Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable characters from the Supernatural TV show or own the Lyrics to the Florence and the Machine songs.
Mercy
Dean walked into the bar and gave it a once over. It was one of those well lit and had a homey atmosphere, where a person could bring his family and not worry about a bar brawl starting any second. Still Dean looked for any funny goings on and when nothing caught his immediate attention, he made his way over to a stool at the bar and took a seat. The world weighed heavy on his shoulders, not like it didn't every night, but tonight it felt like it could crush him. He and Sammy had been on the road for days following a lead, and Castiel hadn't been in touch for awhile, but still he felt out of sorts.
Dean let his gaze wonder over the bar room again, this time focusing on a girl staring off into the distance sitting in one of the booths. For some reason, her presence there seemed odd, but he couldn't put his finger on why.
"Hey, sugar, watcha wana drink?" Dean jerked back and saw a red-headed bar maid standing in front of him. She was a busty woman who had a knowing look in her eye, one of those types that seemed to be in every drinking establishment he had frequented. Sometimes he wondered if they mail-ordered them for bars all over America.
"Ah, give me a whiskey, thanks".
"Will do suga, would ya like anythin else?" She said in a suggestive way that Dean picked up on straight away. Of course he would, he'd taken up on such offers all the time. Some days he thought the sex was the only thing that kept him grounded. That and his family, his only family: Sammy.
"Nah, I'm okay" Dean unconsciously leaned to the side and tried to get another look at the girl.
"Suit yaself but just ta let ya know Grace is off limit", the red-head said as she looked in the direction he was before she turned away and went to get his drink.
Dean was half surprised at the warning, only half since he was Dean Winchester and drinking, eating, hunting and whoring were the four fundamental aspects of his life. But for once he wasn't checking out the fairer half for purely carnal reasons. No, his instincts told him there was something off about the girl. Something more to her than just being a brunette, somewhere in her late teens or early twenties, sitting in a bar in one of the homeliest outfits he had on anyone from a bar hopping crowd. In her full sleeved shirt, knee length baggy skirt and Mary Jane's she would have made a perfect librarian. To think that she needed people warning them away from her was odd in Dean's book of normal, which didn't account for much.
Instinct told him that this girl, Grace, wasn't what she seemed to be. This instinct had led to Dean discovering too many demons and self-important angels in his time. Some days he couldn't get away from the job. Was no place sacred?
Dean slowly made his way towards the girls' booth.
"Hi" He said as he made himself comfortable opposite her.
"Hi!" She said as she swung to face him. Her expression was of slight confusion as she asked, "Who are you? I don't think I've met you before?" She stared straight into his eye without self-consciousness, which he found slightly unnerving for some unknown reason.
"Grace is it? I was just wondering what you were doing in a place like this? A bar isn't the safest place, especially so late at night."
"My dad owns this place but thanks for the warning." She said with a slightly amused expression on her open face.
"Sorry what was your name? It's only right to know yours, as you obviously know mine." Dean hesitated, the reason she was here was clearer, but he still got a weird vibe from her.
"It's Dean" He stuck out his hand for her to shake but she made no move towards him.
"It's nice to meet you Dean, I'm sorry but I have to go, please stick around and have a drink". With that she got up and walked towards the side door and made her exit. Dean was taken by surprise by her sudden departure; his hand was still stuck out in front of him, hanging in the air like a dead fish. He quickly reeled it back in and ran it though his hair. The red-head sidled up to him and placed his glass of whiskey on the table, he could only guess she had seen his epic fail and she confirmed it by what she said next.
"So ya approached Grace after-all, You've got balls I'll give ya that. The boss is protective of his Grace and ya best be weary of his shotgun." She said as made to move away. "I can tell ya not from around here, guess ya might want to see her perform but I say, make yaself scarce once she's' done jus in case her Daddy caught ya talking to her". She said as she gestured towards the bar, where a big guy who had no obvious resemblance to the girl, was shooting him daggers.
Before Dean could question the redhead further, the spotlight on the small stage, near where Grace had left, lit up to show her looking to the floor, wearing a silvery white dress that made her look otherworldly, like what people thought mythical beings, faeries and angels maybe, looked like and not the ones he met on a day to day basis.
Just then she looked up. Her gaze found a middle distance as she began to sing the first notes of a haunting song.
