Grace is grateful for the midday sun beating down on her, warming her face. It's been a hard few months of hunting. There's been lots of cold, damp, dark and ugly in her life. Now she's standing in the middle of pure joy. Children are running around laughing, there are brightly colored balloons and table clothes, smiling mothers, green grass, warm air and sunshine. She soaks in as much as she can. She knows it won't last long and she'll soon be back in her own dark and cold world. She's reminded of that more poignantly when she looks at the birthday boy. She's seen his face before, in a vision. He was locked in a cage, scared and trying to be brave. She'd seen his mother too, dead. The life sucked out of her and the other women she'd seen. She hadn't been able to tell what killed them, just an image of a figure with hollow sunken eyes and a horrible sucking mouth. She'd watched the life drain from the women.
She shakes herself of the images. It will not happen. She will stop it. "Lisa," she approaches the birthday boy's mom. "What can I help with?" Lisa turns and smiles at her.
"Grace, you're so sweet, but you're a guest. Just relax and enjoy yourself."
Grace shakes her head. "I'm the only one who doesn't have a kid to chase around." She laughs. "And I love doing this stuff. Let me help."
Lisa nods, giving in. She could use the help. "Ok, come inside and help me bring the rest of the stuff out." The two women walk into the house smiling and chatting about the great weather and how much fun the kids are having. "I'm really glad you could come." Lisa is saying. "All of us are grateful you're here and at the school. With all the stuff happening in the neighborhood," she waves her hand to indicate the street outside. "It's good to have someone around who knows how to help kids deal with…" she trails off not wanting to say death.
"I'm happy to be here. It's important to me to be where I'm needed." Grace picks up a stack of plastic cups. "Is Elizabeth coming today?" she asks cautiously. "I'd like to talk Katie about her dad's accident. Kids often have a lot of questions about death." She looks soulfully at Lisa. "And I'd like to talk to Elizabeth too. I'm not just here for the kids." Lisa smiles, she trusts Grace. There's no reason she shouldn't. Lisa thinks Grace works at her son's elementary school. An administrator at the school with a connection to hunters helped her pose as a child counselor a few days ago. The vision she'd had drew her here and because of the connection with the children, Grace thought the school seemed like her best way to investigate.
"They're coming to the party. They should be here soon. I think it would be great if you could talk to Katie…but I'm not sure Elizabeth is ready to talk." Lisa confides.
"I understand." Grace says. "These things take time." She gives Lisa a pat on the shoulder and takes a tray with pitcher and cups out to the backyard as Lisa moves to answer a knock at the front door.
Grace is talking to one of the moms in the backyard, trying to find out more about the odd deaths on the street. She's hoping the knock on the door was Elizabeth, the latest victim's ex-husband. But when she looks up to see who Lisa is bringing into the back yard her heart skips a beat. Dean Winchester is walking out of the house. She hasn't thought about Dean much in the last few months. After they parted ways in Connecticut she had daydreamed once or twice about the time they'd spent together. She imagined what it might have been like to give in to her need, to give herself over to Dean, if only for one night. But her life wasn't a place where daydreams could easily survive, so she had pushed him to the back of her mind with all the other things she wished for, but couldn't have.
He looks exactly the same, his confident stance, broad shoulders, short cropped hair and beautiful face. Lisa returns to the house and Dean's eyes scan the back yard finally falling on Grace. Their eyes lock, both stock still for a moment, then he starts to walk towards her. She excuses herself from the mother she's speaking with and walks to her left, motioning him with her eyes to meet her by the fence where no one can hear them talking.
They are finally standing arm's length apart and she can see the dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks, his intense green eyes framed by long eyelashes. Grace looks around to be sure they are hidden from the party guests by a shrub. She returns her gaze to his eyes and a wide smile warms her face. His look of confusion is replaced with a reciprocal smile as she wraps her arms around him and gives him a little squeeze. He smells and feels exactly the way she remembers from the last time they hugged. He's strong and solid and wraps around her completely making her feel safe in the moment, not a feeling she's used to. They hold the embrace only for a few seconds and then are apart again.
