Chapter Seven

Dean was pacing.

Sam had never seen his brother so agitated and so concerned about a girl, other than Lisa. If the situation weren't so grave, he would be taking a few digs at Dean over this uncharacteristic display of affection for somebody outside the family, especially a girl who seemed to be able to get under his skin in any way possible.

"I'm going to go out for a bit," Dean finally said. "This tension is killing me. What the hell is going on with these girls?" The words were sharp, but they were softened somewhat by the worry that hedged into his voice.

Charlie had whisked Ivy up to her room with some half-assed excuse about chronic migraines and needing a quiet rest. Neither Sam nor Dean was buying that explanation: Ivy was shaken nearly to tears by whatever happened inside her head. By the time the brothers made it upstairs to see if they could help, Ivy was out cold.

Inside her head.

"Well, knock me over with a feather," Sam murmured.

"What?" Dean practically snapped.

"I think I know what's happening."

Ivy was back downstairs that evening, curled up on the sofa in the living room under a warm quilt and Cúchulainn on the floor beside her. The púca rested with his head across her lower legs, ears twitching alertly as he snoozed.

Sam entered the room quietly. "Hey, Ivy. Are you feeling better?" He sat down on the other end of the couch.

"Yeah, thanks," she replied, sitting up a bit on her end and arranging the quilt over her lap. "The headache's almost completely gone. What's up?"

Sam hesitated. He and Dean had debated somewhat fiercely over their course of action here. As soon as Sam realised what was happening with Ivy and as soon as he told Dean, a discussion the morality and ethics of prying so deeply into the Griffins' lives had erupted between them. Strangely enough, it had been Dean against the idea of bringing it up; Sam, on the other hand, was uncharacteristically persistent in getting the girls to put all the cards on the table once and for all.

"If we're here to help them, Dean," he'd stated, "we've got to know what's going on. Now."

Eventually, the older Winchester conceded – very reluctantly – and stalked out of the house, clearly with no destination in mind. In fact, he still wasn't back. Between the girls' unceasing secrecy and Dean's out-of-character behaviour, Sam could only take everything as justification for opening this particular door.

Sitting on the couch with Ivy now, though, Sam found himself second-guessing the brothers' decision to force the hand. No turning back, he decided as soon as the thought entered his head.

"Ivy," he began, "there are some really weird things happening around here. And I don't mean all the stuff with the faeries and the dire-cougars and or any of that stuff. I mean you and Charlie."

Ivy frowned, but gestured for him to continue.

"Your nightmares and your blackouts," Sam said. "The way you and Charlie look at each other whenever some delicate subject comes up, as if you can somehow communicate via telepathy. How Charlie knew about things that happened yesterday which she couldn't have known about. That sort of thing."

"Sam…" Strangely, Ivy's voice was somehow pleading.

Sam held firm. "I know I shouldn't be asking. It's your business; I get that you're reluctant to share especially if you're not exactly ready to tell us. But if Cas is right – if Dean and I are meant to help you – we don't have a choice. This situation looks like it can get out of hand at any second."

Ivy stared outside the window at the darkening sky for a long moment. Finally, she met his gaze.

"Alright."

Dean had spent an hour walking through the valley that, according to a quaint map of Pine Valley hanging in a reading room, was known in the area as Griffin's Clearing. The forest edge began some sixty yards from the house, but he avoided venturing anywhere near it. There was something odd about the feeling of the woods here, he'd decided – something so odd that even a hunter as seasoned as he found it unnatural.

At some point, his nature walk bored him nearly to tears; after all, there was only so much a guy could take of wildflowers and pretty scenery before he went up the wall. With Sam locked away in his room reading more, Charlie busying herself in the garage, Ivy sleeping off this latest distress, and Castiel completely MIA, Dean found it hard to sit still. Going back inside wasn't an option, clearly, and so he let Charlie know he'd be back after dinner and took the Impala out for a spin.

