation over 75 years ago when he was working a dig in Egypt. Long story short a scarab unity ring linked two members on his team because they both examined it and turned the swivel piece that contained the stone and hieroglyph twice in opposite directions. The pair became so unified that they couldn't be separated even by a few steps before they found a way to break the spell. They discovered the maker of the rings would have the gods enchant them by performing certain rituals. Each ritual can be undone by following the instructions on the band. But there's a catch…"
"Of course there's a catch. There's always a catch." Dean interrupted.
"The undoing ritual requires a sacrifice or a punishment."
"Does the journal specify what that is?" Sam questioned.
"No, but it does say that the...it's right here…'the god or goddess exacts retribution for the denying of his or her gift.'"
Dean was watching her carefully. There was more to the story that had her concerned, "And how long did it take Obadiah and his crew to figure all this out?"
She knew what he was driving at, "About a month."
"And if they hadn't…"
Dean heard her thoughts before she opened her mouth. It becomes permanent. And the more they made physical contact the faster the process moves.
"Great…" And I'm having trouble not ripping your clothes off now! Dean's head snapped up to meet Faith's wide eyes. "You heard that, didn't you?"
Faith turned three shades of red and looked away, but not before a stray thought escaped her. The feeling's mutual. She was mentally kicking herself the moment it crossed her mind, but it was too late. The damage was done. Dean's eyebrows shot up and a smile crept across his features.
"Hello? Third person in the room." Sam said exasperatedly. The half conversations were beginning to be annoying since they had been occurring more and more frequently.
Dean spoke for them, "We've got about a week to fix this or we'll be Ricky and Lucy forever."
Faith shuffled the pages in front of her to distract her thoughts and inadvertently gave herself a paper cut. "Ow." She mumbled as she jerked her finger away from the offending page. A single drop of blood formed on Dean's finger in the exact location. They both grew serious meeting one another's gaze and thoughts. It's getting worse.
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Twenty minutes later they were roaring down the highway towards Cleveland with a few tattered journal pages, duffle bags and Faith's small mountain of luggage that could clothe an entire African village, so Dean thought.
It's one suitcase and you told me to pack for a week. Faith defended over the sounds of AC/DC. She was sitting front and center between Sam and Dean attempting not to brush against Dean's arm which was nearly impossible. Besides the fact that their thoughts and memories would spark between them like electricity, she could feel her attachment growing and it terrified her which in turn pulled up memories from her broken past. "Can we stop at the next gas station?"
"Sure." Dean was attempting to ignore the pulse between them, but the combination of his own thoughts mixed with hers was slowly overpowering him. Memories of each person he'd lost seeped through his mind like a leak in the damn. He wanted a moment away as much as she did and yet neither one wanted to be apart.
This is the strangest mix of emotions.
Yes it is. Dean agreed with a nod.
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Faith stepped into the gas station just as a sharp pain pierced her head. She stumbled, reached out to steady herself on the nearest rack, and felt another sharp pain in her right knee. Dean. Sam was at her side before she could hit the floor pulling her back through the glass doors to the Impala where Dean was on his right knee leaning between the gas pump and his baby. Sam helped her lean against the side of the vehicle as Dean came to stand beside her. She was rubbing her knee mirroring the concerned look in his eyes, Your knee okay?
Yeah, I'm good. You?
I'm good.
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"I was right." The low voice slid from a dark figure that sat in a lone gray sedan hidden in the shadows beside the gas station. "There's something going on with the older Winchester and that girl. They can't be apart."
"I think we've found the opening we've been looking for." The syrupy female voice smoothly replied from the other end of the phone.
Disclaimer & Writers notes: I do not own or have rights to Supernatural or any of it's characters. Faith, on the other hand, is all mine.
Hope you are enjoying the story. Things are certainly about to get interesting!
Please review if you get a chance. I'd love to hear from you.
Thanks so much for reading!
xo,Jen