"Grace," the confusion has returned to his face. "What are you doing here?" He questions.
"The same thing you are." She gives him a quizzical look. They're both hunters, it's how they know each other. The last time they saw each other, which was the first time they met, was on a job.
"I doubt that." He says awkwardly. "Wait, is there a job here?' He's suddenly serious.
"Yeah, there's a job here. If you're not here on a hunt, why are you here?"
Dean glances self-consciously towards the house and then back at Grace, the tips of his earns reddening. Adorable, just like Sam, she thinks. But she understands. He's here because of a woman. She raises a knowing eyebrow. "Really? Who? One of the moms?" she asks incredulously. Although they are all relatively young and attractive Grace has trouble picturing Dean involved with someone who has a child. Then a shadow falls over her face. "Lisa." It's her house, her kid's party. Of course that's who he's here for. But Lisa's in danger. Grace is going to protect her, but the added burden of having to protect someone that Dean may care about weighs her down.
"Yeah, we know each other from a while back and…" Dean frowns at the expression on Grace's face. "What's wrong?"
She finds herself facing a familiar dilemma. She knows people are in danger for reasons she isn't willing to tell. "We can't really talk here. Where are you guys staying? I'll stop by later."
"The Cicero Pines Motel…" she keeps him from asking any more questions by backing away.
"I'll call you when I'm on my way. Now pretend you don't know me." She winks at him and turns towards the house, when she reaches the patio she looks back to see him helping himself to some cake.
Katie has arrived and is standing by herself watching the other children playing. Grace notes how stiff and out of place the little girl seems. Children deal with grief in different ways, just like adults, but Grace can't shake the feeling that there is something wrong with this child. Katie had been in Grace's vision too, but she had been different, scared like the others and full of emotion, not this zombie child who stands before her now. Grace crouches down so she's face to face with Katie. "Hi Katie, do you remember me? I'm Miss Grace from the school." Grace attended Katie's father's wake claiming the school had sent her to talk with any of the neighborhood children who were upset. It was the perfect opportunity to meet the neighbors and get information about the strange happenings.
The child stares at her blankly. Grace glances up towards the house and sees Lisa talking to Katie's mom. Lisa gives her a little nod and Grace returns her attention to Katie who is still just staring at her. "Do you want some cake sweetie, or some ice cream? I'll help you get some while your mom is busy." She motions towards the cake table and notices that Dean is now chatting with Lisa's son Ben. She looks of the two of them standing side by side and is amused how much alike they look. It's as if Ben were a miniature Dean. With that thought her breath catches in her throat. Dean is here for Lisa. Lisa is Ben's mother. Is Ben Dean's son? A churning panic burns in her stomach. Is she here to save Dean's child? She pushes the panic down and turns back to Katie who is still staring at her blankly.
"I want my mom." Katie says in a tone that's sterile, cold. 'Is this kid drugged?' Grace thinks to herself. At that moment Katie's mom calls for her.
"Katie, come on. We're leaving." Her mom ushers her out of the house and towards the front door. Grace jogs around the side of the house to intercept Elizabeth in the front yard.
"Elizabeth" she calls after her. "Can I talk to you a minute?" She smiles kindly trying to communicate that she's there to help. But Elizabeth looks harried and rushes to the buckle Katie into her seat.
"Grace, hi." She's flustered and looks on the verge of tears. Her eyes look bruised and the way she slumps her shoulders and bends her head reminds Grace of how exhausted she herself feels. "Sorry, we're in a hurry. Maybe later." She scurries to the driver's side door and hastily gets in. Grace is at the driver's window now.
"Can we set up an appointment at the school so I can…." but Elizabeth is turning on the car and driving away as she tries to talk to her. Grace stares after the car as it disappears down the road.