How Pine Valley had managed to survive the wrath of several families' worth of faeries was beyond Dean. Something major had happened, clearly – but what followed in the wake of that event had lasting repercussions that somehow ended up making Ivy and Charlie responsible for it, too.

"This place is messed up," Dean muttered, driving out of Griffin's Clearing and turning up onto Lough Lane. "Quaint, but seriously messed up."

He found himself a short while later at the diner he and Sam had gone into for breakfast the day before. His stomach rumbled at precisely that moment, so Dean pulled up and hopped out to grab some grub.

As far as small-town diners went, it was pretty standard: a greasy spoon, mom-and-pop joint that was cheap, fast, and out of the way. Dean slid into an empty booth towards the back of the diner as the waitress came over.

She was the mom-half of the duo that owned the place, an older woman with a motherly appearance and air. "What can I get for you, dear?" she asked cheerfully. Her nametag read, "Lucy," and he smiled up at her.

"A cheeseburger with fries and a milkshake," Dean responded, not even having to think about the order. It was always some variation of that in places like this.

"Vanilla, strawberry, chocolate?"

Ah, the big question. "Chocolate," he decided after a moment. "And could I grab a cup of coffee too?"

"This late in the evening?" Lucy chided, sticking her notepad into her apron pocket and her pen behind her ear.

"I plan on being up late," Dean said with a wry grin. As she smiled back and turned away the awful thought passed through Dean's head that maybe she'd interpreted the comment as some lame attempt at flirtation, but the pop-half of the proprietorship appeared out of a back room at that moment and wrapped his wife up in a bear hug behind the counter. Phew, he thought, settling down into his seat. The last thing he wanted was some mom-figure fling. Anywhere.

Lucy came back with a cup and a freshly-brewed pot of coffee. "You were in here yesterday, weren't you?" she said, setting the cup in front of Dean and pouring.

"Yeah, my brother and me," Dean said, taking his first sip.

She smiled. "Visiting family?"

"Um…not exactly," he said. "We're kind of on a road trip."

"A road trip that brought you all the way out here?" Lucy laughed. "Did your GPS break?"

Dean forced a laugh. "Yeah, something like that. We decided to stay a few days though; we like small towns."

"Well, then, welcome to our little town." She turned to go back to the counter, then swung back round to face him. "But where are you staying, then?"

Awkward. "With the…Griffin cousins. Charlie and Ivy?"

"I see." Lucy suddenly smiled brightly. "Lovely girls, they are. I suppose you met them at the Motors?"

Lies are good. "Yep."

His food arrived shortly and he tucked in, making quick work of the first half of his meal before slowing down and letting the events of the last two days turn over and over in his mind. There were so many weird things happening, so many questions running around in his brain.

And he was starting to feel an inexplicable sort of…something towards Ivy. That bothered him – quite a lot, actually, he decided as he pushed a stray fry around his plate with another, swirling ketchup into abstract patterns. It wasn't any kind of attraction, he quickly assured himself. No, it definitely wasn't that. It was more of a curiosity, an intrigue. She had appeared in his life as unexpectedly as any person could, and was suddenly one of the most dynamic presences in his life. He didn't know what to think of her.

Dean mentally kicked himself back to what was important: the hunt. Whatever this hunt turned out to be, he needed to be prepared. There were more lives involved in this particular case than he was used to. Sam, he knew how to work with, how to deal with. Obviously – they were brothers. And as much as he ragged on Castiel's feathery ass, the Angel was a great part of the team and also a friend – in a weird, short-bus-cousin kind of way. But Charlie and Ivy?

He growled quietly in frustration. There they go again, racing through my brain. Charlie was a powder keg waiting to explode – that was for sure. But even though he hadn't seen in her in action, Dean could tell that she was more than competent and confident enough for him not to worry about her.

Ivy, too, was clearly at ease on a hunt, but it was becoming evident that whatever was causing her nightmares and blackout was going to be a problem. He'd dealt with Sam during the Yellow-Eyed Demon days and that had been bad enough. Now, it appeared Ivy was having the same issues.

That was Sam's working theory, anyway.