Chapter Eight
Sam heard the Impala's purr from the living room and went out on the porch to meet Dean.
"Hey," he greeted his brother. "How's the headspace?"
"More spacious. How's Ivy?"
"Better." Sam leaned against the porch railing and cleared his throat. "We had a good chat about stuff."
Dean immediately squashed the slight prickle of annoyance that twitched in his chest upon hearing that. Damn Sam and his bedside manner, he thought to himself before focusing on the real issue. "What's the verdict?" he asked, stretching his shoulders and burping. "Wow, that was a mighty burger."
Sam gave him a disgusted look. "That's real attractive," he said. "To answer your question though – we're in the clear on demon stuff."
"Well, that's good. At least we don't have to get back into that mess," Dean said.
"Agreed. But…" Sam's voice trailed off.
"But what?" Dean prodded.
"We're going to have to brush up on some curse breaking skills."
"What's this about a curse?"
Charlie threw a log onto the fire and prodded it into place with a poker. Straightening up, she put the poker back in its place on the rack next to the fireplace and counted backwards from ten in her head before facing him. "Good evening to you too," she tossed back, perhaps a bit more haughtily than she'd intended. "So I guess Sam told you everything?"
"About how your great-grand-whomever tore the veil asunder and had to make a pact with the Fey to fix things?" Dean clarified. "Yep. And how he tried to go ahead and break that pact, too, and ended up having a curse put on his entire family including his descendants for all eternity? Yep." He couldn't help but be somewhat judgemental. It was as if people never learned their lessons regarding this shit.
"So glad to know our family history is an open book to complete strangers." Charlie's voice dripped with sarcasm and loathing.
"Hey, sweetheart," Dean snapped, "if we're meant to help you, we have a right to know. It's not like we're going to put a bulletin out on you."
"We never asked for your help," Charlie snarled.
"So you keep saying," Dean retorted. "Well, guess what? We're here, and we're staying put until this is over. So deal with it!"
"Well, looks like I'll just have to do exactly that, huh," Charlie growled. "But let's get one thing straight. This is our house, not Casa Winchester. And you'd better not hurt her."
Dean was caught off guard. "Say what?" he demanded.
It suddenly seemed as if her sky-blue gaze was burning right into Dean's jade-green eyes.
You know exactly what I mean.
Just when Sam thought he'd finally be able to settle down for the night, the argument began.
"Just because you can do it doesn't mean you can do it to me, you hear?"
"Better get used to it, Winchester! If you're sticking around, you get the full celebrity treatment!"
Sam bolted downstairs into the living room where he found Dean and Charlie facing off. The younger Winchester found himself quite amused: Dean in full rage was a frightening sight on any given day, but Charlie had the atmospheric advantage of being lit from behind by a crackling fire.
"You're insane!" Dean thundered. "What's your problem?"
"My problem?" Charlie sputtered. "You've been handed my family's history on a silver platter and you want to know what my problem is? Guess what, pretty boy? My problem is you waltzing in here after nearly killing my cousin, acting like the Winchester family is the only hunting family that matters."
"Don't you dare pass judgement on me, missy!"
"Try and make me!"
"What the hell is going on?" Sam demanded. He immediately initiated his mediator mode. "Look, it's getting late; don't you both think this is a bit inappropriate to be yelling at each other right now?"
"We're in the woods, Sammy. Nobody can hear us scream," Dean said tersely.
"Oh, yeah? Well, I sure as hell can," Sam argued.
"Stay out of this, Sammy. The grown-ups are talking."
"Do you ever shut up with your not-so-witty one-liners?" Charlie demanded.
Dean took the bait immediately. "Do you ever just shut the f –"
He barely had time to dodge the small log Charlie hurled at him like a javelin.
"What the hell?" Dean and Sam yelped.
"That's what she does when you tell her to shut up and aren't nice about it."
The three of them turned to towards the doorway, where Ivy now stood, clad in a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms and a Metallica T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. Her face seemed taut and pale even in the low light, and the fatigue and pleading tone of her voice immediately averted the impending explosion between Dean and Charlie.
"Can't we just put our differences aside and try to function together?" Ivy continued. "We live together right now, for God's sake."
"I'm sorry," Charlie apologised, walking over to Ivy and hugging her cousin.
"It's okay," Ivy assured her. "This isn't exactly the easiest of situations. But we're just making it harder than it has to be – don't you agree?"
Sam nodded and Dean shrugged.
"Dean, Sam." Ivy's voice was now firm. "I hope this is the last time Charlie and I have to apologise to you for the way we react to your involvement in this. We'll do better – right, Charlie?"
"Yes. I'm sorry, too." Charlie's acquiescence made Dean do a double-take, but she went right back into character, saying, "But you guys have to cooperate with us on our terms here. This is our family's unfortunate legacy. We call the shots."
"Alright," Sam agreed.
"Sorry, girls," Dean said gruffly, feeling properly chastised. Dude, when did you hand these girls your balls on a keychain?
He caught Charlie's eye right at that moment, and she burst out laughing.
"What's so funny?" Sam asked.
Dean glared at Charlie. "Okay, seriously, woman," he said in an exasperated voice, "we have got to put up some boundaries regarding how many times you can look in my head, okay?"
