Chapter Eighteen
"Let me get this straight," Faolán said. "A psychic will contact Ivy's spirit in the Otherworld to establish a connection to this world, and once Ivy is present, Castiel and I will pull her back into her body?"
"Yep, that's the basic idea," Dean replied. "Can the two of you put her back in her body if we get her spirit to come back here?"
Faolán and Castiel exchanged a glance. "Yes, we can," Castiel replied after a moment. "It will be painful for her, though."
Dean frowned, slightly taken aback. He'd forgotten that no matter how gentle Castiel tried to be, handling souls was a searingly painful business. It was their best chance, though. He had to hand it to Sammy; sometimes the younger Winchester could be a nerdy pain in the backside but he came up with some pretty good plans.
Faolán put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Don't worry, Dean," he said assuringly. "She will be fine."
Ivy walked along the path through the field, taking care to keep her wits about her and not become distracted by her surroundings. As beautiful as they were, Ivy knew enough myths of the Otherworld to know that danger lurked in the least likely places. After all, this was where the Gentry lived.
The field abruptly met the edge of a forest. Ivy froze in midstep, the wary fear inside her quickly rising up into a panic. She tried to squash it inside her gut but there was something that felt so wrong about that forest; she couldn't make it go away.
She turned and ran.
Charlie pulled up on the curb in her Challenger. She sat for a moment in pensieve silence before cutting the motor and getting out of the truck. Making her way up the front path to the front door of the ranch she'd pulled up at, she took several deep breaths to calm herself. It wasn't like she was asking a complete stranger for help.
After all, it was only Lucy.
Ivy didn't know how far she ran, but she kept going until the well-trod footpath became a cobblestone road. She slowed down and turned on the spot, taking in the scenery around her. The tall grasses and wildflowers were gone, replaced by fields dotted with sheep and bounded by stone walls on either side of the road. On the left side, there was a small whitewashed stone cottage with a thatched roof and a barn made in the same fashion.
Catching her breath, Ivy tried to remember where she had seen this place before.
Ireland.
Charlie entered the house with Lucy close behind. A faint spicy smell in the air told her that the boys had already set up the living room.
Lucy put an encouraging hand on her arm. "Don't worry, Charlie," she said gently.
They went into the living room, and upon seeing them Dean and Sam did a double take.
"Hello, boys," Lucy said cheerfully.
"The diner lady is your psychic?" Dean sputtered.
"I am indeed," she replied breezily. "Don't worry, Dean. No Faerie blood magic or deals made here."
"That's great," Sam said quickly before Dean could shove his foot in his mouth with a rude comment. "That's really, really great."
Charlie looked over to the couch. Ivy lay on it on her back, entirely motionless. With a shudder, Charlie moved her gaze elsewhere.
"Charlie tells me that Ivy's spirit is stuck in the Otherworld," Lucy said, "so I'm assuming that's not a really bad Glade candle making the air smell like this."
"Let it never be said that our pantry is lacking," Charlie said. "You guys found everything, right?"
"We just need one thing," Dean replied.
"Which is…?"
"Something of Ivy's that she'd have a deep attachment to," Sam explained. "Like, if she actually…became a ghost one day, it'd be the object that would keep her here after cremation."
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sammy, there had to be a better way to say that," he grumbled.
"Sorry." Sam turned back to Charlie. "Does she have something like that?"
"Her deVille, maybe, but that's a bit big for in here," Charlie joked feebly. She bit her lip, trying to think. In a moment she nodded. "Give me a sec."
She returned a few minutes later holdng a jewellery box. "This was her mother's," Charlie explained, setting it down on the sideboard to open it. "And these little beauties are a family heirloom on her side." Charlie held up a pair of gold and pearl earrings, set in the shape of a spray of tiny blossoms.
"Whoa. That's amazing craftsmanship," Sam said as she handed them over. "The detail on this is stunning."
"Okay," Dean muttered. He moved in to take a closer look. "Wow. Okay. That is pretty impressive." He paused. "Wait a sec. Were these made by the Little People, or…?"
"Nope," Charlie confirmed. "Just a very talented goldsmith in London."
The cobblestones quickly gave way to pavement, and Ivy stuck to the shoulder of the road as she followed it. After crossing over an old stone bridge, she'd figured out where she was: Inistioge, her mother's hometown in County Kilkenny. But it didn't look the same at all, and Ivy walked cautiously.
"It's just an illusion," she told herself under her breath. "You're in the Otherworld, Ivy. You're not back home in Ireland."
The light was fading fast by the time Ivy made it into town. Walking along the deserted streets, she scanned every building for some vaguely familiar landmark. She'd only been to Inistioge a few times as a child, and tried hard to remember something – anything – from those trips that would make her feel safe. As if hiding out in a deserted town in the middle of the Otherworld made her totally safe from harm.
It was better than nothing, though.
She turned down off the main street onto a narrower side street and walked along it until she came to a doorway that looked very familiar. With a start she realised she'd found her mother's childhood home.