She heads back to her hotel and does a little more research. This time focusing on zombie children in addition to monsters who drain the life out of women. She stumbles on something she hadn't seen before. This is it. This is what she'd been looking for. The answer was in Katie's strange behavior, not Grace's vision. Katie isn't Katie. She still has questions that her research can't answer. There were several children caged in her vision and several mothers dying. How many are out there and where are the actual kids? She thinks back to her vision. The children crowded into cages, some crying. It's dark, only a little bit of light. There aren't any walls but she sees buckets, plastic sheets, rolls of something pink and fuzzy. She's been over it too many times. It's so generic, so non-descript, it could be anywhere. She needs help to interpret the vision; to tell her what she's missing. Her dad used to help her with this. He would have her explain what she'd seen. He'd look at it with fresh eyes, with a different perspective. She slams her fist onto the desk. She's running out of time to solve this. Women are going to start dying soon. She gathers her research and hops into the Jeep. As she pulls out of the parking lot she dials Dean's cell.
"Grace." Dean answers.
"Yeah, I'm on my way to you."
"OK, Sammy's there. I'll be there in a few." She can hear the rumble of the Impala's engine behind his voice and smiles. When she reaches their hotel she parks, grabs her backpack and heads to their door. Sam answers when she knocks and looks startled to see her.
"Grace?" he takes a step back.
She shakes her head and smiles at him. "Your brother didn't tell you I was coming." She takes a step forward holding out her arms. His face morphs from confusion to bitch-face as she brings him in for a hug. He hugs her back and is smiling when they both pull back.
"It's good to see you. Come in." He steps out of the doorway and welcomes her inside. She walks in and drops her bag on one of the beds. "And no, Dean didn't tell me you were coming. When did you talk to him?"
"I ran into him at the birthday party." She smiles as fresh confusion sweeps over Sam's face. "There's a job in this town. I've been here a few days. Lisa Braeden is involved and today I was at her son's birthday party when Dean dropped by for what I can only assume he expected to be a booty call." She explains with a chuckle. Sam rolls his eyes and nods, turning to his computer.
"Yeah, I've been doing some digging on the case. Several," he holds his hands up and makes air quotes, "accidental deaths in one neighborhood. I think I know what we're dealing with-"
"Changelings" they both say at the same time. He raises his eyebrows.
"I just figured it out today." Grace explains. "I'd been focusing too much on the dead mothers and not enough on the kids." The words are out of her mouth before she realizes she's saying them.
"What dead mothers?" Sam frowns at her. The door opens and Dean breezes in.
"Something wrong with the kids in this town." Dean says stripping off his jacket. "Hey Grace." He nods, "Oh Sammy, by the way. I ran into Grace and she's coming over to talk about the case." He smiles mischievously at his brother, but Sam ignores him, still frowning at Grace.
"What dead mothers?" Sam asks again a little more forcefully.
"Dead mothers?" Dean echoes. Grace looks at Dean and then back to Sam. She tries to re-direct.
"The changelings, they take over the bodies of the real kids and then suck out the mother's life force, thus, dead mothers."
"Changelings, like evil monster babies?" Dean asks. "Is that what we've got?"
Grace jumps at her chance "Not necessarily babies." She offers.
A thought comes to Dean. "Kids. Creepy stare at you like you're lunch kids." He and Grace both turn to Sam. His gaze on Grace falters and he picks up a satellite image of Lisa's neighborhood to show them.
"Yep. There's one in every victim's house."
"And the only way to take them out is fire." Grace says reaching into her backpack for her own research. She and Sam start to fill Dean in on what they've found while they craft personal flame throwers to use on the changelings.
Sam and Dean are still talking but Grace has zoned out and is staring at the carpet. Sam notices how quiet she's become. "Grace, you alright?" He asks and Dean looks over at her too. She shifts her focus to them.
"We don't know how many changelings are out there." She starts. "We can't know unless we find where the real kids are being held." This is what's been chewing up her insides, those kids in cages. What happens to them when the mothers are dead and the changelings move on to the next town? They'll die in those cages, starve to death probably, that's what. A visible shivers rolls through her body.