She simply laughed, but nodded. "I can always try, but it's better than television, Charlie quipped.
Ivy gave her a pleading look. "Come on, Charlie. Let's be serious. If Dean wants you to cut back on your mental voyeurism, it's only fair. After all, he can't do the same back at you."
Dean couldn't help himself. "Yeah, and thank God for that!"
"We're only here to help," Sam interjected, fearful of another emotional explosion despite the new agreement. "And we really do want to help you. If there's anything we can do to make this world safer, we'll do it."
Ivy and Charlie nodded, and stuck their hands out. "Deal," they chorused.
They all shook hands.
It was one in the morning, and Dean couldn't sleep. He'd shut his eyes for a few minutes but instead of tuning out all his worries and doubts, his head would just turn up the volume. When all he could hear was himself think, Dean knew he'd be in for a long night.
There was a soft knock on the door so tentative Dean thought at first that his mind was now playing tricks on him. Then he heard a second, louder one.
He turned on the light and got out of bed, kneading a knot in his left shoulder. He opened the door and was floored to see Ivy standing there.
"Uh, hey," he stammered. Shit.
"Couldn't sleep," Ivy said. "Did I wake you?"
"No. Can't sleep either," Dean replied, stepping aside to admit her into the room. "So, what's up?"
She went over to the window and looked out into the night. "Nothing." Her hushed voice struck a chord somewhere deep inside him, and he fought back the urge to do something about it. She looked at him over her shoulder. "You probably think Charlie and I are freaks, huh?"
Dean shook his head. "A bit crazy maybe," he joked. He sobered instantly. "But every family has a story. Heck. Our family history unleashed the Apocalypse."
"Yeah, thanks for that." Her eyes had a teasing glint that would have looked evil on anyone else.
"Hey, we thought we were saving the world!" Dean sat down on the bed and reclining against the pillows.
Ivy smiled and sat on the edge of the bed. "You don't have to save it by yourself," she said gently.
Dean smiled awkwardly and shifted into a more comfortable position on the bed. "Yeah, it gets kind of hard, I guess," he said, trying to be flippant. But she'd touched a nerve – not a bad one, though.
A lonely one.
He coughed inadvertently and rubbed his eyes. "I hate not being able to sleep," he said, desperate to change the subject.
"Me too." Ivy leaned back on her elbows so that she was stretched out on the foot of the bed, her dark auburn waves pooling under hers shoulders onto the duvet. "Too many thoughts running around in my head."
"The voices! Make the voices stop!" Dean blurted out.
Ivy burst out laughing. "You have no idea how many times I thought that when Charlie and I were growing up," she said. "Her powers kicked in early, right around her eleventh birthday. I was there for her first summer with the ability. She didn't know how to control it at first; she'd just pop into my head out of nowhere."
Dean found himself smiling. "Yeah, seems like Charlie," he chuckled. "You two are really close, huh?"
Ivy nodded. "More like sisters than cousins, really," she said. "When Charlie's dad figured out what was going on, he started teaching her right away. He had the same ability – it's hereditary thanks to the Fey's curse on our family. By the beginning of the next summer, she'd gotten so good that she could talk to me in Dublin all the way from here."
Dean was impressed. It seemed that the mental powers bestowed by the Fey were a lot stronger than those from the Yellow-Eyed Demon. Charlie and Ivy were their own flavour of Special K, but at least they weren't running around killing other people with mental powers like Sam's bunch had done.
"What about your abilities?" Dean asked.
Ivy's demeanour visibly faded. After a moment she said quietly, "Mine didn't kick in until just a couple of years ago. They started out kind of like Sam's – he told me earlier – with really bad migraines and shitty sleep. I could never retain any of the visions for the first year. Then they started becoming more vivid." Ivy shuddered.
"Sorry," Dean said quickly.
"It's alright." Ivy gave him a bright, though small, smile. "And what about you?"
"I don't know – what about me, exactly?" asked Dean.
"The whole I-can-be-your-hero-baby think," explained Ivy. "Where does that come from?" She straightened up and swung herself around so that she was sitting cross-legged in front of him.
Dean's brow furrowed, and Ivy immediately felt guilty. "I'm sorry," she swiftly apologised. "Oh, God. That's none of my business."
"No, don't be," Dean heard himself saying. He sighed and tried to find the right words. "I…I don't really know," he faltered. "I guess it's because my dad always reminded me to take care of Sam, you know? He always expected me to look out for Sam and protect him. I guess because my dad was our hero, I wanted to be one too." He shook himself back to his senses. "Wow. That's just…wow, maybe a bit too much information, huh?"
Ivy laughed nervously. "Maybe." She fell silent for a moment then quickly said, "I should probably go."
Dean caught her eye and he tried to read her expression. Dammit, he thought. Just let her leave. You don't want this. This isn't what you're here for. You're here on business. Strictly business.
He managed to convince himself of that rather swiftly, but he still had to use every ounce of willpower to say, "Yeah, try and get some sleep. You've had a long day."
Ivy got off the bed and made her way to the door. She looked over her shoulder again at him. "Good night, Dean."
"Night." He watched her leave, and found himself wishing he didn't have to.