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Seems that I have been held, in some dreaming state
A tourist in the waking world, never quite awake
No kiss, no gentle word could wake me from this slumber
Until I realise that it was you who held me under
Felt it in my fist, in my feet, in the hollows of my eyelids
Shaking through my skull, through my spine and down through my ribs
No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone
No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden
No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love
No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love
No more dreaming like a girl so in lovewith the wrong world
And I could hear the thunder and see the lightning crack
All around the world was waking, I never could go back
Cos all the walls of dreaming, they were torn right open
And finally it seemed that the spell was broken
And all my bones began to shake, my eyes flew open
And all my bones began to shake, my eyes flew open
No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone
No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden
No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love
No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love
No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world
Snow White's stitching up the circuit boards
Someone's slipping through the hidden door
Snow White's stitching up the circuit board
No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone
No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden
No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love
No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love
No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world
Snow White's stitching up the circuit boards
Someone's slipping through the hidden door
Snow White's stitching up the circuit boards
Someone's slipping through the hidden door
As she finished to a round of quiet applause, Dean snapped out of his trance. He looked back towards Grace again and it seemed like the inner glow she had during her number was no longer there. Was she a demon? A witch? One of those creatures in Sammy's books that they hadn't come across yet, or one that they had? All of a sudden he wished he hadn't left his brother back in motel room. Sammy was the one good at identifying creatures, only second to Bobby.
WellIguessthere'sonlyonethingtodo.Followher.Dean ignored the sense of tranquillity that had settled on him, got up and followed Grace as she left the stage on the right and walked towards the bar.
He neared her as she stumbled into a chair. She would have fallen if not for Dean grabbing her arm in time.
"You okay?"
"Yeah I'm fine…Someone must have moved the chair". She said as she looked up at him. 'Thanks for the save, Dean was it?"
"Well it's not surprising that chairs are moved around in a bar honey, that's why I said you should keep your walking stick with you" said the gravelly voice coming from behind Dean.
Dean turned to face Grace' Dad, who was glaring at him and looking pointedly at the hand he still had on Mercy's arm.
Dean snatched the offending appendage back and gave his trademark grin, which worked wonders with females but wasn't so helpful when it came to father's.
"Wait - walking stick?" Dean bluntly asked in Grace's direction.
"I guess the cat's out of the bag, it normally takes people a few visits to realise but then you can't take all the credit, since it wasn't all your guess work". She said with a gentle smile in Dean's direction, a smile that felt like a punch to his gut.
Suddenly her unblinking gaze made more sense.
She was blind.
Dean suddenly felt the piercing gaze of 'Dad' and realised it was time to make an escape, if the murderous waves coming from that direction were anything to go by.
Dean threw a hasty smile in Grace's direction that she couldn't see, dodged around 'Dad' and made a hasty exit. It seemed like his whiskey would be left untouched but with Grace's mystery to solve, it looked like it was time for him and Sammy to get busy. Dean didn't realise as he made his way towards the motel, that he felt lighter that he had when he had entered the bar. Lighter and less burdened than he had felt in years.
OoOoOoOoOoO
Grace entered the small apartment above the bar with a sigh of relief. It had taken a lot of convincing for her Dad not to walk her the short distance to the flat. It was odd to think that he had only had that title for five years. Even more surprising that such a generous man would adopt someone like her. A girl with no sight, no memory of life before the orphanage had taken her in. Before Stan Latimer had taken her in and made her his daughter, shortcoming and all. Now life wasn't exactly one of quiet living, not when you lived above a bar, but the only home she had, that she remembered, was the small apartment that she knew like the back of her hand, if not by sight.
Grace turned the light switch on by the left side of the door, so Stan would know she had made it safely home, counting steps as she went she made her way slowly down the hallway. After ten steps she turned left and opened the door to her room. It had very little furniture and Grace walked straight to her bed, changed into her bottoms and a t-shirt that her dad had laid out for her and laid down. As she waited for sleep to overcome her, Dean came to mind, specifically his voice. She had been instantly aware of him from the beginning, as she was anyone who came into the bar.
Grace normally tried to sense if any new bar patrons were going to be trouble or not and then push them from her mind. However, when it came to Dean something held her attention, as if he had some unique quality that was indecipherable to her.
She had learnt very little from listening in into his conversation with Linda, only that he hadn't taken her up on her offer as others would have and that he must have been paying attention to her, Grace. She had almost felt his gaze and had been slightly thrilled that he had approached her, an odd reaction since she was normally weary of newcomers. Her lack of sight adding to her vulnerability.
It had also felt like there was something special in the air when she had sang tonight too. Singing grounded her like nothing else could, a hard thing to feel with no sight and long memory past five years to speak of. There were times when she almost felt like she could see the world while singing and all was right within it in that moment. With Dean it seemed like she had sought him out in that moment, odd when she had only just met him.
Well that's probably the last I'll hear of him, they all head south when they find out I'm blind and Dad takes care of the stragglers, she thought. The urge of wanting to get to know him had been strong but her shyness had won out in the end and she had made her escape, such an unsupervised opportunity would be hard to come by again. Oh Well, it can't be helped.With that last thought Grace fell into a deep and troubled sleep.
AN – The song used in this chapter is Blinding-FlorenceandtheMachine.A great song and definitely worth a listen. Please review, it makes me want to write! Constructive criticism is welcome!