"Well if you've got any clue we're all ears." Dean says.
She can't look at him. She's afraid of how he'll look at her when he finds out what she is. Most hunters have a pretty standard belief system, especially when it comes to freaks of nature like her, if it's not natural- kill it. Sam will probably feel the same, but it won't hurt to see the judgement in his eyes the way it will to see it in Dean's. She doesn't know why she cares what Dean thinks of her, she just does. So she turns to Sam.
"They're locked in cages. I don't know how many cages or how many kids. I can't see them all. It's dark, but not completely dark. I can't see any walls but I see buckets in the corner and bricks, sheets of plastic and a big roll of pink fluffy material. It's has to be kind of isolated, because no one can hear them crying…" a tear rolls down Grace's cheek. She didn't just see the children, she felt their fear, feels it still. Sam and Dean are both staring at her with theirs mouth slightly open. "I can see it, but I can't see enough, or I'm not looking for the right things. My dad used to help me figure it out when I couldn't. I'd tell him what I saw and he would…" her voice cracks and she looks away. Thinking about her dad on top of the emotion she's feeling over the kids is too much. She wipes the tears off her face and clears her throat.
"You're psychic." Sam almost whispers.
"Something like that." She mumbles.
"That's how you knew Susan and Tyler were in danger in Connecticut." His voice is stronger now.
She pulls herself together and turns back to Sam, nodding. The judgement she was expecting to see in his face isn't there and she's grateful. She still will not look at Dean. Sam seems deep in thought but snaps out of it.
"Ok," he starts. "dark where they are, but not pitch black. No walls, buckets and pink fluffy material." He pauses.
"All that could mean anything." Dean chimes in. Grace's heart sinks. She needs them to help her find the answer.
Sam shoots Dean a look. "You said it's not pitch black. Is there a light in the room?" He's focusing on Grace. This. This is what she needs, what her dad used to do for her. She closes her eyes bringing the vision back to mind.
"Not a lamp. It's ambient light, like from a window, but not bright enough."
"Tell me about the buckets, what do they look like exactly?" Sam continues to question her.
"They're white with handles and lids, about 5 gallons and there's black goop dripping down the sides of some of them." Her face twists in concentration.
Sam looks at Dean for help and Dean gives him a 'hell if I know' look. Sam grimaces at his brother and Dean throws up his hands.
"Fine, uh, uhm…" he thinks for a moment. "Wait, you said fluffy pink material, rolled up?" Grace nods, eyes still closed. "That could be insulation?" Dean guesses. "The buckets sound like roofing tar."
Sam jumps onto his brother's train of thought. "You don't see any walls?" he asks and Grace shakes her head. "Do you see anything where walls should be? Like metal poles or wood frames?" Grace's eyes snap open.
"Yes. Wood beams; a row of them, about this far apart." She holds up her hands to indicate a little more than a foot.
"Tar, wall studs, insulation, bricks, plastic. That's a construction site." Dean says and he's on his feet headed to Sam's computer.
"But there could be dozens of construction sites in this town." Sam says following Dean with his eyes.
"Probably," Dean picks up the satellite image of the neighborhood Sam had shown them earlier. "But my guess is they wouldn't want to move the kids too far. Dragging kids across town can draw attention." He holds up the photo and points to the bottom left portion. "This satellite image is old. This road's been extended. A new house is going up here right now." He taps the spot on the picture.
Now Grace is standing. She takes the photo from Dean's hand. "That has to be it." She breaths, finally looking Dean in the eye. "Let's go." She says in a clear firm voice. Dean nods once. Sam is already on his feet packing up the flame throwers.
Dean grabs his bag and then pauses. "So any kid in the neighborhood is vulnerable."
"Yep." Sam answers.
"We gotta make a stop. I wanna check on someone."
"Well Dean, if the real kids are still alive, we don't have time-" Sam begins but Dean cuts him off.
"We have to." Dean is headed out the door. Grace gives Sam a knowing look and walks out behind Dean.
