Chapter Twenty-Two
"Where's Ivy?" Sam asked, coming into the reading room with his laptop under one arm and some books under the other.
"Not sure," Dean replied, leaning back in his chair and flipping his book shut with a casual flick of his wrist. "She said she had one last thing to do before she went to bed." He paused, a slight smile on his lips. "I was actually going to go turn in myself soon enough."
Sam raised an eyebrow but refrained from saying anything. "Well, she's not upstairs," he said.
Dean looked up at his brother, a frown now on his face. "Wait, what?"
"Yeah. I've been up in my room this whole time with the door open and I didn't see or hear her go up," Sam replied.
Dean vaguely recalled hearing the front door open and close. "She probably went out for some air or something," he murmured.
Sam looked at him incredulously. "At a time like this you're perfectly fine with letting her wander around by herself at night?" he squawked.
Dean got up from his chair and started putting some books back on the shelf. "Don't get me wrong, Sammy," he said. "I'm still worried as hell about her. But the last thing I want to do is start making her feel caged because we're all too hellbent on keeping her safe. She's a hunter, just like us."
"Dean, we're talking about some majorly powerful Fey wanting her served up to them on a plate," Sam reminded him.
"Yeah, and I'm talking about giving her some breathing room and not making her feel like we think she can't take care of herself," Dean shot back. "Trust me, Sam. That's all I'm asking for." He paused, then added, "Besides, ten bucks says Faolán's gone to keep an eye on her, anyway."
"Ivy, what are you doing?"
Ivy whirled around, startled to hear Faolán's voice coming from the shadows. He walked slowly into the circle of light created by the lanterns Ivy had lit for her workspace.
"Just…" Ivy found herself floundering for words. Faolán in human form with the ability to speak was still a novelty; she was having a lot of difficulty getting used to him this way. "Just getting together a protection spell," she finally said a bit sheepishly.
"For Dean." It wasn't a question, but a statement.
"Sam and Charlie, too." She turned back to the table and began assembling the herb vials she had been crafting.
"Don't you think that's a bit…unnecessary and unfair, perhaps?" Faolán asked, coming over and leaning on the wall by the table.
"What on earth do you mean," Ivy murmured, carefully pouring finely ground asafetida, laurel, comfrey, hazel, and lemon verbena through a funnel into four vials – three miniature-sized ones, and one the size of a whiskey tumbler – which each held one small, reddish-brown sphere of rock. Faolán couldn't help but be impressed by Ivy's knowledge and skill in assembling protection talismans, but then he remembered that Ivy was well-trained hunter who not only specialised in matters of the Fey, but was also slowly becoming one.
He quickly shoved that thought from his mind and watched her thoughtfully.
"They – the Winchesters – know the consequences but are still willing to help," Faolán continued. "That should count for something, Ivy. And Charlie knows the score just as well as you do, and when has she ever abandoned you? Is it fair to forbid them from doing their job, especially without them knowing?"
"I'm not forbidding them from doing anything," Ivy argued. "I'm making it so that she can't get to them." She added betony and angelia root to the vials, then started rifling through another set of sachets before tossing dried yarrow and ivy leaves into her mortar and pestle. "Besides," she added, "I'm not slipping these to them in a drink or whatever. I'm going to give these to them up front."
"But you're not telling them what they're for."
"So? I'm telling Charlie, though."
Ivy checked the consistency of her dried leaves and ground them more vigorously – out of necessity, but also out of pent-up frustration. After a minute or two, she had the fine, powder-like consistency she needed, and added it to the vials. Crossing the room to a small, ornately carved hutch, she opened one of its drawers and selected four vial-stoppers made from cork and topped with small spheres of tiger-iron, each to match one of the crystal vials she had filled. Selecting three chains and a coil of wire from another drawer and a small wooden box from a third, she went back to the work table.
"Tiger-iron, silver chains and wire, and…" Faolán opened the box. "…blue chalcedony beads. And those rocks inside the vials – moqui marbles, aren't they? Impressively protective."
"Yeah, well, she's a big boss," Ivy muttered absentmindedly. She put stoppers in the three smaller vials and began wrapping the vial necks in the silver wire. Using tweezers, she deftly trimmed the ends of the wires and formed them into loops, through which she passed the silver chains. She quickly strung a single blue chalcedony bead onto each chain, and secured the clasps.
After finishing the small talismans, she set them aside. In a small bowl, she mixed salt and crushed amber, and then selected from the hutch a box of oak ash. Once they were combined, she funnelled them into the large vial, inserted the stopper, and cleaned up the space.
Then she turned to Faolán.
"This," she said, taking the large vial, "is to sprinkle around the house."
"Your house is already protected," Faolán said, taking the vial carefully into his hands.