"Here goes nothing, I guess," she said, and walked up to it.
"These are good," Lucy said, holding the earrings in her open palm. "I can definitely feel a strong presence around it. Let's hope that the connection is strong enough between here and the Faerie world."
Dean and Sam drew the curtains on the windows. The thick velvet blocked out the early afternoon light entirely. The room, lit only by the flickering tapers and the small fire in the fireplace, took on an eerie air. In the middle of the coffeetable, Charlie set down a small camping lantern and turned it on. They sat down on the chairs arranged on the other side of the coffee table, facing Ivy's terribly still form on the couch.
"Join hands," Lucy instructed. "Let us begin."
Ivy entered the house slowly, feeling naked without some kind of weapon to defend herself against whatever might be waiting inside. She shut the door noiselessly behind her and scanned the narrow foyer for something, anything, that she could use as a weapon.
Her grandfather's cane was propped up next to the coatrack. If Ivy recalled correctly, it was made from oak.
Good enough til I can find some iron, Ivy decided, taking it up and holding it like a bat as she crept into the hallway.
She made her way down the hall towards the back of the house, where – if memory served her right – she knew there should be a small reading room, a larger living room, and an eat-in kitchen. The thought of finding the kitchen made her stomach rumble.
Ivy didn't know how long she'd lain unconscious in the middle of that road through field, but until now she hadn't realised just how hungry she was. It must have been a really long time, she decided as she cautiously entered the kitchen. But despite her hunger, Ivy knew not to eat anything in the Otherworld. If she did, it would be very hard to leave.
The kitchen was devoid of any other life-form, and Ivy wasn't sure if that made her more anxious or more relieved. Taking a deep breath to steady the butterflies in her stomach, she moved back out of the kitchen and retreated down the hall once more.
"Ivy. Ivy, it's Lucy. I'm here with Charlie, Dean, Sam, Cas, and Faolán," Lucy said. "Can you hear me, Ivy?"
Ivy whirled around in the living room of her grandparents' house, her skin prickling. She thought she had heard her name, but all she could hear was silence. It was as if a voice had called out to her on a wind.
She hurried out of the living room and made her way towards the stairs.
"It's time for you to come home," Lucy continued. "We're all here waiting for you. Ivy, please. Come talk to us so we can bring you home."
Ivy ran into the nearest bedroom and locked the door behind her. She could only hear her name, but the voice was getting clearer.
"Who's there?" she called out, brandishing her grandfather's cane before her. "Who's there?"
Suddenly, she dropped the cane and fell to her knees. It felt like her gut was being slowly, agonisingly pulled out of her body. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she struggled to her feet.
The flames of the candles began to dance wildly, and the small camping lantern in the middle of the table began to flicker.
"I can feel her," Lucy said. "There's still a strong connection…but…"
"But what?" Dean demanded, scanning the room.
"She's fighting against it," the older woman replied. "She's frightened, so she's fighting against the bond."
"Get her back here, quick," Charlie pleaded.
Ivy. Do not fight.
Ivy pitched forward and caught herself on the post of the narrow bed to her left. She gripped the post tightly, gritting her teeth against the pain in her belly.
"Leave…me…alone," she said through her teeth. "Leave me…alone!"
"She's fighting hard," Lucy said, panicked. "She might break the bond completely."
The fire in the fireplace suddenly flared up and began to blaze, its flaming tongues dancing wildly and growing larger.
"Oh, dear god," Charlie whispered.
"Ivy? Ivy, don't fight it!" Dean called out.
Ivy? Ivy, don't fight it!
Ivy's head snapped up. That voice. That voice was familiar. Strong. Insistent.
"Dean?" she whispered.
The fire calmed down, but continued to blaze brightly.
Lucy gave Dean an encouraging smile. "Go on," she whispered. "You've connected to her. Bring her home, Dean."
Can you hear me?
"Yes," Ivy said, still bent double against the bed post. The pain in her gut was stronger. "Yes, I can. Dean, don't leave me here."
We're trying to get you home, Ivy. You can't fight against the connection. That's your only way home.
"But it hurts," Ivy whimpered. "It hurts so much."
Just be strong. Focus on my voice. Let us pull you back.
The skin on the back of Ivy's neck prickled suddenly. Dean's voice was disembodied, seeming to float on a wind that blew gently through the room whenever he spoke. But there was a physical presence somewhere in the room, an unseen one that was there nonetheless.
"She says she trusts you, Dean," Lucy said, "but she's frightened out of her mind. She says…she says there's something else in the room with her. She can't see it…and…and she doesn't have any iron or salt. Just a cane made of oak."
"Ivy, you know what do. Grab the cane and defend yourself. But focus on the connection," Dean instructed. "We need you to focus to bring you home."
The lights flickered wildly, and the fire began to jump and dance again.
"She's so scared, Dean," Lucy narrated. "She's screaming. Dean, you have to try harder!"
"What the hell do you expect me to do, Lucy?" Dean shouted. "I'm trying to get to her. Ivy!"