"I'll follow you." She tells Dean as she hops up into the Jeep. Minutes later they're at Lisa's house parked just out of view. Dean disappears around the front of the house. Sam waits in the Impala and Grace sits in the Jeep hoping that Ben is still at home even though she knows from her vision that he will eventually be taken.
Dean's running towards the Impala. Grace leans out her window to hear what he's saying. "They took Ben. He's changed." Dean looks directly at her and she meets his eye with a determined nod of her head. They are going to get Ben back.
Grace follows Dean to the construction site and they all pile out of the cars. Dean tells them to take the front, he'll go around. Sam and Grace enter the front door together. She signals to Sam that she'll go upstairs and he should stay on the first floor. They know the kids are probably in the basement, since changelings keep their victims underground, but they have to clear the entire house of threats. She slowly and quietly makes her way up the staircase and around the corner of the partially finished wall on the second floor, sweeping her flashlight around to all the dark corners. There aren't many walls up stairs, so she finishes her search pretty quickly. She's about to head back down stairs when she hears shouting coming from the first floor. She starts her descent and sees a blaze of light that can only be coming from one of the flame throwers. She runs to find Sam crouched on the floor.
He looks up at her. "There's a grown up changeling." He gasps.
"A grown up." She repeats. "The mother." She deduces. They can hear clanking and glass shattering in the basement and race together to find Dean.
As they hit the bottom of the stairs Sam is shouting for Dean. "There's a mother."
Dean's face screws up at the idea. "A mother?"
"Yeah, we gotta get these kids out." Sam says as Dean starts to lift the first boy out of the basement window.
"Wait, wait." She shouts at Dean and he lowers the boy with a questioning look. "We don't know where mommy dearest went. I'll go out first, make sure the coast is clear and watch the kids once they're outside." She's standing right in front of the window now.
Dean nods his head. "Yeah, yeah, alright. Up you go!" He says grabbing Grace's waist and lifting her up to the window like she weighs no more than one of the children. She's surprised by how strong he is. She'd intended to jump up to the window, but this is better. She slithers out the window, stands and looks around. Not seeing any danger she turns back to Dean.
"Ok, send them up." She kneels down and reaches out her arms to scoop up the first child Dean hands to her. She has two of them when one of the little girls in the basement starts to scream. Grace can hear the sounds of a fight through the window. Dean is gone; no more kids are coming up. She considers jumping back down into the basement to lift the kids out herself. Then she hears Dean yell to Ben to get the kids out. Ben stacks the tar buckets and the kids start to climb up to her on their own. She grabs each of them and hauls them out of the window. She's got them all when she hears a scream and sees another flash of flame thrower light, then silence.
When Sam and Dean emerge from the house they find Grace on her knees surrounded by children. She's hugging them and touching their faces, telling them their safe, that it's all over and that they'll be home soon. Sam hears her calm and reassuring voice and feels soothed himself. She turns to look at the men and stands up lifting the weakest little boy onto her hip. His head rests on her shoulder and she wraps her arm around him protectively. Two children hug her legs and another clutches the hem of her jacket.
"We have to get these kids back to their parents. I can take these four." She motions with her head to the children surrounding her. "You guys take Ben and the others." She looks directly at Dean when she says this. They organize quickly and all the kids are packed into cars. She drives off without a word to Sam or Dean. At each child's home she parks just out of sight of the front door as she sends them, one by one, back to their families. All are greeted by tearful and terrified parents. She drops off the last child as the first light of day peeks over the horizon.
Back in her hotel room she showers the grime of the night off and puts on fresh clothes. She needs to sleep for a month, or at least 8 full hours. Instead, she's going to get out of town before any of the kids have a chance to tell their parents about Miss Grace's involvement with all the weird shit that went down last night. As she packs up the last of her gear her cell phone rings. "What now?" She groans checking the caller id and is surprised by what she sees. She puts the phone to her ear. "Dean?"