"I'm not taking any chances," Ivy reminded him, "and besides, obviously Titania can still swing enough mojo to get Dean across the veil even when he's in the house."
"Alright. And these ones are for Dean, Charlie, and Sam."
"Yes." Ivy picked them up gently, taking care not to tangle the delicate chains. "Alright. I'm done here, I think. Let's get back inside the house."1
"Ivy, isn't it a bit late to do a protection ritual on the house?" Charlie asked, holding the large vial up to the light in the living room.
"We're doing it tomorrow, silly," Ivy replied. "But you should start wearing this." She removed one of the talismans from her pocket and extended her hand, open palm up with the talisman resting in the middle.
Charlie saw it and immediately shook her head. "I don't know what you've put in there but I'm not wearing one," she insisted. "That's going to prevent Titania from getting near us, isn't it?"
"And what's so bad about that?"
"You know that we won't be able to go near her either wearing one of those," Charlie exclaimed, "and you're asking me if that's a bad thing?"
Ivy sighed. "Charlie, you know what she can do to us," she explained. "Even if she manages to bust through the house defenses, if you're wearing it she won't be abe to harm you."
"And what about yourself?" Charlie continued.
"She's not going to do anything more to me that could threaten me," Ivy said wryly. "I'm too valuable, remember?"
"Your spirit can't handle the magic it's already been exposed to. If she busts in you could die anyway if she casts another spell on you!"
"We know it, and I'm pretty sure she does, too," Ivy countered. "Which is why she won't do anything else to damage my spirit-parts." She paused, then spoke in a hushed, somber voice. "Charlie, please. I don't ask for much, and when I do you know it's because I have to. Please. Wear it."
With a resigned sigh, Charlie took the talisman from Ivy's open hand and lowered the chain over her head. The miniature vial hung around her neck, the miniscule crystal and tiger-iron catching the light in a peculiar way that made it jump and dance with Charlie's every move.
"Well, it looks good at least," Charlie grumbled, handlng it gently as she looked down at it, but she gave Ivy a small smile anyway.
Dean, breathless and spent but still holding Ivy tightly against him, moved forward until Ivy was lying on her back against the pillows. Readjusting his position so that they were slightly more comfortable but still joined, he continued to kiss her. He wanted to stay lost in the feeling of her limbs tangled in his and the soft curves of her firm body pressed seamlessly against him, and in the subtle but nonetheless intoxicating scent of her skin and hair.
Ivy, too, didn't want to stop. She kissed him back just as hard, her head spinning from the crazy rush of being with him. She didn't know when it had happened but in the short time that the Winchesters had been under the Griffins' roof, her initial physical attraction to Dean – which had sparked on the first day they'd met, despite her dislike for him at first – had grown immensely. She wouldn't dare define it, but Ivy couldn't deny that she cared for Dean quite deeply. Ivy also couldn't deny that she wished, against all hope, that maybe Dean felt a little of the same for her. She knew it was crazy, but the thought of it was nice, and slighty whitewashed the fact that Ivy had stepped completely out of character by sleeping with him in the first place.
After a few long, blissful minutes, Dean slowly pulled away from her to lie down beside her. Holding each other and lying nose to nose, they smiled at one another. Ivy breathed deeply, content and warm in the circle of Dean's arms. It was almost perfect enough to make her forget about what was going on.
Shortly, though, she pulled away and sat up straight, shaking out her hair and kicking aside the sheets.
"Ivy?" Dean queried, propping himself up on his elbows. He was going to press further, but even in the moonlight he got a pretty good view of her as she crossed the room to her desk, so he shut up.
She picked up her jacket from where she'd casually thrown it over the back of her desk chair and rooted through the pockets briefly. Returning to the bed, she sat back on her heels next to Dean, her hands clasped tightly around whatever it was she'd taken.
"Dean," Ivy said quietly, "if I asked you to do something for me, would you do it?"
Dean nodded. "Of course, Ivy," he said without hesitating. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," Ivy assured him. She opened her hands to reveal a small vial with a jewel-topped stopper on a chain. "Can you wear this?"
Dean picked it up and dangled it from the silver chain momentarily. "What's it for?"
"Protection. Against Faerie magic."
"What's in it?" he asked, inspecting it.
"Just some herbs," Ivy replied vaguely, "and there are some semi-precious stones thrown in for good luck."
"You made this?" Dean asked.
"Yes." There was a pleading tone in her voice and an equally pleading look in her eyes.
Dean considered the talisman for another moment before he slid it over his head and laid back down on the bed. He reached up and traced a soft line down Ivy's arm from her shoulder, smiling up at her. "You don't have to worry about me, you know," he joked.
"Yes, I do."
He noted the anxiety in her voice and pulled her down to him for a long kiss. "It'll be fine," he assured her, stroking her cheek. "Whatever happens, it'll be fine in the end."