The man was finally beginning to take shape, as her pencil flew swiftly across the soft pages of her book. His brown hair was ruffled, but that perfect kind of ruffled that implies hours of adjustments in front of a mirror, though Grace knew perfectly well that this was not the case. Don't bother asking her how she knew, she just did. She also knew the exact shape of his jaw-line, and the way he moved it when he became angry. She knew the way his green eyes flashed when faced with the man in the trench coat, and the smile that only his little (well, not little) brother could spread across his battle-hardened face.
She also knew his pain, his incredible pain. She knew that every time he looked at his brother it roared up like a beast inside of him, clawing at his insides with its sharp talons. This was a rather significant amount to know about a motionless figure on her page, but if you flipped the pages back, you would find countless pictures of this man. Grace knew that she held the entire life of a human being in her hands. A strange human. A man who hunted demons and monsters, a man who had fought too many wars, lost too many people, and seen more horrific things than any man should ever see in their lifetime. But what she did not know that this man that has taken shape within her mind was not just a particularly detailed piece of imagination, Dean Winchester was all too real.
Thanks for reading guys! I hope you keep on going - if you don't I understand but I would really appreciate a review with some constructive criticism! If you liked it then it would also be awesome to hear from you :) Thanks again for reading!
-Bella