"Hey, Grace. Sammy and I are grabbing a beer and a burger at the bar just outside town before we move on. Should we save you a seat?" She doesn't answer right away. "Remember, you promised us a long story the next time we all worked a job together." Dean coaxes.
She's torn between keeping her distance and the need for real human contact; the kind where she doesn't have to lie about who she is and what she does. Human contact wins. "A beer and a burger sound like just what I need right now. I'll see you there."
She walks into the bar and feels immediately at home. It's the same kind of place she always ends up. It's darkly lit and smells of grease and booze. There's a pool table and a juke box and a handful of un-savory looking men at the bar stools. It's the kind of place where you can disappear into the background and no one asks you too many questions about who you are or what you're doing in town. She scans the room for Sam and Dean and finds them sitting at a table on the far side of the bar. Sam spots her and waves her over. She takes the empty seat at the round table and the waitress approaches. Grace looks at Sam and Deans plates. Sam's got some kind of salad, which Grace grimaces at. Dean has a cheeseburger and fries. She smiles up at the waitress. "Can I get a bacon cheeseburger, fries and a beer please?" The waitress nods and turns away. Grace notices Dean's nod of approval.
There's a moment of awkward silence, then Sam clears his throat. "So," He looks around to be sure no one can hear them. "You're psychic?" He ventures.
Grace takes a deep breath, "I guess you would call it that. I don't really consider myself psychic, but I don't know another word for it." Grace is grateful that the waitress shows up with her beer at that moment. She needs a drink to get through this. She takes a long pull of beer and lets it coat the inside of her mouth and slide down her throat.
"I have visions…in the form of nightmares." It's been a long time since she's had to explain this to anyone. Actually, she's never really explained it, her dad used to do the talking about her "condition". "But they're more than nightmares. They are horrible and realistic. I watch people die horrific, violent, painful deaths. I see the things that kill them most of the time, sometimes I actually experience their pain and fear. Each vision comes with the bonus gift of a mind crushing headache." She jokes bitterly. "When I wake up I just 'know' who and where they are. And then I have to go save them." She says with some finality.
"You have to?" Dean asks skeptically.
"If I ignore the first vision I get a second one the next night. It's more painful and traumatic than the first. If I ignore that one the third vision makes me wish I was dead. If I get really ballsy and ignore the third they start to happen while I'm awake, complete with bloody nose, brief unconsciousness and more debilitating pain. So, yes, I have to save them…or at least try."
Dean looks at Sam and asks. "You think she's one of yellow-eyes psychic kids?"
"I don't know what that means." Grace says, "But I don't get the impression it's a good thing."
"When did your visions start?" Sam ventures "Recently? In your 20's?"
Grace takes another long pull of her beer and shakes her head. "I've been having these visions since I was 9 years old. They're why my father and I became hunters. I couldn't do it alone that young, so he was pulled into the life with me."
"Where's your dad now?" Sam asks.
"Died on a hunt about a year and a half ago. I've been on my own since then."
"Sorry." Sam says sincerely.
"You said you and your dad became hunters. What about your mom?" Dean regrets the words as soon as they've left his mouth. The despair on her face is heartbreaking. And there's something else, guilt?
Grace looks down at the table and draws a breath that is meant to calm her. It still hurts to talk about her mom, even after almost 20 years. She's staring at her own hands on her beer bottle, her voice quiet but audible, "Her death was the first vision I ever had. I was 9. I didn't know- we didn't know. Kids have nightmares. Some kids have really, really bad nightmares." She picks at the label on her beer. "Then the headaches and nose bleeds and fainting started…my parents took me to the hospital and the doctors wanted to keep me overnight." She doesn't even realize that she's started shaking her head. "My mom went home to get my things, so I'd be comfortable, so I would have familiar things around me." The men are silent, listening, staring at her with furrowed brows. Sam realizes he's holding his breath and lets it out silently. "It was already in the house when she got home. It tore her apart, just like I had dreamed." She takes another swallow wishing it were whisky. A bitter smile plays across her lips. "I didn't save her. I've saved dozens of people since, but the one person that was the most", she stops talking. The muscles in her jaw work as she clenches her teeth. It still hurts and it still makes her angry; angry with herself, angry with who or what ever gave her this curse but didn't give it to her in time to save her own mother.
Sam reaches across the table and touches her hand. She looks up at him and sees the pain in his eyes. All hunters have a sad story. His could be very similar to hers she reminds herself. "You were just a kid, it wasn't your fault."
The waitress shows up and drops off Grace's food, breaking the physical contact between her and Sam. She asks for another beer and the brothers order another each as well. When the woman walks away Grace has flipped the switch. She can't let her emotions run unchecked and it's time to lock it down. She forces herself to take a bite of her burger and swallow it without gagging.
"So that's my deal. That's how I hunt." She starts again. "I usually don't have to look for jobs. They come to me. I don't know how, I don't know why I dream about the people I do. All I know is, I have a vision and then I go save them." She looks back and forth from Sam to Dean. "Does that disqualify me from the yellow-eye kids club?" She smirks.
Neither of them finds her remark amusing. "Yeah, you don't fit any pattern we've seen." Dean answers.
"I'm feeling like that's a good thing." Grace guesses and Dean nods. They sit in silence for a while, eating. Sam excuses himself to use the bathroom. This is probably the last chance she'll have to be alone with Dean. She doubts she'll ever see the boys again and she's guessing that's just fine with Dean knowing how most hunters feel about unnatural "gifts" like psychic visions.
"Can I ask you something personal?" She ventures and Dean looks up to meet her eye cautiously.
"You can ask." Meaning he won't necessarily answer.
"Ben." She lets the boy's name hang in the air between them. She tilts her head, "Is he…" Seeing the look Dean gives her makes her change her mind about asking the question. It's none of her business anyway.
"Mine?" Dean finishes her question for her. She nods almost imperceptibly. "No." He shakes his head. "Lisa did a blood test. He's not mine." She sees disappointment in his eyes, or maybe it's longing.
"Do you wish he was?" The question surprises him. She sees him flip the same switch she did after talking about her mother. His expression becomes cocky and stubborn.
"No. Are you crazy? A guy like me with a kid to worry about. That would be…" He's grasping for a word and she knows he's thinking of disaster or nightmare.
But now she finishes his sentence for him. "More than people like you and me could hope for in this life." His lips part slightly in surprise and he squints at her. He starts to say something but Sam sits down and the moment is gone. The food is eaten and the beer is drunk and there's nothing keeping them here any longer. Grace stands up and pulls a wad of cash out of her pocket, but Dean stands too and waves her off.
"We invited you." He tells her, "I got it."
They all walk together out into the sunshine on their way to their respective cars. Sam's the first to hug her goodbye again. "Don't be a stranger. Ok?" he says when he lets her go. She nods, but she knows it's just a pleasantry.
Sam heads for the Impala leaving her with Dean once more. He inspects her face. "You ok?" he asks.
She smiles "Are any of us?" she asks in response.
He nods at her wisdom. "Right." He steps close to her and pulls her into an embrace. She buries her face in his chest and feels his steady heartbeat beneath his shirt. She breaths him in and appreciates the warmth and strength of his arms around her. She sighs and lets her body relax into his. She feels him do the same, molding against her. They stay that way for a few seconds longer. Longer than she would be comfortable holding on to anyone else. When they part she holds the memory of his scent, his heartbeat, the warmth of his arms and chest tightly in her mind, keeping the moment alive for herself.
He looks away from her now seeming uncomfortable in the aftermath of the intimate moment. "Sam's right, you should keep in touch. It's good to have a hunter network in case you need" he shrugs, "you know help or info or something."
She gives him a half smile. "I've got your number." She teases. "And you have mine."
He smiles back and begins to back away towards the Impala. "Take care of yourself, Grace." He says before turning towards the car.
"You too, Dean." She whispers as she watches him climb into the Impala and drive out of the parking lot.